Jennifer nudged the gun against my temple, and I heard Adam growl in response. “Show him, Fitch,” she demanded, oblivious to Adam’s escalating anger.
Jennifer loosened her grip around my neck. From my jacket pocket, I shakily pulled the folded piece of paper that held the image of Ami kissing Chelsea. Before I had a chance to lift it, Jennifer snatched the paper from my grip, unfolded it, glanced at it with a snort, and tossed it in Adam’s direction.
The piece of paper flitted to the floor in front of Adam, and he knelt down slowly to pick it up, his gun remaining trained on Jennifer.
“See, Ami is just as involved in this as I am,” Jennifer whined as Adam glanced at the image on the paper. “And now, you know her motive,” she added with a snicker.
Adam crumpled the paper in his hand as he rose to his feet. Though he appeared calm, I saw a myriad of emotions in his eyes. Ami Dubois-Hensley had kept her secret so well hidden that not even Adam—the man who seemed to know everything— had uncovered this piece of information. He’d underestimated Ami, as had everyone.
But, then again, how could anyone have known? Ami had admitted to paying off Old Carl, Billy’s once-upon-a-time bartender, for all the incriminating photos. And Jimmy had misplaced the only remaining photo, recalling it after I showed up and started asking questions. And threw a little money his way.
Of course, none of it mattered now. We had the evidence to clear Adam once and for all, but Jennifer was determined to get rid of me. Adam might have ruined her original plan to murder me, hide my body in the caves with Chelsea’s, and allow Adam to be blamed for another inexplicable disappearance, but I could tell Jennifer was improvising some alternative plan even as we spoke. And that couldn’t be good.
“You and Ami killed Chelsea?” Adam asked quietly.
“No,” Jennifer replied, “
You
killed Chelsea.”
Adam looked perplexed, but I sensed the panic in Jennifer’s voice. She was starting to lose it. She pressed the gun harder into my temple, and I cried out in pain. Adam started toward us, but Jennifer stopped him in his tracks when she yelled, “Hold it right there, Ward, or she’d dead. You can shoot me after, but she’ll still be gone.”
It was obvious Jennifer wasn’t bluffing. Adam must have sensed it because he halted. But I’d never seen a person more furious. If looks could kill, Jennifer would have been a goner.
Oblivious, Jennifer said, “Now take your cell out, Ward. You’re gonna call the police and give them a long-overdue confession.”
No! This turn in her sordid plan was insidious. I’d rather be dead than allow Adam to take the fall for Chelsea’s murder. Of course I’d probably end up dead, regardless. But I could go down fighting.
Adam was removing his cell from the back pocket of his jeans when I cried out, “Don’t do it, Adam. Please.”
Jennifer hissed in my ear, “Shut up!”
I began to struggle, despite my fear of getting shot. I could hear Adam saying something as I managed to put some space between me and the cold steel of the .38. In response Jennifer wrenched my neck hard, leaving me gasping for breath.
But then, suddenly, a loud shot rang out, deafening me. Jennifer’s grip tightened, and I couldn’t breathe. But then her hold on me inexplicably loosened. I began to fall, certain that I’d been shot. Jennifer’s body fell onto mine, but I felt no pain.
Maybe this is what dying feels like? Painless.
As I lay drifting in and out, somebody lifted Jennifer’s weight from me. I heard voices and then felt someone lifting my head from the ground. “Adam?” I whispered, opening my eyes as I felt his welcome touch.
“Maddy,” Adam whispered, “My God, I thought I lost you.”
His hands gently ran over the swelling on my cheek where Ami had hit me with the gun, and I winced. I struggled to sit up, and Adam helped me to my feet. “What happened?” I asked, my ears reverberating from the gunshot that had rung out so close to my head.
Before Adam could answer, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. Max stepped into the lighthouse, smoking gun—literally—in hand. I relaxed back into the warmth of Adam’s chest as Max bent down over Jennifer’s very still body. “She’s dead,” he said somberly, releasing his fingers from around her wrist, where I supposed he’d been checking for a pulse.
Max had shot and killed Jennifer Weston. He’d saved me. He’d saved Adam. It was now more obvious than ever why Adam employed him as security here on the island.
“Took you long enough,” Adam said in a tone that would have sounded light in other circumstances, but now it just sounded grim. “I was worried I’d pressed the wrong key.”
I later found out Adam had somehow managed to call Max from the cell phone that had been in his back pocket. He had Max on autodial, and at some point during the ordeal, he reached back and hit what he’d hoped was the correct key. Thank God it had been the right one. I shuddered, imagining what might have occurred if Max had not arrived or if he had gotten here too late.
