Colton 911--Deadly Texas Reunion

by Beth Cornelison

  As he slammed through the stairwell door and descended the steps two at a time, an image came to him, fixed itself in his head. And he knew where he’d go until this nightmare was resolved.

  Whisperwood.

  Chapter 1

  Whisperwood, Texas

  “It’s been a nightmare. My daughter, my precious girl, was murdered, and I need you to find out who did it.”

  Summer Davies held the haunted gaze of the man seated across from her, and her first thought after his pronouncement was, The poor man. How he must be suffering! Her second thought was Finally, a real case!

  Since opening Davies Investigations LLC in Whisperwood, Texas, Summer had scrounged for work, taking more lost dog cases than she wanted to admit. All too often, when a potential client walked into her small, spare office, they assumed she was the secretary and gave her reluctant consideration when they learned she was the owner and sole private investigator.

  Even Atticus and his son, Ian, who currently sat across from her, had exchanged hesitant looks when she’d informed them she would be the one handling any investigative work done by her office. But, used to the sexism, she’d smiled and asked for the details of the job. And Atticus dropped his bomb. A murder case.

  Summer divided a concerned glance between the two men. “You’re sure she was murdered? She’s not just missing?”

  Ian sat taller in the wooden ladder-back chair, which was all she could currently afford for her clients, and snapped, “Of course we’re sure. Her body was found in the Lone Star Pharma parking lot. What rock have you been living under?”

  Summer let the snide comment pass as she narrowed her gaze on her visitors. “Wait. Lone Star Pharma? Are you Patrice Eccleston’s family?”

  The discovery of the young woman’s body during repairs to the Lone Star Pharma parking lot had been a hot topic of gossip and speculation in town. Solving the much-discussed murder case would prove her mettle to the town and give her fledgling PI office the boost it needed.

  And give Patrice’s family the peace of mind and closure they were seeking, she mentally amended with a self-conscious pang.

  Atticus blinked and dabbed at his eye, clearly fighting tears. “Yes. Patrice is my daughter.” A pained look crossed his face, and he amended, “Was my daughter. I...” He heaved a shuddering sigh full of pain, and Summer’s heart twisted. The grief etched in his face was heartbreaking.

  “Is,” Summer said, leaning toward Atticus and flattening a hand on her desk as she reached toward him. “Patrice will always be your daughter. No matter what. I’m sorry for your loss, sir. I would love to be able to help bring in the person responsible for her murder.”

  Atticus met her gaze, hope lighting his eyes. “Thank you. It rips me apart knowing that the cretin who did this to her is still out there. She deserves justice!”

  Summer nodded. “She absolutely does.”

  While she was considering how to proceed and mulling the ramifications of taking the case, her dark gray feline companion hopped up on her desk and flopped on the paperwork she’d been reviewing earlier.

  Ian’s face reflected surprise then affront at the cat’s appearance, as if Summer having her pet in the office with her was the height of unprofessionalism.

  “Not now, Yossi.” Summer lifted her cat to the floor and brushed stray fur from her desk. Continuing as if nothing had happened she asked, “Isn’t the police investigation still open? While I’m happy to take your case, I don’t want to step on any toes at the police department.”

  “Yeah,” Ian said, “the police say they are looking into it, but we’re not getting many answers outta them.”

  “Chief Thompson is a good man. I like him, and I know he’s doin’ what he can. But...we want answers. Right now, we just aren’t getting anything with the cops.” Atticus used his sleeve to wipe his face. “We figure, maybe people who know something are scared to talk to the cops. Maybe you could learn something Chief Thompson hasn’t.”

  “Fresh eyes on the case and all that.” Ian waved a hand toward her. “Maybe you’ll see something they missed?”

