Summer didn’t realize she was tapping her finger against the window on the passenger side of Dawson’s truck until he glanced over at her. His look was one of concern, not annoyance. She realized her nervous tick was in full swing.
She’d like to say her thoughts were consumed with what they were about to face in interviewing Grover Hart, the internet minister, but that wouldn’t exactly be true. Her thoughts kept winding back to the kiss she’d shared with Dawson in the kitchen and the way it held the kind of passion that had been missing in every kiss for her entire life.
Since that was about as productive as squeezing a turnip and expecting blood, she did her best to shove those thoughts aside.
Grover Hart lived far north of Austin in a small town called Bluff. His house sat on what looked like at least an acre of land, and mostly resembled a junkyard. There were tractor parts and what she assumed were truck parts littering the lawn. There was a couch that looked like an ’80s relic sitting next to the front porch steps of the small bungalow.
Dawson parked and kept the engine idling. He glanced over at Summer one more time, his gaze lingering a little bit longer this time.
“This should be interesting,” he said.
“I couldn’t agree more.”
On the east side of the house was a small white gazebo. There were fake flowers wound through the slats. She imagined this was a place Grover performed quick ceremonies. Her sister and Dawson had married on his family’s ranch. She shuddered, thinking about the kind of person who would be on the outskirts of town needing a quickie wedding in basically a junkyard. She also wondered how legal the nuptials would be. That was a whole different issue altogether.
“Guess we better do this.” Dawson shut off the engine and exited the driver’s seat. By the time he got around to the passenger side, she’d let herself out. There was a small look of disappointment in his eyes. Opening a door was still considered chivalrous in Texas.
They hadn’t made it more than a few steps when the front door to the small green-siding bungalow popped open. A man who looked to be in his late forties or early fifties bounded out the door. He had on a variety of brightly colored prints and a matching cloth headband tied around his head. His hand was extended in front of him. He had a tanned, weathered face and a gap-toothed smile.
Grover had the whole Keep Austin Weird vibe down pat. He also looked like a bona fide hippie and she half expected him to offer them something besides the usual water or alcohol fare.
“How can I help you?” He looked at Dawson and then her. There was no hint of recognition.
Summer realized she had on a scarf, a ball cap and sunglasses. Her hair was tucked inside the hat as best she could. She removed a few articles and studied the man for any hint of recognition.
“Beautiful day,” Dawson said, shaking Grover’s hand. Dawson was stalling for time, waiting to see if Grover recognized her or him.
He looked from Summer to Dawson and back again before throwing his hands out to the side. “Would you like a tour of the wedding gazebo?”
The man looked confused when neither one of them answered.
“You married us a while back,” Dawson began, and Grover really did seem caught off guard with the statement.
“Oh.” He seemed to be searching his memory, trying to find a match to the couple standing in front of him. “I’m real sorry. I hope everything is okay with the—”
“It’s all fine,” Dawson reassured. “I was just hoping you could remember talking to my wife when you set up the arrangements.”
Grover Hart seemed genuine enough, looking like he’d rather shoot the peace sign than anything else. He had flower child written all over him and she figured he was probably too high to remember much of anything most of the time.
“I could check my records if you’d like.” He shrugged. His bushy eyebrows knitted together. “Was there something specific you were hoping I’d remember about the day?”
“No, I just thought you might recognize me. That’s all,” Summer said, figuring this was a dead end.
Dawson seemed to reach the same conclusion when he stuck out his hand and plastered on a smile. “Nothing to worry about here. We were driving by and thought we’d stop in and check with you. She lost her favorite earring on the day of the wedding and hoped you might remember seeing it. Since you don’t, we’ll be on our way.”
Grover let out his breath like Dawson had just twisted a relief valve. She didn’t think Grover was up to anything, but he did seem genuinely disappointed that he couldn’t be of help.
“Thanks for trying,” Summer said as she turned and headed toward the truck. Once inside, she said, “It’s safe to say he didn’t know my sister from Adam.”
“I got the same impression.” Dawson drove down the gravel lane, to the farm road leading to the highway. “Maybe we’ll have better luck at the coffee shop.”
She hoped.
The rest of the drive was quiet, save for the horns honking and general congestion of Austin where the term rush hour implied traffic actually let up at some point.
Using the map feature on her phone, it was easy to find Capital Coffee and not so easy to navigate downtown traffic, especially in a vehicle that took up much of the road.
By some miracle, Dawson found parking. The coffee shop was half a block away. It was midafternoon on a sunny day. Temperatures hovered around the midseventies.
He reached for her hand and laced their fingers together. His touch reassured her as she walked the downtown street with her glasses, hat and scarf. It was crazy to think Autumn had walked this same path countless times on her way to her favorite coffee shop.
It was reaching for another miracle that any of the employees would remember Autumn. Turnover in a coffee shop in a town with mostly college students had to be off the charts. Then again, maybe a good job with decent tips was hard to find.
For whatever reason, Autumn had come back to Austin after leaving Dawson. Summer could only think of one reason why her sister would do that...a man. Charley? Autumn was never the type to be alone and the divorce papers had Austin as the address of the ‘lawyer.’ She hated it and moved from relationship to relationship. Summer had hoped the marriage would stick, but now that she knew the details, she realized how naive she’d been to think her sister would’ve settled down.
Again, Summer was struck by how crazy her sister’s actions had become over the past few years. She’d been straight-up crazy to leave Dawson. He was literally the perfect man.
Had she gotten herself into some kind of trouble? Autumn might have been lost and unpredictable but she’d never been one to break the law. Evidence would say otherwise, but Summer still knew her sister deep down. Autumn wasn’t capable of doing much more than her little white lies.
