Colton 911: Deadly Texas Reunion. Beth Cornelison

and sent her a puzzled look. “Homies?”

      “Uh, you know, her friends. But homies starts with H, so…” She cleared her throat. “So what do you think?”

      “I think I’ll do whatever it takes to put my daughter’s murderer behind bars.”

      Nolan studied the storefronts along Main Street and reminisced about the summers he’d spent here in Whisperwood when he was younger. His cousins’ ranch, a thousand-acre spread near Austin, had been the perfect place for a restless boy to spend his summers learning to rope calves, find the best fishing holes and ride his assigned horse, Joker, alongside his cowboy cousins. Sometime between first grade and graduating from high school, he’d fallen in love with the small-town charm of Whisperwood, as well. In the years since his last summer at the Colton Ranch, he’d missed the hot days wrangling cattle, the sticky nights chasing lightning bugs—and a special girl who’d made his early years at the ranch especially memorable. Summer.

      With hair the color of beach sand, a laugh as bubbly as the sodas they’d sip under the cottonwoods and a smile as bright as the sun, Summer had been every bit as warm and wonderful as the season she was named for. As unlikely as the match had seemed, his cousins’ neighbor had quickly become his best friend at the ranch. But then, she was no girly-girl like his sister, Emma, who preferred American Girl dolls and air-conditioning over the boys’ rough-and-tumble antics in the great outdoors. Tomboy Summer had easily kept up with him and his cousins as they climbed, raced, dug, swam, wrestled, fished, mucked and sweated away the hottest days in the Texas Hill Country.

      And then Summer and her family had moved.

      Nolan sighed, remembering the June day when he was thirteen, and he’d learned his best friend was leaving town. He’d arrived at the Colton Ranch, raring to saddle up and go get Summer for a long horseback ride in his cousins’ pastures.

      “Dude, she’s moving to North Carolina this weekend,” his cousin Forrest had said. “Didn’t she write you?”

      Now Nolan rubbed his chest, feeling a hollowness behind his breastbone that paled compared to the sucker punch his younger self had experienced learning of his loss. He’d still had fun with his cousins in subsequent years, but the days lacked the nebulous goldenness and luster he’d known when he’d had Summer at his side.

      Bending his neck to glance at the storefront signs out the passenger side of his car, he spotted a couple more new businesses mixed with the old familiar ones. He spotted the Whisperwood General Store, where he, Donovan and Forrest had filched a box of condoms—and felt so guilty about it they’d returned the same day to put them back. Down the block was the Bluebell Diner, where the chocolate chip pancakes were better than anything his mother or Aunt Josephine could make. His stomach rumbled appreciatively, even though he’d enjoyed a hearty breakfast at the ranch two hours ago. At the corner was a new business, Kain’s Auto Shop, where the bay doors were open and someone in gray coveralls bent over the engine of a dusty pickup truck.

      At one of the few traffic lights in the sleepy town, he sipped his coffee and decided the addition of JoJo’s Java to the downtown storefronts was a definite boon. He didn’t consider himself a coffee snob, but the rich house brew was excellent and hit the spot on this cool autumn morning. At his hip, his cell phone buzzed an incoming call.

      “Special Agent Colton,” he said out of habit, then frowned, wondering if he would still be a special agent when the trumped-up investigation was completed.

      “How very official of you, Nolan,” said a female voice at the other end of the line. “I wish I had a fancier title to throw back besides your cousin-in-law Bellamy.”

      He smiled, picturing his cousin Donovan’s beautiful wife. “No fancier title needed. The fact that you put up with Donovan is credential enough in my book. What can I do for you?”

      “If you have a little time today, could you come by my office and help me with something?” Bellamy, an accountant for Lone Star Pharma, asked.

      “What kind of something?” Nolan switched to hands-free mode on his phone so he could drive.

      “The ladies in the office organized a surprise baby shower for me this morning, and I have a lovely collection of gifts I need help getting home,” Bellamy, who was eight months pregnant, said then rushed to add, “I know you’re on vacation…”

      He swallowed a scoff and a tinge of bitterness toward his employer when she referred to his unpaid leave as a vacation, but then, all he’d told his family was that he was taking some time off.

      “…and I wouldn’t ask normally, except Donovan is tied up working a case and Dallas—”

      “No problem.”

      “—and Avery have their hands full with the twins, and Forrest—”

      “Bellamy, stop. I’m happy to help,” he said, even as he turned on Alamo Street to head toward the sprawling complex of the town’s largest employer. He was, in fact, relieved to have something useful to do. He’d helped Hays muck stalls this morning and promised to drive Josephine to a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, but he was woefully short on things to fill his free time. He needed something to occupy his hands, his mind for the foreseeable future or he’d go nuts stewing over the false charges being investigated back in Chicago.

      “Are you sure? I hate to impose, but I’m not supposed to carry anything heavy and—”

      He chuckled hearing the apology in her voice. “No imposition. Really. I wasn’t doing anything except cruising around town, walking down memory lane. I’m on my way now.”

      “Thank you, Nolan! You’re a lifesaver!”

      “Helping you tote baby gifts hardly compares to saving a life, but you are most welcome.”

      He arrived at the Lone Star Pharma offices within minutes and parked in the visitor’s spot closest to the door Bellamy specified. He climbed out of his car, coffee in hand, and scanned the complex, which was far larger than he’d remembered as a teenager. He’d heard the company was doing well and expanding, and the new buildings on the Lone Star campus testified to that fact.

      At one end of the parking lot, he spotted an area marked off with yellow tape, and curiosity bit him. Crime scene tape or general cautionary tape? At dinner last night, his cousins had talked about all the damage done by Hurricane Brooke, the storm that had blown through the area a couple of months back. But hadn’t they also mentioned a woman’s body had recently been discovered buried under the parking lot? The back of his neck tingled, and he headed toward the yellow tape as if drawn there by some alien tractor beam.

      His curiosity spiked all the more when he noticed a woman poking around the marked-off area. The woman, petite, with dark blond hair and curves, was crouched at the edge of the crime scene with a notepad, scribbling notes and taking pictures with her phone. A reporter maybe? But wasn’t the story a few weeks old? Kind of late for the newspaper to be writing up the gruesome discovery. Whoever she was, her blue jeans fit her shapely tush in a way that made Nolan look twice…before mentally castigating himself for even noticing. He’d been suspended from the Bureau because he’d let a beautiful woman convince him to follow his baser instincts instead of his professional ethics. But never again.

      He crossed the parking lot without saying anything, his athletic shoes silent on the asphalt. The woman was so absorbed in her work that she didn’t seem to notice his approach. Not good, he thought to himself. What if his intent was to kidnap her or rob her? She really needed to be more aware of her surroundings.

      He stopped a few feet behind her and observed for a few seconds before, without turning from her crouch, she said, “Just so you know, I’m packing a .38, and I’m trained to use it.”

      Nolan grinned and muttered, “Welcome to Texas.”

      “Is there something you want?” she said, still photographing the upturned