Harbour Falls

by S. R. Grey

  I looked furtively left and right. Of course, nobody else was around. Oh God, this isn’t good. Here I was, stuck deep in the woods with my former friend, but more recently my assailant. Thankfully, J.T. appeared to be deeply engrossed in what he was doing, which, at this point, was kicking fallen leaves over the now barely noticeable mound of dirt.

  “Get out of here!” my mind screamed.

  Quickly I stood—my limbs trembling—and backed away cautiously. My heart was taking up residence in my throat as memories of J.T.’s assault at the café flashed through my mind. Only this time there would be no Adam to save me. I turned and crept away silently, rapidly putting as much distance as possible between J.T. and me.

  When I was certain I was out of his hearing range, I broke into a run. I needed to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible, but I still ventured a glance over my shoulder, my pace barely slowing. Relief washed over me once I confirmed I was not being followed. No J.T. in pursuit as I’d feared.

  After what felt like forever, the forest a blur, I reached the entry to the access road, breathless and with my heart pounding. Gasping for air I slowed to a walk as my feet hit the paved surface of the main road. Safe, at last.

  With fear taking a backseat, my thoughts turned to what I’d seen. What was J.T. O’Brien doing back there? Bizarre. Why would he be burying something out here on Fade Island? Whatever it was, I’d been fortunate he’d not caught sight of me. One thing for sure, J.T. O’Brien had certainly been engaged in some crazy behavior since his short stint in rehab. Showing up at Billy’s for the first time in ages, buying drugs, and getting so messed up he threatened Jimmy for shutting him off, and now, digging around out here on the island. Yes, J.T. was up to something. I hoped to God he hadn’t caught wind of my investigation. Suspecting I was poking around would be bad enough, but if J.T. actually knew specifics—like my visits to Billy’s—then that could spell big trouble for me. Especially if he was trying to hide something, and I was getting too close.

  When I finally reached the cottage, I was a sweaty mess. I went in, showered, and changed clothes. Adam would be arriving soon, and I had to decide if I was going to share this new development with him. But there really was no choice; he had to be told that J.T. had been on the island burying something. But Adam would surely be upset with me. Not only had I not cooled it with the case, I’d put myself in danger, once again.

  Later that evening, as I plated the eggplant Parmesan I’d reheated, the doorbell sounded. Wiping my hands on the apron I’d thrown on over my jeans and sweater, I hurried to the door and let Adam in.

  He greeted me with a kiss that started out soft but soon deepened. Leaving me somewhat breathless, he pulled away way too soon for my liking. “Miss me?” Adam asked, his tone soft.

  “More than you could imagine,” I replied.

  His brow furrowed. “Is everything OK?”

  I waved a hand dismissively. “We can talk while we eat,” I said. “Dinner’s on the table, and it will get cold.”

  I was biding my time, waiting for an opportune time to bring up the day’s events. Now didn’t feel right.

  We sat down to eat, and Adam talked of his business in Boston. He wasn’t pressing me to elaborate on my earlier comment, but he seemed to notice I was preoccupied.

  Cutting into a piece of eggplant, he asked, “Maddy, are you with me here? You look like you haven’t heard a single word I’ve said.”

  I looked up from my own plate, meeting his questioning gaze. “Um, not really.” I admitted. “It’s just that…”

  Adam put down his fork, wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Did something happen while I was away?”

  I lifted a glass of water to my lips and took a long drink. Putting the glass down, I nodded. “Yeah, something did happen. When I was hiking down the access road over on the other side of the island, I saw some—”

  “Jesus Christ,” Adam interrupted, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “What were you doing over there? You know it’s not safe to be traipsing around on that side of the island. Hell, it’s almost impossible to even get cell service over there.”

  “Adam,” I said, huffing in indignation, even though everything he said was true. “Please.”

  I rolled my eyes at him, and he replied sharply, “You couldn’t find anything else to occupy your time?”

  “What like cooking?” I pushed my plate away, my appetite lost.

  “What about writing, Madeleine?” Adam’s voice was harsh, cold. “That is what you’re here to do. Remember?”

