Ami had been in possession of this wallet back in October. Where had she found it? How long had she had it? Maybe she had been in possession of it all these years? But why get rid of the wallet in October? What made her ask J.T. to throw it in the ocean? I had so many questions and not one single answer.
I stared down at the wallet in my hand. What had happened in that motel room? Bile rose in my throat. Had someone shot Ron Mifflin? Was he dead? That would explain why no one had seen the man in nine long years.
But that brought up still more questions…
Who—if not Ron—had sent Helena’s mom a gold wedding band that looked like the one her abusive husband once wore? Ami? Maybe. Or maybe that mystery student Ron had dropped off in Bangor that night in May. And if some mystery guy was involved, then was he the reason Ami was afraid? Had he somehow gotten to her at Willow Point?
Who in the hell was this guy anyway? What was he after? And once he was done with Ami, who would he go after? Helena? Nate? Adam?
The one thing I knew for sure was that I needed to talk to Adam as soon as possible. I checked the time, just a couple more hours ‘til our meeting. I tossed the box back in the hole and threw some dirt over it using the shovel. Then, I ran back to the Navigator and threw the tire iron in the cargo hold. Finally, I was off…
When I reached the cottage, I took a quick shower. I’d luckily left a few articles of clothing when I’d moved off the island, so I grabbed some now—clean jeans, a sweater as blue as today’s sky, and riding boots.
An hour later I was back in Harbour Falls, standing in the reception area at Adam’s office. No secretary today, the place was empty. It was five o’clock. I heard a door shut, and when I glanced down the hallway, I saw Adam emerging from his office in the back.
“Hey, you’re here,” he said when he reached me. I smiled, and he gave me a quick kiss. “I just have to fax this form and we can get out of here.” He waved a piece of paper and brushed past me to reach the fax machine.
I clutched the bloodied wallet, held it close to my side. Adam had yet to notice it. I shifted my weight and watched as he faxed the document. He was wearing dark slacks and a black cashmere sweater, his hair as dark as his sweater, a few wisps slight disheveled. Adam looked beyond amazing, as always.
A wave of sadness washed over me, the wallet weighing heavy in my hand. I was tired of secrets and lies. I just wanted to have a normal relationship with this gorgeous guy. It wasn’t right that instead of being excited about spending an evening with Adam, I was dreading it. I’d told him I was going to tell him everything tonight, the whole truth. And I was, but now, with Ron Mifflin’s bloody wallet in my hand, I sure as hell wanted answers in return more than even before.
There was absolutely no reason to delay the inevitable conversation we needed to have. So when Adam turned to face me, I held the wallet out where he could see.
My hand shook, and my voice cracked as I asked, “What happened to Ron Mifflin?”
The color drained from my lover’s face. “Jesus fucking Christ, Madeleine—”
“God, Adam,” I interrupted, choking back a sob. “Please tell me one of you didn’t kill Ron. Please tell me you didn’t kill him. This is what Chelsea was blackmailing you with, isn’t it?” I knew the answer, but I wanted it confirmed.
I shoved the wallet at Adam, and he snatched it away. “Where did you get this?” he asked angrily, ignoring all I’d just said.
“I dug it up this afternoon, over on the island.”
His eyes narrowed. “Didn’t I tell you to forget about that whole thing?”
“Uh…” It was a little late for that, so what could I say?
“Fucking J.T.,” Adam spat, looking down at the wallet. “How did that asshole get his hands on this?”
This, I could explain. “Ami gave it to him in October. The wallet was in a metal box. J.T. never found out what was in it; it was locked. Ami had asked him to throw it in the ocean, but he buried it instead.”
Adam turned the wallet over in his hands and flipped it open. “I can’t believe it,” he mumbled distractedly. “I never thought I’d ever see this thing again.”
I was about to ask what he meant by that, but just as I was trying to decide how to phrase my question so it wouldn’t upset him, Adam grabbed me by the arm—none too gently—and pulled me toward the door. “Come on,” he growled. “We have somewhere we have to go.”
I struggled but it was futile. Adam was just way too strong. He had me out the door and down the sidewalk in minutes.
“Get in,” he said when we reached the Escalade. I complied without complaint since he looked like he was about to snap.
It wasn’t until we were well away from the office, and heading out of Harbour Falls, that I dared to ask, “Where are we going?”
“I need to check on something,” was his less than forthcoming reply.
We were flying. Adam drove fast, but this was downright dangerous. “Please, Adam, slow—”
“Maddy,” he interrupted, his voice strained. “If there was ever a time for you to just be quiet, it’s now.”
I sure wasn’t about to argue, so I snapped my mouth shut and just held on for dear life. Adam continued to drive—fast—in brooding silence, until he finally slowed enough to turn onto the old state route. Uh-oh. I had a sick feeling I knew exactly where we were
