Harbour Falls (A Harbour Falls Mystery #1)(95)

I squinted into the glare from the sun to see if Ami was on board. But I frowned when I caught sight of the pilot instead. J.T. O’Brien. Ugh, why did it have to be him? I’d been hoping for Brody to be the one piloting the one o’clock ferry.

The possibility of a connection between Jimmy’s demise and J.T. made my blood run cold. He was about the last person I cared to see today. Hell, I still had no idea what he’d been up to over on the east side of the island. Digging around, burying something, reburying something, who knew?

I shuddered as I approached the dock. J.T. glanced up as he secured the ferry to the dock. “Maddy Fitch,” he said, expression grim. “What brings you down to the dock?” He lifted a dark satchel. “Are you really that anxious to get the mail?”

For a brief moment, I froze, panicked that J.T. somehow knew I was waiting for something from Jimmy. But he’d have no way of knowing such a thing. Besides, there was no way Jimmy’s mail—if he’d remembered to send it—would be here so quickly. Mail service was notoriously slow around these parts.

Looking past J.T. and ignoring his comment, I said, “Where’s Ami?”

He looked perplexed, but I couldn’t discern whether if it was an act or not. “Who? Ami Hensley?”

I eyed him suspiciously. “Yeah, she told me she was coming over on this ferry.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Maddy. The only thing I brought over is the mail,” J.T. said flatly as he hoisted the satchel over his shoulder and pushed past me.

A shiver ran down my spine at the brief contact, and I took a step back. Before I could think better of it, I muttered under my breath, “Likely story.”



J.T. dropped the satchel to the ground and spun around to face me. “You accusing me of something?”

“No,” I replied, looking everywhere but at his face.

And that was when I noticed a deep scratch running down the length of his forearm. It looked like it had been inflicted by something sharp, like maybe a long fingernail, and worse still, it appeared to be a recent wound. Like really recent.

My stomach lurched as J.T. stepped to close the gap between us. Fear gripped every part of my being, and I held my breath, expecting the worst. But suddenly a black Porsche screeched into the parking lot, skidding to a stop. Thank God!



With his hot breath in my face, J.T. muttered, “Lucky bitch.” I stepped back, and he hissed, “One of these days, your luck is gonna run out.”

Calmly picking up the mailbag, J.T. snorted in derision and began walking toward the steep grade that led up to Main Street.

Adam got out of the car and shot J.T. a look of undisguised fury. But he kept on walking, ignoring Adam completely. Adam appeared torn on whether he should follow J.T. or come to me. In the end he headed in my direction.

“Maddy, what are you doing down here?” he asked in exasperation as he reached me, his eyes flickering to J.T.’s departing form.

“I thought Ami was coming over, I came down here to meet her,” I explained and then lamely added, “I tried to call you to tell you what was going on.”

“Ami?” Adam echoed, clearly confused. “Why would she be coming over to the island? I gave her some time off, so there’s no reason for her to—”

“Adam,” I interrupted. “She called me this morning. She wanted me to meet her here.” He arched an eyebrow, and I continued, “She said she needed to talk to me in person, that it was important. She said she could help me. I think she knows something about what happened to Jimmy.”

An indecipherable emotion flared in his expression, but then it was gone. “Maddy,” he began slowly. “I know you want answers, especially now. But Ami isn’t someone who can help you.”



“But Adam—”

“Madeleine,” he interrupted. “You know she has her own problems. Leave her out of this.”

He had a point, but…still. “OK, but even if you’re right, where is she?”

“I don’t know.” Adam sighed. “Unstable people do unpredictable things. She probably changed her mind and decided not to come over.”

He put his arm around my shoulders, and I leaned into him. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Unfortunately it looked as if I’d gotten my hopes up for nothing. I was so desperate for answers that I’d believed the ramblings of a troubled person. Dejected, I got in my car and followed Adam back to his house. We made a quick stop at my cottage to pick up some clothes. He had suggested, as we’d walked to our respective cars, that I stay at his place. At least for a little while. I guessed he was worried for my safety after J.T.’s actions at the dock. It sounded good to me. Not just because of the J.T. situation, but also because I had no desire to spend another lonely night at the cottage.

After we arrived at his house, Adam made dinner. At one end of a long, ornate table in his impeccably decorated dining room, we sat down—Adam at the head of the table, and I to his left. Apart from a few distracted comments about how good everything tasted—and it really was delicious—we ate in relative silence. Adam seemed preoccupied, and I was lost in my own worried thoughts regarding Jimmy’s murder and my unenviable status as the primary suspect.

I reached for my glass of wine and bumped into Adam’s forearm. “Sorry,” I mumbled.