Harbour Falls

Chapter 15



Not surprisingly Adam won the bet by a rather significant margin. Yeah, don’t bet against Adam Ward. But right as I was begging him to take my jeans off now so he could do all the amazing things he was doing with his mouth without the damn denim in the way, someone knocked on the door of his study. Adam yelled, “Go the f*ck away.”

But the knocking continued and was soon accompanied by the apologetic-sounding, yet urgent, voice of Max.

I yelped and hurried to make sure everything was zipped and buttoned, while Adam straightened his own disheveled attire. On his way to the door, he let a litany of creative curses fly. Once decent I plopped down in Adam’s chair and pretended to be examining those damn pictures, most of which were now scattered all over the desk. Adam shot me an apologetic look as he opened the door just enough for him to speak to Max. Good god, how embarrassing. Not to mention frustrating.

After a few moments of mumbled conversation—I had no clue what they were discussing, nor did I care—Adam closed the door and turned to me. “Maddy, I have to take care of something with Max. Will you be OK in here for about fifteen minutes?” I hesitated, and Adam added, “Unless you want to go home, of course.”

I didn’t want to leave for two reasons. First, I didn’t relish walking past Max. Not only had he been spying on me earlier in the day—though at Adam’s request—but I also felt sure he knew he’d interrupted something just now. Yeah, way too embarrassing. But the more pressing reason I had for staying was a fervent hope we’d pick up where we’d left off once Adam returned. Things had just been getting interesting. Suppressing a smile I was certain Adam deciphered, I said, “No, I don’t mind waiting.”

So Adam went out into the hallway with Max, closing the door behind him, but not before shooting me a look full of promise that we would indeed be continuing what we’d started. I glanced down at the scattered photos before me, many of which were now bent and crinkled from my writhing around on top of them. Smiling at the naughtiness of what had occurred, I began to gather the photos into a pile on Adam’s otherwise uncluttered desk.

Even though I’d lost the bet—meaning I was to never step foot in Billy’s ever again—I knew I’d have to break that promise at least once if Jimmy located the picture. But I’d worry about that when—and if—the time ever came.

Adam sure had been adamant about me staying away from that bar. Perhaps he didn’t relish the thought of his new girlfriend frequenting the establishment where his old girlfriend had committed so many acts of betrayal. Based on that assumption, it seemed prudent to keep looking into the mystery blonde on my own.

Once I’d organized the photos back into a pile, I spun around once, twice. Dizzy, I tried to imagine what it must be like to be Adam Ward. Being that rich and powerful tended to make people do exactly what you wanted. Even I hadn’t been immune to Adam’s charisma. It had to be intoxicating to be him. Hell, I felt it just by being in his presence.

I swiveled the chair left and right, and took a moment to inventory the study. Packed bookcases lined the room, an eclectic mix of literature and technical manuals. A few museum-worthy oil paintings graced a couple of the walls, and on a credenza under the window, there were framed photos of Adam’s parents as well as his sister.

There was a work area on the opposite side of the room, and by the looks of it, it was a tech-lover’s dream. Elaborately set up computers and peripherals, routers, and other hardware that held little interest for me. So I directed my gaze to the large window on the far wall, the one with the view of the ocean through the trees.

Night had fallen, but the blinds remained open. It was a little unnerving to think that someone—like Max—could have been out there watching us. Even though it was unlikely, and I was being a little paranoid, I still wanted them closed. But as I rose from Adam’s chair to do just that, something on the floor by the desk drew my attention. One of the photos had apparently fallen to the floor.

I reached down to pick it up, and that was when I noticed the bottom drawer—the one Adam had pulled the photos from—stood ajar, the tiny key resting innocuously in the keyhole, the digital keypad dark and disengaged. Adam had forgotten to lock it back up, probably since we’d been otherwise engaged.

