Cold Case Colton

by Addison Fox

  And no doubt sitting with her future sister-in-law was going to raise some uncomfortable questions.

  So it was a genuine surprise thirty minutes later when they’d talked about everything and nothing, his laughter still echoing over the image she’d painted of Thorne attempting to put together the baby’s crib, that he realized just how much he’d enjoyed himself.

  “I swear he’d have broken the legs over his knees if I hadn’t called his father in to help.”

  “Mac’s handy?”

  “Oh, and then some. Chaps Thorne a bit, too. Mac offered to make us a crib but Thorne wanted to do it himself.”

  “Seems like a shame when he’s got someone there who can do such a beautiful job. And who would be honored to create a crib for his grandbaby.”

  “Yes, well, men don’t always have the sense they were born with. Women, too, I suppose.” Maggie winked. “But men are worse about it. And stubborn men, well, look out.”

  He had to give her credit. The woman had boxed him in before he’d even realized she was laying a trap. “Is this an example for me to make me see the stubborn error of my ways?”

  “Did it work?”

  “Can I say it didn’t not work?”

  She shrugged, those shoulders rising up and down with the motion. “Be my guest.”

  Hawk took a sip of his coffee and considered her words. “Is that crib story made up? Like some teaching metaphor for how I should proceed with Claudia?”

  “That’s an unequivocal no. Thorne really did spend the last three nights attempting to build a crib that falls apart with the slightest ounce of pressure.” She leaned forward, her gaze urgent. “But if it’ll get you to go talk to Claudia and open up to her... Well then, sure, the crib can be as imaginary as you’d like.”

  As he sipped his coffee, he couldn’t summon up one single argument to refute her logic.

  * * *

  “That plum-colored blouse will look gorgeous on you. And I love the cami tank you picked to go underneath. Subtle and sexy.” Claudia smiled at the young woman who’d drifted into Honeysuckle Road earlier as she handed over a sturdy paper bag with the shop logo imprinted on the side.

  “I had no idea you were here. The few shops in town. Well—” The girl broke off before smiling. “They don’t necessarily have things to flatter a gal who likes her biscuits and gravy.”

  “You don’t need to worry about that here. Every woman is beautiful and that includes those of us who aren’t afraid to eat a few calories in the pursuit of the perfect meal.”

  “That’s what my boyfriend’s always telling me but I don’t believe him.”

  “Let me give you a piece of advice, then.” Claudia leaned over the counter. “Give that man a good, solid chance to convince you.”

  The woman giggled at the advice before turning away, a determined bounce in her step. Claudia gave herself a moment to enjoy that walk, satisfied when she saw the extra layer of confidence that came from buying something pretty. Something that flattered.

  She’d lived like that once, when she was younger. Had convinced herself she needed to be as thin as her sisters. That somehow by starving herself she’d manage to get their fine-boned structure, too.

  It had been Leonor who’d put a stop to that nonsense. She’d taken her on a drive up to Dallas and they’d walked through several art galleries around the city and then on over in Fort Worth. Leonor had shown her images of women through the ages, captured in painting after painting, by some of the greatest artists who’d ever lived. The paintings had depicted so many different types of women. Tall and short, those with more curves and those with fewer and every shape in between.

  When Claudia had only scoffed that they were looking at art and she was talking about real life, Leonor had laid down a challenge.

  You want to be a fashion designer. That’s a very real form of art. Use it to make women feel beautiful.

  The words had carried her on to New York and then into her career. They’d also gone a long way toward how she saw herself after that. She could tell herself she was flawed and imperfect, or she could learn to love her own shape and craft her own style around that.

  From where she stood at the counter, Claudia couldn’t see the exchange at the front door, but she did see the door hang open a few moments longer as her most recent customer slipped out. It was only when someone new came in the door—his large frame filling the entryway—that her heart caught in her throat.

  “Hawk.”

  He strolled toward her, looking so good her knees nearly buckled. He wore a pair of jeans today over his boots. A black T-shirt hugged his broad chest and narrowed over his slim waist.

  Goodness, the man was a vision. She was surprised he hadn’t been approached half a dozen times while walking down Main Street.

  “That was one happy customer.”

  “She should be. She purchased a beautiful outfit.”

  And damn it all. Did that high-pitched, slightly squeaky voice belong to her?

  If Hawk noticed, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he just continued that slow saunter up to the counter, moving through the rows and racks of clothing like a shark slicing through the water.

