Harbour Falls

Chapter 22



Sunday, the last day of October, started out ordinarily enough. The mild temperatures we’d enjoyed the previous week were long gone, and we now found ourselves dealing with a bout of horrendous weather—ice-cold blowing winds and a relentless driving rain. It was the type of weather that had earned Fade Island its reputation as a most inhospitable place this time of year. Standing at the window in my sweats, a warm mug of cocoa in my hand, I watched the downpour from the comfort of my living room. Yeah, it appeared fairly certain I’d be spending the day in the toasty warmth of the cottage.

Sometime in the early afternoon, Nate arrived with a small grocery order I’d placed online the day before.

“Happy Halloween, Maddy,” he exclaimed cheerfully, despite his semi-soaked attire, when I answered the door.

“Oh geez, Nate, hurry and get in here,” I said, stepping aside so he could get in out of the weather.

“I completely forgot it was Halloween,” I continued, catching up to Nate as he headed to the kitchen with the two bags of groceries in tow, a trail of big, wet footprints in his wake.

“Easy to do around here,” he began, but just then a booming crash of thunder shook the foundation, making us both jump. “Then again, maybe not,” he amended.

I laughed in agreement and stopped next to the table as he set the bags down. “Do you want a cup of coffee before you go back out in this mess?” I asked.

“No, thanks. There’s plenty back at the café.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” I began. “Helena will be back tomorrow morning, right?”

The café had been closed for two weeks now with Helena still in Boston visiting with Trina.

“Nope,” Nate said, his tone indicating this was not a subject he cared to spend too much time discussing. “Actually there was a change in plans. Helena’s back in the area, but she’s been staying over in Harbour Falls with her mom.”

“Oh, is everything OK?” I ventured, recalling all the trouble those two had once endured at the hands of her abusive stepdad.

Nate, usually so easygoing, tensed. “Uh, yeah, no worries. She’ll be back by Tuesday.”

Silence descended, the sound of the heavy rain pelting the slate roof of the cottage punctuating the lull. Uncomfortable, I grabbed a package of cookies from the top of one of the bags and set it on the table. “Adam is supposed to be coming back today. But who knows with this weather,” I flung my hand toward the window, and then continued to ramble as I began to take groceries out of the bag closest to me. “He may be stuck in Boston until tomorrow. He’s trying to close some kind of deal.” A can of green beans I’d been grasping slipped from my hand, clattered to the floor, and rolled toward Nate.

“I know,” Nate said as he picked the can up and placed it on the table.

I shot Nate an apologetic look, hoping he realized I hadn’t meant to pry or bring up an uncomfortable subject when I’d asked about Helena.

Thankfully he smiled and, back to his usual form, said, “Last I heard, this rain is supposed to clear out sometime later today, so I’m sure Adam will make it back by tonight.”

The rest of our conversation remained upbeat. No further mentions were made about why Helena had returned from Boston early to spend time with her mom. But after Nate left, the unexpected tension that had crept up between us nagged at me. It reminded me I was alone and made me miss Adam more than ever.

The last few days, Adam and I had been talking and texting often, but it wasn’t enough. I didn’t feel safe on the island without his being here. Despite Max and Nate being around to keep an eye on things, just the fact that J.T. O’Brien knew his way around so well—well enough to have been burying something over on the godforsaken east side—gave me pause.

I also hadn’t forgotten about the plan to go back down the access road to see if I could pinpoint where J.T. had been digging. But nothing could be done until Adam returned. And then, only if the weather cooperated.

I booted up my laptop to peruse the latest weather reports. First I checked the forecast for later today, and just like Nate had said, it was supposed to clear up. Good, that means Adam will be able to fly back as planned. I breathed a sigh of relief.

I scrolled through the extended forecast. A huge storm was due to hit on Wednesday. That gave Adam, Max, and me either tomorrow or Tuesday to return to the east side. After a rain as heavy as what was being predicted, the chance of finding the spot J.T. had been digging at would be next to nil.

I hated the thought of a big storm hitting the island. Everything would be disrupted. Adam wouldn’t be able to fly in or out, the ferry service would be suspended, and things were usually just an all-around headache. I reminded myself that tomorrow was the first day of November, and this was just a taste of things to come.

