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Cold Case Colton
In the same way his back had stiffened at the coffeehouse, Hawk knew it the moment the conversation shifted.
“Trust you? I don’t know you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“It’s hard enough to trust the people you do know. Of all the things you can ask me, Mr. Huntley, don’t ask that.”
Before he could stop her, she’d sailed out of the car and headed for the big man standing watch from the middle of the corral.
“Well played, Huntley.” He muttered the words to himself before he swung out his side of the car. He ignored the sense of having overstepped and followed her to the corral. The man she lovingly referred to as a father figure already had her in a big bear hug, his smile deep and loving as he laid his head against hers.
Mac Mackenzie.
Hawk filed through the details he knew of the man. Although slim, they all painted the same picture. Mac was a man of his word. Proud and determined, he’d made a home for his son, Thorne, and the rest of Livia Colton’s children, including taking in Claudia and her sister Jade before they turned eighteen.
“And who’s this young man?” The words boomed his direction as Hawk slipped into the corral.
Mac and Claudia had already begun walking toward the fence so Hawk stilled, waiting with an outstretched hand. “Mr. Mackenzie.”
“Most folks call me Mac.” The man extended his hand, his grip firm as Claudia jumped in with the final introductions.
“Hawk paid me a visit this morning. A few things he wanted to discuss about Mom.”
“Oh?” Mac’s eyebrows rose but his dark brown eyes remained hard. Unyielding. “What is this about?”
“I’m a private investigator based out of Houston.” Hawk already had a card out which he handed over. “I’ve been working a cold case for the Krupid family.”
Again, he dropped the name, curious if it would ring any bells. And yet again, he was met with a blank stare and an absolute lack of response.
“You’re a detective?”
“No, sir. I’ve remained in private practice my entire career.”
Mac had tucked the card into his pocket, but pulled it out once more, reviewing the face. “Cards can be faked.”
“They can and I’ve investigated more than a few people who’ve proven that in spades. If it’ll ease your mind, I’m happy to share the references of a Captain Andrew Radner of the Houston PD.”
The card disappeared back into his breast pocket as Mac returned his steady gaze. “I’ll take your word on it for now. What can we do for you, Mr. Huntley?”
Hawk walked Mac through the same details he’d shared with Claudia, saving the picture for the end. From Annalise’s trip out of Russia, to her travels into Mexico and then on into Texas, Mac listened and nodded, adding a few questions where he wanted clarity.
But it was the photo that had the man going still as a block of Texas granite. “This woman looks like you, Claudia.”
“I know.”
Mac wrapped an arm around Claudia’s shoulders. “We’ll figure this out.”
Claudia laid her head on Mac’s shoulder, peace and relief welling in her gaze. “Everyone’s got a twin, right?”
The question may have been a grasp at straws, but she wasn’t entirely incorrect. A photograph wasn’t foolproof, nor was a hunch.
“Of course, sweetie.” Mac’s eyes met Hawk’s. “I suppose there are only so many faces in the world.”
“Besides,” she said. “There’s an easy way to figure this out.”
“What’s that?”
“Tell me what you remember about Mom’s pregnancy.”
“She was—” Mac broke off, his gaze narrowing as if he was trying to focus on something far into the distance. “Well now. I suppose I don’t remember that time.”
“What don’t you remember?”
“Any of it. She wasn’t here.”
Claudia stood up straighter, her spine going stiff at Mac’s pronouncement. “Wasn’t here?”
“No. She was in Europe. Came home with you once she came back to Shadow Creek.”
* * *
When she was a small child, Claudia had fallen into the large pool that occupied the back lawn of her mother’s home, La Bonne Vie. She’d been told repeatedly by the housekeeper not to go near the edge because she didn’t know how to swim, but she’d stared at that welcome pool of water day after day, longing to go in.
Good manners and the subtle sense that always pervaded their home of needing to obey in her mother’s domain had kept her away from the pool for several days, but she’d finally given in to the longing one hot afternoon. A small window of opportunity had opened up when the adults had left the room and she’d taken it, slipping into the backyard and heading for the welcome of cold water on a hot summer afternoon.
