by Addison Fox
“Of course.”
“We’ll swing by his ranch on the way back into Shadow Creek.”
An image of bringing a man home to meet her surrogate father filled her mind’s eye.
And somehow, despite all the surprises they’d suffered over the past few months since her mother’s escape from jail, Claudia figured Hawk’s suspicions were one surprise Mac had never seen coming.
Hell, she had to admit to herself, neither had she.
* * *
She had a protector.
Those words whispered over and over in the mind of the Forgotten One as Claudia traipsed down Main Street.
Wasn’t this a surprise?
The weeks of planning and waiting, plotting and calculating were coming to a close and now she’d found someone to guard her?
Tall and stoic, he had the classic Texas cowboy look down to a T. He even swaggered, his long strides eating up the sidewalk beside the princess. But make no mistake about it; that was no hayseed cowboy walking beside the newly crowned queen of Shadow Creek.
That man was there to watch over her.
The Forgotten One knew that—sensed it—and wouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating him. Or the appreciative look that rode the man’s gaze as he stared at the figure she made as she walked down Main Street.
Which meant months of planning needed to be adjusted. Refined. It was simply a matter of regrouping and reassessing, identifying a new opportunity to get Claudia Colton alone. One of those quiet, early mornings when she let herself into her pretty new shop. Or maybe late at night when she drove herself home from dinner with family.
Or maybe outside her brother’s wedding.
The thought struck, swift and hard as the Forgotten One reassessed.
Regrouped.
And settled on a new plan that was far more exciting than the old.
Chapter 4
Acres of farmland spread out before them as Claudia took the turn onto Mackenzie land. Hawk studied the area, assessing as both first-time visitor and as someone who’d read the blog article.
He’d give the writer credit. Of all the things the blog had gotten wrong or insinuated or flat out made up, the beauty of the Mackenzie property wasn’t one of them. Several head of cattle roamed on the front pasture while a horse corral took up a place of prominence on the opposite side of the long driveway. The land was wide-open, yet there was an intimacy, too.
And a fierce pride that reflected from the gleaming fence that rimmed the corral or the perfectly placed posts that made up the enclosure for the cattle. This was a working ranch and, from what Hawk could see, the place hummed.
“He’s probably with the horses this time of day.” Claudia pulled into a small lot on the back side of the barn and cut the ignition. She turned toward him, and for the first time that day Hawk saw real nerves in her expression.
“Let me tell him why we’re here,” Claudia added.
“You think I’m going to blurt it out?”
“No.”
“Then trust me when I tell you I will handle the situation with absolute discretion.”
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 op
ened 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 s
ome 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.”
