Colton 911: Deadly Texas Reunion (Book 4)

by Beth Cornelison

  The mechanic muttered a curse word and turned ninety degrees, eyeing the dark night edgily. “I need to go. I’ve said too much as it is.”

  “Wait,” Summer said, catching the sleeve of Walter’s jacket. “Just one more qu—”

  “No!” He pulled away, waving his hands. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I—” He took a quick step closer to Summer and stuck his face in hers. “You gotta swear you won’t let anyone know I talked to ya.”

  Nolan planted a hand on Walter’s chest and shoved him back from Summer. “Back off, man.”

  Without missing a beat, Walter lifted pleading eyes to Nolan. “You gotta understand. I have a family. A mortgage. I need this job. If Kain even gets a whiff that I told you anything...” He shook his head. “I can’t say if the rumors around town are true or not. But I know better than to cross him.” As if realizing at that moment he had crossed his boss by meeting with them, Walter trembled visibly and backed away with quick stumbling steps. “Don’t push Kain, friends. He’s got a bad temper. You’ve been warned.”

  Chapter 16

  “I want a look at Kain’s Mercedes,” Summer said several minutes after they returned to Nolan’s truck and sat in mutual silence digesting what they’d learned from the mechanic.

  “Ditto.” Nolan rocked his head from side to side, stretching his neck muscles. “Especially the tires.”

  “Yeah. But if Kain is as protective of Melody as Walter says, then how are we supposed to get close enough to poke around?” Summer angled her body to better study Nolan’s profile in the dim glow of his dashboard lights. She’d tried to put the memory of their lovemaking out of her mind so she could focus on the case, but the scent of him surrounded her. She was attuned to his every breath, every tiny movement. And every whiff of the shampoo he’d used at the gym, every subtle rustle of his clothes and every brush of his hand renewed the thrum rooted in her core. Then his words would replay in her head like a bad dream she couldn’t shake.

  This was a mistake. I’m sorry, Summer.

  And her heart would sink to her feet, a leaden weight dragging at her, crushing her, killing the hope she’d nurtured in recent days of building something lasting and true with Nolan. Something like Avery had found with Dallas. Or Rae had with Forrest. Or—

  “We know he’s driving the Mercedes tonight. That he’s at the town council meeting.” Nolan’s voice dragged her back to the topic at hand—figuring out what Patrice had seen while snooping around Melody that sent her fleeing the auto shop.

  “Yeah. Allegedly,” she replied. She struggled to keep her mind on Kain and his beloved car when Nolan rubbed the stubble on his chin, creating a quiet, scratchy noise. The sound reminded her how it had felt to have his bristly beard lightly scraping her cheeks, her breasts, her thighs. She balled her hands in her lap and added, “He could be anywhere, in truth.”

  Nolan cranked the truck to life, and the engine gave a rumbling purr that sounded like the moans of satisfaction that had come from Nolan’s throat when—

  For the love of bacon, Summer! He said sleeping with you was a mistake! He doesn’t want what you want, so just deal—and move on!

  “Let’s just see if he’s really at the town council,” Nolan said, cutting the wheel to turn down the street toward the municipal building.

  As they cruised past the parking lot, the flow of people and cars from the area made it clear the council meeting had dismissed. But Summer pointed to the back corner of the lot, where the handsome auto shop owner was waving goodbye to another man and climbing into the black Mercedes sedan. “There he is.”

  “And there she is.” Nolan tapped his fist on his steering wheel and drove away. “Melody.” He cut a look to Summer and scoffed. “He named his car.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “So?”

  “Don’t you think that’s kinda...” He stopped short and arched an eyebrow. “Wait. Did you name your car?”

  She should have been offended by the humor and disbelief in his tone. Maybe she was. Hard to tell when her heart was still bruised by his characterization of their lovemaking that afternoon. “Not my current car, but... I named the first car I had in high school.”

  He curled his lips in, clearly trying to hide a grin. After a beat, he finally asked what she’d feared he would. “What did you name it?”