Claudia had known the moment she broke the surface that she was in trouble. The T-shirt and shorts she still wore wrapped around her, stifling in the way the material instantly clung to her body, and the water, instead of being welcoming, covered her head and face, suffocating in the way it was suddenly everywhere.
She’d tried to scream, only to have that water fill her mouth and every movement—each thrash of her arms and kick of her legs—seemed to drag her farther down instead of buoying her up.
It had been Mac’s shout and the solid hold of his large hands as he pulled her out of the water that she still remembered.
But it was the languid claws of the water that haunted her nightmares, even to this day.
She’d taken lessons, of course. She’d been forced back into that pool to learn, day after day. Her mother had been ruthless about it and the staff had followed her orders, scared to do anything that would smack of defiance or disobedience. But it had been Mac who’d sat by the side of the pool, keeping watch lesson after lesson, to see that she was safe.
That memory wove in and out of her thoughts as she, Hawk and Mac settled into the warm, welcoming kitchen in Mac’s home. The news in the corral had come as a surprise—her mother had spent months away from her family in Europe?—but it was the story that Mac wove that was the real surprise.
“Mac, how is it I don’t know this? I’ve always heard the fanciful story of her European romance, but in what had to be nearly a year to have a relationship and a baby, Mom never came home? How long was she away from Knox, Leonor, River and Thorne?”
“She always claimed she was wrapped up in her whirlwind marriage and then was devastated when it didn’t work out. And it’s not like I spent much time around her, questioning the truth. Not like I’d have gotten it, anyway.” Mac grumbled that last part and it went a long way toward calming the racing thoughts that kept swirling in her mind, finding no purchase.
He was shaken, too. And whatever calm she’d had when Hawk initially shared his suspicions on their drive into Whisperwood, she couldn’t hide the increasing swirl of panic at Mac’s reaction.
“But did she ever say anything about her time away? She always told me she’d had a falling-out with my father.”
“That’s what she claimed. Said Claude was a rebound after divorcing her husband Wes, and that the only good thing she got out of the marriage was you.”
Claudia suspected her mother had said a whole lot more—the divorce from Wes had been in no small part because of her affair with Mac and Thorne’s subsequent birth—but she kept her thoughts to herself. Mac had done his own penance for getting mixed up with her mother and even for all the pain Livia had caused, Claudia knew with everything she was that he’d never trade his son, Thorne. Or the rest of them.
That fierce devotion had only increased—if it was even possible—when Wes had come back last month to exact his misplaced vengeance against Mac. Yet one more by-product of her mother’s hurtful choices.
“Mr. Mackenzie. Did Livia ever say anything to you about that time?” Hawk asked.
After sharing his suspicions about the Krupids’ daughter and her mother’s subsequent actions, Hawk had quieted as Mac recounted what he remembered of that time. It had only been the bombshell about her mother’s time in Europe—her extended time—that had made Claudia finally begin to see the possibilities in Hawk’s suspicions.
For all the gleaming temptation she’d felt at the idea of not being Livia Colton’s daughter, the increasing proof points were something else entirely.
Life just got real, as her brother River was fond of saying.
Very real, she amended.
Anxious to do something, she got up and went to the fridge, pulling out the canister of coffee that sat perpetually full on the bottom shelf. She washed out the dregs from the morning’s brew and started them on a fresh pot. Coffee might not solve the world’s problems, but she’d always suspected that armed with it she was a hell of a lot more prepared to handle what came her way.
The twin expressions of gratitude as she brought mugs, the sugar bowl and a fresh bottle of cream to the table only reinforced the thought.
“That’s my girl.” Mac patted her arm, his touch real and comforting as they both tried to process the truth.
“Tell me about this family, Mr. Huntley. The Krupids, you say?”
