"Well, hot damn," Cole intoned.

Tessa stared at the young man, feeling a bit of numbness sweep through her. "Senator Richard Whitmore?" she repeated, her voice sounding slightly weak, even to her own ears. "Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?"

Lucas nodded. "I was right there when he asked my folks. But, I mean...he could have let somebody else use his phone."

Richard Whitmore...

"Um...Lucas..." Tessa croaked out past her suddenly dry throat, her addled mind trying to pull itself back into focus.  "Have...have you ever called Richard Whitmore at this number?"

"I haven't. But, my folks might have," he answered. "I mean, they schedule quarterly meetings with our partners..."

"Does your cell phone come up as StoneHouse Vineyard on caller ID?" she asked, feeling a bit off kilter.

"Yeah. It does. Why?" wondered Lucas, uncertain.

"How far do we have to drive to get decent cell reception?" was her next question.

"I don't know. You just have to drive until you catch some bars. My folks usually wait until they're going into the city to make important calls, otherwise, we do everything online."

"I'm going to need you to come with us for a few minutes," she stated. "And I need you to come up with a reason why you'd need to call Richard Whitmore, without bringing me into it."

"I-I can't leave. I'm the only working here right now--"

"That's not a problem," Cole interjected. "I'll hang out here until you get back. I'm sure you won't be gone long."

"Look, I can't just let somebody—"

"I'm not just somebody. I'm the Chief Deputy of Harris County," Cole quantified. "I'll stand by until you get back."

Lucas balked. "Well, what am I supposed to say to the man? I don't think I've ever really spoken to him, so why would I be calling him?"

Tessa held her free hand out toward Cole, who pulled his keys from his pocket and dropped them into her palm. "We'll figure that on the way. And the sooner we leave, the sooner we'll get back."

With Cole glaring down at him, Lucas Simmons had little choice but to submit. With a sigh of defeat, he put his phone in his pocket, pulled his black clip-on tie off and laid it beneath the bar, before quickly unbuttoning his white dress shirt and pulling it off, leaving him wearing a white under shirt.

"Sorry. Its hotter than balls out there," he mumbled, stuffing the dress shirt beneath the bar and moving around to join she and Cole.

"A truer word was never spoken," she agreed, motioning him toward the exit.

"You two kids be careful," Cole said by way of a send off.

With a quick wave to the Chief Deputy, she followed Lucas Simmons across the room, with him exiting first and holding the door open for her. Stepping out into the sharp, burning midday heat, she pointed them toward Cole's truck, jumping behind the wheel and waiting for Lucas to buckle up before handing him Hallie's phone and then pulling from the parking space and speeding them away from the building.

"What on earth am I supposed to say to Mr. Whitmore?" Lucas questioned as Tessa rolled the windows up and turned on the air conditioning, which Cole hadn't thought about using.  But, since he wasn't there...

"Why would your parents call him? Is it time for a meeting? Do they discuss any problems that might pop up around here?" she posed.  "You just need any reason, even if its thin.  All I need is to hear his voice on the other end of your phone."

"What if he doesn't answer?" Lucas asked, taking out his cell and tapping the screen. "I don't even know if my folks actually have his number, anyway. What if they've never called him? They might set up meetings through e-mail. What am I supposed to say then?"

Tessa thought about those questions as they sped through the desert, a part of her mind still taken up by the fact that Richard Whitmore might be Angela. Richard Whitmore...Hallie's uncle...

"If he answers...just tell him...the phone company sent an e-mail asking if you still need the extra line? If he doesn't ask, then tell him your parents need him to know that there's a problem with the grape vines or something? Just anything so that I can hear his voice. And if a problem with the grape vines will do it, tell him to keep his phone handy, so you can get in touch with him if you need to?"

Looking highly uncomfortable, Lucas turned his attention to his phone, waiting for a suitable signal. She felt a little stab of remorse for putting the young man on the spot, but desperate times. She needed to hear Richard Whitmore answer Angela's cell number with her own ears, which would place Angela's cell phone in his hands. And then...she meant to nail his ass to the wall.

Even if the good senator wound up being proven innocent of murdering his own niece...and apparent lover...she could try and make a run at him for withholding information, obstruction of justice, trying to exert external influence over an official investigation...and anything else she could come up with!

But, no matter what, she would make sure that Senator Richard Whitmore did not walk away from her investigation unscathed.  And it was for purely personal reasons, she didn't mind admitting.