At that moment I had a choice to make. I could just ignore the unlocked drawer, or I could open it and see what other things Adam was keeping in there—the only drawer with a lock on it. God, would he be pissed if he knew I was even contemplating going through his private things.



I held my breath and listened. Everything was quiet, Adam apparently still busy with Max. Only a few moments had passed, so I knew I probably had a good ten minutes more to snoop. I breathed out and sat back down in the chair, tapping the edge of the photo on the desk. What to do, what to do. Oh hell, the temptation was just too much. Tossing the picture aside, I wrenched the bottom drawer open and peered in.

Stacks of thick file folders and large A4 envelopes were piled high. With my hand shaking, I reached down tentatively and flipped the top folder open. It contained what appeared to be some sort of a business contract. Nothing too interesting, just boring legalize.

In fact, as I made my way through the pile, it seemed several of the folders and envelopes contained the same things: contracts, lots of contracts, and reams of transcribed notes from business meetings. There was one folder labeled Hensley Files, but I paged past it. I assumed it detailed the stuff Adam had already told me about Ami, plus I didn’t really have time to peruse everything. All of this stuff was obviously private papers. But nothing seemed damning, until I reached the very bottom of the pile. There, three things caught my eye.

One was a file folder stamped “confidential.”

The second was a large, ivory-colored A4 envelope with the name “Trina” scrawled on the front in Adam’s neat script.

And the third was a gun—a .38 revolver. Loaded, based on the weight in my hands as I picked it up and turned it over and over.

OK, so Adam owned a gun. It didn’t seem unreasonable for a man of his professional stature to possess a weapon for home defense. I tried not to over-think the firearm as I carefully placed it back in the bottom of the drawer. With the gun safely secured, I focused instead on the first item of interest: the file folder marked “confidential.”

It contained pages and pages detailing a stock trade Adam had made during the winter months, almost seven years earlier. I nearly dropped the entire contents when I saw the amount of profit he’d made on that single transaction on a stock he’d held for less than two months. Wow!



Attached to one of the earnings summaries was a worn, yellowing page from a newspaper I’d never heard of—The News Record of Cambridge. Skimming through the articles from six years earlier, it appeared to be some sort of tiny publication, maybe just for the students of MIT. Why had Adam kept something so insignificant under lock and key? When I reached the bottom left-hand corner of the newspaper page, I had my answer.





SEC Investigation Comes to an End for Promising MIT Student



Due to a lack of evidence, current undergrad Adam Ward has been cleared of any wrongdoing in a fortuitous stock transaction that netted the young MIT computer whiz 18.7 million dollars.

Following an intense two-month investigation by the Securities and Exchange Commission, it was determined that the young Mr. Ward’s incredible windfall had more to do with diligent research, and possibly a bit of beginner’s luck, than with trading on an illegal insider stock tip, as was originally suspected.

The SEC became suspicious after Mr. Ward withdrew a significant chunk of his trust fund monies to purchase an exorbitant number of troubled TechnoDyne Inc. shares only six weeks before the small, New York-based software development company was purchased by an industry leader, thus sending the stock price soaring.

When Mr. Ward unloaded all of his holdings and collected his tidy profit, the SEC swooped in and opened a case to investigate the transaction.

However, no illegal activity was uncovered; so pending the discovery of any new information to the contrary, the case is now officially closed. And the young, very rich Adam Ward is now free to spend his previously frozen assets however he wishes.



Oh my Lord! Hastily I slipped the clipping back under the shiny, new paper clip that had held it and placed the file on the desk. I’d never come across any information detailing stock trades Adam had made. Since this article was nothing more than a blurb from the back pages of some little-known paper, it made sense I’d not found anything like this in my research. But I could see how the Securities Exchange Commission would become suspicious, as 18.7 million dollars was a huge amount of money to attribute to “beginner’s luck.”

And that made me wonder… Had Adam been tipped off by someone about the buyout prior to the information becoming public? That would certainly have been illegal, falling squarely into the definition of insider trading. Could this be the “illegal” thing Adam had done? Was this his big secret? It had to be! I knew it in my heart.