Once again, Claudia was struck by the innate kindness in Hawk’s voice and his deep respect for Mac. For all his deliberate purpose in pushing toward a conversation and a quick resolution, he seemed well aware of the tornado he’d unleashed into their lives.
“The Krupids are good people. Quiet people who’ve worked to make a life for themselves here in America.”
Mac stilled from where he doctored his coffee. “Why do you think this?”
“For starters, they were hesitant to come to me. They’ve never given up hope of finding their daughter, but they’d been scammed a few times in the past.”
“Too damned many people who are too quick to prey on others’ misery,” Mac said, his voice quiet.
“Yes, sir. That’s been my experience, as well.” Hawk finished stirring the cream into his mug and continued on. “Even with all their disillusionment, they’d saved more money and were determined to try once more to find some comfort in the loss of Annalise.”
“So why did you take on the case?” Mac asked. “Apart from it being your job. I suppose you have a choice on what cases you take on?”
“Yes, I do. And there was something about the photo of Annalise that captivated me. Something about her parents’ grief, as well. I work cold cases as a personal mission and I knew the moment I heard this one I needed to do something.”
Cold cases?
Was that what she was?
The thought struck with swift, heavy punches, the blows slamming into her with steady force. She’d spent her life as a Colton, yet there was a possibility to someone else—to an entirely different family—she was a mystery to be solved.
A well of pain and sadness that had never been filled.
Whatever had carried her through the morning—the vague sense of unreality at Hawk’s suspicions juxtaposed against the strange reality that had always been her life as a child of Livia Colton—vanished like smoke.
And all that remained was the very real and mounting evidence that her entire life had been a lie.
* * *
Claudia excused herself from the table and headed down the small hallway that speared off the kitchen. Hawk knew she needed space and Mac seemed to sense the same, as both men remained in their seats. Her footsteps faded as quiet filled the kitchen. Hawk took in the hard set of Mac’s features and his hunched shoulders and for the first moment since taking the case, felt shame. What had he done to this family?
He knew the pain of having your world destroyed, ripped away from you with nowhere to land. An unopened parachute of emotion that laid you out flat, killing the life you had and the world as you knew it.
And now he’d done that to these good people.
Whatever he may have imagined in his mind—or fabricated after reading the Everything’s Blogger site—he had to reframe and rethink. The Coltons he had met were good people. And Mac Mackenzie was one of them.
“I’ve brought this on all of you.”
That dark, enigmatic gaze stayed on his, not giving an inch. “Yes, you did.”
“I’m sorry for that. More sorry than I can say.”
That direct stare softened, but didn’t lose any of its power. “Were you serious about what you said? About the Krupids being good people who were given a bad deal.”
“Serious about every word. They just want closure and some sense of relief.”
Something Hawk understood with every fiber of his being.
“I believe you. You strike me as an honest man. The way you talked about that family. The way you look at my daughter.” Mac waved a finger. “And make no mistake about it, that woman is my daughter as sure as if she were born to me.”
“I know it, sir. I can see that.”
“Then answer me something. Why is this case so important to you? There’s a fire in you. I saw it outside when you recounted the story of this young woman’s life. This poor Annalise.”
“I want to make it right.”
“Why? Lots better ways to make a living than hunting down trails that have gone cold. In fact, I’d imagine it’s the worst sort of job for an honest PI trying to make a living.”
“You’re right. And I do take the hot ones that close faster, too.”
“So tell me why. I’ll grant you, the Krupid family deserves answers. I even understand they deserve those answers, whether or not it hurts my family in the process. But you owe me the truth.”
Whatever he was—whatever had brought him to this moment—depended on his honesty. And his willingness to open up. Claudia Colton deserved that.
And so did the people who loved her.
Hawk knew it as surely as he knew he’d been living like a ghost for the past four years. Knew it equally as surely as the fact that he’d felt some sense—some stirring, really—the moment he’d seen Claudia’s photo on that damnable blog post.
“I lost my wife four years ago. She was kidnapped and murdered, then abandoned in a field in a big suburb outside of Houston.”