  Yeah, I remember, I thought, but I didn’t share with Adam all the second thoughts I’d had recently. Instead I said, “Look, I know you want me to take some kind of a break from the case, but I’m not going to sit around here locked up in this cottage all day like some kind of prisoner.”

  “You’re hardly a prisoner,” Adam’s voice softened. “It’s just that anything could happen to you in those woods. If you fell or got hurt, we’d have a hell of a time even locating you.” Pausing, he added, “Did you at least tell Max where you were going?”

  Uh-oh. He’d just settled down, and now he was going to be pissed all over again. And I hadn’t even gotten to the J.T. part yet.

  I shook my head, staring at my plate of unfinished food. “Um, no, I didn’t tell anyone where I was going.”

  Adam was silent, so I glanced up. His eyes held, not anger as I expected, but disappointment and sadness. I suddenly felt genuinely bad for being so foolhardy. “I’m sorry,” I said softly.

  Adam reached over and covered my hand with his. “Don’t apologize, OK? I just worry when I’m not around to protect you. Next time,”—I was sure those words were killing him, because he knew there’d always be a next time with me—“just please tell Max.”

  I took a deep, steadying breath. “I will, Adam, but, uh, there’s more.” He looked weary, so I added, “Promise me you won’t get angry when I tell you what else happened.”

  “Just spit it out, Maddy.”

  “Ok, uh,” I sputtered, “J.T. O’Brien was there today, in the woods on the other side of the island.” I cringed, dreading Adam’s reaction.

  But instead of an angry outburst, he took a small drink of water and leaned back in his chair. “Do you really have so little regard for your own welfare?” He shook his head. In disappointment, I imagined.

  “I never expected to see him out there,” I said in my defense. “Besides, he didn’t notice me. He was…preoccupied.”

  “With what?”

  “Digging, maybe burying something. He was covering the area with leaves, covering something up.” I raised an eyebrow of my own for emphasis. “That’s what I’ve wanted to tell you this whole time. I’m sure whatever J.T. was doing, he was up to no good.” I paused. “And I think we should find out what—”

  “We, Madeleine?”

  “Well, maybe not we,” I acquiesced. “But someone should check it out.”

  “You’re right. O’Brien has no right trespassing over there. He’s well aware that side of the island is completely off-limits,” Adam said, clearly aggravated. “I’ll have Max take a look around. Do you think you could pinpoint the location for him?”

  “I don’t know, maybe. If we head down there before it rains I could probably find the mound.”

  The look Adam gave me told me I’d misunderstood. “I meant pointing out where you were on a map,” he said quietly.

  With that, I nodded. But I knew I’d never be able to pinpoint the exact location on a map. I’d been so scared, I’d be lucky if I could find the right spot even if I did go with Max—though it sure would be more likely.

  But I’d try it Adam’s way…for now.

  The next morning I gave Max the best directions I could, trying to remember the exact lay of the land in the area where I’d seen J.T. The map was really no help at all. I could estimate, but I wasn’t sure how far down I’d traveled. I ventured a guess that I’d been about halfway to the lighthouse. When I menti
oned that tidbit, Adam and Max exchanged an odd glance. Then Max folded up the map and took off in his Hummer.

  When Max returned later that day and told us he’d been unable to locate any signs of the ground having been disturbed where he’d searched—no mound of dirt, no disturbed leaves—it came as no surprise to me. I insisted I’d have to go with Max if there was any hope at all of pinpointing the exact spot J.T. had been. But Adam quickly vetoed that plan. Instead he came up with an alternate plan to be employed the following day. The three of us—Adam, Max, and I—would go back and investigate the area as a group.

  Unfortunately the weather had other ideas. Heavy rains moved into the area that night, making the likelihood of our getting back down the rugged access road—even in Max’s all-wheel drive vehicle—slim to none. So we delayed the plan for the following week. It was necessary anyway, because Adam was leaving for Boston the next morning for another three-day business trip. He was so close to closing the deal that I couldn’t help but be excited for him. Even though I’d be lonely until he returned on Sunday, which just happened to be Halloween. At least I’d have one treat to look forward to, Adam’s return.

