Wickingham Way (A Harbour Falls Mystery #3) (2 page)

Chapter One

A
dam Ward. Some days the man just wowed me to pieces, so much so that I could barely think. And today was turning out to be one of those days.

I watched as my exceptionally handsome boyfriend slid out of his just-parked black Cadillac Escalade. Taking long, fluid strides, he approached where I stood on the front porch of my Harbour Falls Victorian rental. I’d just returned from Stowe’s place next door, but for the moment, I was going to set aside all the issues we’d need to discuss—like the fact I’d just discovered there was a hit out on Adam. I’d address that disturbing news in a minute. Right now, I just wanted to appreciate all of Adam Ward’s fine, fine attributes.

Adam had left early in the morning, long before I’d been up and about. But he’d made it known yesterday evening where his morning plans were taking him. He’d driven down to his Harbour Falls office space bright and early to pick up some paperwork. But it seemed he’d forgotten to mention he had also had a meeting of some sort. There was no other reason for Adam to be as impeccably attired as he was today.

As he closed in on the porch, I checked him out. Always something fun to do. Today, Adam had on a finely tailored black suit, cut to enhance his lean and sculpted body. He was also wearing a light blue dress shirt, perfectly shined shoes, and a cerulean blue tie that matched his eyes, eyes I knew could change from serene to stormy in an instant. Adam’s jet-black hair looked slightly disheveled, as was often the case from his habit of raking his fingers through the silky strands when he was stressed.

I had to remind myself to take a breath.
Breathe, Maddy, breathe.
Adam looked impeccable, amazing, as always.

I smiled, but as the man with the mercurial moods started up the steps, I noted his eyes were somewhat stormy, troubled even. Adam could be moody. I knew this to be true, but I loved him dearly. And I always would, which meant I didn’t want to lose him…ever.

Spurred by a sudden fear that I could indeed lose Adam, especially if Stowe had his way, I ran to my man and embraced him with all my strength. I felt a strong desire to touch him, hold him. I just wanted to be near him. Worry had made me needy, I supposed.

I trailed my hands along Adam’s wide shoulders and played with the ends of the hair that was curling at the nape of his neck. “I love you,” I murmured as I rose to my tiptoes and kissed him fully on the mouth.

“Wow,” Adam murmured, laughing as I finally slowed my kiss and dropped back down to my normal height. “What a welcome, Maddy. Remind me to run down to my office every Saturday morning from now on if this is what I can expect when I return.”

A playful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and his blue eyes twinkled as I toyed with the lapel of his suit jacket. Whatever had been bothering Adam when he’d first arrived had passed…at least for now.

“Did you have a meeting this morning?” I asked, glancing down at his suit and then back up to his face. “You look awfully nice for a paperwork run.”

“I did have a meeting,” Adam confirmed. And then in a more serious voice, he added, “Actually, my contact from Boston flew into town late last night and needed to meet with me as soon as possible.”

My pulse quickened as everything I’d seen over in Stowe’s dining room less than an hour earlier came rushing back to me. Maybe Adam already knew of the hit that was out on him? Adam’s Boston contact was involved in the Wickingham Way project and might have flown in specifically to tell him just that. It made sense, as this contact had already proven to be quite a resource.

When we’d needed information on Stowe Hannigan—before we knew he was
so
much more than Chelsea’s older brother—Adam’s Boston contact had been the person to provide us with thorough and detailed reports on Stowe. I wondered now who this person was and what he or she looked like. I knew nothing about this individual. Adam had never even mentioned whether his contact was a man or a woman. But I had a feeling it was probably a guy. I wondered again why this Boston contact was even here in Harbour Falls. As far as I knew, all previous face-to-face contact had occurred down in Boston.

I thought it over and concluded that if the government had somehow discovered a hit had been taken out on Adam, then they probably ordered the contact to come here to warn him, possibly even to offer protection. So, yes, Adam’s contact coming to Harbour Falls was starting to make some sense.

Still, I had so many questions, and of course, my own information to relay to Adam.

No more secrets.
This was my new mantra. It was also a promise Adam and I had made to one another following the Willow Point debacle. So it went without saying…I knew I needed to tell Adam I’d broken into Stowe’s home. I had to come clean. And then I needed to tell him all the details on the directive I’d discovered. Maybe Adam already knew of the orders, but if not…

“Adam,” I blurted out, “we need to talk.”

