Colton 911--Deadly Texas Reunion

by Beth Cornelison

  Nolan stroked Yossi’s fur and shook his head. “Let’s go together. Two sets of ears are better than one. I might pick up on something you miss—” her frown returned, and he added quickly, “—or vice versa.”

  Summer was certainly touchy about anyone denigrating her work or her abilities. What was that about? She’d always been such a confident and carefree kid when they’d hung out together those summers twenty years ago. Granted, a lot could happen, a lot could change in that many years. Not the least of which were her physical changes. The spindly-legged, flat-chested tomboy was gone, replaced by a beautiful, curvy woman with bedroom eyes that could seduce you in a heartbeat. Also the same were her expressive face and tendency to use big gestures as she talked. Summer had always been animated, full of life, with a magnetic personality. As a kid she’d played counterpoint to his quieter nature and penchant for observing rather than diving in and damning the torpedoes. Apparently that synergy still existed, still dovetailed with something in his soul, because he felt an old familiar warmth and tenderness toward her expanding in his chest.

  He’d spelled out the need for the two of them to keep their working relationship platonic as much as a warning and reminder for himself as a guide for her. He’d sat across from her in the diner and been swamped with all kinds of nonplatonic urges. He’d had to remind himself about every five minutes that it was Summer sitting there looking like forbidden fruit. Every teasing twitch of her bow-shaped lips and disapproving wrinkle of her pixie-like nose spiked his pulse. Her thick golden hair and bedroom brown eyes had—Damn it! He was waxing poetic about her again. He pinched his nose and battled away the tug of lust.

  “...her first. Sound good?” Summer was saying when he refocused his attention.

  He cleared his throat, digging his fingers into her cat’s fur and nodding stupidly. “Um, sure.”

  What had he just agreed to?

  Chapter 4

  “Maybe we should take your car,” Summer said, suppressing a giggle as she watched Nolan fold his long legs and linebacker shoulders into the front passenger seat of her Beetle.

  “No, I’m in now. Let’s go.”

  Even before you considered his remarkable size, Nolan had a way of filling up a space with the magnitude of his presence. He commanded a room with his confidence and good looks, and now, in the tiny confines of her car, he seemed to suck all the oxygen out of the air. Or maybe that was just her reaction to his nearness. She’d been feeling a bit winded and dizzy ever since she’d hugged him at the Lone Star Pharma parking lot this morning. Jumped him was more like it. But dang it, she’d been happy to see him. She was impulsive that way. Was her overly enthusiastic greeting the reason he’d felt the need to put out his platonic-only condition for working together? Probably.

  Okay, so she needed to try to check her impulses around Nolan. He may have grown up to be a walking dream, but theirs had always been simply a friendship. Clearly he wanted no more than that, which was why he had been quick to put the kibosh on anything more.

  He buckled his seat belt and slanted a wry glance at her. “Stop laughing, or I’ll think this was a setup.”

  “I’m not laughing,” she said, her lighthearted tone belying her assertion. “I Googled the directions on my phone.” She handed him her cell. “Will you navigate?”

  He swiped to open the proper screen and aimed a thumb down Main Street. “Sure. Head east toward Caldwell Street.”

  “Remember, I only moved back here a couple months ago. I’m still relearning street names and landmarks.”

  “Roger that.”

  A few minutes later, they arrived at the apartment complex where their first interviewee lived. Their knock on the door of 4-B was answered by a petite young woman with frizzy auburn hair and freckles. Her gaze locked on Nolan, the twinkle of interest in her eyes clearly saying she’d noticed how handsome the man on her doorstep was.

  “Amanda Cole?” Summer asked, drawing the young woman’s attention away from Nolan.

  “Yes?” Amanda’s expression modulated, as if disappointed to realize her hunky visitor had a female companion.

  “I’m Summer Davies, a local private investigator, and this is my associate, Nolan Colton.” They each offered their hand for Amanda to shake. “Do you have a few minutes to talk with us, please?”

  Her green eyes darkened with doubt. “About what?”

  “Patrice Eccleston. We understand you were roommates?”

