“That’ll work,” I said, writing my cell number on the back of a coaster.
Jimmy picked up the coaster, but as I got up to leave, he stopped me. “Oh wait. I remember one more thing about that night. It was somethin’ I overheard Chelsea sayin’ to her buddy.”
“What was that?”
“Right as Chelsea leans in to lay one on her friend, the girl starts pulling away…suddenly acting all uptight and shit.” Jimmy took out another cigarette. “Then I hear Chelsea whisper something to her, like ‘just go with it, nobody knows who you are here,’ and ‘it’s not like we haven’t done this before.’”
I blinked a couple of times, stunned, and stared blankly at Jimmy.
“That’s it,” he said, lighting his cigarette.
“Uh, OK, thanks,” I said hastily.
I practically ran for the exit. I needed some air, and I needed it fast. Chelsea had obviously been way more out of control than I’d ever dreamed. Poor Adam. She’d been messing around with J.T. for a long time, their presence at Billy’s confirming it. So that moved J.T., and probably Jennifer if she’d known, further up my suspect list.
But had Chelsea also been cheating on Adam with a woman? It was more important than ever to find out the identity of the blonde. I hoped Jimmy would truly search for the picture. Maybe he’d put some extra effort into it, thinking he’d make another quick hundred.
How could Adam not have known about Chelsea’s many extracurricular activities? Surely he had to have heard the rumors. Why on earth had he still been planning on marrying such an unfaithful bitch? There was really only one explanation: Chelsea must have had something on him. And what she had on Adam must have been huge. Like, life-ruining huge. But what could it have been? The police had turned up nothing unsavory in Adam’s past. But Chelsea obviously knew something more than they did.
But the question that haunted me the entire drive back to Cove Beach was this: Was this secret devastating enough for Adam to want to make Chelsea disappear?
Chapter 7
The following day, after my dad called to tell me he was making some progress in tracking down those pay phone records, I stopped by the café to visit Helena. Seated at a table near the front, staring out the picture window to her left, Helena was absently tapping her perfectly manicured fingernails on the side of a porcelain coffee cup.
“Helena?” I queried softly, reticent to intrude on what appeared to be an introspective moment.
She started at the sound of my voice, her hand fluttering to her chest. “Oh, Maddy, you startled me.” She laughed a little. “I’m sorry, I was just daydreaming.”
“I can always come back later,” I offered.
“Don’t be silly. Have a seat.” Helena stood, smoothed out the long, white cardigan sweater over her black leggings, and began walking back to the coffee bar, black heels tapping out a staccato rhythm. “What can I get you? Cappuccino?” she called back over her shoulder.
I shimmied out of my trench coat and replied, “Just regular coffee’s fine,” before taking a seat.
Helena returned with the coffee. “I’m glad you stopped by,” she began as she sat down across from me. “Nate left Sunday evening with Adam on a business trip, and it’s been entirely too quiet around here.”
I was more than a little surprised to hear Nate was traveling with Adam. As manager of the island, it seemed unlikely he’d be expected to accompany Adam on business trips. Maybe this particular trip had something to do with “managing” an island? After all, I felt pretty certain it had been Nate interrupting our time at the lighthouse. Perhaps it was all related.
Focusing back on Helena, I asked, “Well, I guess you’re happy they’ll be back tomorrow, huh?”
Helena flipped her blonde tresses back, shot me an all-too-knowing glance, and took a tentative sip from her cup. “Hmmm, bet I’m not the only one who’s happy.” Instead of answering, I too took a careful sip. Undeterred, Helena continued, “Nate tells me you’re going on a date with Adam tomorrow night.” I nodded. “Flying down to Boston even,” she finished, one eyebrow arched.
“Yep, we are,” I confirmed, trying to play it cool.
“Excited?” she pressed.
I shrugged, and Helena sighed exasperatedly. “Come on, Maddy, Adam Ward asked you out. On a date. He’s taking you to Boston, for heaven’s sake,” she said, her voice raising an octave following each sentence. “So spill it, girl!”