Harbour Falls

Chapter 5



At the base of the steps, in the shadow of the towering cliffs, surge after surge of waves battered the sides of the rocky peninsula. Viewed through the cottony haze of fog, the landscape of oil-black rocks—some unusually large and oddly shaped—lent a mystical feel to the whole area.

“Pretty cool, eh?” Adam asked when he caught me, mouth open, ogling the place.

OK, so I was impressed. I snapped my mouth closed and playfully elbowed him for looking so smug. But then I agreed that the atmosphere down here was definitely something worth seeing.

Adam pointed to a tall, stark white structure off in the distance, and realizing what it was, I exclaimed, “The lighthouse! Can we get closer?”

“Absolutely,” he said, smiling, as he led the way to what appeared to be the least treacherous route to the lighthouse.

Down here the terrain was unforgiving, especially in the fog. One wrong move could easily result in a bad fall. But I took my time, allowing Adam to help me traverse the more slippery surfaces and climb across the largest of the boulders.

At last we reached a swath of hard-packed sand. “It’s mostly easy going from here,” Adam said, breaking the silence that had ensued as we’d navigated our way.

Now that the most difficult part of our little journey was behind us, conversation resumed. We shared stories about our college days. Although I had a few good tales of my own, Adam surprised me with several hilarious anecdotes of his own. I laughed a lot, both at the content of his stories and the animated way in which he told them. Unlike the mercurial man I’d dealt with last night, when he spoke of these obviously happy days at school, Adam was more like the guy I’d once longed to get to know.

But that changed when I asked him about his company. Adam grew reticent, giving me short, clipped answers that sounded almost rehearsed. He finally just said he didn’t want to think about work, so instead I told him about how I’d become a novelist.

“I’ve heard of your books,” Adam said. “But I must confess I’ve never read any of them. I’ll have to pick one up.”

Thrilled that he wanted to read something I’d written, I said, “I have a bunch of extra copies at the cottage. I could just give you one.”

“Only if you sign it,” Adam said, his tone teasing as he lightly bumped his shoulder into mine.

We continued, closer, closer to the lighthouse, until Adam stopped abruptly. He turned to me. “You write mystery novels, right?”

His face was unreadable, so I answered with an “uh-huh,” my voice cracking on the second syllable.

“And all of them are fiction?”

I nervously pushed the toe of my hiking boot into the wet sand and replied, “Yep, all fiction.”

Adam looked to be contemplating my answer as he took several steps backward, beckoning for me to follow. I took a few tentative steps toward him, my eyes lowering to the squishy prints my boots were making in the wet sand. Impressions that were there for a moment and then gone as if they’d never been there.

I kept walking, watching my prints appear and disappear, but then Adam halted. To avoid stumbling headfirst into him, I thrust my hand forward, grasping the thermal material of his shirt. His chest flexed beneath my hold as he caught my elbows and steadied me. I met his gaze, and he asked softly, “Ever consider writing a book about the mystery right in front of you?”

I swallowed hard, all the while wondering if he meant himself…or the Harbour Falls Mystery. Worse yet, was he onto me? Was he trying to get me to fess up? My pulse began to race, and I searched his stormy eyes. I couldn’t tell him the truth. The mystery was too intertwined with his life. Hell, the mystery was his life.

I glanced down at my hand, still fisted in his shirt—maybe more so, now—and did what I was learning to do best. I lied. “Um, no, I think I’ll stick to fiction.”

Adam was silent, but then he released his hold on my elbows and raised one hand to nudge my chin. “You sure, Maddy?”

I croaked out a shaky, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Adam’s mouth turned up into what I hoped was a smile, not a grimace. “Good to hear,” he said as he gently pried my hand from his shirt. Embarrassed, I ran a quick, smoothing pass over the material.

The fog had dissipated slightly, and I could now see we’d reached the base of the lighthouse. The structure itself stood perched atop layers of black rock, with no visible way up. “How to we get up there?” I asked.

“Over here.” Adam led me to a hidden, sandy trail that curved like a serpent through the rocks, ending at the lighthouse door.

Thankfully, any lingering tension quickly passed as we focused on making our way up the short trail.

When we reached the looming structure, I stared straight up and, without thinking, gushed, “God, it’s so much bigger up close.”

Adam smirked and cocked his head to the side. My cheeks warmed, realizing how fraught with innuendo that statement had been. “I mean, it’s bigger than it looked, uh,”—I flailed a hand to the barely visible rocky ledge from which we’d descended— “from up there.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured you meant,” Adam deadpanned. He was doing his best to not laugh at me, so I rolled my eyes at him. But, really, I was just happy we were back to playful banter.