The words were scratchy—raw—and rarely spoken, but it didn’t make them any less true.
“No one should have to live with that or lose their loved one that way. There’s a sadness in me for your wife, Mr. Huntley. For you, too. A true, deep sadness.”
“Thank you.” He believed Mac, saw the sincerity in the quiet, grooved lines of the man’s face. “I’ve never found who did it. I was on the force at the time and the police worked long and hard, but every lead they pursued went cold. Every damned lead I pursued did the same.”
Hawk drew in a breath, willing himself through the rest of the telling. “It took me two long years to accept that. To pull myself out of an empty life and decide I could die in the bottom of it or I could give Jennifer closure in another way.”
“So you work others’ cases.”
“Others that have a chance of being solved, yes.” Hawk ran a finger over the handle of his mug. “I’m sorry if this news hurts your family. I’m sorry for that, more than I can say. But it’s why I’m here.”
“Livia Colton ruined a lot of lives. She tried to ruin mine and it ripped her a new one when she realized she’d only made mine infinitely better.”
Hawk laughed at the wry smile and the epitaph Mac added to punctuate his point.
“She’s the reason I have my son and the amazing women and men who I think of as my children. Livia gave me that and nothing can take that away. Nothing can change that, including any lies she told along the way. You do what you need to do. You find the truth for this family and you find the truth for my Claudia. She’s tough. She’ll stick.”
“Thank you.” Hawk thought of the woman he’d observed all morning and knew Mac’s words for truth.
“I only have one question for you, then.”
“What’s that?”
“Are you tough? Will you stick?”
“I’ll do both, sir. And I appreciate the opportunity to prove it.”
Chapter 5
The bedroom walls had long since been painted over, from cotton candy pink to a soft gray that matched her mood. Claudia had shared this room with her sister Jade, and she could still see the two of them, perched atop their matching bunk beds Mac had built with his own two hands. He’d crafted desks into the bottom portion instead of beds and she and Jade had giggled from their chairs over homework, gossip about boys and all the things young girls worried over.
The beds had been moved over to Knox’s house and his son, Cody, slept in one of them. The sturdy oak had done her and Jade well and it was nice to know another generation of Coltons slept on Mac’s solid and loving work.
Instead of the bunk beds, she sat on the end of a large double, moved in after this became a guest bedroom. She still used it from time to time, as did the rest of her family.
But boy, there were days she missed those bunks.
Life had been confusing back then, in the days after her mother had been arrested, but it had been safe, too. And just like Mac’s soothing presence during her swim lessons, as long as she stayed underneath his roof, she knew no harm would come to her.
The knock came first, quickly followed by that voice. Rich and deep, it sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.
Hawk.
“May I have a minute?”
She waved him in, moving over to give him room on the end of the bed, but he chose to remain standing.
“I’m sorry for what’s happened today.” He held up a hand. “That’s not true. I’m sorry for what happened so many years ago that has made today possible.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Maybe not, but I’m the face of it. And I’m the one who owns the responsibility for connecting the dots.”
“Maybe.” She considered the large man who stood in the doorway of her room. The weight of responsibility hovered around him and she saw the genuine grief that he was responsible for finding answers. Odd how that thin layer of regret helped her deal with her new reality.
It was also comforting to know he’d not shown up out of a sense of vengeance or self-righteousness or even some sort of professional mission. So many others—especially in the early days after her mother had first been accused—had marched through town and on into her mother’s home, La Bonne Vie, with a barely veiled sense of glee.
Hawk Huntley had simply shown up to do what was right. To make another family whole.
“Carrying the news doesn’t make it any less true that my mother created those dots.” Claudia laughed, the sound wholly unexpected and sort of creaky as it bubbled to her lips. “If I can even call her my mother anymore.”
“Nothing can change that. Nothing can change your family, Claudia.” Hawk did move forward then, taking the seat next to her on the edge of the bed. The mattress tipped with his weight and she was struck immediately by the warmth of his body and the solid reassurance of having him next to her.