  She drew a breath and pinned a hard look on him. “Nolan.”

  He met her gaze, as if merely responding to his name. Then he blinked, realization dawning in his eyes. “Wait. That’s what you named the car? Nolan?”

  “I missed you. It made me feel close to you. And the car was cantankerous and stubborn like you, so...” The last bit wasn’t exactly true, but she felt the need to minimize the significance of her confession.

  He stared forward through the windshield again. “I don’t know what to make of that.”

  “Nothing. There’s nothing to make of it.” She flicked a hand at him in dismissal. “Could you take me back to my office?”

  “Okay. Why don’t I stop on the way and pick us up something for dinner. A pizza, maybe?”

  “No. Thanks, but I’m tired. I might do some work on my notes or something then hit the hay early.” In the bed that still held Nolan’s scent and the dent of his head on her pillow. Crud. How would she ever sleep in that cot again without thinking of him?

  * * *

  Summer dodged Nolan the next day. She told him she wanted to go to church—alone. Wanted to catch up on some internet research for another case—alone. Overnight a cold front had moved in, along with a layer of clouds. Despite the gray gloom, she took a long jog through the more scenic parts of Whisperwood, past single-family dwellings where children played on manicured lawns. The kind of homes and children she’d always dreamed of having...someday.

  Fighting off the negativity that dragged at her, she raised her chin and hurried her step. She would have a home and family. Maybe not soon. Maybe not with Nolan—her heart gave a painful throb with that admission—but someday. She finished her run at the gym to clean up before retracing her steps at a leisurely pace to get home again. Like her mood, the autumn leaves that had seemed vibrant and glowing in the sun earlier that week were more subdued in the drab of cloud cover. She spent the rest of the day with Yossi curled in her lap while she read, napped and caught up on episodes of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.

  But having respected her wish for distance on Sunday, Nolan was at her office door with coffee and cinnamon bagels first thing Monday morning. She forced a cheery smile as she accepted the offering of caffeine and carbs. “Good morning.”

  Nolan set the bag from JoJo’s Java on the counter, and she felt his gaze as she bit into the still-warm bagel.

  “Are we okay?” he asked, leaning back on the counter and folding his arms over his chest as he eyed her.

  She feigned nonchalance, lifting a shoulder and talking around a mouthful of bagel. “Sure. We’re fine.”

  He continued to stare as if he saw through her act of indifference.

  She took a big swig of hot coffee and set the cup aside. “We have a few things to follow up on today. Kenneth Dawson should be back in town, and we need to talk to Forrest and Chief Thompson about what Walter told us.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Nolan hummed. “Why won’t you look at me?”

  She cut a quick glance to him as if to disprove his theory. “What?”

  He sighed and pushed away from the counter. Opening his arms, he drew her into an embrace. “You know I never wanted to hurt you. I tried hard to avoid...this.”

  She faked a laugh. “I’m fine, Nolan.”

  He tightened his hold, and she put an arm around his waist, leaning into his chest and fighting back the sting of tears in her sinuses. She had to get a grip on her emotions or she’d never get through the day, working beside him and hiding the extent of her crushed ego.

  “If yo
u’re sure...”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  He kissed the top of her head then stepped back. “So, Dawson...check. And talk to Forrest about Melody. Definitely.”

  Thirty minutes later, they were at the law offices of Lukas, Jolley and Fitzsimmons, asking the receptionist to show them to Kenneth Dawson’s door.

  “I understand you’re interested in speaking to Mr. Dawson,” she said, “and he directed me to tell you he has no comment. He’s quite busy today and asked not to be disturbed.”

  “I bet he did,” Nolan said darkly. “Which office is his?”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t—”

  Nolan braced his arms on the woman’s desk and leaned across her desk until his nose was inches from hers. “We’re not leaving until he talks to us, so just tell us where to find him and we’ll get out of your hair.”