I turned to the metal door on the side of the lighthouse, put my hand on the handle, and pulled, and pulled. “Hey, it’s locked.” Nothing like stating the obvious there, Maddy.

Adam pulled out a key ring from the pocket of his jeans. “Lucky for you, I have the only key,” he said smugly.

“I guess so, since it’s your island,” I muttered under my breath.

Adam shot me a cocky grin, having heard me, as he unlocked the metal door. I rolled my eyes, again. Only this time it was in pretend exasperation. Chuckling, he pushed the creaky door open.

I took a few tentative steps inside and faltered when a sudden, inexplicable feeling of unease rushed over me in the cool and damp surroundings. Adam was beside me in an instant. “Are you OK?” he asked.

Though it made little sense, his proximity comforted me. I didn’t know if it was my head—or more likely my heart—talking, but I wanted to believe Adam was innocent of any involvement in Chelsea’s disappearance. I wanted to believe he was just another victim in this whole Harbour Falls Mystery mess.

Despite the chill in the air, my traitorous body warmed as he moved closer. “Maddy?” he asked, his voice laden with concern.

Whatever weird moment I’d had, had passed. “Yeah, I’m fine. I guess I just needed a minute.”

My eyes adjusted to the dimly lit interior, and I glanced around. A winding iron staircase circled up and up. Standing in the center of the lighthouse, staring up, it had the appearance of a black snail that had attached itself to the smooth, conical interior walls. A few tiny, recessed windows along the staircase provided the only illumination, dust motes swirling in the strips of light streaming in.

“Can we go up?” I asked, nodding to the spiraling steps.

“Yeah,” Adam said. “But we’ll have to be careful. It’s damp in here, and the steps are bound to be slippery.” And many of them were, but Adam was right behind me the whole way up. Ready to catch me if I fell.

Higher and higher we ascended. I stopped counting the steps when I reached two hundred, gasping when I made the mistake of glancing down.

I felt Adam’s hands come to rest above my hips. “I’m right behind you; you’ll be fine,” he promised. “We’re almost there.”

A few more steps and we reached a service room, no longer in use, of course. A small wooden ladder was attached to the wall. Adam climbed up first and then offered me a hand. “Still want to come up? Or are you backing out?” he asked. His tone was playful, and I could tell he was trying to put me at ease.

The ladder led to the lantern room, which was enclosed by large, glass storm panes. I wasn’t afraid anymore, so I took his hand and said, “I made it this far, didn’t I?”

“Brave girl,” Adam said as he hoisted me up with ease.

We’d finally reached the very top. I walked over to the large, dusty lens of the lighthouse beacon. Reaching out to brush away a few cobwebs, I said, “Think of all the sailors this light once guided to safety.”

“Or warned of the danger,” Adam added, though he said it so quietly I barely heard him.

I turned away from the lens and walked over to place my hand on one of the storm panes that separated us from the harsh elements. It was like being on a viewing deck, but unfortunately the thick haze of white made it impossible to see more than a few feet beyond the structure.

“I bet the view from up here is amazing on a clear day,” I said, sighing as I stared out into the dense veil of fog.

“It is.” Adam’s breath brushed over my hair as I felt him come up behind me. “There are hidden caves in the face of the cliffs.” He pointed, but there was entirely too much fog. “You can see them best from up here. When there’s no fog, of course.”

“Oooh, hidden caves. Sounds spooky,” I said, pretending to shudder. “You’ll have to show me sometime.” I leaned back into him, and he circled his arms around me, his heart a soothing tattoo of beats against my spine.

“I will. I’ll bring you back up here when it’s sunny.”

“Promise, Adam?” I asked coyly.

He spun me around so we were face-to-face, and I leaned back against the metal handrail. He said, “Under one condition.”

Oh, this is getting interesting.

I raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Do go on, Mr. Ward.”

“Let me take you to dinner next week, Ms. Fitch.”

“Next week?” I asked, glancing up at him through my lashes. “Why wait?”

Adam pulled me to him. “Well, I’d say ‘as soon as possible,’ believe me.” He brushed a stray wisp of hair from my cheek, carefully tucking it behind my ear. “But unfortunately, I have to fly out on business tomorrow, and I won’t be back until Wednesday.” Adam’s fingertips left a heated path as he traced my earlobe. “Let me take you to dinner when I return. We can fly down to Boston.”