“And even if you were adopted, we don’t know Livia’s reasons for it. Annalise is dead, so you weren’t simply taken from her if she is your mother. Her body was identified when it was delivered to the county morgue in Houston.”
“What was her cause of death?”
“She was never autopsied. And her body was cremated before the Krupids could claim her. But the coroner had photos and the proper proof. She did die.”
“So who rushed through the paperwork? Why wouldn’t the next of kin have been given her body?”
“One more mystery that kept the family certain something else had happened to their daughter.”
“And likely at the hands of one more public official my moth—” she stopped, amended “—Livia paid off.”
Claudia did some quick math. She was twenty-six and Livia wouldn’t have been much older than her at the time of Annalise’s death. Her mother’s crimes had begun at a shockingly tender age, along with her early marriages, the births of her children and her endless string of affairs.
Had love been a part of any of it? She wanted to think better of her mother, but Claudia doubted it. Livia’s string of romances had been about manipulation and greed and money.
The capture of her uncle Matthew had made huge news in Texas after he’d been caught as one of the state’s most notorious serial killers. And even with all he’d done, he’d counted his sister among one of the few people he’d never cross.
What did that say about all her mother was capable of?
“So what comes next?”
“Until your mother escaped from jail, the first step would have been a conversation with her. Since that avenue’s closed to us we need to see what we can find out from others.”
“She wouldn’t tell the truth, even if she was still in jail.”
That fact stung, but Claudia knew it all the same. Matthew had played similar games with his children throughout the long years he’d spent in prison, the withholding of information one more source of power.
Or believed power.
No, Livia would never voluntarily reveal her choices or what she might have done to influence the course of Claudia’s life.
“You believe that?”
“I know it. She can’t be persuaded or cajoled. And there is simply no reasoning with her. If I’m going to get the truth, I’m responsible for finding it.”
“Then a DNA test is the next step.”
“But Annalise is dead. How could we do that?”
“Her parents have mementos. And a small keepsake of her hair from when she was a baby. We have what we need to do the test. But DNA technology is also sophisticated enough to test off the grandparents, as well.”
“Then I guess that’s the next step. I want to know the truth, Hawk. I want answers.”
“Then you can count on me to help you find them.”
Midday sun streamed in through the bedroom window, backlighting him with a golden glow. The attraction she’d done her level best to ignore rose up, heightened by their close proximity and the headiness of the moment.
They’d only just met, yet the power of all they’d shared had such weight. Such tremendous heft.
It was her life. And the lives of several others that had stayed in some sort of imbalanced stasis for far too long.
And this man was finally the one who had the power to shatter that immobility.
Drawn in by the firm lines of his jaw and the stiff set of those broad shoulders, she wanted to reach out and touch him. Wanted to pull him close and lose herself for a few glorious moments in time.
How could someone who’d thrown her life into such turmoil seem so appealing? And so very, very right?
* * *
Breath suspended, Hawk stared into warm gray eyes that promised a host of things, from welcome to surrender, to the one emotion that scared him the most.
Redemption.
He didn’t deserve it and never would. He’d once been fortunate enough to have the total trust of another person. More, he’d had the total trust of a woman who believed he’d protect her. Always.
Only he’d failed.
He’d failed to keep her safe. He’d failed as a police officer tasked to keep his community safe. And he’d failed in all the time since, unable to bring Jennifer’s killer to justice.
He had no right seeking redemption or anything else in the eyes—or arms—of Claudia Colton.
More, he had no right taking advantage of her as he did his job.
Standing, he moved away from the bed and the temptation that filled him at their nearness. “I can make the calls about the DNA test. There’s a facility about a half hour from here I’ve used before. All I need is a cheek swab and your permission.”
Confusion replaced the warmth he’d seen in her eyes before they rapidly shuttered, closing off any hint of emotion. “I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t need to. You don’t need to be involved in this.”
“But I am involved.”
Hawk struggled to come up with something—anything—to push some distance back between them. “No, you’re not. Not unless the test comes back conclusively.”
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