Beth Cornelison - Colton 911 - Deadly Texas Reunion

“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.”

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 tipped her head back as she laughed.

“I have conditions, too.” His serious tone caught her off guard and quelled her chuckles.

“You do?”

He set his spoon in his empty chili bowl and pushed the dirty dish aside. “If we work together, we keep our relationship completely platonic and professional.”

She snorted. “Naturally. That kinda goes without saying.”

So why did the term “platonic” cause the odd stab of disappointment? Summer could understand his caution since apparently someone was accusing him of untoward advances, but why had he felt it necessary to spell that out with her ?

Okay, she had admired his fitness and the way his face had developed more chiseled and manly lines. Had he seen something in her face that he’d taken the wrong way? How embarrassing! Just in case, she added another eye roll and dismissive sniff. “No problem there.”

“Good.” He gave a satisfied nod. “Then we’re in agreement? We’ll work together on your murder case?”

“Uh…yeah.” She blinked, letting the arrangement sink in. She would be teaming up with Nolan . Who was an FBI agent . To solve a murder . Holy crap! She released her breath, and an excited smile stole onto her face. “Okay. Let’s do this!”

The cake Nolan had ordered earlier arrived, and she slid the biggest piece in front of her and dug in. It was divine.

Thirty minutes later, Summer unlocked her office and led Nolan inside. A dark gray cat met them at the door.

Nolan paused, staring at the feline. “Summer, there’s a cat in here.”

“Uh-huh. That’s Yossi.” She slung her jacket across the back of her desk chair and squatted to pat the feline. “Say hello. He’s very friendly.”

Nolan held his fingers out for the cat to sniff, and Yossi rubbed his head on the offered hand instead. Giving the cat’s cheek a little scratch, Nolan stepped deeper into the small office and surveyed the spare decor. The walls were bare, and her furnishings consisted of one wooden bookcase that was overloaded with books and stacks of magazines, two ladder-backed chairs facing a dented metal and faux-wood desk, a lamp and a metal file cabinet. In the corner was what he assumed was the cat’s litter box.

Nolan rubbed his chin as he took a seat in one of the chairs. “Love what you’ve done with the place. If I move back to town permanently, you’ll have to give me the name of your decorator.”

Summer gave him a withering glance. “It’s Sally Bite Me .”

He chuckled and propped an ankle on his opposite knee as he watched her opening file folders and paging through the notebook he’d seen her scribbling in at the crime scene. “So where are you in your investigation? Lay it out for me.”

She clicked open her pen and leaned back in her chair. “All right. So the victim is twenty-year-old Patrice Eccleston. Her family hired me first thing this morning, because they weren’t getting answers from the cops.”

“Not uncommon. The police often can’t share details of an open investigation. What if it turns out a family member was responsible for the murder?”

She arched one blond eyebrow. “Preaching to the choir, Nolan.”

He held up a hand. “Of course. Sorry.”