Adam quirked an eyebrow as he watched me shoot a glance over to Stowe’s house. The assassin had not yet returned, but he’d no doubt be back soon.

Adam asked, “Is what you want to talk about in regard to Stowe Hannigan?”

I nodded, and Adam grimaced. He and Stowe were not exactly friends. In fact, they disliked one another quite a bit.

Adam cupped my elbow and gently guided me to the front door. “Come on, Maddy,” he muttered. “I think we best move this conversation indoors.”

Once Adam and I were in the house and settled on Mrs. Heider’s floral-patterned living room sofa, I spilled the beans. Adam’s face darkened considerably when I detailed how I’d broken into Stowe’s home. But before he could chastise me, I hurriedly delved into all I had discovered.

“Stowe and his organization know what you’re up to, Adam,” I said, breathless as I came to the end of the tale of my morning adventure.

Adam frowned, and I hurriedly told him the rest of what was in the insidious file I’d found.

Reaching for his hand, I suddenly had an idea. “Maybe we should get out of Maine, Adam. Fly across the country.” I shrugged. “I don’t know. We could stay at my house in Los Angeles for a while. Lay low, so to speak. What do you think?”

My eyes searched his, but Adam’s blues were as inscrutable as the tie they so perfectly matched. A beat or two passed, before Adam finally sighed and glanced down at my hand wrapped around his.

He flipped his hand over and pressed his palm to mine. “Maddy, I’m afraid these people would find us in LA in no time. They’ve been very thorough up to this point and I’m sure they know you and I are together.” He interlocked his fingers with mine. “As a consequence, they’ve surely researched your background. They know where you lived before you came back to Harbour Falls. Organizations like this one have a way of uncovering everything when it comes to their enemies.” He paused, and his eyes held mine meaningfully.

“And you’re their enemy,” I stated, though we both knew he was exactly that. Adam remained quiet, so I continued, “That means the people connected to you are in danger too. Like me, right?”

Adam nodded grimly.

Suddenly, an icy finger jabbed at my spine. “Oh my God, Adam, you don’t think my father is in danger, do you?”

My dad, Mayor William V. Fitch, was the well-loved and highly respected mayor of Harbour Falls. It would be very easy for someone with ill intent to find him. Very easy.

I shuddered, and Adam drew me to him. “Madeleine, your father should be fine. I worry about you because you’re with me all the time. But ultimately, it’s me these people are after. I think we need to keep that in mind, keep things in perspective.”

“You already knew, didn’t you?” I leaned my face against his solid chest and breathed in the uniquely intoxicating scent of Adam Ward. “About the hit,” I clarified. “Did your Boston contact tell you? Is that what the early-morning meeting was all about?”

Adam was silent so I glanced up at him. He nodded curtly as he gazed down at me.

Since I was me—and infinitely curious—I decided to press a little. “What’s your contact’s name?” I asked.

I didn’t really expect an answer. However, I got one.

“Agent Lenehan,” Adam replied.

“Hmm…”

I longed to delve further. I wanted to ask if this Agent Lenehan was a male or a female, but I felt it best not to push my luck and aggravate Adam. This morning had already been stressful enough.

So instead I asked, “What do we do next? Do you have a plan?”

Adam’s blue eyes, stormy as the nearby sea, met my hazel gaze. “I do,” he said coolly.

“And what would that be?” I mused.

“We’re going back to Fade Island, Maddy.”

“When?” I asked, surprised by this turn of events.

Adam’s one-word answer: “Tonight.”

*

Adam’s sudden announcement left me little time to pack, but I somehow managed to gather up enough clothes and belongings to fill two large suitcases. With a good-natured chuckle, Adam helped me load the bags into the back of his Escalade, and then we drove down to the dock at Cove Beach.

Our original plan had been to move back to Fade Island in the spring, two months from now. But to be honest, even if it was under less-than-ideal circumstances, I was content to go back now.

I’d grown to love Fade Island, the remote piece of real estate Adam owned. The island was located several miles from the mainland, a rocky and rugged land mass, often shrouded in fog. Fade Island could be eerie at times but also romantic. After all, Adam had kissed me for the first time at the old lighthouse down on the southern tip of the island.