  Summer leaned back in her squeaky desk chair and nibbled a fingernail. It wouldn’t do to get on the police chief’s bad side. She couldn’t appear to be second-guessing Chief Thompson’s efforts in the case. She glanced out her office window, which had a view of downtown Whisperwood, and watched the pedestrians and pigeons ambling along the small-town street. Embarrassing the chief of police wasn’t her worst consideration. If it looked like she was trying to interfere in his investigation, hinder his collection of evidence or—

  And just like that her brain short-circuited. Her train of thought derailed, and her full attention snagged on a man in jeans and a snug T-shirt striding down the sidewalk at a brisk clip. His latte-brown hair, broad shoulders and loose-limbed stride tickled the back of her neck, stirring long-ago memories.

  “Come on, Tadpole. Show these guys you’re not scared!”

  Surging forward, she grabbed the cord to the blinds and yanked them higher for a clearer view of the street. Yossi took this as an invitation to jump onto the wide windowsill, and her cat settled down to bird-watch. She squinted, trying to get a glimpse of the man’s face, but his back was to her.

  “Ms. Davies? Is there a problem?”

  The man on the street placed a paper cup from JoJo’s Java on the roof of his car, opened the driver’s door, retrieved the coffee cup, climbed in and drove away. She continued to stare out the window at the empty parking spot for several heartbeats after the man’s vehicle disappeared down the street.

  “You’re moving?” he asked. “Where?”

  Twelve-year-old Summer frowned, shrugged. “Wherever the Army sends us.”

  He licked his lips and blinked hard, his eyes sad. “Will I ever see you again?”

  No. As it turned out, she hadn’t seen her best childhood friend since that goodbye seventeen years ago. They’d written to each other for a while, but—

  A loud thumping drew her out of her musing. She gave her head a small shake and turned to find Ian Eccleston slapping his hand on her desktop. “Hell-oooo? Ms. Davies, are you listening?”

  Atticus tipped his head. “My dear, are you all right? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

  I may have. Summer raked her hair back from her face. Gathering her thoughts after what—or rather whom—she’d just seen was a bit like chasing down a spilled bag of marbles as they rolled in every direction.

  “I’m sorry. I thought I saw...someone from my past. Someone important...”

  But he hadn’t been back to Whisperwood in years, to her knowledge. Why would he be here now?

  “Can you help us with this case or not, Ms. Davies?” Ian asked. “I have to say, based on what I’ve seen so far of your operation...” He cast a disdainful look around her Spartan accommodations, allowing his disapproving glare to stop on Yossi, who crouched on the windowsill. “I’m not feeling especially confident in your ability to handle a matter as important as my sister’s murder.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way. I promise you, if I take your case, I will leave no stone unturned in searching for the truth. I provide the highest quality service to every client.”

  “If you take the case?” Atticus frowned and cast a side glance to his son before pinning her with his rheumy eyes. “You’re not sure?”

  “I want to take your case. I want to help you. But considering the circumstances, I think it would be wise for me to do a little preliminary groundwork before I make any promises.”

  Ian rolled his eyes and grumbled to his father, “See, Dad. What did I tell you?”

  “Hush, Ian. It may be a long shot, but Ms. Davies is our last best hope.”

  Last best hope? She wasn’t sure if she should feel honored or insulted by the characterization. But being the grieving father’s last hope for peace and justice
was the red flag waved in front of her. A challenge. A mission. More than anything, she wanted to prove to these men, prove to the town, prove to herself that she hadn’t made a mistake moving to Whisperwood three months ago. She was a good investigator—no, a great investigator—and she was determined to do what the naysayers and skeptics around her said she couldn’t. She’d prove them wrong.

  She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. “Here’s what I can do,” Summer said, pulling out a blank notepad and clicking open her favorite pen. “I can take down your information, have you give me some background and insights into Patrice’s life, and then I’ll do a preliminary evaluation. If it looks like I can contribute something to the case that the police haven’t covered, and that my efforts won’t hinder or interfere with Chief Thompson’s investigation, then we’ll proceed. Deal?”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “What I like to call the big Hs—her hobbies, hangouts, habits and homies.”

  Atticus raised an eyebrow and sent her a puzzled look. “Homies?”

