Chapter Twenty-nine
The Conner Prep Academy campus looked like something out of a New England postcard—red-brick buildings, perfectly manicured lawns, and looming oak trees that had probably stood there since before the Revolution. It was the kind of place that screamed privilege, discipline, and old money.
Audrey pulled the MG MGA into the visitors’ lot, cutting the engine. She still wasn’t convinced the car wouldn’t explode, but at least it had gotten them this far without breaking down.
Maggie stretched in the passenger seat. “See? No reason to doubt this beauty.”
Audrey shot her a look. “You mean the car, or me as the driver?”
Maggie smirked. “Both.”
Rolling her eyes, Audrey climbed out and surveyed the imposing main building. A gold-embossed sign beside the doors read: CONNER PREP ACADEMY—EST. 1892.
Audrey whistled. “Fancy.”
Inside, the air smelled like leather-bound books, expensive furniture polish, and years of repressed rebellion.
An older receptionist in a tweed blazer sat behind a grand mahogany desk, typing on an ancient-looking desktop computer. She looked up, adjusting her cat-eye glasses, and eyed them with well-practiced skepticism.
“May I help you?” she asked, voice clipped and exquisitely unimpressed.
Maggie flashed her most disarming smile. “We’re looking for information on a former student, Bradley Comstock. We were told someone here might remember him.”
The woman’s face immediately soured. “Comstock.”
She removed her glasses and set them down. “Yes. That name rings a bell.”
Audrey exchanged a glance with Maggie.
Pay dirt.
The receptionist sighed heavily. “Bradley was a … challenging student. Always in trouble. There were incidents, several disciplinary actions, and let’s just say, the administration was relieved when his stepfather withdrew him before we had to formally expel him.”
Maggie tilted her head. “What kind of incidents?”
The woman’s lips pressed together. “I can’t disclose specifics. However …” She seemed to consider them for a moment before continuing. “If you want more insight, Robbie Cavendish, one of our English teachers, was a student at the time and knew Bradley well.”
She checked her watch. “His class should be finishing shortly. You can wait for him outside his classroom. The Madison Building.”
Following the receptionist’s directions, Maggie and Audrey made their way across the quad to a large academic building.
Through the open window of Lecture Hall 204, they spotted Robbie Cavendish, mid-lecture, pacing in front of a whiteboard covered in notes. A lively discussion was unfolding, and the name George Orwell was scrawled across the board.
“Now, class,” Robbie said, perching on the edge of his desk, “why is 1984 still relevant today?”
A girl in the front row raised her hand. “Because governments still try to control people’s thoughts?”
Robbie nodded approvingly. “Exactly. Orwell wasn’t just writing about the dangers of a dystopian future. He was warning us about how easily we surrender our freedom without even realizing it.”
A boy in the second row muttered, “Kinda feels like my parents when they check my phone.”
The class laughed, and Robbie grinned. “See? Orwell knew what he was talking about.”
Audrey leaned over to Maggie as they entered the lecture hall and whispered, “I like this guy.”
Maggie nodded. “He’s got flair.”
When class dismissed, Robbie spotted them lingering at the back and approached, tilting his head curiously.
“Ladies, I assume you’re not here for the Orwell lecture.”
Maggie smiled. “As riveting as it was, no. We’re hoping you can tell us about Bradley Comstock.”
Robbie’s expression darkened. “Bradley …” He exhaled. “Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time.”
He gestured for them to follow him. “Come on. Let’s talk in my office.”
As they crossed the sun-dappled quad, Robbie fell into a thoughtful silence.
“I haven’t thought about Bradley in years,” he admitted. “I knew he ended up becoming a dentist, but I didn’t realize he was living in Halibut Cove. Back in school he used to mention his folks had spent time there before he was born—but Bradley himself? He was always a tough one to figure out.”
“He is,” Maggie said. “And we’re trying to get a better sense of who he really is.”
Robbie let out a dry laugh. “Then you’ve got your work cut out for you.”
The campus bustled around them—students rushing to class, professors engaged in deep discussions. But Robbie’s face was tight, like he was digging through memories he’d rather leave buried.
By the time they reached his modestly cluttered office, he gestured for them to sit in the two guest chairs while he took a seat behind his desk.
“So,” he said, folding his hands. “What exactly do you want to know?”
Maggie leaned forward. “We heard there were a few behavioral problems here at Conner when it came to Bradley.”
“That’s a mild understatement. There were a lot of incidents,” Robbie admitted, rubbing his chin. “Fights, anger issues, destroyed school property—even suspected arson.”
Audrey’s eyebrows shot up. “Arson?”
Robbie leaned forward. “One of our teachers—Mr. Faraday—flunked Bradley in chemistry. Not long after, his house burned down.”
Maggie sucked in a breath. “Was there proof he did it?”
Robbie shook his head. “Never any concrete evidence, but the timing was too suspicious. Plus, the school’s security footage mysteriously disappeared that week.
Bradley’s stepfather, Gil Harrington, made a generous donation—fixed up the teacher’s house and threw in a tennis court just to smooth things over. ”
Audrey’s stomach turned. “So his stepfather just … paid his way out of trouble?”
Robbie nodded. “That was the pattern. Gil didn’t want Bradley moving back home and disrupting his life with Lily. So, whenever Bradley did something terrible, Gil just threw money at the problem to make it go away.”
Maggie crossed her arms. “And he paid for his dental school, too, I assume?”
“Absolutely,” Robbie said. “Anything to keep him away.” He let out a humorless chuckle. “Then when Lily died, Gil cut him off completely. Blamed him for her death, said he drove her to an early grave.”
Audrey leaned back in her chair, letting that sink in.
“So when Gil stopped protecting him,” she said slowly, “Bradley was on his own.”
Robbie nodded. “For the first time in his life.”
The room was silent for a beat.
Maggie tapped her fingers against the armrest, thinking.
“Bradley lost everything,” she murmured. “His father, his mother, his financial safety net.”
Audrey’s stomach churned. “And now, suddenly, he shows up in Halibut Cove?”
Maggie’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe he’s looking for someone besides his stepfather to blame.”
Maggie and Audrey walked back to the roadster, the weight of the conversation hanging heavy between them.
Audrey exhaled sharply. “That’s one hell of a back-story.”
Maggie nodded, lost in thought. “Bradley doesn’t have anyone left. No family, no safety net. He’s been cut loose, and now he’s in Halibut Cove where his father’s whole life took a terrible turn.”
Audrey slid into the driver’s seat, gripping the wheel. “And if he blames Halibut Cove for what happened to his father …”
Maggie finished the thought. “Then Chips Hogan, Griffin Mead, and even your grandfather Wes—the men involved in Ed Comstock’s downfall—might have been his revenge targets.”
Audrey felt a cold shiver run down her spine.
Maggie’s voice was quiet but firm. “We need to find out what he’s planning next.”