Colton 911: Deadly Texas Reunion (Book 4)

by Beth Cornelison

  “So you’re happy here?” he asked, drinking from his own black coffee.

  “Yeah. Very.” She smiled her thanks when he held the door for her, and they strolled out to her car together. “Only one thing would make me happier.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Winning the lottery?”

  “Well, there is that, but...no. I meant having you here. Permanently.”

  His dark eyebrows dipped, and his mouth firmed. “Sorry. I don’t see that happening. Whisperwood is a great town to visit, but my job—” he huffed a sigh “—assuming I still have one, is in Chicago. My cases keep me on the road. I go where the need is. Besides, I’ve got a lot of years and hard work invested in the FBI. Too much to walk away from it without good reason.”

  “Oh.” She schooled her face, trying to hide the disappointment that weighted her heart. And just what would qualify in Nolan’s book as a good enough reason to leave the FBI and settle down somewhere? Why couldn’t he work with the FBI from an office in Texas?

  When they returned to her office, she handed Nolan her coffee to hold while she unlocked the back entry, but when she tried to push the door open, it resisted.

  “Problem?” Nolan asked.

  She grinned. “No problem. Just a cat.” Putting her mouth near the open crack, she called. “I’m home, Yossi! Move it, buddy.”

  A soft meow greeted her, and a dark gray paw swatted through the crack.

  Carefully she nudged the door open, and Yossi wound himself around her legs, purring loudly. She stooped to lift her feline companion into her arms, and he snuggled against her shoulder. “Good boy. Did you protect the office while I was out?”

  Nolan set both of the coffees on her desk and took off his jacket. “So you’re living here?” Her gaze followed his as he cast his eyes around the small office. She knew it wasn’t well furnished, knew most people would think her Spartan lifestyle was crazy. But in that moment, only Nolan’s opinion mattered.

  “I am,” she said and gave him a quick tour of the kitchenette, half bathroom and a file room turned into a bedroom.

  “Where do you shower?” he asked.

  “The gym.” She rubbed Yossi’s head and saved her necklace when he decided to gnaw on it like a feline teething toy. “I get up at 5:00 a.m. to work out and shower. I wash my clothes at Spin and Bubbles laundromat and have already saved half of my goal for the down payment on a house.”

  His eyes grew. “That is dedication.”

  She strolled back to the office and set Yossi on her desk. “Well, having a real home is something I’ve wanted for years—ever since my dad started dragging us around the country like hobos. I told myself when I grew up I’d have roots—a roof and front porch with rocking chairs and a yard with a big flower bed and a kitchen that smelled like fresh-baked bread.”

  She lifted her coffee cup to drink and smiled to herself as she imagined the home she’d make.

  “You can bake bread?” Nolan asked, taking the chair in front of her desk.

  She snorted, almost choking on the swallow of coffee. “Heck no! But I can dream my kitchen will smell that way, can’t I?”

  “Touché.” Nolan nodded his head toward her desk where her laptop sat. “Shall we start a bit of online research?”

  “Good idea.” Hustling around him to settle in her battered chair, she woke her laptop, and the desktop screen glowed with a picture of Yossi. In her peripheral vision, she thought she saw Nolan give her side-eye. “Hey! I love my cat. Don’t judge.”

  He chuckled and raised his hands. “Did I say anything?”

  As she began navigating to a few social media sites and searched for Patrice’s account, Nolan dragged a chair around from the front of the desk to sit beside her. The crisp scent of him, soap and coffee and something she could only call Nolan, wafted around her as he leaned closer to see the screen.

  Trying to concentrate on the task at hand rather than the tantalizing aroma of her cohort, she pulled up Patrice’s Instagram account and scrolled slowly through her pictures.

  “Hmm.”

  She cut a glance to Nolan. “See something you think could be relevant?”

  “Not yet, but I was thinking about the fact that her account was public. You wouldn’t be able to see her pictures if it were set to private.”