  “Uh, you know, her friends. But homies starts with H, so...” She cleared her throat. “So what do you think?”

  “I think I’ll do whatever it takes to put my daughter’s murderer behind bars.”

  * * *

  Nolan studied the storefronts along Main Street and reminisced about the summers he’d spent here in Whisperwood when he was younger. His cousins’ ranch, a thousand-acre spread near Austin, had been the perfect place for a restless boy to spend his summers learning to rope calves, find the best fishing holes and ride his assigned horse, Joker, alongside his cowboy cousins. Sometime between first grade and graduating from high school, he’d fallen in love with the small-town charm of Whisperwood, as well. In the years since his last summer at the Colton Ranch, he’d missed the hot days wrangling cattle, the sticky nights chasing lightning bugs—and a special girl who’d made his early years at the ranch especially memorable. Summer.

  With hair the color of beach sand, a laugh as bubbly as the sodas they’d sip under the cottonwoods and a smile as bright as the sun, Summer had been every bit as warm and wonderful as the season she was named for. As unlikely as the match had seemed, his cousins’ neighbor had quickly become his best friend at the ranch. But then, she was no girly-girl like his sister, Emma, who preferred American Girl dolls and air-conditioning over the boys’ rough-and-tumble antics in the great outdoors. Tomboy Summer had easily kept up with him and his cousins as they climbed, raced, dug, swam, wrestled, fished, mucked and sweated away the hottest days in the Texas Hill Country.

  And then Summer and her family had moved.

  Nolan sighed, remembering the June day when he was thirteen, and he’d learned his best friend was leaving town. He’d arrived at the Colton Ranch, raring to saddle up and go get Summer for a long horseback ride in his cousins’ pastures.

  “Dude, she’s moving to North Carolina this weekend,” his cousin Forrest had said. “Didn’t she write you?”

  Now Nolan rubbed his chest, feeling a hollowness behind his breastbone that paled compared to the sucker punch his younger self had experienced learning of his loss. He’d still had fun with his cousins in subsequent years, but the days lacked the nebulous goldenness and luster he’d known when he’d had Summer at his side.

  Bending his neck to glance at the storefront signs out the passenger side of his car, he spotted a couple more new businesses mixed with the old familiar ones. He spotted the Whisperwood General Store, where he, Donovan and Forrest had filched a box of condoms—and felt so guilty about it they’d returned the same day to put them back. Down the block was the Bluebell Diner, where the chocolate chip pancakes were better than anything his mother or Aunt Josephine could make. His stomach rumbled appreciatively, even though he’d enjoyed a hearty breakfast at the ranch two hours ago. At the corner was a new business, Kain’s Auto Shop, where the bay doors were open and someone in gray coveralls bent over the engine of a dusty pickup truck.

  At one of the few traffic lights in the sleepy town, he sipped his coffee and decided the addition of JoJo’s Java to the downtown storefronts was a definite boon. He didn’t consider himself a coffee snob, but the rich house brew was excellent and hit the spot on this cool autumn morning. At his hip, his cell phone buzzed an incoming call.

  “Special Agent Colton,” he said out of habit, then frowned, wondering if he would still be a special agent when the trumped-up investigation was completed.

  “How very official of you, Nolan,” said a female voice at the other end of the line. “I wish I had a fancier title to throw back besides your cousin-in-law Bellamy.”

  He smiled, picturing his cousin Donovan’s beautiful wife. “No fancier title needed. The fact that you put up with Donovan is credential enough in my book. What can I do for you?”

  “If you have a little time today, could you come by my office and help me with something?” Bellamy, an accountant for Lone Star Pharma, asked.

  “What kind of something?” Nolan switched to hands-free mode on his phone so he could drive.

  “The ladies in the office organized a surprise baby shower for me this morning, and I have a lovely collection of gifts I need help getting home,” Bellamy, who was eight months pregnant, said then rushed to add, “I know you’re on vacation...”

