I was at a loss. I had checked everywhere. I propped the two flattened pillows behind me and leaned back against the headboard, which was just a strip of dark wood attached to the wall. My hour was probably almost up, and I’d found nothing.
With a sigh, I stood to remake the bed. Maybe I could come back another day, rent the room for another hour. But what good would that do? There was really nothing in the room that I hadn’t examined.
I straightened the sheet on the bed. It was scratchy and rough. No five-hundred thread count here. I tried my best to fluff the unfluffable pillows, but eventually gave up. There was just no hope. Then, just as I was placing one of the pillows, an irregularity in the wall caught my eye.
Situated below the phony headboard and above the mattress, there was a small indentation in the wall. It looked as if someone had painted over it. The beige paint was a similar color as the rest of the room, but here the paint was brighter. I ran my finger over the indentation and pushed a little. It slowly buckled inward. What the…?
I didn’t have long nails like Helena, but mine were sufficient enough to get to work on picking and chipping away at the paint, and the shoddy job of spackling underneath. This indentation was definitely part of a hole in the wall that someone had filled. As I dug deeper, I felt something cool and hard embedded in the prickly fiberglass insulation behind the plaster. It felt as if it could be some kind of solid metal.
The hole I’d made was much too small to see into, so I worked at the object until it jiggled loose. A sick feeling crept over me when I realized what the piece of metal felt like. I pulled it free, held it in my fingers. I closed my eyes and prayed this object wasn’t what it felt like in my hand. But when I dared to look down, my worst fear was confirmed.
The metal object that had been lodged in the wall was a spent bullet. It was covered in bits of plaster, and somewhat distorted, but mostly intact. Dear Lord. I placed the bullet on the nightstand and tried to repair the mess I’d made. I scooped up and flushed the pieces of plaster from the wall down the toilet. The hole I’d made was rather small, but still noticeable when the pillows weren’t covering it up. I didn’t have a lot of options, however, and my hour was definitely up by now, so I wet a bunch of toilet paper and stuffed it in the hole.
Hey, it wasn’t the best cover-up, but I doubted the clientele at Fowler’s would really care. That is, if they even noticed. I tossed the spent bullet into my purse and tried not to think about what it could possibly mean. When everything looked as I’d first found it, I returned the room number eleven key to the office.
It was almost dark by the time I was back on the road. I called Adam to see if he was still at his Harbour Falls office, but the call went straight to voicemail. I wished like hell I could ask Adam about Fowler’s. What had happened in room number eleven? Why in God’s name had there been a bullet lodged in the wall behind the bed? What tied Ami, Adam, Helena, and probably Nate, to that room? Had someone tried to shoot one of them? With every clue I uncovered, more questions surfaced.
Even if I couldn’t ask Adam anything, I still longed to see him. Worry crept over me that this real secret could land him in more trouble than I’d ever imagined. Ami had apparently not been exaggerating. Adam’s future could very well be at stake. Had something illegal happened in that room? Of this, I was pretty sure. But why were these things coming to light just now? What had triggered Ami to contact me? Something had happened in the fall. Something that put all of this—whatever this was—into motion.
And how did Helena tie in? What did those furtive glances to Adam mean? And why had she returned home early from Boston, back in October, to spend time with her mom? I bet Adam knew why. Seemingly, Ami did too. What was I being left out of?
I tried Adam again. He still wasn’t answering his phone. There was a good chance he’d already left the office, but I headed in that direction anyway. I’d once asked Adam what had been going on with Helena back in the fall, and he had played it down.
Well, I was going to try again today. First, I just had to track him down.
Chapter Thirteen
Unfortunately, the Harbour Falls office was dark and locked up for the night when I arrived. Adam had apparently returned to Fade Island, so my question regarding Helena would have to wait. Actually, the more I thought about it… Maybe this turn of events was for the best. I needed more time to formulate my questions, more time to think about all the things I’d thus discovered.
So, I drove back to my rental home in Harbour Falls. When I pulled into the driveway, I noticed Stowe was on my porch. He appeared to be leaving a note of some kind, but when he saw my car, he crinkled the piece of paper up in his hand. I quickly parked and got out.
“Hey, I was just writing you a note,” he said, holding up the wadded paper as I started up the steps. “This works better though. I can tell you in person what I have to say.”
He paused and I prompted, “And that would be…”
“I wanted to start by apologizing. I hope you’re not too angry with me.”
I raised an eyebrow and lingered on the top step. “And just what