  Summer frowned at the screen. “You’re right. While that helps us dig, it seems careless of her. This day and age, a young woman really needs to be more cautious.” She glanced at Nolan again. “By the way, when you go back to Chicago—” Just saying those words made her stomach cramp with regret. “I’ll be sending you a friend request on Facebook. Look for it, okay?”

  “I don’t do Facebook.”

  “Oh. I thought you said you looked for me there.”

  “I created a dummy account long enough to look for you then deleted it. In my line of work, I can’t have personal accounts like that. Makes information about me and my family and friends vulnerable to the bad guys.” He glanced at her. “Even with the tightest security settings. Can’t risk it.”

  “Oh. Right. Of course.” A knot in her gut, she went back to studying Patrice’s photos. Most were of her and her roommates, inspirational sayings and vacation photos.

  Nolan put a hand at the nape of her neck and massaged her muscles. “Summer.”

  “Hmm?” she hummed without looking at him, while trying to pretend his touch didn’t have her insides sparking and crackling.

  “No Facebook doesn’t mean I can’t keep in touch with you. You don’t really think after finally reconnecting with you that I’m going to let you disappear from my life again, do you?” He lifted the corner of his mouth, and the sensation of a thousand feathers tickling her insides spread from her scalp to her toenails. Something warm and sweet filled his eyes, replacing the all-business veneer he’d worn as they interviewed people earlier. The tenderness in his gaze stole her breath, because she knew how easily she could fall in love with that look, with this man. If only...

  Swallowing hard, she shut down that line of thought fast. Moving from one city to another with her military family for so many years had taught her the pain of letting yourself grow too attached to anyone when you had no one place to call home. And while she’d chosen Whisperwood to plant roots and build her life, Nolan was still a leaf in the wind.

  His gaze shifted abruptly to the computer screen, and the affectionate glow in his gaze cooled to the serious professionalism that told her he was in full work mode again.

  “Look.” He tapped an image on the laptop screen that showed Patrice in class, taking apart an engine.

  “Yeah?” Summer said. “We know she’s a student of auto repair at the technical school. So...?”

  “Look in the background. This guy is smiling at the camera, hamming it up and crowding in next to her, like he knows the picture is being taken. But this guy—” he pointed to a slightly blurry face at the edge of the shot “—is kinda glaring at the other guy.”

  “I repeat. So?”

  “So...he wasn’t happy with this first guy. Maybe jealous of him cuddling up to Patrice?”

  Summer cut a skeptical frown toward Nolan. “Or he had a bad burrito for lunch. One picture of a guy caught in a scowl doesn’t a killer make. Come on, FBI guy.”

  “I’m not saying he killed her. Just noting an interesting dynamic caught on camera.” He reached past her to scroll farther down the page of photos. His arm brushed hers and reignited the frenzied feeling that skittered through her.

  She squeezed the arms of her chair and took a calming breath before saying, “Do you suppose those are the guys her roommates mentioned? The guys from her class that she hung out with sometimes?”

  “Makes sense that they are. These guys appear to be in her class, so...” Nolan met her eyes. “Let see if we can catch them on campus. We can check the class schedule at the college website and he
ad out there tod—” He stopped. Twisted his lips in apology. Motioned to her. “If that’s what you think is our next step.”

  She arched an eyebrow and chuckled darkly. “Clearly you think it’s a good plan.”

  “But you’re the boss.”

  She bobbed her head once in acknowledgment. “It’s a good plan.” Facing the computer again, she scrolled farther down the page in Patrice’s pictures. A couple more pictures came up with the guys from her auto shop class, but nothing alarming stood out.

  “Hmm, let’s try this.” Summer opened Facebook and searched Patrice’s name.

  “But her roommates said she didn’t use Facebook.”

  When a list of results popped up with Patrice’s name, Summer waved her hand at the screen. “Didn’t use doesn’t mean never created an account. Huh, she’s been tagged in a few posts. Some since her death.” She read a few of the posts aloud as she scrolled. “You’ll be missed...never forgotten...love you always...gone too soon...”