After they'd been driving for the span of several miles, Lucas suddenly spoke up. "Stop! I have enough bars to make a call."

Tessa obeyed, braking to a stop in the middle of the road. "Alright, give it a try. And keep it short and sweet. On speaker, please."

With a nod, Lucas tapped the number from Hallie's phone into his own, put it on speaker, and hit dial. And then they waited while it rang...and rang... and rang, all the while Tessa crossing her fingers that Senator Whitmore hadn't left the phone in his office in Houston or inside the house while he was drinking by the pool, or perhaps had gotten rid of the phone altogether, once he'd murdered his lover.

"Hello?" a deep voice suddenly filled the quiet and Tessa felt her spine stiffen.

"Hello, Senator Whitmore?" Lucas replied.

"Yes. This is he," the voice responded and she couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline.

She had what she needed. But, she motioned to Lucas to keep talking.

"Sir, this is Lucas Simmons," the young man went on. "I'm calling because my-my Pops asked me to let you know that--"

"Oh, right," Richard Whitmore cut Lucas off. "The meeting next week. Lisette already shot me an e-mail. I...I just forgot to send a reply, I suppose. But, you can tell Troy I'll be there, with bells on, as usual."

Judging by the soft edges to Richard Whitmore's words, she'd guess he was fairly into the cups, which had probably worked in their favor, so she waved at Lucas to keep going.

"Uh, that's not why-why I'm calling," he continued shakily. "This morning we...we found...powdery mildew on several rows of vines and there's kind of a panic about it. You know, if it spreads it could affect the harvest and everyone's profit shares."

"Well, that doesn't sound very good," Richard Whitmore intoned, though he didn't seem overly concerned.

"Its not great news, but we're hoping to get ahead of it before too much damage is done," said Lucas, now sounding rather convincing. "My Pops just wanted me to let you know what's happening. And he wants me to tell you to keep your phone handy so we can make sure you're up on everything."

"I'll be available to you, Lucas," Richard answered. "I hope this gets sorted out. Nobody likes to lose all the capital they put into a thing."

"No, sir," was Lucas' riposte. "And we're doing our best to make sure that doesn't happen."

"Well, thank you for the heads up. Call me if anything develops." And with that, Richard Whitmore ended the call.

Lucas, dropping his phone into his lap, visibly relaxed his clenched muscles and let out a deep breath, as if he'd just been allowed to drop an overly heavily burden he'd been carrying.

"Thank you, Lucas," she told him, holding her hand out so he could give Hallie's cell phone back to her. "You've been very helpful."

"You're welcome," he returned, giving his head a shake. "But, I have no idea what's going on. And I don't think I want to. So, can I go back home now?"

"Yes. You absolutely can."

With that, she did a U-turn and headed them back toward the vineyard, trying to keep her thoughts steady. Now was the time for calm, collected, methodical thinking if there ever was one. Not only was a prominent state senator now on her short list of suspects, but this new development put his entire family in her line of sight. After all, what wealthy family with standing in the community would want to be rocked by a scandal involving a sexual relationship between relatives? And moreover, what wife wouldn't want to exact a little revenge if she found out her own niece was sleeping with her husband?

As for Etty's murder...every single member of the Autry-Whitmore family had been at the benefit dinner, so any one of them could have heard the girls discussing their plan to go to the nightclub afterward. However, she still couldn't quite grasp why Etty would slip someone a note tipping them off to what she knew, assuming that was what actually happened. Yes, she might have wanted to help Nathan Rutherford, but why not go straight to the police? There was an active investigation, so one phone call and the entire thing could have been over and the killer caught. Why wait? She still would have been responsible for helping Nathan clear his name. She still would have gotten his attention and his gratitude, no matter how fleeting.

It made no sense. Why not just come forward with what she knew...or thought she knew? As that thought struck her, something clicked into place. Surely, if Etty suspected one of the Whitmores, she wouldn't want to make an accusation without something firm to base it on. Pointing the finger at a member of a powerful family with nothing more than a hunch would be risky. Certainly, it would open her up to horrendous backlash and probably a barrage of lawsuits for slander and libel.

So, perhaps Etty wanted to cement what she thought she knew? What if she'd decided to slip her note to the person she thought responsible for Hallie's death...to gauge their reaction? Or to goad a reaction from them? It would be a good way to test her theory...

Though, surely she had no inkling that reaction would be to murder her...