  So things were on hold.

  I knew in my heart J.T. had been up to nothing good in those woods, and I suspected Adam felt the same way. Why was J.T. digging around in the most remote part of an already remote island? He was obviously burying something he intended to keep secret. Or maybe—and this one made my blood run cold—he’d been digging up and reburying something.

  Yes, maybe J.T. O’Brien was reburying a long-hidden secret, because he feared somebody was close to discovering the truth. And that somebody was me. So if J.T. knew what I was doing, and I was getting close to uncovering secrets meant to stay hidden (or buried), then what exactly did that mean for me?

  The question was: Did I really want to find out?

  Chapter 22

  Sunday, the last day of October, started out ordinarily enough. The mild temperatures we’d enjoyed the previous week were long gone, and we now found ourselves dealing with a bout of horrendous weather—ice-cold blowing winds and a relentless driving rain. It was the type of weather that had earned Fade Island its reputation as a most inhospitable place this time of year. Standing at the window in my sweats, a warm mug of cocoa in my hand, I watched the downpour from the comfort of my living room. Yeah, it appeared fairly certain I’d be spending the day in the toasty warmth of the cottage.

  Sometime in the early afternoon, Nate arrived with a small grocery order I’d placed online the day before.

  “Happy Halloween, Maddy,” he exclaimed cheerfully, despite his semi-soaked attire, when I answered the door.

  “Oh geez, Nate, hurry and get in here,” I said, stepping aside so he could get in out of the weather.

  “I completely forgot it was Halloween,” I continued, catching up to Nate as he headed to the kitchen with the two bags of groceries in tow, a trail of big, wet footprints in his wake.

  “Easy to do around here,” he began, but just then a booming crash of thunder shook the foundation, making us both jump. “Then again, maybe not,” he amended.

  I laughed in agreement and stopped next to the table as he set the bags down. “Do you want a cup of coffee before you go back out in this mess?” I asked.

  “No, thanks. There’s plenty back at the café.”

  “Oh, that reminds me,” I began. “Helena will be back tomorrow morning, right?”

  The café had been closed for two weeks now with Helena still in Boston visiting with Trina.

  “Nope,” Nate said, his tone indicating this was not a subject he cared to spend too much time discussing. “Actually there was a change in plans. Helena’s back in the area, but she’s been staying over in Harbour Falls with her mom.”

  “Oh, is everything OK?” I ventured, recalling all the trouble those two had once endured at the hands of her abusive stepdad.

  Nate, usually so easygoing, tensed. “Uh, yeah, no worries. She’ll be back by Tuesday.”

  Silence descended, the sound of the heavy rain pelting the slate roof of the cottage punctuating the lull. Uncomfortable, I grabbed a package of cookies from the top of one of the bags and set it on the table. “Adam is supposed to be coming back today. But who knows with this weather,” I flung my hand toward the window, and then continued to ramble as I began to take groceries out of the bag closest to me. “He may be stuck in Boston until tomorrow. He’s trying to close some kind of deal.” A can of green beans I’d been grasping slipped from my hand, clattered to the floor, and rolled toward Nate.

  “I know,” Nate said as he picked the can up and placed it on the table.

  I shot Nate an apologetic look, hoping he realized I hadn’t meant to pry or bring up an uncomfortable subject when I’d asked about Helena.

  Thankfully he smiled and, back to his usual form, said, “Last I heard, this rain is supposed to clear out sometime later today, so I’m sure Adam will make it back by tonight.”

  The rest of our conversation remained upbeat. No further mentions were made about why Helena had returned from Boston early to spend time with her mom. But after Nate left, the unexpected tension that had crept up between us nagged at me. It reminded me I was alone and made me miss Adam more than ever.

  The last few days, Adam and I had been talking and texting often, but it wasn’t enough. I didn’t feel safe on the island without his being here. Despite Max and Nate being around to keep an eye on things, just the fact that J.T. O’Brien knew his way around so well—well enough to have been burying something over on the godforsaken east side—gave me pause.