Resigned, I closed my laptop. I leaned back on the sofa just as my cell sounded. I hoped it was Adam, as I had yet to hear from him today. But as I checked the display, I saw it was someone I’d not heard from for over a week: Jimmy.

When I answered Jimmy began to speak in an enthusiastic voice, “Hey, I’m glad you picked up. I got some news.”

“Uh-oh, what is it?” I asked worriedly. “Not another visit from J.T.?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” he responded. “Dude hasn’t been back since I talked to ’ya last. But I got somethin’ way better.”

He grew quiet, probably going for dramatic effect, so I prodded, “OK, so what is it?”

Jimmy’s excitement emanated through the connection as he said, “I found the picture.”

Oh. My. God.



Four little words I wasn’t expecting to hear. Jimmy found the picture! A picture I’d considered, at times, didn’t even exist or would never be found. But the young bartender had come through—Jimmy had found the picture.

I felt like screaming hallelujah, but instead I said, “You’re kidding.”

Then, for a few seconds, I feared Jimmy might be playing a practical joke—some kind of Halloween trick. Thankfully, that was not the case.

“Nope, I really found it,” Jimmy assured me.

He sounded so pleased to be giving me the good news, and in that moment Jimmy seemed so much like the kid he actually was. “I have it, so whenever you want to swing by—”

“Tomorrow!” I interrupted. “I can come to Harbourtown tomorrow.”

What I really wanted to do was hang up and go pick up the picture right now, but there were too many obstacles in my way. A) The ferry wouldn’t be running until the weather cleared, and by then Adam would most likely be back. And B) It was Sunday, so Billy’s was closed. Which meant if I were to somehow get to the mainland today, I’d have to go to Jimmy’s place—wherever that was—and pick up the picture in person. Apart from having no clue where he lived, I cringed at the thought of Adam’s reaction if he ever found out I did something that stupid. No, it was bad enough I’d be breaking my promise to stay away from Billy’s. Better to not tempt fate.

So many things could go wrong between today and tomorrow. So just in case my plans were somehow derailed, I asked Jimmy, “Hey, can you do me a favor?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“Can you make a copy of the photograph and send it to me here on the island?” I asked.

“You think I’m gonna change my mind and not give it to ’ya?” he chortled.

“Of course not,” I retorted, though it had crossed my mind. “It’s just an insurance policy. I have to see that picture, Jimmy. It’s important. And I’d just feel better knowing we have a backup plan.”

To my surprise Jimmy agreed to make the copy. His apartment was located next to an office supply store, he informed me. How fortuitous. I thanked whatever gods had intervened to finally make something go smoothly. Jimmy even promised to make the copy as soon as we got off the phone. He said there was a mailbox outside the store. So if all went as planned, it would take Jimmy only about fifteen minutes to make the copy and drop it in the mail. Before we ended the call, I gave Jimmy my Fade Island address, making him read it back to me three times to make certain he got it right.

Things were really starting to happen, but I wouldn’t rest easy until the picture was in my hands. If there was any hope of pulling this off without Adam finding out what I was up to, I had to tread carefully and pay special attention to every detail. Otherwise he’d put a stop to it. Now I wished Adam wasn’t returning later in the day, as it was going to make things trickier to get off the island tomorrow. His first full day back, I was sure he planned on spending it with me. But I had to get to Harbourtown, even if it was just for a short period of time early in the day. Therefore, I needed a plan to prevent Adam from catching on to what I was up to. I ran my fingers over the keys on my cell. Nate said Helena was in Harbour Falls…

Inspiration struck.

I hastily typed a text to Helena, explaining that I was going to be in Harbourtown tomorrow. I asked if she wanted to drive over from Harbour Falls and meet me for lunch. Of course I planned on telling Adam we’d be having lunch closer to Helena’s mom’s house to hopefully allay any suspicion.