  “Back up. Who said ‘love you always’?” Nolan asked.

  “Uh, her brother.” She cut a side glance at him.

  “Oh.” His expression reflected disappointment. “Okay.”

  “Thought she had a secret lover?” Summer asked in a singsong voice.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time I ran across it.” His attention stayed riveted to the screen.

  “You were thinking it was Mr. Scowl in the picture with her classmates.”

  “Just gathering facts. Too soon to draw conclusions, Summer.”

  His comment struck her as a rebuke. And it stung. She acknowledged that she wanted to impress him with her investigative skills. To have him school her pricked her pride. Sure, he had more experience with criminal cases, but she knew it was too soon in the fact-gathering process to assume anything. “Just teasing you, Bullfrog. Lighten up.”

  He wrapped his hand around hers and squeezed a silent peace offering, even as his gaze narrowed on the screen. “What’s that?”

  She didn’t have to ask what he meant by that. The picture jumped off the screen with the chilling image it featured. She clicked the thumbnail to enlarge the photo in which a younger Patrice had been tagged by someone named Gail Schuster. Summer recognized the name as one Atticus Eccleston had given her as a high school friend of Patrice’s. The caption read, Look what came up as a flashback on my feed today. Good times! I miss you guys! The photo was obviously from a past Halloween, and several of the teenagers in the picture were all dressed in gory costumes, yukking it up at a party. One boy posing next to Patrice had his hands around her neck, his teeth clenched in a snarl as if he were strangling her.

  Nolan muttered a curse word.

  “I know. It’s creepy. They were just kids goofing around on Halloween, but...that’s how she really died.”

  “Who is he?” Nolan asked.

  She scrolled over the teenager’s face, and a popup identified him as Henry Cunningham.

  “Check his page. See if it says where he lives now.”

  She grunted. She wanted to defend Henry, saying they were kids joking around on Halloween. Instead she mumbled, “No stone unturned,” and navigated to Henry’s account.

  “He lives in... Morgantown, West Virginia, now. He’s a student at WVU.” She released a sigh of relief. “She died in April. Before summer break, after spring break. He’d have been in Morgantown.”

  “Likely. We can confirm that easily enough by calling to talk to his professors. See if anyone remembers him on campus that day.” Nolan scrubbed a hand on his cheek. “But, yeah, he’s low on our list of suspects. Let’s see what else is on Patrice’s account.”

  As the list of suspects and persons of interest grew, Summer’s anxiety rose, as well. Initially, she’d been excited at the notion of having a real case to work, a chance to build a reputation for her fledgling PI company and earn more paying clients. But what happened if she never solved the case? This whole endeavor could backfire and leave her name sullied as incompetent. Gritting her teeth, she firmed her resolve to find Patrice’s killer. But to solve the case, would she have to rid herself of the distraction that Nolan was proving to be?

  Chapter 8

  The schedule for the students in the auto repair program showed the next classes meeting midafternoon the following day. After a couple of hours researching bits of information on the internet, from ASU buttons to confirming Patrice’s old high school friend Henry Cunningham had been in West Virginia the day Patrice went missing, Nolan took Summer out for a pizza dinner.

  While at the pizza parlor, they asked about Patrice’s interview there for a job, and the manager confirmed she’d submitted an application, but they’d not been hiring. Nothing unseemly or unusual popped out to either Nolan or Summer in their conversation with the manager, so they settled in to enjoy the crisp crust, tangy tomato sauce and gooey cheese of their sausage-and-mushroom pizza.

  Summer noticed how quickly they’d settled on their toppings. No haggling or disputes. As if they’d been of one mind. Bam. Mushroom and sausage. Done deal.

  Okay, pizza toppings were insignificant in the big picture, but she saw it as more evidence that she and Nolan were simpatico. Connected. Peas and carrots, as Forrest Gump put it.

