He found Mitch sitting on the couch watching ESPN Classic. The game on television was from a decade ago. Detroit Lions versus the Dallas Cowboys. No doubt the boy had watched it with his mother. Sue had loved football.

Bragg tossed his hat on the entryway table. Guilt tugged at him. He and Mitch hadn’t had much time together. Memorial Day should have been a day they’d celebrated, but Mitch barely spoke all day and refused food. No grilled hamburgers. No fried chicken. No fanfare to celebrate the day honoring soldiers like Mitch.

Mitch had made terrible sacrifices he still couldn’t voice. And Bragg didn’t know how to coax the words from him.

“What say we go out and get a steak? There’s a great place a few blocks from here. T-bones an inch thick.” He could call Winchester and have him cover the search of Rory’s room. But as he figured a way to free himself, he braced for a no. Mitch didn’t do much lately.

Mitch’s gaze lingered on the television a beat. “Sure. I’m hungry.”

Well, damn. He was pretty sure he’d witnessed a miracle.

Bragg thought about changing into comfortable jeans and a T-shirt but didn’t want to risk Mitch’s changing his mind in the interim. “Let’s go.”

Mitch didn’t have a word to say while they drove the mile and a half to the restaurant, but Bragg didn’t mind. The kid had finally said yes, and they were going to share a meal.

He pulled into the parking lot of the steakhouse. It was jam-packed, no doubt full of other families not up for cooking on a hot evening. Most nights Bragg ate alone and accepted the waits as par for the course, but with Mitch with him he wanted the line to move quickly. He wanted them seated, breaking bread and maybe even talking.

They moved into the crowded restaurant lobby. The place was packed with families. Not the kind of hangout most single men frequented, but he liked being around the chatting kids, harried mothers and fathers. It gave him a glimpse into normal family life, an experience he and Sue had never had growing up.

Bragg walked up to the hostess. He’d seen her before. Sandy. A pretty little blonde, she wasn’t much older than Mitch. Last month, she’d seated him one night when Mitch had refused dinner. Seeing his badge, she had asked him about a boyfriend who was giving her trouble. She’d wanted advice. She struck him as a good kid, and he’d figured he’d help. He’d scribbled the guy’s name, made several calls, and found out he’d violated his parole. Long story short, the boyfriend was back in jail for another decade.

“Sandy,” Bragg said.

“Ranger Bragg.” A broad smile brightened tired eyes. “Good to see you.”

“You too. My nephew’s with me, and we’re looking to eat. What’s the wait?”

She picked up two menus. Her smile turned sly. “Your reservation was for six-thirty, and I’ve your table right over here.”

He grinned. “Thanks.”

She led them to a table in the back, seated them, and handed them menus. “Your waitress will be right up.”

“Appreciate it, Sandy.”

She tossed an admiring glance at Mitch and then smiled at Bragg. “No problem.”

Mitch met her gaze. “Thanks.”

Her grin broadened, and she returned back to her station crowded with waiting families.

Bragg scanned the menu. “The T-bone is good. Bread is great. It’s all good. Order whatever you want.”

He nodded. “T-bone sounds good.”

“Sure there isn’t something else you might want? Don’t order it on my account.” He wanted to fix the pain the kid carried, but didn’t know how. Best he could do now was offer him a great meal.

“T-bone is fine.”

Bragg resisted the urge to challenge and when the waitress came to the table he ordered two steaks with all the fixings plus bread. He waited until she returned with their soda order before asking, “How’d your day go?”

Mitch sipped on his soda straw. “Good.”

“What’s good mean?” he asked, not really expecting an answer.

After a moment’s silence, he said, “Got offered a job today.”

That tiny bit of news had him sitting straighter and leaning forward. However, he did his best to curb his enthusiasm and the rapid-fire questions begging to be asked. “That so? What’s the job?”

Before he could answer the waitress appeared with hot rolls and butter. More hungry for information than the bread, he waited as the boy tore into his bread and took a couple of bites.

Finally, Mitch said, “I’m not really sure. Farmhand, I think.”

“Farmhand.” It was a hard road to hoe working the land. He wanted his nephew to get an education and have the world open up to him. But that was the big picture. Right now he simply wanted the kid to talk, engage in life. Farmhand would suit fine.

“You know about farms. Mom said Grandpa had you riding a tractor at eight.”

“Yeah. I know farms and ranches. Tough work but there’s a sense of satisfaction at the end of the day.”

Mitch grunted.

“You’ll be working the fields, managing a barn, what?”

“Don’t know. She just said to show up tomorrow at nine, and she’d put me to work.”

He wanted to know who was hiring Mitch and what plans this woman had for him. But he reminded himself Mitch wasn’t a kid, and if he babied him it likely would ruin what little they’d gained tonight. “How’d she hear about you?”

“Remember that support group I tried a couple of times?”

“Yeah.”

“She knows the guy that runs it. Said she owed him a favor.”

“And you’re the favor?” The lack of details fueled his frustration, but he kept it to himself.

“I guess.” Mitch tore more bread and ate it.

“You know where the farm is?”

He pulled a card from his pocket and tossed it on the table. “She said it’s about thirty miles west of Austin. Some kind of vineyard.”

Bragg picked up the card. “Vineyard?”

He glanced at the vineyard’s name: BONNEVILLE VINEYARDS. Rory Edward’s crime scene had been located on the edge of a vineyard. His gaze slid to the name of the woman who’d contacted Mitch: GREER TEMPLETON.

For a moment the sounds of the restaurant faded away, and there was only the thump, thump of his heart in his ears. His first thought was for Elizabeth Templeton, the woman in the picture. Templeton wasn’t a common name, but not so uncommon that he didn’t suspect a connection. The hair on the back of his neck rose.

Bragg kept his voice steady. “You know any facts about Greer Templeton?”

“Pretty, dark hair, kind of skinny. Not friendly.”

Dark hair not blond. He flicked the edge of the card with his index finger. “What else do you know about her?”

“She drives a truck. And she cuts to the chase.”

Habit sent the follow-up question back rapid-fire. “And she offered you the job as a favor?”

“That’s what she said.”

Bragg summoned another question but held back, as if Sue had laid a hand on his shoulder. The boy had said more in the last few minutes than in the last month. Go easy. He wanted to go easy. He did.

But he’d been a Ranger too long not to toy with his suspicions. The Templeton name had been attached to a murder investigation this morning. Though the girl in the picture did not match Mitch’s description it had been a dozen years and people changed a lot. He’d not had much time today to dig into Elizabeth Templeton’s accident, but it would be first on his agenda after dinner. Rory’s apartment would keep until morning.

Their waitress brought two more sodas and another basket stacked high with warm rolls. She told them that dinner would be right up before hurrying to another table.

Bragg drank his second soda. He didn’t want to discourage the boy but at the same time wanted him to understand the lay of the land.

Bragg eased back in his chair. “You thinking about taking the job?”

Mitch grabbed a roll, tore it, and watched the steam rise. “Don’t know.”

As frustrating as pulling teeth. “Did she talk about pay?”