After I hit send, I crossed to the living room window. As predicted the rain was starting to lighten up. But brisk winds were blowing the freshly fallen leaves, spinning them into tiny tornadoes that hinted at a bigger storm to come. A feeling came over me with a sudden ferocity, a feeling of dread. Closing my eyes I breathed in deeply, chalking up my skittishness to the Halloween heebie-jeebies. Strangely enough, though, it was at that exact point things started to get, well, strange.

First Helena didn’t respond for a solid hour. Usually I never had to wait more than five minutes for her to text back. Odd. And then the only thing she wrote in her return text was: Why are you going to be in Harbourtown?

The tenor of the text was off. Helena never asked questions like that, nor did she write such short, clipped replies. Something was wrong. Did Helena suspect something? How could she? Knowing how easy it was to misread the intent of the written word, I brushed it off.

With my fingers on the keys, I contemplated my reply. Helena wouldn’t be running into Adam over the next twenty-four hours. Hmm. My thumbs flew over the keys, I texted that I needed to go to Harbourtown to pick something up for Adam. Hoping she’d not ask what, I hit send.

Another lengthy twenty minutes passed, and then Helena texted: Let’s meet at the little Italian bistro on the corner of Leaf and Ninth. I think the name is Peppio’s. Is 2 o’clock good?

I knew the restaurant—it wasn’t far from Billy’s—so I confirmed with a return text, and then I placed the cell next to me on the sofa.

Well, that was unusual. Maybe Helena had been distracted, seeing that she was at her mom’s house and all. Apparently something was going on there, especially with the usual calm and cool Nate acting so tense earlier.

From the cushion next to me, my cell buzzed once again. This time it was Adam.

“Hey,” I answered, smiling, even though he couldn’t see me.

“Hey,” he replied curtly.

I ignored his seemingly annoyed tone and asked, “How’re things going? What time do you think you’ll be back?”

Adam cleared his throat. “Yeah, about that…” He hesitated. “Uh, I won’t be back until tomorrow.”

I glanced out the window, and though it was already almost dark, the rain had stopped completely. “Why aren’t you coming back tonight?” I pressed. “The storm passed.”

“It’s not the weather, Madeleine,” he snapped. “Something has come up that I have to take care of.”

“OK,” I said softly, cowed by his sharp tone.

Adam sighed, and I could imagine him running his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, Maddy. I’m just stressed out with wrapping up this deal.”

“It’s fine,” I replied, even though I did feel slighted. “I understand.”

We talked awhile longer, but there was something off throughout the rest of the call. When I hung up, I felt even more alone. Everyone was acting strangely—Helena and now Adam.

I tried to see the bright side of the situation. I mean, I hadn’t had to mention my lunch plans with Helena to Adam. He didn’t even need to know that I planned to go to Harbourtown. He’d obviously been in a bad mood, and there’d been no point in exacerbating the situation. Hopefully I could take care of my business tomorrow at Billy’s, meet Helena for lunch to preserve my cover story in case it ever came up, and be back on the island before Adam even returned.

But I couldn’t help but wonder if Adam’s bad mood was truly a result of his stressing over the Boston deal. He was usually in high spirits when discussing anything related to the deal—assuring me it was as good as done. Until today.

So what could have happened to have made him so agitated?





I slept fitfully that Halloween night, my sleep plagued with nightmares…

I’m down by the lighthouse, and bloody waves of water crash over the black rocks. Red over black, red over black. And then I’m back at the café, and J.T. is attacking me, only Jimmy’s voice is in the background, whispering the threatening words J.T. had said to him. And then suddenly J.T. is gone. But Jennifer is there, seated at a table and drinking cappuccino. When I turn away from her sneering face, I notice there are more women, all seated at the tables. Helena, Trina, even Lindsey. Only instead of cappuccino, they’re drinking champagne from fluted glasses. Strawberries are scattered all over the tables, the chairs, the floor, everywhere. And the women are laughing…at me.

Adam steps into the café, and I run to him, pleading with him to get me out of there. He leans down to kiss me, telling me everything will be fine. But as our lips move together, I suddenly feel the air being sucked out of my lungs. Gasping, I open my eyes. And I’m not kissing Adam. I’m kissing Chelsea. And she’s pale, cold, and dead.