  I also hadn’t forgotten about the plan to go back down the access road to see if I could pinpoint where J.T. had been digging. But nothing could be done until Adam returned. And then, only if the weather cooperated.

  I booted up my laptop to peruse the latest weather reports. First I checked the forecast for later today, and just like Nate had said, it was supposed to clear up. Good, that means Adam will be able to fly back as planned. I breathed a sigh of relief.

  I scrolled through the extended forecast. A huge storm was due to hit on Wednesday. That gave Adam, Max, and me either tomorrow or Tuesday to return to the east side. After a rain as heavy as what was being predicted, the chance of finding the spot J.T. had been digging at would be next to nil.

  I hated the thought of a big storm hitting the island. Everything would be disrupted. Adam wouldn’t be able to fly in or out, the ferry service would be suspended, and things were usually just an all-around headache. I reminded myself that tomorrow was the first day of November, and this was just a taste of things to come.

  Resigned, I closed my laptop. I leaned back on the sofa just as my cell sounded. I hoped it was Adam, as I had yet to hear from him today. But as I checked the display, I saw it was someone I’d not heard from for over a week: Jimmy.

  When I answered Jimmy began to speak in an enthusiastic voice, “Hey, I’m glad you picked up. I got some news.”

  “Uh-oh, what is it?” I asked worriedly. “Not another visit from J.T.?”

  “No, no, nothing like that,” he responded. “Dude hasn’t been back since I talked to ’ya last. But I got somethin’ way better.”

  He grew quiet, probably going for dramatic effect, so I prodded, “OK, so what is it?”

  Jimmy’s excitement emanated through the connection as he said, “I found the picture.”

  Oh. My. God.

  Four little words I wasn’t expecting to hear. Jimmy found the picture! A picture I’d considered, at times, didn’t even exist or would never be found. But the young bartender had come through—Jimmy had found the picture.

  I felt like screaming hallelujah, but instead I said, “You’re kidding.”

  Then, for a few seconds, I feared Jimmy might be playing a practical joke—some kind of Halloween trick. Thankfully, that was not the case.

  “Nope, I really found it,” Jimmy assured me.

  He sounded so pleased t
o be giving me the good news, and in that moment Jimmy seemed so much like the kid he actually was. “I have it, so whenever you want to swing by—”

  “Tomorrow!” I interrupted. “I can come to Harbourtown tomorrow.”

  What I really wanted to do was hang up and go pick up the picture right now, but there were too many obstacles in my way. A) The ferry wouldn’t be running until the weather cleared, and by then Adam would most likely be back. And B) It was Sunday, so Billy’s was closed. Which meant if I were to somehow get to the mainland today, I’d have to go to Jimmy’s place—wherever that was—and pick up the picture in person. Apart from having no clue where he lived, I cringed at the thought of Adam’s reaction if he ever found out I did something that stupid. No, it was bad enough I’d be breaking my promise to stay away from Billy’s. Better to not tempt fate.

  So many things could go wrong between today and tomorrow. So just in case my plans were somehow derailed, I asked Jimmy, “Hey, can you do me a favor?”

  “Depends on what it is.”

  “Can you make a copy of the photograph and send it to me here on the island?” I asked.

  “You think I’m gonna change my mind and not give it to ’ya?” he chortled.

  “Of course not,” I retorted, though it had crossed my mind. “It’s just an insurance policy. I have to see that picture, Jimmy. It’s important. And I’d just feel better knowing we have a backup plan.”

  To my surprise Jimmy agreed to make the copy. His apartment was located next to an office supply store, he informed me. How fortuitous. I thanked whatever gods had intervened to finally make something go smoothly. Jimmy even promised to make the copy as soon as we got off the phone. He said there was a mailbox outside the store. So if all went as planned, it would take Jimmy only about fifteen minutes to make the copy and drop it in the mail. Before we ended the call, I gave Jimmy my Fade Island address, making him read it back to me three times to make certain he got it right.