been burned to a crisp. But damn, we’d had fun.
Still smiling, I clicked another image—this one was of J.T. and Ami standing in a line at a local amusement park. I’d caught them off-guard as the three of us, so close back then, had waited to ride what had been deemed, at the time, to be the latest and greatest roller coaster in the area. I stared at the photo and shook my head. Where had the time gone? How had my friends changed so much?
With a sigh, I closed the image and opened a folder labeled “Summer after Graduation.” And it was there I stumbled upon the mother lode of J.T. photos. Most had been taken down on Cove Beach, a few days following commencement. I remembered that day like it was yesterday. One of my graduation gifts from my father had been a digital camera, and J.T. and I had gone down to the beach to try it out.
There were several photos of J.T. goofing around near the water, but I ultimately chose a clear headshot, a sliver of blue sky the only background. I sent the photo to the printer and wondered what had happened to the friendly, shy boy I’d once called a friend. Was he the mystery man who’d been with Chelsea at Billy’s? Doing drugs together? If so, what kind of relationship had they had? Had their commonality of substance abuse brought them together? Had it torn them apart? After my strange interaction with J.T. on the ferry, it wasn’t hard to imagine something minor setting him off. There was something different about him now, something broken. Like a part of who he’d once been was lost. So maybe it wasn’t so farfetched to imagine he had played a role in Chelsea’s disappearance?
In any case, the suspect list was growing. Because if it turned out J.T. was once involved with Chelsea, then Jennifer was a suspect too. She loved J.T. and would have been insanely jealous had she known. Had she retaliated? Revenge was the oldest motive known to mankind.
I couldn’t rule out Adam’s sister, Trina, either. According to the case files, she hated Chelsea and hadn’t wanted her brother to marry her. Why? Was it reason enough to have given her a motive? I’d have to find out.
And then there was Adam. If Chelsea had been blackmailing him, as rumored, then he may have had the strongest motive of them all. And that’s what scared me.
The ride to Cove Beach on Monday morning was piloted not by Jennifer or J.T. but by Brody Weston, Jennifer’s cousin. As he helped me on board, I tried to remember Brody’s story. He’d been orphaned as a toddler and had come to live with Jennifer’s family. In a way he was more like a brother to Jennifer. But, to my delight, Brody was nothing like his cousin. Nor was he like J.T.
Courteous from the moment I stepped on the ferry, he asked a few perfunctory questions and then left me alone. This was just as well since I was stressing out.
After all, I was heading to Billy’s—not the nicest place around—to more or less conduct an interrogation. And I had no experience in questioning people. Sure, I’d written enough about it, but I had no idea how to effectively do it in real life, especially without arousing suspicions. I had no great plan. I was just going to wing it and hope I could pull it off.
Once we reached the mainland, Brody was sweet enough to help me back my car out of the garage by the dock. After thanking him, I headed over to Harbourtown.
Billy’s was located in a warehouse district down by the river docks. Not the greatest part of town. The place itself was little more than a rundown, wooden shack that someone, probably drunk, had thought to paint a garish shade of purple. I shook my head as I drove by the entrance. The name “Billy’s” was spelled out in big, red script letters that scrolled across the front edge of the roof. It looked like each letter was wired to light up at night, though, based on their condition, they were probably a fire hazard. The dot on the “i” was missing, and the “s” was listing forward, ready to topple over if a good, strong wind kicked up.
I parked around the side of the building behind the only other vehicle in sight, a motorcycle. When I reached the propped-open front door,