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I cut into the steak.

It was cooked exactly the way I liked it.

Medium.

I stopped.

Carson noticed.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

I took a bite.

Mace couldn’t have remembered how I liked steak.

We had eaten hamburgers on our few dates. Once, we shared a plate of fries because neither of us had enough money for a second order.

Rylie must have told him.

Except Rylie wouldn’t know.

Coincidence.

It was only steak.

I returned my attention to the camp brochure.

Sheriff Tate arrived twenty minutes later carrying two cardboard boxes.

Dust covered the tops.

Will cleared a space on the table.

“Are those the camp records?”

“Everything I could find at the sheriff’s department.” Tate placed the boxes beside him. “The county took possession of several business records after the camp closed. Most of them were returned to the Mills family.”

“What wasn’t returned?”

“Employee records, inspection reports, and anything connected to incidents involving law enforcement.”

“What kind of incidents?”

“Drinking. Vandalism. A few fights. Teenagers sneaking away from the cabins.”

“Murder?”

His expression hardened.

“Not that I know of.”

Carson removed his food from the table.

Will put on gloves.

I moved my plate after taking another bite of steak, and opened the first box.