  As he came closer, she was forced to amend the shark thought. They might have predatory grace, but they weren’t gifted with the cheekbones of a fallen angel or the vivid blue eyes of one who still played its harp, content upon a throne of clouds.

  She dismissed the ridiculous image and cleared her throat, willing away the squeak, as well. “I’m surprised to see you today. Especially after how we left things yesterday.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “I’m not entirely sure. I mean, Maggie sent me but if I’m being honest, I’d likely have come all on my own. It just might have taken me a bit longer.” He laid a hand on the counter but it was his shift from foot to foot that gave her the slightest pause.

  Was he nervous, too?

  “Maggie sent you?”

  “I saw her over at the diner. She invited me to have breakfast with her. Claimed she didn’t want the shame of eating a huge pile of biscuits and gravy all on her own.”

  Since she could see it—and knew from the woman’s comments during her fitting that Maggie had practically dreamed about the biscuits—a picture of Hawk’s morning began to form in her mind’s eye. “Sheesh, that’s the second reference to biscuits and gravy just this morning and all this supposed shame they cause. Eat the darn things and be done.”

  “Can’t argue with that.”

  She busied herself putting away the credit card receipt from her last guest’s purchase. “Did Maggie say anything else?”

  “She did say something about cribs and stubborn men.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. You had to be there.”

  “Alright, then.”

  That shifting from foot to foot continued and it was the only thing she could focus on. The only suggestion that maybe he was as affected as she was.

  “I’m sorry. About yesterday. About my comments. About all of it.” He stilled and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Look. I’ve had a long time to get used to my life. My new life. And I can’t help the way I feel. I was a cop. And not only did I lose my wife, but I didn’t have the tools or the talent to find who hurt her. That doesn’t just go away.”

  “I know.”

  And she did know. Just like the visit with Jade, when she got over her personal upset, Claudia had admitted to herself that Hawk’s situation had a whole lot more to do with his feelings than hers.

  “Can I ask you something, though?”

  “Sure.”

  “I know people say they’d want their spouse to move on. Or that their spouse would have wanted them to move on. And I’m not sayin
g this because I want you to move on with me, although I’m not going to lie and tell you I don’t enjoy your company.”

  The slightest bit of humor swirled and eddied in that ocean of a blue gaze. “I’m not going to lie and tell you I don’t enjoy your company, either.”

  “Good.”

  “But if the situation were reversed. If something had happened to you. Wouldn’t you have wanted Jennifer to have a life?”

  He shoved his hands deeper in his pockets.

  “Yesterday. When we were talking. I had a memory of her laughing. That hadn’t happened for a long time. The picture of her there, at the end. I mean, of what she looked like. I was a cop and I know what dead bodies look like. But there’s no preparing for it when it’s your family.”

  “No, I suppose there isn’t.”

  She couldn’t imagine it. To see a loved one become nothing more than a broken shell, and especially after what Jennifer Huntley had sustained. It was a haunting thought.

  “That’s the picture that’s kept me company for four long years. And then, yesterday, I remembered her smile. It was big and bright and you couldn’t help but smile right along with her. And then I dreamed about her, too. Smiling that smile at me as if she had a secret.”

  Although she’d never given in much to superstition, matters of the world always keeping her far too grounded, Claudia couldn’t quell the faint shiver that raced up her spine. Or the feeling of ease that settled in its wake.

  Hawk had spent a lot of years grieving and suffering over a loss he couldn’t control. She wasn’t silly enough to assume that all just vanished as if it had never been.

  But maybe, if he could remember more smiles and more happiness and more joy, then maybe the two of them had a shot.

  Chapter 14

  River Colton knew when a man was lying. He also knew when he was being played and the phone call he’d just made to his mother’s longtime lawyer smacked of both circumstances.

  In spades with aces over kings.

  Preston Hoffman had been his usual polite self, which meant the man had put on his benevolent dictator voice and no doubt steepled his fingers beneath his chin as he spoke through the speakerphone on his desk.

  River would bet his military pension and his good eye that Preston Hoffman knew exactly what was going on with La Bonne Vie and why the government had kept it boarded up so long. The rat bastard also likely knew why it was suddenly going on the auction block.

  “No details.” River muttered Preston’s refrain to himself. “My ass, he has no details.”

  With that unproductive conversation behind him, he was fast running out of answers. La Bonne Vie had secrets and he’d recently come to understand that the only way he’d ever be free of his past was if he uncovered the lot of them.