The southern tip of the island touched at the heavily forested east side, which had never been developed and remained virtually untouched. If one were to continue northward, one would next reach Adam’s sprawling compound. Apart from the huge stone and wood contemporary home overlooking the sea, there was a small runway, a hangar that housed Adam’s private jet, and a seldom-used hidden dock, next to a facility that housed Adam’s collection of boats.

The western side of Fade Island was a bit livelier, although not this time of year. A strip of vibrantly painted shops lined the aptly named Main Street, which was located at the top of a steep grade leading up from the primary dock for the island. It was along Main Street that Nate and Helena Jackson ran a small café.

Well, Helena ran the café. Nate, Helena’s husband and Adam’s best friend since high school, had long ago been designated manager of Fade Island. And though Nate did indeed keep things running smoothly on the isle, I’d long ago come to discover Nate was more than just a manager. He was also Adam’s trusted business associate.

Translation: Nate was deeply involved in Adam’s covert affairs.

Therefore it came as no surprise when, after we disembarked from the ferry and got into the sleek black Range Rover that was kept on the island for tooling around in during the winter months, Adam quietly informed me we’d be stopping by the café before we headed up to his estate.

“I need to pick something up from Nate,” he stated casually—a little too casually—as he turned the key in the ignition.

“Island business?” I cautiously ventured, well aware that whatever Adam was “picking up” in all likelihood wasn’t anything remotely related to the island.

Adam shot me a sidelong glance, his chiseled profile highlighted by the ambient glow of the instrument panel. “Yeah, island business,” he deadpanned in return.

“Maybe I’ll stop in with you and say hi to Helena,” I threw out.

I hadn’t visited with my friend for a couple of days, and I kind of missed her. Helena and I had become friends early on during my stay on the island, but we’d grown exceptionally close during our ordeal at Willow Point. I pushed the images of Ron Mifflin, Helena’s sinister stepdad—who’d had equally sinister plans for us—out of my head. Thank goodness Stowe had arrived when he had, or God knows what might have happened. Stowe had saved the day…as well as both my and Helena’s asses.

I felt sad. It was odd to think Stowe Hannigan had been the one to save us. He’d been a friend—of sorts—at the time. In fact, Stowe and I had grown so close throughout the deep winter months that he’d once accompanied me on one of my fact-finding forays. Back when I was researching another mystery—one I became aware of after receiving a cryptic letter from Willow Point, the creepy asylum where a former best friend of mine still resided.

But those times with Stowe, when I’d thought of him as a friend, were best forgotten. Things had changed drastically. Stowe Hannigan was now the enemy.

“Maddy, have you even heard a single word I’ve been saying?” Adam snapped when he realized I wasn’t listening.

“Um, I…” I twisted in my seat to face him. “I’m listening now.”

Adam shook his head, and continued, “The café is closed for the day. Helena’s isn’t there. You can visit her tomorrow, if you like.”

“If I like,” I scoffed.

Adam sure was being bossy. But he often behaved like this when stressed. To be honest, I sort of liked his cocky, take-charge persona. Adam was controlling in many ways, but I had to say when it came right down to it, he actually let me get away with a lot. History had proven that to be true. So I had no room to complain. Because of this, I gave the gorgeous man next to me no argument. I remained quiet and lost in my thoughts as Adam pulled up to the curb and parked the SUV in front of the darkened café.

Once the engine quieted, Adam’s tense posture relaxed. With a sigh, he leaned over the console and placed a soft peck on my cheek. “I’m sorry I was short with you,” he whispered as he nuzzled his nose near my ear. “It’s just been a crazy day.”

I turned my head so I was facing him, and immediately his lips captured mine, his kiss expressing more heartfelt sentiment than any apologetic words ever could.

When we broke apart, Adam trailed a finger down my cheek and leaned his forehead to mine. “I’ll only be a few minutes, okay?”

I nodded against him, and then he was gone.

True to his word, Adam spent no more than five minutes in the café. As he settled back into the driver’s seat, I watched him closely. I was curious as to what kind of “island business” he’d had with Nate. As Adam snapped his seatbelt into place, his suit jacket gaped open just enough to reveal something that had absolutely not been there before—a handgun. And this particular firearm appeared to be much more formidable than the .38 I knew he kept in a locked desk drawer in his study at his house. I later found out the new gun was a .45 ACP, but at the time I thought it merely big, black, and scary.