  The receptionist clamped her lips in a discouraging frown and shook her head. “He’s my boss. Or one of them. And he can fire me if I don’t—”

  A door opened down the hall behind her, and a middle-aged man with thinning blond hair stepped out, bellowing, “Candace? Did I get a fax from the Gieger office in Dallas?”

  The receptionist sat taller, her eyes drilling into Summer’s. That’s him, she mouthed before turning to face the lawyer.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Dawson. I haven’t seen it come in yet.”

  Dawson grimaced. “Damn it! They promised it would be here first thing this morning.” He smacked a hand against the wall and turned to retreat to his office again.

  “Um, Mr. Dawson?” Candace called after him, “These folks need a moment of your time.”

  Dawson turned, lifting his gaze to Nolan and Summer. “Car accident? Divorce? Contested will?”

  “Murder case,” Summer replied.

  Dawson raised a hand and waved them off. “I don’t take criminal cases, but I’m sure someone else in the firm could—”

  “We don’t want to hire you. We need to question you.” Summer circled the receptionist’s desk and stuck out her hand. “Summer Davies, Davies Investigations. We understand you knew Patrice Eccleston.”

  The man’s pale skin blanched even whiter. His mouth moved, but only choked sounds emerged. He sent an accusatory look to Candace before returning his attention to Summer.

  Nolan joined her and added his own introduction and offered hand, which went ignored.

  After a few awkward seconds of silence and blinking, Dawson said, “As I told Candace to relay, I...have no comment. Can’t comment, really. Client-attorney privilege.”

  Summer cocked her head to the side. “Patrice was a client of yours? In what matter?”

  “That’s, uh... I can’t...” Dawson cleared his throat and pulled his shoulders back, seemingly regaining his composure. “I’m very busy today. I really don’t have time to—”

  “We promise not to take but a moment or two of your time,” Nolan said, brushing past the lawyer and boldly stalking toward the office Dawson had emerged from.

  “Hey!” Dawson aimed a finger at Nolan. “Come back here. You can’t just barge—”

  But Nolan was already entering the door Dawson had left open. Summer hid a grin at Nolan’s presumptuous move. Leaning close to Dawson, she whispered, “Don’t worry, Kenneth. They’re easy questions...assuming you don’t have something to hide. And since we’ve already heard about your affair with Patrice, there’s no point trying to cover it up.”

  The man’s eyes widened, and he cut a quick, guilty look toward the receptionist, who was pretending not to be listening.

  The muscles in his jaw flexed as he gritted his teeth. “Not here.”

  “Of course not.” Summer waved a hand down the hall. “After you.”

  * * *

  “I wasn’t lying when I said Patrice was a client,” Dawson said quietly, the minute he’d closed his office door.

  Dawson didn’t offer Summer or Nolan a chair, but Nolan sat in one of the leather chairs with brass nail head trim anyway. Nolan propped one ankle on his opposite knee and leaned back, assuming a casual pose. “Do tell.”

  Summer didn’t like the insouciant attitude Nolan had assumed and tried to signal him discreetly with her eyes. He only lifted his fingers from the arm of the chair, as if to say, It’s okay. I know what I’m doing.

  Summer took the second chair and directed her full attention to Kenneth. “We have a friend of Patrice’s on record saying she told him she was having an affair with a married man. Were you that man, Mr. Dawson?”

  The lawyer dropped heavily into his desk chair and glanced past them, avoiding eye contact, as he stammered, “I...she didn’t...my wife...”

  “Will not hear anything about this from us,” Summer assured him. “That’s not our job.”

  “Although based on rumors we’ve heard around town and claims made by another woman we know, you should probably think about having a conversation with your wife,” Nolan said. “Soon.” He narrowed his eyes in a menacing way. “And then quit messing with other women. It’s called harassment, and it’s not okay.” Nolan’s glare darkened further. “Am I clear?”

  Kenneth squeezed the burgundy leather arms of his desk chair and jerked a nod. After another beat or two of silence, he blurted, “Originally, Patrice came to me for advice. She wanted legal guidance on a matter, and...due to the nature of her problem, I met with her several times over the course of two or three days.”

