wanted closure for them. And, more than anything, I wanted closure for Adam. He’d lived with this mystery hanging over his head far too long. It affected everything around him, including us. I wanted Adam to be able to move forward, without the question of what had happened to his ex-fiancée haunting his life. I wanted answers for him, for me…for all of us.
Somewhere along the line, this had become intensely personal. It almost felt as if I was part of the case. And at that time, I didn’t know it, but I was about to become an integral player in my own right.
Chapter 21
Several days following the Boston trip, I found myself sitting alone at the kitchen table, absently stirring cereal that had become soggy fifteen minutes earlier. My mood that day? Dreary as the late October morning had proven to be, the circumstances as depressing as the heaviness in the atmosphere that the wet weather had wrought.
Adam was away on business—again. In fact, after dropping me off at the cottage after we’d flown back the day of the shopping excursion, Adam had had to turn right around and fly back down to Boston. He was making tremendous progress in securing that lucrative deal with the client there, and that was good and all. But it was taking up a lot of his time, putting a crimp in the time we spent together and effectively stalling our relationship. Though it had been moving too fast initially, our physical relationship was at a standstill now. Apart from a few heated make-out sessions, we’d gone no further than the night he’d broken in, the night Julian had been sleeping upstairs. In fact, if I were to be honest, Adam seemed distracted. And I was having trouble discerning whether it was due to the stresses of his work or something else entirely. I planned to ask tonight though. Adam was returning to the island and had promised to be back in time for a late dinner.
Which reminded me, I had yet to thaw out the eggplant Parmesan I’d made over the weekend. One of many, many culinary creations I’d whipped up over the past few days. Yep, I’d been cooking up a storm ever since Adam had not so subtly suggested I take a break from the case for a while. Just to clear your head, he’d said. I, however, sensed it had more to do with him wanting me to stay away from Billy’s than with his desire for me to be operating with a “clear” head.
I let the spoon in my hand drop back into the cereal, a splash of milk the sole protest. Who was I fooling with these distractions? Had all the cooking helped? Nope. It sure hadn’t helped the other day. With the aroma of simmering tomatoes and garlic and herbs wafting through my cottage, I’d pored over the case files that day. Wishing for something to pop out at me, something I may have missed. I was trying harder than ever to figure out what could have happened to Chelsea Hannigan.
The way she’d disappeared without a trace had me considering the possibility that maybe she’d just left town and started a new life somewhere far, far away from Harbour Falls. Had she wanted to do something like that, she certainly would have had the resources. Hell, she could have been setting things up and planning for months. I recalled how Adam had said to J.T. on the night of the attack that maybe she’d “just left.”
But people like Chelsea didn’t just leave. Not when they were getting everything they wanted right where they were. And since she’d never been spotted anywhere, not even once, it seemed unlikely. All the national networks and publications had covered the story and still replayed the details on the anniversary of her disappearance. Chelsea Hannigan’s phenomenally gorgeous face had been made famous…or infamous, as it were. It would be next to impossible for someone so stunning to escape notice unless she’d dramatically altered her appearance. But I couldn’t imagine her doing that either. Chelsea’s looks had been her crowning glory, and it was doubtful she’d trade them away in order to start a new life somewhere else. Again, what purpose would it have served?
That left only one other possibility: someone had murdered her. But who? And why?
The list of potential suspects was long, as were the multitudes of motives.
I tried not to dwell on it, but the fact remained that Adam