  “Well, yeah.” Grief washed over Amanda’s expressive countenance. Interviewing her would be all the easier, since her thoughts and emotions were written on her face.

  “May we come in?” Nolan asked, and Amanda swallowed hard before nodding and opening the door farther to allow them inside.

  The apartment was decorated in a style Summer would call Early College. Mismatched, inexpensive furniture mixed with older, worn pieces that screamed “castoffs from a parent’s house,” and the detritus of pizza dinners, studying and gossip magazines littered the living room. The scent of burned microwave popcorn hung in the air.

  Nolan eyed a bright pink folding butterfly chair skeptically before seating himself on the garage sale–reject couch. Amanda perched on a red director’s chair and chewed her bottom lip. Knowing she couldn’t maintain an erect, businesslike posture in the butterfly chair, Summer joined Nolan on the sofa. A broken spring poked her butt, so she shifted closer to Nolan to find a more comfortable spot.

  “What do you want to know about Patrice?” their hostess asked, a quiver of nerves in her voice.

  “Basic information. Anything that might give us a picture of her life in the weeks before she was killed.”

  “Amanda? Who was—?” A second young woman with a long, lean frame, a mocha complexion and black hair pulled up in a ponytail sauntered in from the back of the apartment and stopped short when she spotted the strangers on the couch. “Oh. Hi.”

  Nolan stood and offered his hand as Amanda said, “Maria, these folks are private investigators wanting to talk about Patrice. This is my roommate, Maria.”

  Summer smiled at Maria, who wore running shoes, yoga shorts and a T-shirt, then flipped to the front of her notepad asking, “Would you be Maria Hernandez, by any chance?”

  Maria sent her roommate a worried frown before returning her gaze to Summer. “How did you know?”

  “We got your name from Patrice’s brother. You are actually on our list of people we wanted to interview. Ian and his father have hired me to look into Patrice’s death.”

  “You?” Her tone echoed the dubious look she wore. “Why?”

  “I’m a private investigator.”

  “What about him?” Maria asked, waving a hand toward Nolan.

  “He’s helping me with the case.”

  Maria shifted her weight uneasily. “We already told the police all we know.”

  Summer nodded. “That’s good. I’m sure your information will be helpful to them. But we are working independently from the police department and want to explore...other options that the police might not.”

  “Do you have a minute?” Nolan motioned toward the empty butterfly chair.

  Maria looked irritated. “I was just leaving for a run.”

  Nolan flashed a beatific grin that sent Summer’s pulse scampering. “We promise not to keep you long.”

  Maria sighed and dragged a wooden chair in from the breakfast nook. “Before we start, can I see some ID?”

  Summer dug out her wallet to show the girls her PI license. When Maria’s expectant gaze swung toward Nolan, he dragged a hand down his face. “I can show you my driver’s license if you want, but my badge is in Illinois at the moment.”

  “Badge?” Amanda asked. “You’re a cop?”

  He hesitated before offering, “FBI. But I’m not here in an official capacity. Just backup for Summer.”

  Amanda and Maria excha
nged wide-eyed looks.

  “Anyway,” Summer said brightly, “as Patrice’s friends, we figured you two could tell us where she liked to hang out, if she had a boyfriend or a recent ex-boyfriend, her social media habits...that sort of thing. Let’s start with the boyfriend question.”

  The both shook their heads, and Amanda added, “She had a lot of male friends, but none that were ‘boyfriends.’” She drew air quotes with her fingers.

  Summer glanced at the list Patrice’s family had given her. No male names were among those provided. “Can you give us names of her male friends? How did she know these guys?”

  “Classes, mainly. She was going to the vocational school in Hargrove to become a mechanic.”

  Nolan’s chin jerked up. “A mechanic? Like to fix cars?”

  Maria gave him a well, duh look. “What? Like a woman can’t be a mechanic?”

  Summer angled her body toward Nolan, narrowing a wry gaze on him. “Yes, Nolan. Is there a reason why a woman can’t be a mechanic or whatever else she wants to be?”