  “What was the issue?” Summer’s pulse accelerated as she flipped open her notebook and started recording the conversation. Patrice had consulted a lawyer? She had a tingling sense they were on to something that could explain Patrice’s murder.

  Dawson waved a finger at her. “What are you writing there?”

  “Just notes on our interview with you, so I’m sure I remember things correctly.”

  He frowned. “I don’t like you writing down everything I say.”

  Nolan pulled out his phone. “Would you prefer we record the conversation? We want to be accurate with our fact gathering.”

  Kenneth divided a look between them. “I told you. I can’t reveal anything about her concerns because of attorney-client privilege.”

  Summer pursed her lips in frustration. She knew they were close, so close to solving the case. She had to find a way to get Kenneth to talk. “But couldn’t you reveal the information if you knew doing so could prevent a violent crime?”

  The lawyer blinked rapidly and angled his head. “Pardon?”

  “Is it possible that what Patrice told you could be a clue as to who killed her?”

  Dawson’s expression said what he didn’t. Yes, it could.

  Nerves jumping, Summer cast a glance to Nolan.

  “And if you could prevent someone else being hurt or killed by sharing with us what Patrice told you, don’t you think you have a moral obligation to prevent another attack?”

  Nolan leaned forward. “She’s right. In Texas, you can waive client privilege to prevent another killing.”

  Kenneth closed his eyes and pressed his mouth in a distraught line.

  “You need to help us put her killer behind bars.” Summer scooted to the edge of her chair and flattened her hands on the man’s desk. “Please, Mr. Dawson?”

  Yeah, she was fishing for a loophole, a technicality, a nuance that would give Dawson the out he needed to talk to them. But the anxious look in his eyes told her that he was considering their arguments, that he wanted to talk.

  Finally, Dawson’s shoulders drooped, and he leaned closer. “If I talk, I could be the next one killed.”

  Summer and Nolan exchanged a tense look.

  “My cousin Forrest Colton works for the Whisperwood PD,” Nolan said. “I can see that you get protection—added patrols in your neighborhood.”

  Kenneth stared at his desk where his hands were propped, his fingers laced and his
thumbs fidgeting. “I want protection for my family, as well.”

  “Done.”

  Summer wasn’t sure how Nolan could promise protection without consulting Chief Thompson or Forrest, but she didn’t comment.

  Dawson sighed and lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “All I’ll say is this—she told me she saw something. Evidence of illegal activity. She wanted to know if she was required, by law, to report what she’d seen. She was afraid if she reported her find, she could be putting her life at risk. She was torn between reporting what she’d seen and protecting herself.”

  Summer blurted the obvious question. “What did she see?”

  He raised a hand and shook his head. “That’s all I’m saying.”

  “Mr. Dawson, can’t you just—”

  “No!” he returned, his tone firm. “She feared for her life, and I believe that, somehow, someone very dangerous discovered her secret, and she was killed to keep her from talking. I don’t want to be next victim.”

  Nolan edged forward on his seat and raised a palm in appeal. “We could do a better job of protecting you if we knew who or what we were protecting you from.”

  Kenneth shot to his feet, adamantly shaking his head. “No. We’re done here.”

  “But Mr. Dawson, if we could—”

  He cut Summer off as he lifted the receiver of his desk phone. “Will you call security to see Miss Davies and Mr. Colton out, please?”

  Nolan rose to his feet. “No need. We’re going.”

  A panicked sense that they were inches away from resolution to the case and losing the only chance to close that gap swamped Summer. “But...”

  Nolan took her arm and guided her toward the door. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Dawson. Please remember what I said about respecting women, huh?”

  Dawson scowled and dropped back in his chair.

  As Nolan hustled Summer out of the law firm, she replayed what the lawyer had said. Patrice had seen something. She’d been afraid to report her find. Her find? Did that mean she hadn’t seen an action, such as a murder or a theft, but had found an incriminating object? A murder weapon? A body?