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 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. With 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