Harbour Falls by S.R. Grey Page B

stamps. OK, first Chelsea stood by her car for several minutes. Contemplating something? She then turned and walked to the sidewalk. And then…the last image ever captured of Chelsea Hannigan showed her walking out of camera range, heading east toward the dock.
    I went through the files again to highlight some pertinent details.
    Chelsea’s Jaguar was recovered the next day, but nothing was missing. In fact, the car was still locked. Since she’d been heading toward the water, the Coast Guard searched to see if Chelsea had drowned, but no body was recovered. Based on the tides and currents at that time, experts claimed her body would have most likely washed ashore if she’d drowned that night. So that theory was discarded.
    She really had disappeared without a trace. Even her cell phone was never recovered. It was as if she’d dissolved into thin air.
    Finally, I picked up the part of the files I’d purposely saved for last: The investigation of Adam Ward.
    Being the primary suspect meant he’d been questioned on numerous occasions, but Adam continued to maintain his innocence of any wrongdoing. His weak alibi, however, kept him in the police—as well as the public—crosshairs.
    No one could substantiate his whereabouts after he’d left the hotel bar and parted ways with Nate and Helena. Adam admitted to being intoxicated and said he’d gone up to his hotel room and fallen asleep. He was not seen again until the next morning at breakfast, at around seven o’clock. Even more damning, witnesses claimed he appeared “disheveled” and “exhausted” at breakfast.
    In a quest for clues, a hotline was set up. One anonymous tipster claimed Chelsea had once complained that Adam didn’t love her anymore, had quit sleeping with her, did not want to marry her. The tipster further hinted that Chelsea may have had something on Adam—something really damning —and was using it to blackmail him into marrying her. The police were unable to track down the tipster. And they didn’t uncover any evidence to support the outlandish allegation. In fact, Adam’s past turned out to be squeaky clean, so it seemed unlikely he’d been a target for blackmail. Reaching yet another dead end, the police finally began to let up on him.
    I set the files aside. So that’s how it all went down .
    I had to admit, blackmail would be a strong motive for wanting to silence someone. But I didn’t want to believe Adam had anything to do with Chelsea’s disappearance. Surely, the police would have uncovered something if he had. W ith enough money, anyone can hide anything, a traitorous voice whispered in my head.
    No, Chelsea’s life had been full of secrets and lies. I was more inclined to believe someone from her tawdry past had caught up to her. But the question remained, who?
    My head was starting to ache; I’d been poring over the case files for hours. I slid the folder back into the bookcase and, in preparation for my visit to the café, began to look over the instructions for ordering groceries.
    Residents were to place their orders with Helena, either through an online ordering system or by taking in a hard copy to the café. Pay options were available online, or payments could be made in person. Nate would then deliver the groceries within a couple of days. A web address and several printed copies of the ordering forms were attached to the instructions. Simple enough. I checked off the items I wanted, wrote in a few not on the list, and left for the café.
    It was raining like crazy, so, once I arrived, I parked in front, lowered my head, and made a mad dash for the door. I didn’t see Nate under the huge awning that sheltered the café entrance from the rain until the last second, and I pretty much collided with him as we both reached for the door handle at the same time.
    Stepping aside, I blubbered, “Oh my God, I’m sorry—”
    “Maddy!” Nate interrupted, laughing and pulling me into a much-unexpected hug. “It’s good to