CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The dilapidated wooden shed occupied a tiny patch of grass with a sweeping view of the lake. Brandon pulled into the gravel lot and squeezed his pickup between two cars. Glancing in the side mirror, he spotted the unmarked black police unit parked beneath a cottonwood tree.

Brandon checked his watch. He was five minutes early for the two o’clock meeting. He got out and crossed the lot to a weathered wooden picnic table where a guy with a silver buzz cut sat scrolling through his phone. At the sound of Brandon’s boots on the gravel, the man looked up.

“Detective Akins? Brandon Reynolds.”

The detective stood, and they shook hands. Akins was tall and had the beginnings of a beer gut.

“Thanks for making time,” Brandon told him.

“No problem,” Akins said. “I just ordered some food. You eating?”

“No, thanks.”

“Can’t beat Rosa’s pork tacos.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Brandon sat down across from the detective. Despite the silver hair, he was only thirty-nine. He’d been with the Marble Falls Police Department for twelve years. Prior to that, he’d worked in Houston, where he’d gone through the academy with one of Brandon’s friends.

“Pete says hi,” Brandon told him.

“Yeah, tell him hi.” Akins smiled, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. With his suntanned skin, Akins looked like he spent a lot of time outdoors. “Haven’t seen him in years. How’s he doing?”

“Good. Got another baby on the way.”

“Yeah, that’ll happen. So, you’re working a burglary?” he asked, getting past the small talk.

“It’s complicated. We’ve got a burglary and looks like it might be connected to an unsolved cold case.” Brandon was being intentionally vague. This entire meeting was based on a hunch he’d been developing when he learned there was a detective named Akins with Marble Falls PD. “I understand you know Mason Lloyd, who owns a house out here?”

Akins nodded toward the lake. “He’s got ten acres on the water. Bought the place three years ago.”

“Sounds nice. He get out there much?”

“Almost every weekend. He plays a lot of golf at the club.”

And according to Brandon’s friend, Akins sometimes played with him.

Brandon pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. It was a printout showing the driver’s license photo of Vanessa Adams.

“I wanted to see if you recognize this woman.” He handed Akins the paper. “I understand she and Lloyd used to have a thing.”

He smirked. “Yeah, I know. Is she a suspect?”

“Not yet. But we heard she might have had a conflict with Lloyd, so we’re taking a look.”