And had Chelsea known? It dovetailed into the timeline perfectly. Is that what she’d been blackmailing him with? The threat of going to the SEC with what she knew?

If she had gone to the SEC with solid information, the case would have been re-opened, and Adam may have had to face a jury trial. Depending on how damaging her testimony was, Adam could have been found guilty and possibly faced prison time. Without a doubt, that would have ruined his life. The article was dated right around the same time he’d gotten engaged. Coincidence? I doubted it. In fact, I knew this had to be the secret. That was why it was under lock and key.

Feeling both elated and terrified at discovering this, I shakily picked up the second item of interest, the ivory A4 envelope—the one with “Trina” written on the front in Adam’s own handwriting. I tipped the envelope, and two letters—addressed to Chelsea’s Harbourtown apartment—fell onto the desk. Both had June postmarks from only one month prior to her disappearance. Things were going from bad to worse.

Each envelope contained a short, handwritten note, both written in a feminine cursive.



The first one read:



Chelsea, I don’t know what you have on my brother, but I do know you’re going to end up ruining his life. Adam doesn’t love you. He hasn’t for a long time. You’ve become an evil person, and someday you’re going to get exactly what you deserve. –Trina



The second one, written one week later, read:



You are a bitch. I can’t believe you’re actually going to go through with this farce of a wedding. You can’t love Adam. If you did, you’d never do this to him. Call the wedding off, Chelsea, or I’ll personally make sure you’re sorry you didn’t. –Trina



With my heart in my throat, my hands would not stop shaking as I grasped the letters tightly. So Trina had been threatening Chelsea. While I was aware there’d been no love lost between those two after the incident with Chelsea and Walker, it was still disturbing to read Trina’s vitriolic words.

And how had Adam ended up with these letters in his possession? The police reports hadn’t mentioned anything about threatening letters. And surely they would have, had they known. Was Adam protecting his sister by keeping them hidden? Had she actually followed through on her threats and done something to Chelsea to prevent her from marrying Adam?

Frazzled, and with time running short, I shoved the file folder with the stock information back into the bottom of the drawer, on top of the gun, and left everything as it had been. I held onto the letters, however, placing them back into the ivory A4 envelope. I wanted those letters in my possession until more information came to light. If Trina had really done something to Chelsea, I couldn’t just sit by and allow Adam to continue to cover for her.

My head was spinning, and my pulse was racing from anxiety. I wanted to go back to my own place. I needed some time alone to think over the implications of both matters I’d discovered tonight. Clutching the envelope containing the letters, I stepped into the hall, and closed the study door behind me until I heard a soft snick.

I looked left, I looked right; the coast appeared to be clear. I hurried down the hall, through the foyer, and suddenly realized I’d left my bag in the study. And my car keys were in the bag. Damn.

So I turned around and rushed back, shouldering my way into the study’s half-open door. Odd, I thought I had closed that door. With no time to contemplate, I hurried over to where I’d dropped my bag to the floor.

But it wasn’t there.

I knelt down on the floor and checked under the desk. Nothing.

Suddenly a low, irate voice broke through the silence. “Looking for something, Madeleine?”

I rocked back onto my heels quickly, the ivory envelope containing Trina’s letters clearly visible in my left hand. I attempted to slip it under my knees and, in the process, glanced up to see Adam in the doorway. And, holy hell, did he look pissed.



He stood perfectly still, my bag dangling from his right hand. Which way had he come in? Not through the front, as I would have run right into him. And how long had he been back? Long enough to have seen me snooping around?

I bit down on my lip, hard enough to draw blood. Adam’s hard-muscled body was all the more pronounced with the way the desk lamp light fell on him. Coupled with the expression of fury on his face, I felt tiny and vulnerable from my vantage point on the floor. He dropped my bag and took three long strides, and then he stood before me.

