Harbour Falls (A Harbour Falls Mystery #1)(93)

“You drove here with Hoffman, right?” I asked, looking for clarification as we resumed walking.

Adam shot me a sheepish grin. “Uh, not exactly.”



I frowned, and he amended, “Well, I was with Hoffman most of the way. He did pick me up at Cove Beach.”

I was so busy looking at Adam—trying to figure out what he was intimating—that I hadn’t noticed we’d stopped at a burgundy car—a burgundy BMW. My burgundy BMW. What the hell? Detective Mitchell had driven me to the station; I’d left my car at Billy’s. How could it be parked here?

I turned to face Adam and asked that exact question, my tone wary. “How’d my car get here, Adam?”

“I had Elliot stop at Billy’s so I could pick it up for you. I didn’t think you’d want to go anywhere near that place after what happened there.” I cringed at the fresh memory and nodded in agreement. “So we stopped there, got your car, and then I followed Elliott the rest of the way here.”

“But…the keys,” I asked, feeling for and finding the clear outline of the key fob in my bag. “How’d you get it started?”

I was stumped. Surely hot-wiring foreign imports was not among Adam’s many talents. Although I doubted much would shock me at this point.

“Yeah.” Adam raked his fingers through his hair. “About that…”

“Adam,” I warned.

“I had a spare key made for your car,” he confessed with no hint of apology.

God, this man continued to drive me mad, but I was too exhausted to get into it with him. I let it slide, even though it had been a very intrusive thing to do. Whatever, though. I had bigger things to worry about.

Adam produced the said spare key—complete with key fob—and unlocked the doors. Rolling my eyes, I got in on the passenger side and sank down into the seat. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, listening as Adam slid into the driver’s seat, a rustle of fabric against leather. And then the key turned in the ignition, the engine coming to life.

Adam’s warm hand descended to my own chilled ones that I held clasped together in my lap. “Everything is going to be fine,” he reassured me in a soft voice. “The police have nothing. It’s all circumstantial bullshit.”



With my eyes still closed, my breathing hitched as I said, “Adam, nothing is fine. Someone ended up dead today, because of me.”

Adam was quiet, so I opened my eyes and shifted in my seat so I could meet his gaze, unreadable in the limited illumination of the instrument panel.

Honesty, I had to be honest. Hoffman may have filled him in on the details of the interrogation, but there were still things Adam didn’t know. I needed to remedy that.

I cleared my throat. “Jimmy called me yesterday while you were out of town. I spoke with him for a few minutes.”

Adam’s expression twisted into something I couldn’t discern. “Is that why you went back to Billy’s?” he asked sharply. “Is that why you broke your promise, Madeleine?”

I winced because I knew this was the elephant in the room. Or in the car, as it were. I’d broken my promise. But look at what had happened. I’d certainly paid a high price.

Even so, Adam was obviously irritated, so I tried to explain, “When he called, he said he’d found it—Jimmy had finally found the picture. I only wanted to see who was in it.” My voice turned bitter. “But it doesn’t matter, not now. You were right. I should have left it alone and stayed away. Jimmy would still be alive today.”

Suddenly consumed with guilt, I looked away. Adam nudged my cheek, and I turned back to him. His anger seemed to have dissipated. “Maddy, that bar is a dangerous place. That’s why I wanted you to stay away. I may not be happy you broke your promise, but you sure as hell aren’t responsible for that guy’s death.”—Adam’s tone was now so full of understanding, I actually felt worse—“He was probably shot by a disgruntled customer, or some—”

“Stop,” I pleaded, choking up. “There’s more, Adam. More you don’t know.”

I squeezed his hand and quietly told him the other details he’d yet to hear. I explained how I’d found the empty envelope with the “M” on the front. With my face burning with shame, I admitted how I’d thrown it away in a panic, fearful I’d be linked to Jimmy’s murder. How ironic that action had turned out to be. I continued, expressing my concern that once the police delved further into the phone records, they’d find my other correspondences with Jimmy. Like the conversation I’d had with him regarding J.T.’s recent visit to the bar.



I suddenly froze. “Oh my God,” I exclaimed. “Do you think J.T. shot Jimmy? I mean, he did tell him to ‘watch his back.’”

Adam seemed to consider it but shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

I, however, was not so convinced. “Well, did anyone see him around today?” I was thinking back to earlier in the day when I’d not seen him on the ferry or at Cove Beach.

“I don’t know, Maddy. I was in Boston all morning, remember?”

Oh right. Adam continued as he put the car in gear. “Speaking of which, we’d better get started back. It’s been a long, crazy day.”

That was an understatement.