  He swallowed a scoff and a tinge of bitterness toward his employer when she referred to his unpaid leave as a vacation, but then, all he’d told his family was that he was taking some time off.

  “...and I wouldn’t ask normally, except Donovan is tied up working a case and Dallas—”

  “No problem.”

  “—and Avery have their hands full with the twins, and Forrest—”

  “Bellamy, stop. I’m happy to help,” he said, even as he turned on Alamo Street to head toward the sprawling complex of the town’s largest employer. He was, in fact, relieved to have something useful to do. He’d helped Hays muck stalls this morning and promised to drive Josephine to a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, but he was woefully short on things to fill his free time. He needed something to occupy his hands, his mind for the foreseeable future or he’d go nuts stewing over the false charges being investigated back in Chicago.

  “Are you sure? I hate to impose, but I’m not supposed to carry anything heavy and—”

  He chuckled hearing the apology in her voice. “No imposition. Really. I wasn’t doing anything except cruising around town, walking down memory lane. I’m on my way now.”

  “Thank you, Nolan! You’re a lifesaver!”

  “Helping you tote baby gifts hardly compares to saving a life, but you are most welcome.”

  He arrived at the Lone Star Pharma offices within minutes and parked in the visitor’s spot closest to the door Bellamy specified. He climbed out of his car, coffee in hand, and scanned the complex, which was far larger than he’d remembered as a teenager. He’d heard the company was doing well and expanding, and the new buildings on the Lone Star campus testified to that fact.

  At one end of the parking lot, he spotted an area marked off with yellow tape, and curiosity bit him. Crime scene tape or general cautionary tape? At dinner last night, his cousins had talked about all the damage done by Hurricane Brooke, the storm that had blown through the area a couple of months back. But hadn’t they also mentioned a woman’s body had recently been discovered buried under the parking lot? The back of his neck tingled, and he headed toward the yellow tape as if drawn there by some alien tractor beam.

  His curiosity spiked all the more when he noticed a woman poking around the marked-off area. The woman, petite, with dark blond hair and curves, was crouched at the edge of the crime scene with a notepad, scribbling notes and taking pictures with her phone. A reporter maybe? But wasn’t the story a few weeks old? Kind of late for the newspaper to be writing up the gruesome discovery. Whoever she was, her blue jeans fit her shapely tush in a
way that made Nolan look twice...before mentally castigating himself for even noticing. He’d been suspended from the Bureau because he’d let a beautiful woman convince him to follow his baser instincts instead of his professional ethics. But never again.

  He crossed the parking lot without saying anything, his athletic shoes silent on the asphalt. The woman was so absorbed in her work that she didn’t seem to notice his approach. Not good, he thought to himself. What if his intent was to kidnap her or rob her? She really needed to be more aware of her surroundings.

  He stopped a few feet behind her and observed for a few seconds before, without turning from her crouch, she said, “Just so you know, I’m packing a .38, and I’m trained to use it.”

  Nolan grinned and muttered, “Welcome to Texas.”

  “Is there something you want?” she said, still photographing the upturned earth and shallow trench where, presumably, the body had recently been found.

  Nolan took a sip of his coffee, then said, “How about your name, and the reason you’re nosing around?”

  The blonde angled her head toward him. Blinked. Gasped. And sprang from her crouch, leaping toward him in one fluid motion. Squealing, she jumped against him, crushing his coffee cup and wrapping herself around him in a bear hug. “Omigod! Omigod! Omigod! Nolan!”

  He had no choice but to catch the woman, or they’d both have tumbled to the pavement. Her legs hooked around him, and he put his hands beneath the shapely bottom he’d been admiring earlier to support her as she squeezed him and giggled.

  And his heart stilled. He knew that effervescent laugh. “Summer?”

  Nolan leaned back, trying to catch a glimpse of the woman’s face. As she raised her head from his shoulder, she bumped his chin, making him bite his tongue. But, sure enough, the spitfire hugging him for all he was worth was Summer. His Summer.