I glanced at the florescent-blue digital readout on the stove; it was only a little after eight. Nights were boring and lonely at the cottage, and had been especially so during my week of seclusion.
“Already? Why?” I blurted, and then added in a softer voice, “I’m sorry. I was just hoping you’d stay longer. I thought maybe we could watch a movie together.”
“I wish I could, I really do. But there are some things I have to take care of before tomorrow morning.” Adam reached over and caressed my cheek. “Trust me, I’d much prefer spending the evening watching a movie with you than catching up on work. But duty calls.”
“That’s fine, I understand,” I said.
Adam must have detected the disappointment in my tone, because he offered, “Maybe another night?”
“What about tomorrow night?” I paused, and then added, “It is a Friday after all, the start of the weekend.”
“Sounds like a plan,” he said, smiling. “How ’bout I get here at seven?”
“Perfect,” I replied.
When Adam left he did so with only a chaste kiss to my cheek. Tease, I thought, when I noticed him suppressing a smile. Was he still withholding kisses? We’d see just how long that would last. I smiled as I envisioned movie night with Adam Ward…curled up on the sofa.
But I wanted to look more appealing than this. I glanced at my apparel—yeah, the wrinkled tee and dirt-smudged jeans look was not going to cut it if I wanted to really capture Adam’s attention. Although the exposed skin at my midriff had not gone unnoticed by him, I wanted to wow him with a sexier look. Silk couture, a la date night, might be a bit much, but I’d have to find something more enticing for tomorrow night.
While I sat mentally sifting through potential outfits, guilt began to nag at me. Reminding me that honesty—not some contrived outfit—was the real foundation of a burgeoning relationship. Adam had been honest with me about the phone call. It seemed wrong to let him go on believing I was planning on writing some fictional novel. But what choice did I have? I feared he’d ask me to stop if I told him the truth. And honestly, I didn’t want to give up on the investigation. I didn’t want to give up on the idea of a nonfiction book about the disappearance, and more than anything, I really didn’t want to give up on Adam.
So what would happen if—or when—he found out I’d lied to him? I’d cross that bridge when I came to it, and if it did come to pass, I surely hoped he’d understand.
Chapter 10
Friday afternoon was spent fully emerging from my week of self-imposed isolation. First I called Helena to let her know everything was fine and promised to stop into the café sometime the following day. The trill of conversation punctuated the background, and when I asked who was there, Helena said Jennifer had brought somebody over on the ferry, and she was in the middle of filling their order for two lattes to go. Before I had a chance to question her further to find out who had arrived on Fade Island, Helena yelled out a hasty, “I gotta go, talk to you later,” and disconnected.
My next call was to my father. He kept stressing that Fade Island was a lot closer to Harbour Falls than Los Angeles, but sometimes it didn’t seem that way. So after catching the hint that my father was missing his daughter, I made plans to head over to the mainland and visit him on Sunday afternoon. That seemed to brighten his day considerably.
After I hung up, I glanced over to where I’d hidden the case files, in their new spot under a loose floorboard by the bookcase. I knew I should go back over the material, review it some more, but I wasn’t really up to delving back into the mystery. Not just yet.
For one thing, I was too preoccupied thinking about the night ahead—movie night with Adam. And after the week I’d just had, I wanted one night where I could pretend there was no mystery, no missing person, no unsolved case. I wanted to be Maddy Fitch—a girl who was looking forward to spending a fun, flirty evening with a guy she was falling for. Tonight I didn’t want to be Maddy Fitch—the writer investigating a complicated cold case and getting in way over her head.
With those thoughts in mind, I went upstairs to find something more appropriate than my current ensemble of baggy sweats and crummy T-shirt. After rummaging through half my wardrobe, searching for something casual, yet sexy, to change into, I finally settled on charcoal twill pencil-leg jeans; funky, black, open-toed ankle boots with lots of sassy straps; and a cute, black-lace, corset-style top with satin ribbons up the back. Yeah, this outfit was definitely hot, and I was pretty certain it would get Adam’s attention.
It was approaching seven, so I quickly showered and got dressed for the evening. I left my hair down and applied more eye shadow, liner, and mascara than usual to give my eyes a smoldering, smoky appearance. Satisfied, I went back downstairs to double-check the provisions for the evening.
There was beer in the fridge—a respectable import—and a frozen pizza in the freezer. That was going to have to do if we got hungry. After all, it wasn’t as if there was pizza delivery around the corner here on the island.
Since this was, in a way, our second date, and the first one had ended so badly, I felt a little apprehensive and nervous. Pacing around the kitchen wasn’t settling the butterflies in my stomach, so I went back into the living room, put on a mellow CD from some indie band, and popped open the cold beer I’d grabbed from the fridge. Sitting down on the floor in front of the TV cabinet, I
