Читать книгу Colton 911: Deadly Texas Reunion - Beth Cornelison - Страница 13

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.”

“The autopsy shows she was strangled. Her hands were bound by the time she was buried. No sign of sexual assault. Thank God. Broken fingernails indicate she struggled, but they found no traces of skin cells.”

“Whoever strangled her was covered up, then? Long sleeves, gloves…and she didn’t get his face, so maybe a mask. Or she was attacked from behind?”

She nodded and consulted her notes again. “She was last seen leaving Bailey’s Bar and Grill the night she disappeared. She was alone at the time, according to surveillance camera footage.” She tapped her pen against the notepad and looked up at Nolan. “I had her father and brother give me a list of her friends and hobbies, favorite hangouts and so forth—” She paused when Yossi jumped into Nolan’s lap, curled up and lay down. She covered a smile with her hand. “I hope you like cats. Yossi is not much for personal boundaries.”

He slanted a look at her gray feline, then rolled his eyes. “Yeah, it’s fine.” He scratched Yossi’s cheek and nodded to her. “You were saying?”

“Right.” She pulled out the forms that the Ecclestons had filled out and slid them across her desk to him. “Here’s what they’ve given me so far. I went out to the crime scene this morning, as you know, to see if anything unusual or telling jumped out at me.”

“And did anything?”

She twisted her mouth. “No.”

Nolan leaned forward to take the papers from her desk, and Yossi dug his claws in to hold on as his lap bed shifted. Leaning back, Nolan began scanning the information and asked, “Who found the body?”

“Construction workers dug her up while renovating the parking lot. The storm that blew through here this summer caused a good bit of flooding, and the parking lot buckled and part of it washed out. It had to be completely redone. Originally they thought Patrice was another victim of a guy named Corgan, a serial killer who confessed on his deathbed to murdering several other women in the area. But Patrice wasn’t mummified, and Corgan denied killing her, so…”

“So her killer is still out there. Thus the family’s hiring you.”

“Exactly.”

He returned the pages of notes to her desk. “I think I mentioned that my cousins were talking a bit about the case at dinner. They’ve been pretty deeply involved with solving the Mummy Killer case and some other goings-on around town lately. I’ll talk to them this afternoon and see what insights they might have that would help us. Things the police may not have shared with the family yet.”

Summer perked up. “That’d be great! I’d planned to start interviewing some of Patrice’s friends today. Want to divide the list?”

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?