“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 fucking 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.
Chapter 6
The next afternoon yet another visitor darkened my doorstep. But this one was not completely unexpected. “Nate,” I said in acknowledgment as I opened the door.
“Hey, Maddy,” he replied as he lifted up four bags of groceries from the doorstep. “Your order was ready, so I figured I’d get it out to you.”
“Wow, that was some quick service,” I remarked, moving aside so Nate could come in.
“We aim to please, Maddy. We aim to please.” He nodded to the back of the house. “Kitchen?”
“That’d be perfect. It’s right in here.”
Nate followed me into the kitchen and then placed the bags on the counter. “Oh wait,” he said, grabbing some kind of letter wedged between the bananas and a box of cereal. “Here.” He handed me an envelope. “You’ve got some mail already.”
I’d been told the mail coming out to the island was first delivered in bulk to Cove Beach, sorted by the Westons, brought over on the ferry, and lastly dropped off at the café. Residents were to pick up the mail at their leisure, but if one forgot or just didn’t want to bother, Nate would bring it en masse with the grocery orders.
This particular piece looked like junk mail that had been forwarded from my dad’s. I thumbed open the flap on the back and pulled out a letter. “Oooh, look, I won,” I joked, holding up a notice that stated someone with my initials would most assuredly find themselves a big winner in the coming days.
“Nice,” Nate said, dragging out the i. “Balloons and camera crews. I always wanted to meet the prize patrol.”
We both burst out laughing, and I couldn’t help but remark, “And just think what a warm
