Cold Case at Carlton's Canyon by Rita Herron

like Donald had been dealt a shoddy deal in life.
    Yet he’d chosen to say he was driving instead of turn Lynn in.
    He’d probably regretted that a thousand times over. If so though, why hadn’t he changed his testimony later?
    The enormous estate house sat on several acres, grandiose and stately.
    “What the hell does this man do to own this place?” Justin asked.
    “Family money,” Amanda said. “Donald’s father is an entrepreneur, works in investments and has done well. But Donald’s grandfather invented some kind of farm equipment that he patented and it earned them a fortune.”
    Justin followed her up to the door, where she rang the bell. A few minutes later, a voice sounded and the door opened to reveal Donald in his wheelchair.
    But instead of looking scruffy and angry, as if he was living in the past, he was well dressed in dress slacks and a blue shirt and his hair was groomed.
    “Amanda?”
    “I’m the sheriff now,” she said.
    “That’s right, I heard that,” he said, his mouth quirking to the side.
    “This is Sergeant Thorpe with the Texas Rangers,” she said. “Can we come in?”
    “Sure. What’s this about?”
    “Kelly Lambert’s disappearance.”
    “That was shocking. I don’t know how I can help, but come on in.” He turned and wheeled his way through the two-story foyer to an office equipped with a state-of-the-art computer system.
    Reisling parked his chair behind his desk and indicated a coffee decanter on the sideboard. “Help yourself.”
    Amanda and Justin both declined. Her gaze was drawn to the high school trophies on a bookcase behind him. If his basketball career hadn’t been cut short, he would have most likely added college ones to that collection.
    “Donald, when was the last time you saw Kelly?” Amanda asked.
    Donald rubbed his temple as if he had to think about the question. Because he was fabricating a lie?
    “Honestly, it’s probably been months. She dropped by one day to ask me if I wanted to help with the committee organizing the class reunion.” He grunted. “Imagine that.”
    Justin cleared his throat. “Sheriff Blair told me what happened years ago. Her visit must have angered you.”
    Donald chuckled. “Actually I thought it was funny. I asked her why she thought I’d even want to attend, much less help organize the thing. It’s not like I’ve stayed friends with anyone from back then.”
    Anger hardened his tone. She couldn’t blame him. Hadn’t she thought the same thing when she’d opened her own invitation? And she didn’t have the reason to dislike their classmates that he did.
    “So why didn’t you move away?” Justin asked.
    Donald shrugged. “Takes money to have a place set up for handicap access,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’m not proud that I live at home—then again, my father is rarely here. He has his own office and travels. And I stay in the guesthouse. He also fronted me startup money for my own business. Now, I’m doing pretty well,” he said. “I’ve been looking at buying a condo in the city.”
    Amanda offered him a smile. “It sounds like you’ve made a success of yourself.” Not as if he was stuck in the past.
    He gave a sarcastic laugh. “Business is good. But not a lot of women can handle the chair.”
    Sympathy for him stole through Amanda.
    “Where were you day before yesterday?” Justin interjected.
    Donald’s expression turned to steel. “What? Why? You don’t think I had something to do with Kelly’s disappearance, do you?”
    The strained second that followed answered his question.
    He cut his eyes toward Amanda. “Amanda, why would you think that?”
    “You suffered a terrible tragedy and got the raw end of the deal. Everyone said Lynn was driving the night of your accident.”
    “That must have eaten at you all these years,” Justin said in a dark voice. “Watching her go on with her life, date other guys, have everything you missed out on with no consequences.”
    Any semblance of