Page 55 of Whispers of the Lake

“He has her doing petty shit,” Nico goes on. “Writing up parking violation tickets in town, directing traffic when signal lights are out, that sort of thing. Weird though, because she aced it at the academy. If anything, she should be deputy chief or something. Instead, they have some doofus working as deputy and he isdefinitelylicking Reed’s asshole.”

It amazes me how quickly Nico can tap into these things. Completely illegal, but amazing. I was so glad I’d met him four years ago at Herbert’s birthday dinner. Nico was Herbert’s boyfriend’s cousin. Herbert was originally the one who’d ask Nico for tech favors. Then he suggested I reach out to him when I was working on a piece, and we’ve been in touch ever since.

At one point, I wondered if he thought I was using him. Nico confirmed that he didn’t feel that way and said he liked doing this stuff. It kept his mind busy.

“Do you see a cell number for her in there?” I asked as Jayson opened the passenger door of my car and climbed in.

“Texting it to you now.”

“Thank you so much, Nico.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He hung up and not even a minute later my phone chimed with Kennedy’s number.

“Nico?” Jayson asked, quirking a brow. “Who is that?”

“A friend,” I said, tapping the number and pressing call.

“A friend I should be jealous of?” Jayson leaned in and kissed my neck.

“Not at all.” I laughed, playfully waving him off.

“This is Kennedy,” a light voice chimed on the other end of the phone.

“Kennedy, hi! I’m sorry to bother you. Do you have a moment?”

“No problem. Who is this?” she asked.

“My name is Rose Gibson.” I paused and swallowed. “So, this is going to sound a bit crazy, but I was wondering if you could help me with a missing persons case.”

“I’m afraid I don’t handle those, Rose,” she responded. “You can reach out to Deputy Henn or Sheriff Reed. They usually know what to do.”

“Right but . . . that’s the thing. I think Sheriff Reed is part of the reason this person is missing.”

The line went quiet. I thought she hung up on me at that point. I sounded like a madwoman calling her randomly and making wild accusations about her boss. She didn’t know me. Why would she take my word for anything?

But, to my utter shock, she said, “I’m listening.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Deputy Windsor met us in a French-themed restaurant in Green Pines. When I saw her, she wasn’t at all what I was expecting. Kennedy Windsor was petite with voluminous curly hair that she had pulled into a soft puff atop her head, and false lashes. Her lips were naturally plump, her eyes deep brown, her sepia skin beautifully moisturized, and she wore acrylics on her nails with an elaborate style that I wouldn’t have been bold enough to rock.

She sipped coffee from a mug as she looked between me and Jayson. “You’re one hundred percent sure it was your friend’s car you saw in his garage?” she asked.

“One hundred percent,” I said, head bobbing. “It had her license plate.”

“How close are you to Eve Castillo?” she asked.

“Really close. She might as well have lived with me growing up.”

“When’s the last time you spoke to her?”

I lowered my gaze to her teal and black nails. “About three months ago.”

She quirked a brow. “That’s a long time to not speak to someone you’re close to.” She sat up taller. “Did something happen?”

“It’s personal,” I responded, glancing at Jayson. “But that doesn’t mean I stopped caring about her.”

“If you haven’t spoken to her, how did you notice she was missing?” Windsor asked.

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