Harbour Falls (A Harbour Falls Mystery #1)(81)

I stopped, considering if I should head up the driveway and see if Max was around. Adam would surely want him to know that I was heading into the wilderness on the east side of the island. But then he may discourage me from going or, worse yet, go with me. I certainly did not require a babysitter. Besides, I had my cell in my pocket, and Max’s number was still in my contacts. I’d call him if I needed him. So I resumed walking, believing everything would be fine.

A mile from the driveway, there was a gravel turnoff. I recalled it to be the one leading back to the runway and hangar on the far eastern edge of Adam’s compound. I smiled as I recalled my first date with Adam, the experience with the strawberries and champagne. How I longed to re-create that experience, this time with no interruptions.



Lost in my lust-muddled thoughts, I tripped at the point where the pavement, and consequently the main road, ended abruptly. I glanced around. At last I’d reached the east side of the island. And it sure was desolate.

Before me, a nearly impassable access road—really just a widened trail—snaked deeper into the forest of ancient oak and thick pine. From my research I knew the access road meandered through the woods in a southerly direction, eventually coming out near the lighthouse area.

I took a few cautious steps, navigating the uneven terrain and the many muddy puddles. The access road was in worse shape than I’d anticipated, rutted and overgrown with wiry, coiled tangles of skeletal-looking branches. Towering pine trees grew in densely packed clusters on either side of the path, creating an overhead canopy that made the overcast day appear even darker. But I forged ahead, keeping safely to the middle. Dried leaves, clinging lifelessly to the trees, rustled all around me. I heard the scurrying of animals and the occasional bird chirp, but the forest was much too thick to actually catch sight of any of the island fauna.

After traveling what I estimated to be about two miles, the woods quieted. No more rustling leaves, no scurrying animals, no more chirping birds. It was actually kind of creepy, and I started to wish I’d stopped, after all, to let Max know where I was heading. Breathing in deeply, the smell of rotting leaves particularly pungent now, I fished out my cell phone to reassure myself Max was only a phone call away. But a sick feeling of dread passed through me when I saw I had no signal over here on this side of the island. Stupid for not checking first, I thought. I knew if I continued, I’d eventually reach the cliffs above the lighthouse. Recalling how Adam had told me there were hidden caves in the wall of cliffs, I shuddered. Uh, definitely not going down there all alone.



Although there was plenty of daylight left, I’d had enough. It was too quiet and devoid of life here. And I had no cell service. Worse yet I was starting to get a bad feeling. I stopped, took a swig of water to calm my nerves, and turned around.

I began to walk quickly but halted when I heard a weird clang noise, like metal hitting metal. What is that? Somewhere off to my right, coming from behind a cluster of particularly dense pine, it sounded again. Clang! And then a few seconds later, Thunk! Thunk! This time it sounded like something metal pounding at the ground. What the…?

Besides Max, Nate was the only other person who was supposed to be on the island today. Helena was still in Boston. But why would Max or Nate be over here in the deep woods on this side of the island?

Against my better judgment, I crept to the edge of the rutted road and crouched down at the treeline, the cool smell of pine filling my nose, in the hope of catching a glimpse of the source behind the steady, rhythmic noises that had yet to abate.

What I saw made my hand fly to my mouth to stifle a gasp. Oh God! Several yards away, there was a man—in muddied jeans and a dark hoodie— and he appeared to be burying something. He was just about finished with his task, patting down the dirt neatly to obscure the digging he had done. Clutching my water bottle tightly, my hands grew sweaty, because I recognized this person. Though his face was mostly obscured, I knew, without a doubt, that the man patting down the dirt was J.T. O’Brien. And, hell, if I didn’t need to get out of here—fast.

I looked furtively left and right. Of course, nobody else was around. Oh God, this isn’t good. Here I was, stuck deep in the woods with my former friend, but more recently my assailant. Thankfully, J.T. appeared to be deeply engrossed in what he was doing, which, at this point, was kicking fallen leaves over the now barely noticeable mound of dirt.

“Get out of here!” my mind screamed.

Quickly I stood—my limbs trembling—and backed away cautiously. My heart was taking up residence in my throat as memories of J.T.’s assault at the café flashed through my mind. Only this time there would be no Adam to save me. I turned and crept away silently, rapidly putting as much distance as possible between J.T. and me.



When I was certain I was out of his hearing range, I broke into a run. I needed to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible, but I still ventured a glance over my shoulder, my pace barely slowing. Relief washed over me once I confirmed I was not being followed. No J.T. in pursuit as I’d feared.

After what felt like forever, the forest a blur, I reached the entry to the access road, breathless and with my heart pounding. Gasping for air I slowed to a walk as my feet hit the paved surface of the main road. Safe, at last.

With fear taking a backseat, my thoughts turned to what I’d seen. What was J.T. O’Brien doing back there? Bizarre. Why would he be burying something out here on Fade Island? Whatever it was, I’d been fortunate he’d not caught sight of me. One thing for sure, J.T. O’Brien had certainly been engaged in some crazy behavior since his short stint in rehab. Showing up at Billy’s for the first time in ages, buying drugs, and getting so messed up he threatened Jimmy for shutting him off, and now, digging around out here on the island. Yes, J.T. was up to something. I hoped to God he hadn’t caught wind of my investigation. Suspecting I was poking around would be bad enough, but if J.T. actually knew specifics—like my visits to Billy’s—then that could spell big trouble for me. Especially if he was trying to hide something, and I was getting too close.