My father pulled me into a hug. “I love you, Maddy.” He patted my back. “I’m just worried.”
“I know,” I mumbled. “I love you, too, but you’re going to have to trust me on this one.”
The mayor and I ended up reaching a truce. As long as I didn’t ask for his outright blessing, he’d refrain from voicing his objections to my burgeoning relationship, particularly in the presence of Adam.
Speaking of Adam, I was anxious to reunite. But when we opened the door and stepped into the hallway, neither he nor my attorney were there. I told my dad I’d check for them in the front lobby, but the mayor said he had something he needed to do elsewhere in the station—speak with Detectives Mitchell and Crowley. Presumably to find out exactly where they stood on the question of my guilt, and I was sure he wanted to see what he could do to assuage their suspicions.
After we said our farewells, my dad walked down the corridor to the detectives’ offices. And I went to the front lobby, where I found Adam—a weary-looking but still insanely gorgeous Adam.
“How’d it go with your father?” he asked, as I went to him and leaned my forehead against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, making me feel infinitely better.
“It went as well as could be expected,” I answered. “Just don’t expect the mayor to be giving you the key to the city or anything,”—Adam chuckled—“but I think he’s willing to give you a chance.”
I hope he gives you a chance, I thought, but left unsaid.
Stepping back I noticed Hoffman was nowhere to be seen. I cast a curious glance to Adam, and he explained that my attorney had gone back over to Harbour Falls. I was certain we’d be discussing more tomorrow, but it felt good to be done for now. It had been a long, trying day, and I was sick of talking about the events that had transpired. I just wanted to go home.
Adam and I stepped out into the cold, biting air. The promise of winter resonated as we made our way to the parking lot.
Adam was kind of quiet, so I asked, “Aren’t you wondering what went down in the interrogation room? I kind of figured you’d be expecting a blow-by-blow account.”
Adam gave me a tight smile. “Elliot already filled me in.”
“Oh,” I replied. “Um, does that mean he told you, uh, everything?”
I felt a little conflicted. I mean, yeah, I realized Adam was paying the man, but Elliot Hoffman was still my attorney. What about attorney-client confidentiality and all that?
Adam must have guessed my thoughts, because he exhaled loudly and said, “Maddy, if you want to stay out of jail, it’s imperative I stay abreast of all the developments.” I sensed a flash of annoyance as he finished speaking, but he put his arm around me nonetheless and kissed the top of my head. Maybe I was just imagining things.
When we reached the first row of cars in the parking lot, I halted, suddenly realizing we had no transportation. “Wait,” I said. “How are we supposed to get home?”
Adam had said Hoffman picked him up at Cove Beach and drove them both to the police station here in Harbourtown. Or so I assumed. In any case Hoffman was gone, leaving us with no options. Then again I knew Adam had cars at his disposal here on this side of the water too. So who knew?
“You drove here with Hoffman, right?” I asked, looking for clarification as we resumed walking.
Adam shot me a sheepish grin. “Uh, not exactly.”
I frowned, and he amended, “Well, I was with Hoffman most of the way. He did pick me up at Cove Beach.”
I was so busy looking at Adam—trying to figure out what he was intimating—that I hadn’t noticed we’d stopped at a burgundy car—a burgundy BMW. My burgundy BMW. What the hell? Detective Mitchell had driven me to the station; I’d left my car at Billy’s. How could it be parked here?
I turned to face Adam and asked that exact question, my tone wary. “How’d my car get here, Adam?”
“I had Elliot stop at Billy’s so I could pick it up for you. I didn’t think you’d want to go anywhere near that place after what happened there.” I cringed at the fresh memory and nodded in agreement. “So we stopped there, got your car, and then I followed Elliott the rest of the way here.”
“But…the keys,” I asked, feeling for and finding the clear outline of the key fob in my bag. “How’d you get it started?”
I was stumped. Surely hot-wiring foreign imports was not among Adam’s many talents. Although I doubted much would shock me at this point.
“Yeah.” Adam raked his fingers through his hair. “About that…”
“Adam,” I warned.
“I had a spare key made for your car,” he confessed with no hint of apology.
God, this man continued to drive me mad, but I was too exhausted to get into it with him. I let it slide, even though it had been a very intrusive thing to do. Whatever, though. I had bigger things to worry about.
Adam produced the said spare key—complete with key fob—and unlocked the doors. Rolling my eyes, I got in on the passenger side and sank down into the seat. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, listening as Adam slid into the driver’s seat, a rustle of fabric against leather. And then the key turned in the ignition, the engine coming to life.
Adam’s warm hand descended to my own chilled ones that I held clasped together in my lap. “Everything is going to be fine,” he reassured me in a soft voice. “The police have nothing. It’s all circumstantial bullshit.”
With my eyes still closed, my breathing hitched as I said, “Adam,