  He brushed a chaste kiss on her cheek when he dropped her at her office after dinner and promised to meet her by nine the next morning, after he’d helped Hays with the ranching chores.

  When he arrived the following day, he smelled of fresh-scrubbed man, the crisp scent of soap and his damp hair both evidence of his recent shower. Curling her fingers around the keys in her pocket, Summer steered her mind quickly away from any images that knowledge conjured. “Ready to head out? Our first stop today is Patrice’s father.”

  “Lead on,” Nolan said, patting Yossi goodbye and following her to her Beetle. He gave the tiny front seat a leery look. “Can we take my Cherokee? I chewed on my knees all day yesterday in this sardine can.”

  With a laugh, Summer tucked her keys away and waved a hand to his Jeep. “Of course.”

  They arrive in the Ecclestons’ neighborhood moments later, and Summer ogled the houses, the quaint yards, the first signs of autumn color in the trees. Someday.

  Seconds after their knock, Atticus Eccleston answered the door of his modest brick home on the shady street. When he spotted her and Nolan on his porch, his face brightened with a hopefulness she knew she’d have to dash, and her heart clenched.

  “Ms. Davies, hello. Do you have news? Did you find my girl’s killer?” he asked, opening the door and standing back to admit her and Nolan. Atticus gave Nolan a puzzled look before returning his wistful eyes to her.

  Summer mustered a smile for the older man and shook her head. “No news yet. But we’re gathering a lot of helpful information, so stay positive.” She motioned to Nolan. “This is a friend of mine who is helping me work on the case.” She introduced the men, and they shook hands. Summer followed Atticus into a living room that clearly had not seen a dust rag or vacuum in months.

  “So what brings you by if you don’t know who’s responsible for killing my Patrice?” Her host moved stacks of magazines and unfolded laundry off the couch and motioned for her to sit.

  “We wanted to ask more questions and update you on our progress. We thought you might be able to shed some light on a few bits of information we learned.” Summer perched on the edge of the couch and took out her notebook. Nolan settled beside her, his eyes taking in the room and studying Atticus Eccleston with a casualness she knew belied the careful scrutiny and attention to detail he’d demonstrated earlier.

  Atticus spread his hands. “Ask away.”

  Summer described the meeting the day before with Patrice’s roommates, and Atticus nodded. “They’re sweet girls. I’m glad they were helpful.”

  “Amanda mentioned that Patrice had, at your behest, applied for a couple o
f jobs. Do you know where or how those interviews went?”

  “They went fine as best I know, although...she didn’t get any of the jobs. But I don’t think she minded getting turned down some of the places. Maria had soured her on the idea of waiting tables, serving the public. And she’d worried about the possibility of delivering pizzas to strangers’ houses. Too dangerous.” He paused and laughed without humor, tears filling his eyes. “Ironic, huh?”

  Summer gave him a sympathetic look. “Where else did she apply?”

  Atticus shifted on his chair and fingered moisture from the corner of his eye. “I drove her to an interview at the auto shop on Main. She was more enthusiastic about working on cars, but that job didn’t pan out, either. She never said why and didn’t want to talk to me about it when we left, but she was pretty upset. She’s pretty touchy...” he started, then frowned and started again. “She was pretty touchy about being a girl wanting to be a mechanic. I assumed that was why they didn’t hire her, so I let it drop.”

  Summer could empathize with Patrice, and the feeling of being overlooked in a traditionally male field.

  “Then she applied at the Whisperwood General Store,” Atticus continued.

  “On Alamo Street?” Nolan asked.

  “Yeah, I think that’s the address. But the store didn’t need anyone at the time.” Atticus shrugged in a what-are-ya-gonna-do? manner.

  “Did she ever mention friends by the name of Barry, Charlie and Tyler?” Summer asked.

  Atticus sat straighter. “No. Who are they?”

  “Guys in her class,” Nolan said. “She hung out with them from time to time, according to her roommates.”