Adam held me close to his body, and I looked up at him, hoping my eyes conveyed the emotions no words ever could. “I’m sorry,” I said to him, wanting to apologize for having ever mistrusted him.
But just then Ami let out a moan as she began to come to. Max glanced at Adam questioningly. Adam grimaced and said, “She was in on this whole thing. But we finally have the answer to what happened to Chelsea. These two”—he nodded to Jennifer’s still body and then to Ami—“killed her.”
“And I know where they put her body,” I muttered, my voice weak.
Both Adam and Max eyed me, stunned. I told them all Ami and Jennifer had told me, finishing with how they’d dragged Chelsea up to one of the caves within the cliff face. Even before I’d finished my story, Max was on the phone with the police.
Adam wrapped his arms around me, holding me in a way that showed me he truly realized how closely he had come to losing me. “Let’s go outside,” he murmured into my ear. “Max can keep an eye on Ami until the police get here.”
I glanced over my shoulder; Max was cuffing a disorientated Ami to the metal railing. I’d seen enough, so I allowed Adam to lead me from the lighthouse, out into the welcoming cool air of night.
Under a black velvet sky that I was thankful to be walking beneath, waves crashed all around us. Adam and I walked silently, hand in hand, along the sandy stretch leading down away from the lighthouse, and then Adam stopped, turning me to face him. “Maddy,” he began, his voice catching. “I don’t know what I would have done had I lost you.”
“Adam,” I soothed, “you saved me. How did you even know I was here? Did you see the note?”
He nodded. “Yeah, and when I got here, I saw your car at the top of the cliffs. But you’re wrong about one thing.”
I looked up into his face, beautifully lit by a sliver of moonlight peeking from behind a lone cloud. “What’s that?”
Adam took a deep breath, and said, “Actually
you
saved
me
. You’ve shown me how to trust again. You’ve shown me how to live, how to love. And I love you, more than you know, Madeleine Fitch.”
I stepped toward him, pressing my body to his, soaking in all his warmth and strength and love. “I love you, too, Adam Ward,” I replied reverently.
Adam bent down, his lips grazing mine. “It’s finally over,” he muttered against my mouth.
I caught his bottom lip with my own lips and then kissed him back, slowly and languidly, savoring his taste and the feel of his skin against mine. Breaking away just long enough to speak, I amended his words, “No, Adam. All the bad stuff is over, yes, but for us this is just the beginning.
Our
beginning.”
Chapter 29
On a bitter, cold November morning, Chelsea Hannigan’s body—or, rather, what remained of it—was recovered from the back of one of the many caves that lay recessed into the jagged cliff face overlooking the lighthouse. Skeletal remains and a few tattered shreds of a once-vibrant sundress were spirited away to the crime labs in Harbour Falls for final analysis. Though there was no doubt from the preliminary tests that were conducted on the scene that the remains were, in fact, those of the woman who’d once been engaged to Adam Ward.
Once the police were finished with both scenes—the cave, and the lighthouse, where Ami and then Jennifer had held me captive—the news of what had happened spread like wildfire, and the media descended onto our usually quiet community.
The story had enough tawdry details, as well as the resolution of a mystery that had haunted the Harbour Falls area for half a decade, to keep the general public hungry for details. Fortunately, since Adam owned Fade Island—and it was, therefore, private property—he was able to keep the news crews and nosy reporters far away from the actual scenes of the crimes. But that didn’t mean we’d been left to our own devices over on the island. No, quite the contrary.
My dad, the mayor, had rushed over only hours after the police had arrived on the scene at the lighthouse. My father was so grateful for Adam’s intervention that, much to my surprise, he’d grabbed Adam in a manly, awkward way and hugged him. Yeah, actually hugged “that man,” Mr. Adam Ward. So I guess you could say miracles do happen.
Following my father’s visit, Trina and Walker arrived, spent a couple of days. Nate and Max also paid many a visit to Adam’s compound, where I was still staying. Additionally the phones seemed to ring continuously. There were calls from my best friend and agent, Katie; Adam’s parents; my brother, Brent, in Chicago; and many, many more concerned friends and acquaintances. Even Julian had called. But I made sure to take that call in a different room, away from Adam.
Everyone was thankful we’d survived Ami and Jennifer’s machinations, and they were all relieved that the Harbour Falls Mystery had finally been solved. So much so that nobody seemed to care that I’d been secretly investigating the mystery all along. I guessed the outcome justified the means.
But among the many visitors and callers there was one notable exception—Helena. I’d yet to hear from her. I found it odd, but her absence was just one of many still unanswered questions that lingered in the days following the lighthouse incident.
Today, however, Adam and I would soon be finding out at least some of those answers. Detective Mitchell was venturing over to the island to bring resolution to many of our case-related queries. The question of why Helena was staying away would have to wait. For now.
