Colton 911: Deadly Texas Reunion. Beth Cornelison

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СКАЧАТЬ thing about moving to new schools every couple years is, you can reinvent yourself, be Victoria instead of Summer. Then I tried out Vee and by college I was going by Vicki. After Robby started hounding me, I switched to Tori.”

      “What was wrong with Summer?” His gaze narrowed, and his hazel eyes darkened. “I liked Summer. Not just the name, but the girl I knew. Why reinvent yourself?”

      She lifted a shoulder. “Boredom. Youthful experimenting. Because I could. New place, new name. It was a game.”

      The noise that issued from his throat said he was skeptical. “And now you’re back in Whisperwood. Why?”

      “That one’s easy. I love it here. Of all the places we moved over the years, all the zip codes where I lived since I was a kid, nowhere ever felt like home the way Whisperwood did. Maybe it was nostalgia, maybe it was because we lived here longer than anywhere else, but Whisperwood has always represented home and roots. It’s where I wanted to settle down and raise my family.” She spread her hands. “So a few months ago, I made it happen. I packed up my cat and headed down here. I found office space on Main Street and opened my own PI biz.”

      “And got hired for a case that involves the crime scene at Lone Star Pharma.” His arched eyebrow asked for her to supply details.

      “My first big case here. I helped with criminal cases at my old firm, but since I opened my own business, I’ve mostly been following cheating husbands, looking for lost relatives and finding missing dogs.”

      He pulled an amused face. “Dogs?”

      She chuckled. “Yeah. A little girl came in a couple weeks ago asking for help finding her dog. She had two dollars. I had a little time.” She shrugged. “We found the dog a couple doors down from her house twenty minutes later. I didn’t charge her. But word got around at the elementary school, and I’ve been hired twice more since then. Found both dogs at the same house as the first. It seems Mrs. Nesbit’s poodle was in heat, and every male dog in the neighborhood was visiting Fluffy. Case closed.”

      He laughed, and the rich sound sent a quiver to her core.

      Their food arrived, and she tucked in, more to occupy her restless hands and distract her mind from the odd hum that had vibrated in her veins since sitting down with Nolan fifteen minutes earlier than from hunger.

      “And the case you have now? It’s the real thing?”

      “I’ll say. A twenty-year-old woman was strangled and buried in the parking lot where you saw me earlier. Her family isn’t happy with the way the police are handling the case, the slow trickle of information from the Whisperwood PD, so they’ve hired me to find the person responsible for killing her.”

      With his gaze fixed on her, Nolan set his cornbread down so hard, it broke in half. “You’re investigating a murder? An open case with the local PD?”

      She wiped condensation from her water glass with her thumb. Did she detect a note of disbelief or judgment in his tone? She prayed not. She’d come to expect a bit of sexism from the population as a whole, but she wanted to believe Nolan was above it. She bobbed a nod. “I am.”

      He said nothing as he popped another bite of cornbread in his mouth and chewed, watching her. She held his stare, wondering what was going on behind his mercurial hazel eyes. Where moments ago they’d been the gray-green color of a Texas river, now flecks of gold sparked in their depths, a sure sign his mind was churning. Once he’d swallowed the bite of cornbread, he said, “You’re talking about Patrice Eccleston?”

      “Yeah. You heard about her?”

      “My family was discussing the case last night at dinner.” He paused briefly before adding, “I’m staying on my cousins’ ranch. Same room I used all those summers as a kid.”

      She smiled. “I’m guessing Josephine hasn’t changed a thing in that room since the last time you stayed there.”

      “You’d be right.” He stirred his chili, blew on a spoonful and said, “I want in.”

      She paused with a French fry halfway to her mouth. “Pardon?”

      “Your murder investigation. I’m sitting on my butt out at the ranch doing nothing except mucking stalls in the morning and watching Jeopardy! in the afternoons with Josephine. I’m an FBI special agent, Summer. I can help you, and I want in.”

       Chapter 3

      Summer dropped her French fry in a puddle of ketchup and frowned at him. “Who said I need help? I can handle the case by myself.”

      He raised a palm. “I’m sure you can, but I have time on my hands and investigative experience. Why not use me?”

      Why not, indeed? She wiped her fingers on her napkin and considered his offer. “I can’t pay you. I’m barely making my office rent each month as it is.”

      “I didn’t ask you to. I’m volunteering.” He crumbled a bit of his cornbread into his chili and stirred it up. “Come on, Summer. Think how great it would be for us to team up. Bullfrog and Tadpole, together again.”

      She sputtered a laugh. “Oh my goodness! We haven’t used those nicknames in years!”

      Teaming up with him, spending time with him would be great, if…

      If he didn’t prove a distraction. And if he didn’t try to take over the investigation and push her aside. And if he could satisfy her questions about these sexual assault charges against him.

      Dear God, sexual assault? He claimed he was innocent, and at face value, she believed him, but…it had been seventeen years since they’d spent any significant, quality time together. He could have changed. Knowing that the Nolan she’d known could be gone made her chest hurt.

      But she wouldn’t get the measure of him without spending time with him. A tingle of anticipation spun through her at the idea of having a legitimate reason to spend time with her old best friend. “I have conditions.”

      His head angled in surprise. “Name them.”

      “It’s my case, so I’m in charge. Remember that.”

      “So noted.”

      “No calling me Tadpole in front of the client or anyone we’re interviewing for the case.”

      “Of course. That wouldn’t be professional. Understood. What else?”

      She tore off a piece of her sandwich and nibbled it as she thought. “I…guess that’s all. The first one is the main thing.” She aimed a finger at him. “Don’t be bossy.”

      He blinked. “Who me? I’m not—”

      “You are, Mr. Two Pieces of Cake!” she said, laughing. “And you always have been!”

      “Oh, see, now the cake thing…that’s wasn’t being bossy,” he said, his expression the image of innocence. “That was foresight, thoughtfulness and practicality.”

      She СКАЧАТЬ