A thought struck. How well could she say that she knew her sister? She was still scratching her head over Autumn leaving Dawson. Granted, her sister had built a mountain of lies—a mountain that she had to know would come tumbling down eventually.
She tugged at Dawson’s hand for him to stop walking as she surveyed the street. “My sister had to know her lies would eventually catch up to her.”
“It’s possible they already were,” he said, and she was already nodding. She’d been thinking the exact same thing.
Again, she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what her sister had to lie about. “I’ve been thinking about what happens when people get married.”
“Aside from the obvious part where they spend the rest of their lives together?” he asked.
“I’m thinking on a more practical level. The first thing people have to decide is whether or not to change their last names.”
“Autumn was insistent on taking my name—”
He stopped cold.
“But she really wasn’t. She only wanted people to think she was Autumn O’Connor.”
Dawson was already nodding his head. “She wouldn’t have to tell people her real last name if I believed we were really married.”
“And we already know that the ranch is a safe haven. There’s more security there than at the average bank.” She didn’t say Fort Knox even though she thought it.
“She never wanted to leave the property. A lot more makes sense about how squirrely she got when I tried to get her more involved in the plans to build. She kept saying that was my part. She only cared about the decorating.”
“She might have been avoiding it because she had no plans to move into the house, after all.”
“My thought exactly.” There was no hint of regret in Dawson’s voice. He spoke matter-of-factly about his past relationship with Autumn.
The realization gave her the sensation of a dozen butterflies releasing in her stomach.
“THIS EXPLAINS A LOT about her behavior.” Dawson remembered how reluctant Autumn had been to commit to anything that had to do with the house or their future. At the time, he’d assumed her sadness about losing the baby was the cause. Now he realized she had been wriggling out of making those commitments possibly because she didn’t want to stick him with her choices and her taste.
The strangest thing about the whole situation was that he would’ve done anything in his power to help her if she’d just asked. She didn’t have to go through a fake pregnancy and a fake wedding to get him on her side. That was just how Dawson was made.
But it did make him think that she must not have felt like she had another choice. Her lies stacked on top of lies. He was one hundred percent certain that he wasn’t the only person she’d been lying to. Or rather, in the other case, lying to get away from.
Signs pointed to her doing something against the law or...
Dawson had come across plenty of types of liars in the course of his career. Most of the time, people lied to save their own behinds. Other times, they did so in order to save someone else’s behind. He had to wonder which way it went with Autumn.
“Who am I looking for once we get inside the coffee shop?” Dawson motioned a few storefronts ahead where the sign read Capital Coffee.
“The guy at the coffee shop is tall and skinny. He has long, brown wavy hair that is usually pulled up in a man bun. He looks more like a local than a student to me. He seems to always have a red bandana tucked in the back pocket of his jeans that I don’t think he ever uses.” Summer’s grip around Dawson’s hand tightened as she gave the description.
Dawson hoped like hell this would be a lead. Otherwise, they’d driven a heck of a long way for nothing. He scanned the crowded sidewalk to see if anyone looked twice at Summer. They were at a distinct disadvantage considering this had been Autumn’s stomping ground.
Summer might not realize who she was looking at and she could be staring into the eyes of her sister’s killer. The worst part was that someone could mistake Summer for Autumn, just like what had happened the other day.
It had only been a few days, but they didn’t seem any closer to figuring out who killed Autumn. He didn’t have to remind his brother or anyone in law enforcement to keep the news of Autumn’s death quiet, but he’d done it anyway.
Summer took the first step toward the coffee shop and Dawson kept hold of her hand. He also realized he’d know immediately if she recognized one of the men from yesterday based on involuntary muscle spasms. Her grip would tighten on his hand. He would have a couple extra seconds of warning with physical contact that he wouldn’t have had otherwise.
He opened the door for her and followed her inside. The coffee shop was at the end of the street and had a fairly large outdoor space from what he could see. The temperature inside was no different than out.
Several hipster-looking waiters and waitresses moved through the crowded space. The inside of the coffee shop was relatively small. There was a long bar-height counter with a couple of people working the register and another pair manning the machines.
There were roughly a dozen tables. Several of them had two or three chairs nestled around them. There was a long green velvet sofa along one wall with several small laptop-friendly tables in a line. There were outlets galore.
Outside was impressive. There were more tables than he could count and lots of trees in planters. They hid people’s faces. It was harder to stand at the front door and get a straight-shot look at everyone.
He took note of the other little nooks and corners. A couple of people in suits were hunkered over a table in one corner. There was pretty much every type of person in the coffee shop. The corporate types nestled around small tables and chatted. There had to be at least a couple of politicians, along with several political aids. At least one older gentleman had a hardback book the size of War and Peace in his hands as he sat with his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His coffee mug sat on the table in front of him. He had that intellectual look with his sports coat and nylon slacks. He was most likely a professor at UT, which was a short walk from here.
Other than that, there were all manner of tattooed people milling about or at the chairs. Blue hair. Pink hair. Nose piercings. One lip piercing. Then, there was the usual crush of backpack-wearing students.
Dawson took it all in. He was used to sizing everyone up and evaluating all threat as a matter of habit. He knew where every exit door in the room was located.
Summer squeezed his hand. He glanced toward her and she nodded at a guy behind the counter. Man Bun was so busy manning the machines and frothing milk that he didn’t bother to look up. He had an AirPod in one ear and seemed to be jamming out in a zone as he made orders and checked what looked like order ticker tape.
Time to see if Man Bun recognized Summer.