  He raised his palms. “Whoa. Easy, ladies. Just surprised me. It’s not a common career path for a female. But I have no beef with a woman being whatever she wants to be.”

  Summer flashed a satisfied grin. “Good. Now that we have that settled—” she faced Amanda “—those names?”

  “I only know first names. She met most of the guys in class and only referred to them as Barry, Charlie, Tyler and so forth,” Amanda said.

  “Same when we all met up at Happy Hooligans for a drink,” Maria added. “She only introduced the guys with first names. It was just a casual thing and...” She shrugged.

  Summer clicked her pen and started writing, “So Barry, Charlie and Tyler. All students of the automotive repair program at the vocational college?”

  Amanda nodded.

  Nolan waved a hand toward the roommates. “Are you two students there, as well?”

  Maria snorted. “Like I have the money for tuition. I wait tables during the early-morning shift at the Bluebell Diner and clean offices at Lone Star Pharma at night.”

  Summer scribbled that information down, then looked to Amanda. “And you?”

  Maria gave a wry laugh. “Mandy’s got a rich daddy who pays her rent.”

  Amanda scowled at her friend. “He’s not rich. He’s just helping me out until I graduate.” Then to Summer, “I commute to UT in Austin two days a week. I’m in the early childhood education program. I want to teach kindergarten.”

  “How did you two meet Patrice?” Nolan asked.

  “High school. We all went to Whisperwood High together,” Amanda said. “I was in a lot of classes with Patrice. We hit it off, even though we were...kinda opposites.”

  Summer tipped her head. “Opposites how?”

  Amanda flipped over a hand and gave a small shrug. “I don’t do sports, and she and Maria were on the basketball team together. Then there was her whole love of cars and fixing engines. I totally don’t get that. But she was super sweet and had a good sense of humor. We bonded because we’d both lost our moms.”

  Summer was making notes again when Nolan asked, “Did Patrice have any enemies? An ex-boyfriend who was bothering her? A rival she’d upset? Anything like that?”

  Maria shook her head. “No. Like Mandy said, Patrice was really nice to everyone. Everyone liked her.”

  “So she hadn’t mentioned any angry responses to posts on Facebook or arguments in class? Maybe one of the guys harassing her?”

  Maria and Amanda both shook their heads.

  “Patrice was a private person. She didn’t share a lot with us about her private life, but I think she’d have mentioned something like that, and she didn’t.” Amanda divided a look between them. “She wasn’t on Facebook. She had a Snapchat account and Instagram.”

  “Twitter, too, but she said she never checked it,” Maria added. “We told all this to the cops already.”

  Summer smiled patiently. “I understand, but we may go a different path on this investigation than the police. So your cooperation is appreciated.”

  “No ex-boyfriend,” Amanda said. “The guys from her classes considered her a buddy, which is what she preferred, I think. Early on, I think she had a thing for Barry, but he seemed oblivious to her feelings for him.”

  “What about her family, her father and brother? What kind of relationship did she have with them?” Nolan asked, and Summer cut a startled look to him.

  Summer tried to school her face. While she was in the middle of an interview, it wouldn’t do to give away any of her personal feelings about the case, anything that could slant the interviewee’s answers. But dang it, what was Nolan doing? Patrice’s family was her client! Why would they hire her if they were involved in her death?

  Summer bit back her discontent and fought to hide her irritation with Nolan as Amanda and Maria exchanged a look.

  “Like I said, her mom died while we were in high school,” Amanda said. “It’s one of the reasons she and I became friends. When I heard about it, I found her in the lunchroom one day and told her I knew how she felt and if she wanted to talk ever, I was available.”

  Nolan nodded and offered a half smile. “That was kind of you. But what about her father? Her brother? Did she talk about them?”

  “Some. Nothing major.” Maria shifted her weight restlessly. “She’d eat Sunday lunch with them and watch the Cowboys game after church, and she’d check on her dad at some point during the week to cook for him, so he didn’t live off fast food.”

  “Did you ever pick up on any resentment in the family relationships?” Nolan persisted.

