I groaned, and my dad added in a strained voice, “Please tell me you don’t know this guy, Maddy. He’s a drug dealer, for God’s sake.”
“I met him once,” I confessed. But I didn’t intend to detail my brief and disconcerting interaction with Zeb to my dad, so I only added, “He was creepy.”
My father said nothing. I had no idea what he could be thinking, so I asked quietly, “What did he say about me?”
More throat clearing and then, “He’s claiming you were more than, uh, friends with Jimmy Kingston. Claims he saw you there with the bartender a number of times and that you looked rather close.”
“That’s a lie!” I cried out, cursing Zeb. “An outright lie.”
I didn’t know which was worse, my dad knowing I’d had some sort of interaction with a sleazy drug dealer, or him thinking I’d had something going on with Jimmy. Ugh.
I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing for it all to be a bad dream. I silently wondered if—in addition to saving his own ass—Zeb was getting back at me for not taking him up on his unseemly offer of drugs. I recalled his leering stare when he’d hinted at his “payment plans,” and I almost lost my breakfast. Instead I started to cry.
“Maddy,” my father soothed, “I know he’s lying. This dealer is just looking to get out of trouble, and he thinks he can bargain with testimony against you. He’s nothing more than an opportunist scumbag.”
Yeah, an opportunist scumbag Detective Crowley was probably salivating over at this very minute. He finally had what he needed to issue an arrest warrant for me. If Zeb were willing to testify that I’d been having some kind of a physical relationship with Jimmy, then the police could claim my motive was possibly one of a lover scorned. Even though the whole idea was ridiculous, that, coupled with the circumstantial evidence, could be enough to convince a jury that I’d killed Jimmy Kingston.
At least my dad was still on my side. If Mayor Fitch ever lost faith in me, I didn’t know if I’d have the strength to keep going. But with him (and Adam) believing in me, I knew I had to fight.
And I needed to take action now. Answers that could potentially save my ass were not going to come to me while I sat here at Adam’s compound. I was going to have to go out and find them. On my own, since Adam wasn’t due to return from Boston until closer to dinnertime.
In that moment I made a decision. If I didn’t find anything new by the time Adam got back to Fade Island, then I’d tell him the things I had yet to mention—like my having met this Zeb character on one of my trips to Billy’s. And I’d ask for his thoughts regarding the scratch I’d seen on J.T.’s arm. And then I’d go to the police. There were far more things I’d kept from the police, but I trusted Hoffman would keep me from getting into too much trouble. I’d take the “honest” route my father had proposed days ago. Until then, though, I planned to search with renewed intensity.
With the clock ticking on my new self-imposed time limit, I hastily ended the call with my dad. And then I grabbed my jacket and headed out to the Lexus. A crisp blast of wind hit me as I walked across the driveway to my car. Though it was sunny, the November air was icy and brisk. I sat down in the driver’s seat and tried Adam’s cell. I wanted to get him up to speed on what was happening, but the call went straight to voicemail. No way was I leaving a message detailing the updates—especially the stuff about Zeb—so I hung up.
Tapping the cell to my chin, I pondered the one thing that could potentially blow the lid off this whole mess.
The photograph.
Enough days had passed that it should have arrived. But there had been the storm and, consequently, no ferry service yesterday. No ferry service equaled no mail service. Today, however, the weather was fine, and the ferry would be running on its regular schedule. So I put the Lexus in gear and raced toward town, my focus on reaching the café and getting my hands on the mail.
When I reached my destination, I parked in my usual spot out front and hurried in. I headed toward the coffee bar in the back, glancing around in the hopes of possibly seeing Helena on the premises. I’d not heard much from her since Monday—the day Jimmy had been murdered. And I had yet to apologize for involving her in my explanation to the police for being in Harbourtown. I didn’t even know if she was mad. Since that day she’d left only one brief voicemail, asking me how I was holding up. She hadn’t sounded angry, but I’d left her a couple of voicemails in return and still had yet to connect with her. I hoped she wasn’t avoiding me on account of what had happened in Harbourtown, but I had the sense something was definitely up.
Nate’s voice bellowed out, breaking me out of my musings. “Maddy!” he exclaimed, pulling me into a bear hug once he reached me. Well, at least he didn’t seem to be upset with me, I thought, as I hugged him in return.
“What about that storm?” Nate asked, stepping back. “You and Adam lose electricity up on that end of the island too?”
“Yeah,” I answered, “but it came back on sometime before morning.”
He nodded and then shot me an odd look, like maybe
