Page 28

S heriff Reed’s office smelled like damp wood and stale cigarettes. It was about the size of a closet, with a wide desk crammed inside. A wide window overlooked Sage Lake, and the entire building was built on stilts, but the place had to be close to one hundred years old.

The sheriff’s office itself was dry. I’d only seen a handful of deputies.

Some were seated at their desks. Others sipped coffee while reading papers.

On my way back, I saw a man playing darts in what I assumed was the break room, while another had his feet propped up on the table and his eyes closed for a nap.

“We just keep running into each other, huh?” Sheriff Reed said when I was escorted to his office. There was no humor in his tone of voice. It was dryer than the desert. I really did not get good vibes from this man.

I refrained from clearing my throat as Sheriff Reed sat on the other side of the desk, studying the photo I’d given him of Eve. “And you say she’s been missing for how many days now?” he asked.

“Four, I believe.”

“And no one’s heard from her at all?”

“The last time anyone heard from her was on September fifth.”

“Strange.” He gave me that beady-eyed stare as he slid the photo across the desk. “This friend of yours. What’s her last name?”

“Castillo,” I answered as he plucked a small notepad from his shirt pocket. He picked up a pen and clicked it, letting out a deep, guttural sigh.

Good Lord! He was no better at hiding his boredom than oily Freddy. You’d think he’d be excited for some action around here.

“Castillo,” the sheriff repeated. “Two l ’s or one?”

It took everything in me not to roll my eyes. “Two. I’m sorry. Do you not have a detective here? Shouldn’t they be doing this?”

The sheriff barked a laugh. “Sage Hill is a small town with a population of four thousand and forty-seven people. I am your detective, Mrs. Howard.”

I held back a cringe hearing that last name again. He’d seen it on my ID, and though I’d corrected him, he proceeded to use it.

“Right. So, you haven’t heard from this friend of yours, Eve, in four days.” Sheriff Reed went on. “Why do you assume she’s still here ?” He folded his fingers on top of the desk.

“Because this town was the last location she booked a stay in.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I looked with her sister through her emails once we noticed she wasn’t answering her phone.” A white lie. “And she isn’t home.”

“Her sister?” He quirked a brow. “Is she here too?”

“No.”

“Okay.” He scribbled something down. “Where are you currently staying while you look for your friend?”

“In the same cottage Eve was in. Twilight Oaks.”

Sheriff Reed froze for a split second, just like Damian and Alex had. His eyes flooded with panic before quickly being erased. “That’s interesting,” Reed responded. “My nephew rents that place out. It used to be his mother’s before she died. He grew up there with his brother and sister.”

“Are you talking about Alex?”

“Alex is my nephew, yes. Damian and Rory are his adopted siblings.”

So why was he calling them Alex’s brother and sister? Why not call them his nephew and niece too?

I tried hard not to think it, but maybe he was prejudiced. Perhaps he didn’t want to claim Black kids as his family. Alex was as white as a white boy could get with his blond hair and blue eyes.

“Have you personally met Alex?” he asked.

“I did. Earlier, actually. I asked if he’d spoken to or seen Eve in person.”

“Why would they have spoken in person?” he asked rather defensively. “They only communicate with their tenants online or by phone.”

“I don’t know. They could’ve seen her in passing. Eve is a wanderer. She likes looking around. Hiking. Taking pictures. One of the neighbors, Mrs. Abbot, said she bumped into her while she was here and she’s all the way on the other side of the lake.”

“You can’t trust anything Mrs. Abbot says,” he told me. “Her husband says her mind ain’t right. She forgets things. Imagines stuff.”

“She seemed perfectly fine to me.” I officially did not like Selma’s husband now, talking about his own wife to others, making her sound delusional. I didn’t get the impression that she was a woman out of her mind.

Reed blinked twice before asking, “What did my nephew say when you asked if he’d seen her?”

“That he hadn’t.”

“And Damian and Rory? Did you speak to them too?”

“Yes.”

His shoulders tensed up. “And what did they say?”

“They hadn’t seen her either.”

He seemed to relax a bit, the hardness melting from his shoulders.

“Sheriff Reed, is there something I should know about that cottage or even your nephews?”

“Like what?” He leaned back and folded his arms tightly across his chest.

“I’m not sure. Just seems like you all are being very careful with what you say to me.”

Sheriff Reed’s jaw ticked before settling. “Not sure what you’re implyin’ there, Mrs. Howard.”

“Call me Rose.” I scooted toward the edge of my chair, clearing my throat.

“And I’ll break it down for you. Not even two hours ago, someone pounded on the door of their rental while I was there, and ran off.

I don’t know what they wanted, but there is only one other house on my side of the lake, and it belongs to your nephews .

” I made sure to put emphasis on the s .

The sheriff’s throat bobbed. He dropped his arms to pick up his pen and notepad. “Did someone threaten you?”

“No.” I wasn’t about to tell him I’d been given Eve’s purse, or that I suspected it was Rory who left it.

“Did you catch a description of the person?” he asked, pen still in hand, ready to scribble.

“I didn’t.”

He sighed and dropped the pen.

It was best to shift the focus before he became too frustrated. “The thing is, Eve was engaged once to a guy named Lincoln Fowler. I found out he was staying in the cottage with her.”

“So, how do you know she hasn’t just run off with him?”

“She wouldn’t. He abused her. Constantly .”

Reed pressed his lips, glancing at his notepad. Why not write that down?

“I see.” He grabbed the mouse to his desktop and sighed. “I’ll file the missing person’s report. But I’ve gotta tell ya, this Eve Castillo sounds like she doesn’t want to be found.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t really know Eve.” My attitude was on full display, and I wanted him to know it. He was taking this situation much too lightly.

“No,” Sheriff Reed said, cutting a glance at me. “I don’t. And I doubt anyone else around here does either.”

What is that supposed to mean? I almost asked him. That wouldn’t have made things easier though, so I smashed my lips together and remained quiet. The office fell silent, minus him typing away on his keyboard.

“I’ll need a photo of her,” he said after a while.

I unlocked my phone and scrolled until I found a good, clear image of Eve from a few months ago. She always stole my phone to take selfies, flooding the camera roll with her face.

So you’ll always see me pop up in your memories , she’d say. It was cute before, seeing her pop up. Now, it irritated me. Despite it, I couldn’t find the gumption to delete them all.

“I can email a single portrait to you.”

Sheriff Reed plucked a business card from a tray and slid it to me. “Email address is on there.”

Once the photo was sent, Sheriff Reed took five or so more minutes before releasing the mouse and standing. “The report is in and I have your number. I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

“Thanks,” I murmured.

He escorted me out of his office and through the building, but not without offering me a coffee.

I declined.

When I stepped outside, the mist was thick. The fog was back. Thunder rumbled in the sky, a bolt of lightning flashing in the distance. The storm was continuing.

“Drive safely now,” Sheriff Reed called after me.

I forced a smile at him before hurrying to my car just as droplets of rain began to descend. Before leaving the parking lot, I spotted Sheriff Reed still standing by the door. He wasn’t looking at me, but he did have his phone glued to his ear.

Who was he in such a hurry to call?