Adam’s long fingers continued a lazy path to the back of my neck, where they lingered. He traced little circles, leaving my mind as foggy as the air outside. “Will you say yes, Maddy?” His voice dropped to a seductive whisper. “Say yes,” he coaxed.

“Boston,” I mused dreamily as I tilted my face to his. I closed my eyes as Adam leaned down. His lips so, so close. “Yes, yes,” I whispered in response.

Adam’s mouth brushed over mine. There and gone, soft as a feather. His hands trailed down my back, as my own lingered at the nape of his neck. I pressed myself shamelessly to him, and his breathing quickened in response. He ghosted his lips over mine once more, a shadow of a kiss that left my body aching for much more. Oh God, help me, I am falling for you, Adam Ward

“Madeleine,” Adam whispered against my lips. “There’s something I should tell you.”

Are you falling for me too? I thought. Hoped. Wished. But before he could continue, a loud buzzing sound pierced the quiet. He sighed against my lips. I let out a soft cry of frustration and dropped my forehead to his shoulder. The magic was lost. The moment passed.

“I’m sorry, Maddy,” Adam whispered into my hair, while fumbling in his back pocket for his phone.

Once in his hand, Adam barked into the offending cell, “Talk. This had better be f*cking important.”

I could hear a male voice on the other end, but I couldn’t make out what the man was saying. From the caller’s tone and Adam’s monosyllabic responses, I gathered it was a business call. I kept my head on his shoulder while he talked. One arm remained around me, his fingers winding absently in my hair.

Several more seconds elapsed, and Adam ended the call. He kissed the top of my head. “Maddy?” I glanced up to find apologetic blue eyes looking down at me. “I’m sorry, but I had to take that call.”

“I understand. I guess we need to get back?”

Adam sighed. “Yeah, we should. Before it gets dark.”

Despite the fog, the trip back seemed to take less time. Perhaps it was because I didn’t want my time with Adam to end. He talked about the island, telling me how there had once been a keeper’s house next to the lighthouse. But it had been destroyed in a particularly bad storm many years ago.

When we reached my car, Adam walked me to the driver’s side door. “Be careful driving back,” he said, while I reluctantly slipped his coat off.

“Like it’s such a long drive,” I joked, handing him his coat. “Besides, you’ll be right behind me.”

“No, I won’t. I’m not going directly to my house.” I followed his glance to the café, now dark and closed for the night. Had Nate been the one calling him down at the lighthouse?

Disappointed, I uttered, “Oh, OK.”

I had to admit, I kind of liked the idea of Adam following me back. It made me feel protected. As I was getting in my car, he asked for my cell phone number. I had a sneaking suspicion he already had it, seeing that Ami had my number. But I still made a quick call to his cell from mine so he’d definitely have it ready to program in. We made plans for him to pick me up at seven on Wednesday evening, and he promised to call if anything changed.

As I drove along the lonely, dark road back to my cottage, I thought about how I was driving Adam’s old Lexus. I wonder if he has an extra set of keys for it, I thought to myself. “Probably,” I muttered aloud, sure that Adam had access to everything on this island.

After I reached the cottage, I put on my pajamas, settled on the sofa, and turned on the television. Thankfully, there was digital satellite service out here on the island, so I had something like four hundred channels from which to choose. I flipped through several and finally left on some kind of crime drama. It seemed apropos, all things considered.

There was an interrogation scene playing out, and it made me think about my upcoming visit to Billy’s. If the same bartender, Old Carl, was still working there, would he remember if the man witnesses had seen with Chelsea was J.T.? I had lots of pictures of J.T. from when I’d lived in Harbour Falls. Most were on my laptop. I scribbled down a note to print one out before Monday, so I’d have a photo to take with me for my own little interrogation of sorts.

At last I turned the television off and went up to bed. While I tossed and turned, waiting for sleep to come, I replayed my time with Adam at the lighthouse. Keeping my plans from him—to write a nonfiction account of the Harbour Falls Mystery—was going to be tricky. What had he meant when he’d asked if I’d ever considered writing about the mystery right in front of me? If he’d been referring to the Harbour Falls Mystery—and, really, what else could it have been?—then he was evidently taking it in stride. He’d not sounded too upset and had, to my relief, dropped the subject rather quickly.

Much like the Harbour Falls Mystery itself, the man at the center was a puzzle. And I longed to solve him, piece by piece.