Colton 911: Deadly Texas Reunion. Beth Cornelison
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rel="nofollow" href="#ud0f1c5d7-9c94-52bc-ba49-07a524334a90">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 exchanged 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?”