Monday morning was cold and dreary, a light drizzle ushering in November. Jeans, layers of long-sleeved tees, a beige wool sweater, and my trusty hiking boots, and I was ready to face the day. Ready to go to Billy’s—hopefully for the last time—and get the picture from Jimmy. My heart raced with the anticipation of finally discovering who was in the Polaroid with Chelsea.

Nervous, but resolute, I locked up the cottage and headed down to the dock, scanning the area to see who was around. The café nightmare had made me especially uneasy at the prospect of having to deal with Jennifer or, God forbid, J.T. this early in the morning. But to my relief, J.T. and Jennifer were not around.

Instead it was Brody who waited for me to board the ferry. Always a gentleman, he smiled and helped my aboard, and then we were off. I was uncharacteristically chatty, surely due to nervousness, but Brody seemed preoccupied and tired, yawning almost incessantly. I got the hint, so I buried my head in a magazine I’d brought along to pass the time.

Once we reached the mainland, I quickly surveyed things. No sign of J.T., no Jennifer. Excellent. I hurriedly got the BMW out of the garage and raced toward Harbourtown. This excursion needed to be quick and anonymous, and so far, so good.

Paranoid that Adam had somehow discovered what I was up to, I kept a check on the traffic behind me, periodically glancing up to the rearview mirror. But there was no Max trailing me. In fact, I had the road mostly to myself, unlike the last time I’d traveled this route. Or the first time. With such light traffic, I reached Billy’s in no time at all. I parked along the side of the building, got out, and locked my car doors. It was always lonely down here, but today seemed exceptionally desolate, with no other cars or people in sight in the area around the bar. I guessed Halloween had been quite the party night down here by the docks, and now the revelers were all home recovering.

I hustled to the entrance. As I shouldered the door open and stepped inside, an unexpected chill ran down my spine. Breathing in the smell of stale beer and sweat I’d come to associate with Billy’s, I detected an unusual, underlying scent. Something so pungent I skidded to a stop just as the door slammed shut behind me. What I smelled was the scent of fear and…something else, something metallic.

I glanced around, my eyes adjusting to the dim interior. The string of Halloween lights Jimmy had strung up behind the bar was on, giving everything an eerie orange and purple cast. But otherwise everything looked normal. Well, as normal as Billy’s could look. A half-empty mug of beer rested on the bar, but not a soul was in sight. It was quiet, too quiet. Jimmy always played music, but today the only sound was a steady drip of water coming from somewhere in the back room.

“Jimmy,” I called out, taking a tentative step forward. “Is anybody here?”

My hollow voice echoed, and I sensed there was something terribly wrong. My heart raced, but I continued to take small, shuffling steps, forcing myself to keep walking toward the bar. Closer, closer, but then I slipped, quickly grabbing hold of a bar stool to steady myself.

I glanced down to the dusty, wooden floor. A piece of white paper or something was stuck to the heel of my hiking boot. Reaching down, I peeled it away. It wasn’t a piece of paper after all. It was an envelope. A shaky, childlike “M,” printed on the front in black marker, the only marking on it. A lump rose in my throat, because I knew in my heart that the “M” was for Maddy, and Jimmy had been the one who’d written it.

This was it—the picture! I turned the envelope over and lifted the flap, all the while my hands trembling. But the envelope was empty. There was no photo, nothing.

Had Jimmy dropped the envelope before having a chance to put the photo in it? No, that wasn’t right. Panic set in. Why was the envelope even on the floor? Had someone removed the photo and dropped the envelope? That was looking like the most likely scenario. But if so, who?

“Jimmy?” I called out once more.

Nothing.

Dizziness overtook me, so I closed my eyes. Count to ten...breathe slowly. I slid my hands from one bar stool to the next, letting them be my guide to the end of the bar. When I reached the final stool, I opened my eyes. Coming here was a mistake, a terrible mistake. I felt it with every fiber of my being. And when I leaned around the edge to look behind the bar, my fears were confirmed.

Lying on the floor, in a widening pool of blood, was Jimmy—a single bullet hole marring the pale skin of his forehead.