  Summer eased a hand to his thigh and pinched him. Hard. Nolan grimaced, so slightly she’d have missed it if she weren’t looking for a reaction to her silent message.

  Maria hesitated, clearly having seen the brief interplay between her interrogators, then said, “Normal family stuff. Nothing big. She said after her mom died that her dad became super strict and overprotective.”

  Amanda added, “Also, more recently her dad had been pestering her to get a job to help with bills, which bugged her, because in his next breath he’d be nagging her about making good grades and spending more time studying.”

  “Did she get a job?” Summer asked. No one had mentioned to her a place of employment for Patrice.

  “She applied at a couple places to appease her dad,” Amanda said. “But no. She wasn’t working when—” Her freckled face crumpled, and she didn’t finish the thought.

  “Did she say where she’d applied?” Summer asked. “Maybe someone saw Patrice as a threat to their own job?”

  “I think she filled out an application at the Pizza Barn. We joked about the employee discount being a great benefit for us.” Amanda flashed a sad smile. “She had a couple other interviews, but she wouldn’t say much about them. Only that she didn’t get the jobs.”

  “You could ask her dad about the interviews.” Maria cast a telling look to the clock. “He drove her to most of them.”

  Summer and Nolan stayed about ten more minutes, gathering more specific information about Patrice’s habits and hobbies (jogging with Maria, word puzzles and needlepoint, which her mother had taught her years ago), favorite hangouts (Bailey’s Bar and Grill with her friends from class and JoJo’s Java every Friday before class with Amanda) and other friends (Gail Schuster, another high school pal who was next on Summer’s list).

  When they returned to Summer’s car, Nolan gave her a querying look. “There a reason you chose to abuse my leg while we were in there?”

  She rolled her eyes and groaned. “You were hijacking the interview, asking questions about things that didn’t contribute to the investigation.”

  He frowned. “I’m sorry, but what questions did you think were irrelevant?”

  “The whole thing about her family. Did you miss whe
re I told you they are the ones who hired me?”

  “So?”

  “So why would they hire me if they were involved in her death?”

  He scratched his temple, his brow furrowed. “Um, you do know that when a woman is killed, the most likely candidates are always the people closest to her, right? The husband or boyfriend. A parent...”

  She started the engine and shook her head. “I’m aware of that statistic, but in this case, the family doesn’t make sense. I looked in her father’s eyes and saw genuine grief.”

  “Sure it wasn’t guilt?”

  “Nolan!” She slapped a hand on the steering wheel. “This is my case! I told you I didn’t want you trying to take over.”

  When she reached for the gearshift to back out of the parking space, he covered her hand with his to stop her, then turned the key to shut off the engine.

  “Uh! What are you doing?” She gaped at him, trying to ignore the thrill that chased up her arm when he’d touched her hand.

  “I don’t want you driving while distracted. And I want to clear things up before we go any further with this case.”

  “Clear what things up?” Her heart struck a hard staccato beat when she faced him. His mercurial eyes bored into her, and his scruff-dusted jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth.

  “Do you want me helping you with this case or don’t you?”

  “I do,” she said with confidence, adding, “but only if you remember my terms. This is my case. Don’t try to commandeer it from me.”

  His eyes clung to hers, but he said nothing for several uncomfortable seconds. Finally, his gaze softened, and he said, “Your case. I get that. Why is that such a sticking point for you? You seem hypersensitive about it. What’s going on? The Summer I used to know wasn’t this uptight.”

  She tucked her hair behind her ear and tried not to let memories of rampant sexism from her past elevate her blood pressure. Nolan had asked a fair question, and he deserved the truth. “The Summer you knew was included as an equal in all the stuff you guys used to do. You didn’t defer to me or cut me out of anything muddy or rough-and-tumble because I was a girl. But this Summer—” she pointed to herself “—never got the lead on cases at her last investigative agency, despite the fact I had every bit as much or more training than the men in the agency. This Summer—” she tapped her chest “—was treated like a glorified errand girl, who always got sent for coffee or asked to do the copying and collating and transcribing notes for the men. I got leering looks at my chest and pedantic speeches and mansplaining out the wazoo.”