I lowered my gaze, fearful to meet his dark, angry eyes. “Give me the envelope now!” he said, his voice steady but firm.

I held it out to him with absolutely no hesitation.

Snatching it from my hand, he scolded, “I’m extremely disappointed in you, Madeleine.” He circled around me, not unlike a stalking predator. “Going through my private papers, stealing from me.” Adam placed the edge of the envelope under my chin. “Look at me,” he demanded.

I reluctantly met his glare, and though his eyes were full of fury, there was also something else. Hurt? Betrayal? Whatever it was, I felt incredibly guilty for what I’d done. Adam had asked me—more than once—if I trusted him. And I had vehemently questioned his trust in me. Yet here I was, the one betraying him. How ironic.

Yes, Adam had secrets—and I’d wanted answers—but sneaking around in his private files was just wrong. Who was the bad person in this scenario? I knew the answer. It was I.

“I’m sorry, Adam.” I whispered, my voice cracking but not solely from fear. I was also ashamed. I truly was sorry, and in that moment, all I desired was his forgiveness.

Holding my gaze, he growled, “You’ve really gone too far this time. I have half a mind to terminate your lease and kick you off the island.”

“No,” I cried. “Please, Adam. I don’t care about the past. Even if your sister did something to Chelsea—”

“Trina did not do anything to that bitch! F*ck, Maddy, there are how many suspects out there?” Adam yelled, running his hand through his hair in apparent frustration. “Why are you so f*cking set on blaming a Ward?”

“I’m not,” I tried to explain. “I believed you when you told me you were innocent. I still don’t think you hurt Chelsea. But those letters, Adam.”

“These letters” —Adam held the envelope up menacingly— “mean nothing. Trina was trying to scare Chelsea. My sister could never hurt anyone. She was only trying to protect me.”

“And you were protecting her in return,” I whispered.

“Yes, I was protecting my sister from having the police think exactly what you’re thinking right now. I intercepted these letters before Chelsea ever saw them, thank God.” Adam tossed the envelope onto the desk. “After she disappeared I started keeping them under lock and key.”

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, “for everything. If you want me to leave the island, I will…” My voice faltered, tears in my eyes.

I didn’t want to leave the island. And I definitely didn’t want to leave Adam. I longed to tell him I was falling in love with him, but I was fearful of being rejected, especially after tonight. And one thing for sure, I certainly wasn’t about to bring up the stock trade information I’d also discovered. No way. Not tonight.

“Stand up,” Adam ordered, his voice firm but less angry than before.

I stood up, shaky, and Adam took my hand. I looked up into his tormented blue eyes. “I don’t want you to leave the island, OK?”

“It was wrong of me to go through your stuff,” I said, knowing, and believing, it now more than ever before.

“It was,” he agreed, letting go of my hand.

“I should go.”

Adam didn’t protest. He led me out of the study but not before putting the envelope containing Trina’s letters back into the desk drawer and, of course, making sure it was locked this time.

We walked down the hall, through the foyer, out to the driveway, all in silence. At my car Adam stopped me. “Madeleine, I have business over on the mainland tomorrow, but I’ll stop by the cottage in the morning.” I looked at him quizzically. “We have one more matter to discuss,” he clarified.

There was no need to ask what he meant. He knew I’d seen more than Trina’s letters in that drawer. He knew I’d read the SEC stuff.

I drew a deep breath. “Adam—”

“Not now, Maddy.” Fingers on my lips, silencing me. “It’s late. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

I didn’t argue. I got in the car and drove back to the cottage. Let myself in, dragged myself upstairs, peeled off my clothes, fell into bed.

Had Adam traded on insider information? If so, had Chelsea blackmailed him with her knowledge of it? How much would Adam tell me? And where did we stand after tonight? Would he forgive my snooping?

I didn’t know, but I’d surely find out tomorrow morning.