Harbour Falls by S.R. Grey Page A

the bathroom counter. A few of the women claimed they’d sometimes seen her in there doing those drugs with a good-looking, muscular guy. But they had no idea who he was. Descriptions were sketchy, but every single one said he had short-cropped red hair and brown eyes.
    Oh my God, J.T.?
    He’d once had a drug problem. But what would J.T. be doing at a place like Billy’s with Chelsea Hannigan ? I couldn’t remember the two of them ever even acknowledging one another. There was no way this man could have been J.T., right?
    Paging hastily through the files, I searched for, but could not find, any mention of J.T. O’Brien. He’d never been questioned, never been considered. And, really, why would the police suspect him? He had no known connection to Chelsea. But for some reason, I couldn’t shake my first impression that the muscular man with the red hair was, in fact, J.T. O’Brien.
    There was one way I could find out who the man had been: go to Billy’s. If this Old Carl was still bartending—and I hoped to God he was—then I’d ask if he’d ever seen J.T. with Chelsea. Chelsea had been a regular, so he’d surely recall her. And I had plenty of old photos of J.T. from back when we were in high school.
    Anxious to get started on really investigating this thing, I considered heading over to the mainland today. But it was a Saturday, and the bar would probably be too busy by the time I got there. I decided to try Monday instead, late morning or early afternoon. A time when the bar would be open but most likely not busy.
    Since I’d reached the end of the Harbourtown section, I took a quick break. More energy bars and bottled water. Ugh, I couldn’t wait to get some real food in the place.
    I gathered up the metallic wrappers, crinkled them in my fist, and tossed them in the trash. And then I hunkered down and started on the Harbour Falls part of the case files…
    Shortly after midnight Chelsea was observed in surveillance footage taken from a bank on the edge of town. She used a pay phone that had once stood in front of the establishment. She was in the phone booth for less than a minute, and then she was seen pacing around the parking lot in her high-heels, looking agitated. A few still shots from the surveillance footage were attached to the file. I flipped through the photos and surmised she’d definitely been mad about something. Perhaps it had to do with the phone call?
    So whom had she been calling?
    I scanned the next several pages, but shockingly, no one had ever thought to get the call records from the pay phone company. Even though those records were probably no longer in existence, I made a note to ask my dad if he could get ahold of them. Since the bank was in Harbour Falls, I was confident the mayor would be able to track them down. So long as they’d not been destroyed.
    Chelsea’s next stop was her last. Well, the last place where her movements were documented—a convenience store located a few blocks from Cove Beach.
    More still photos from surveillance video…
    Shortly after one in the morning Chelsea’s image is captured as she enters the convenience store. The kid working the overnight shift stated that the blonde woman (Chelsea) asked if she could use the phone behind the counter. He refused when he saw her cell phone—on and clearly charged—in her hand. According to the kid, she accepted his refusal and left without incident.
    Why didn’t Chelsea use her cell phone?
    Asking to use the store phone, the pay phone at the bank. Was she worried calls were being traced to and from her cell phone? How many other calls had she made that weren’t captured on video? Most importantly, whom had she been calling? The person responsible for her disappearance? If the nature of their connection was so shrouded in secrecy, then it was quite possible.
    I spread several still photos depicting the outside of the convenience store across the table, placing them in chronological order based on the time