Adam’s voice brought me back to the here and now when I heard him speaking outside the study with Detective Mitchell. I’d retired to Adam’s workspace to look over my own notes regarding the case. I’d long since decided not to write the original novel I’d come here to research and pen. But I had another idea. And I couldn’t wait to get Adam’s opinion on it.
I folded up my notes and was moving from Adam’s big, comfy desk chair to one of the two situated on the opposite side of the desk just as Detective Mitchell and Adam came into the room. Adam motioned for the detective to take the seat next to me, and then he settled into his own chair behind the desk.
Once we were all comfortable, the good detective began to speak. “First, Miss Fitch, I’d like to apologize for any, uh, inconvenience the last couple of weeks may have caused you.”
Inconvenience?
I’d been accused of murdering Jimmy Kingston and suspected of involvement in what turned out to be the phony disappearance of Ami Dubois-Hensley, so I couldn’t help but scoff. But I knew Detective Mitchell’s intentions were sincere, so I nodded warily in acceptance of his apology.
“Detective Crowley sends his apologies as well,” Mitchell continued. At that I couldn’t help but laugh out loud, and he added contritely, “Of course, we both thought it best he not deliver his message in person.”
Good call
, I thought. I was glad Detective Crowley had remained in Harbourtown, as I sure didn’t care to see the man who’d been all set to send me up the river. But to Detective Mitchell, I just nodded.
An uncomfortable silence filled the room, and Adam cleared his throat. “So, Detective, what did you wish to speak with us about today? You said on the phone that you had some information.”
“I do,” Detective Mitchell said. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear that Ami Hensley has been extremely cooperative.”
Adam and I glanced at one another hopefully. The last thing either of us wanted was a long, drawn-out trial. Now that the mystery was solved, we were anxious to put it behind us. We were ready to move forward. If Ami was willing to confess to all she’d done, our hopes could be realized.
“What does that mean exactly?” I asked, waiting for clarification.
“It means Mrs. Hensley has confessed to everything
.
” Adam and I let out collective breaths. “The planning and attempted murder of Chelsea Hannigan, murdering Jimmy Kingston, assault and battery on you, Miss Fitch.” He nodded to me. “She confessed it all. There’s more too: kidnapping, obstruction of justice, destruction of evidence. Need I go on?”
Both Adam and I shook our heads, and Mitchell added, “Suffice it to say, Ami is going to be locked up for a very, very long time.”
“In jail?” I asked.
Detective Mitchell shifted in his seat. “Actually we’ve worked out a plea. In exchange for her confession, Ami will be sent to a facility for the criminally insane.”
“Willow Point?” I asked timidly.
The detective nodded, and I winced. Willow Point was not much better than prison. Maybe worse if certain stories were to be believed. But Ami would probably receive better treatment for her disorders there than in prison. Or at least I hoped that would be the case. I glanced at Adam to get a gauge on his thoughts, but his expression was unreadable.
Adam ran a hand over his face and quietly asked Detective Mitchell, “What made her decide to plead guilty?”
I wondered as much myself, especially since Ami had guarded her secrets so intently—not to mention very successfully—over the last several years.
“Her husband,” Mitchell replied, and then he turned his gaze to Adam. “Sean Hensley said convincing her to plead was his way of saying ‘thanks’ to you.”
Poor Sean Hensley, just another victim in all of this. I couldn’t even begin to imagine the torment he must feel at knowing the true depths of Ami’s instability. Perhaps he’d wanted to return Adam’s favor—helping him when he believed his wife to be missing—but I was sure Sean had his own personal reasons for wanting to avoid a very public trial. In any case I was grateful, and I found myself hoping he could someday pick up the pieces and eventually move on with his life. Sean deserved some kind of happiness after all that had happened.
Detective Mitchell then provided answers to many of the questions Ami’s confession had raised.
For example, unbeknownst to me, Jennifer had followed me on my very first visit to Billy’s. I hadn’t even thought to look for people trailing me that day. Jennifer was also the one who sent Ami to LA, to try to waylay my burgeoning investigation. She had suspected right from the very beginning that I would investigate the Harbour Falls Mystery. After all, my books were murder mysteries. And she worried that unaccounted-for evidence could begin to surface with someone like me digging around. She’d been right to worry.
Detective Mitchell also told us where Ami had holed up during her faked disappearance. There was a seedy roadside motel named Fowler’s that was located on the outskirts of Harbour Falls. It was the kind of place where no questions were asked, and patrons could retain complete anonymity. Jennifer had rented a room there and hid Ami away in the rundown establishment. Thus giving the woman who’d killed Jimmy time to lay low and subsequently appear to have gone missing. And to more easily implicate me, of course.