Raven’s eyes lit up.
“Someone stole your money, Mrs. Shillingford?”
“It wasn’t much. Twenty or thirty dollars. I don’t recall how much I left on the table before we took a walk.”
“When did this occur?”
She glanced at her husband.
“Monday afternoon, wasn’t it, Cole?”
He nodded and puffed out his mustache.
“How do we know you didn’t take it?”
Raven stared at the couple.
“What?”
“You appear out of nowhere, flash a driver’s license, and claim you’re a private investigator. That’s a pretty good story if you want to fool people. In the meantime, someone’s stealing money from campers. Where’s your badge?”
“I don’t have a badge.”
“Then there’s no way to verify you really are a private investigator.”
Raven took a composing breath.
“Look, I’m just trying to help. If I catch the person who’s stealing from you, maybe I’ll get your money back. I’m friends with Ranger Holt. He’ll vouch for me.”
Cole glared at Raven. Aileen shrugged her shoulders and sauntered back to the cabin.
Opening her wallet, Raven handed Cole a business card.
“This is the firm I work for. Should you see anyone hanging around the cabins who doesn’t belong, call me. And be sure to tell Ranger Holt.”
Cole turned the card over in his hands as Raven walked away.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Friday, August 13th
3:00 p.m.
Deputy Aguilar arrived for the swing shift at the same time Thomas returned from interviewing Paige Sutton again. He kept thinking about what the assistant manager at the supermarket said—a dark blue or black van raced through the parking lot around the time Justine Adkins went missing. Unlike larger villages, Wolf Lake didn’t have traffic cameras scattered around town. He hoped someone would come forward and remember seeing the van.
Inside the kitchen, he stirred sugar into his coffee. Aguilar shook her head.
“You don’t approve of coffee. I remember.”
“It’s not that I disapprove of coffee or caffeine. But you’re loading it with sugar. You might as well chug a Coke or one of those heart-disease-causing energy drinks.”
Thomas scowled down at the mug. He figured it was a good idea not to tell her he’d dumped two packets of cream into the coffee.
“What would you suggest? Diet soda?”
Aguilar palmed her face.
“Those are even worse. Artificial sweeteners are linked to brain tumors and bladder cancer.”
“So the weight loss isn’t worth the risk.”
She propped herself up on the counter, not an ounce of fat on her chiseled arms.
“Believe it or not, those zero calorie sweeteners you’re addicted to cause weight gain.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Check out the science. You’ll never put that garbage in your body again.”
Thomas poured the coffee down the drain and scrubbed the mug clean.
“You convinced me.”
She lifted her chin at him.
“Try green tea or matcha, if you need an afternoon energy boost. I drink tea first thing in the morning, then space out cups throughout the day. That keeps my blood sugar steady and cuts down on cravings.”
“I could do that. I like green tea.”
“And instead of wasting your money on an oily sub from the deli, make a protein drink for lunch. You’re welcome to use my blender.”
“Thanks, Aguilar. I appreciate the tips.”
All at-once, she seemed to realize she’d engaged in casual chitchat with her superior. She cleared her throat and hopped off the counter. Thomas smiled to himself. He’d tricked her into talking.
“So,” she said, sliding her food into the refrigerator. “What’s the latest on your missing person?”
“Nothing new since Kane Grove PD found her vehicle in the grocery store parking lot. I’m about to drive over to Kane Grove and check out the place she’s staying at. Why don’t you ride with me?”
Thomas took the lake road back to the highway. It took a few minutes longer than cutting through the village center. But the view was worth it. Aguilar sat ramrod straight in the passenger seat, her radio on her shoulder, the hat propped on her head as her hair blew around. Thomas preferred to drive with the windows down.
“You should get a place down here,” he said, tilting his head toward the water. “I saw two places go up for sale last week.”
“I like my ranch house. These properties are too labor intensive.”
He fiddled with the radio while she stared straight ahead through the windshield. Sifting through a catalog of conversation starters in his head, he glanced across the cruiser.
“I’m thinking about weight lifting.”
It wasn’t a lie, though he had no reason to bring it up, except to strike up a conversation.
“Oh?”
“I’ve got a spare room I’m not using. Figured it would be the perfect spot for a bench and free weights.”
She lifted an eyebrow at him.
“Do you even lift, bro?”
He burst out laughing, and Aguilar couldn’t help but grin. Good. He’d found the magic elixir for making her lighten up.
“This may be hard to believe, but I had a gym membership when I lived in Los Angeles.”
“Probably one of those pink and purple gyms with treadmills and exercise bikes,” Aguilar said, making air quotes around gyms.
“You’d be surprised. It was a hole in the wall near Manhattan Beach. My partner’s brother owned the place. The gym was nothing but squat racks, pull up bars, and benches.
“I’m impressed. How often did you workout?”
“Two or three times per week at first.”
“And then?”
He watched the lake pass by the window.
“Two or three times per year.”
“Could have guessed.”
When they passed a sprawling mansion on the west side of the lake, he spotted a florist delivery van parked in the driveway. Thomas snickered.
“That was the place that sold me the bouquet.”
“The bouquet?”
“You know, when we attended the Magnolia Dance together.”
The week after Thomas started working for the Nightshade County Sheriff’s Department, Lambert convinced Thomas to ask Aguilar to the April dance, Wolf Lake’s most popular festival. Aguilar feigned coughing to cover a laugh.
“That was quite the night,” Thomas continued.
“You picked me up late, sweating like a schoolboy on his first date. Ten minutes after we sat down to eat, you started a fight, and we had to leave.”
“The fight wasn’t my