  Which would be a hell of a lot easier if they weren’t all hidden in his mother’s shadowy—and well-concealed—past.

  The news of the auction had been unexpected. It was information he wasn’t even supposed to have, but spilled to him when he’d walked back into the First Federal Bank to open up a savings account earlier that week. The bank manager had handled his account herself, her endless tittering as she walked him through the required paperwork grating on his nerves.

  Irritation had turned to gratitude when she let the information about La Bonne Vie slip.

  The bank had held the property in trust for the past decade on behalf of the government. Apparently someone new came into the office and questioned why it had sat empty for so long, ordering the house and the lands to auction. In less than three weeks it would be all done, and he and his family weren’t even aware of it.

  Which smacked of just one more secret in a lifetime that was full of them.

  He and his siblings were Livia’s only known heirs, yet someone had seen to it—Livia, even?—that they weren’t given the details of his mother’s affairs.

  What else had been kept from them?”

  Since that way lay madness, River decided to shake off his bad mood with a visit to his sister. He was still pissed off over the rat issue behind her store and then had gotten doubly pissed when she’d called about the incident at Jade’s. She could play it off all she wanted, but something didn’t sit right.

  And although he’d stopped being a man who got involved a long time ago, he’d decided it was time to make an exception.

  * * *

  “The dress needs to be pressed and then laid in the tissue paper.”

  He and Claudia had settled into a subtle routine of sorts over the past few days. She was so focused on finishing Maggie’s wedding dress that she’d stayed put in her studio. Hawk had set up his laptop in a back corner and worked from there, quietly observing her in between emails and phone calls.

  Other than going out to pick up lunch for the two of them and Evelyn, he’d been able to stay close and available. Which had given him a measure of comfort, but had also ensured whatever threat was hovering had stayed away.

  “Over there, Hawk.” Claudia’s hand shot out in the direction of the stockroom and Hawk followed her line of sight.

  When he’d offered to help with the transport of Maggie’s wedding dress, he had no idea he’d be ordered around with all the finesse of a drill sergeant. After listening to Claudia grouse and shout orders at him for the past half hour, he had to admit a morning running field drills and climbing muddy walls might have been preferable.

  “That tissue paper. Over there.”

  “I have tissue paper.”

  Hawk looked down at the pale pink paper in his hands. He’d grabbed a handful behind the checkout counter, only to be directed toward the back of the store.

  “The white kind, not the pink kind. I don’t want any chance of the colored paper rubbing off on the dress.”

  He supposed he saw her point, but damn it, what the hell was he supposed to do with an armful of pink paper?

  “Just put that back on the counter. I’ll use it to stuff a few bags.”

  Back and forth he went, from the main floor of the shop and then back to Claudia’s workroom. By his fifth jaunt, he held up his hands. “Why don’t you leave me out here to watch the door and you can get everything set up to your liking?”

  “Temperamental much?”

  “I am when I’m lectured on the simply staggering differences between pale pink paper and white paper.”

  “Touchy.”

  “I believe the word you’re looking for is grouchy.”

  “Grouchy, then.” She waved a hand over her shoulder. “Oh look, here comes Pris Todd now. She’s one of my best customers and always full of the latest gossip. Don’t be so grumpy to her you drive the woman away and lose me a customer.”

  Claudia slipped through the entrance to her studio, the door snapping closed with a sharp finality, just as a middle-aged woman with seriously impressive hair waltzed into the shop. “Why, hello?”

  The image of an old Golden Girls episode flashed through his mind and Hawk had the unlikely sensation he was being sized up like a piece of meat at the grocery store. Swallowing around his irritation and sudden awkwardness, he put on his best smile. “Good afternoon, ma’am.”

  “Aren’t you a sweet man.” The inimitable Mrs. Todd worked her way around the various racks of clothes, one eye most definitely set on him. Hawk did his level best to fade into the background and kept his attention focused on straightening the checkout counter.

  But there were only so many ways you could tidy up a stack of neatly pressed bags. And the mess of pink paper he’d made had already been wadded up in some way that made it like a light, fluffy cotton ball and was, even now, in fresh bags standing sentinel on the back counter.

  There was nothing to do.

  Except sit there like a bug under a microscope.

  “You’re new to Sh
adow Creek, aren’t you?”

  “I’m in town visiting.”

  “You have kin here?”

  She’s Claudia’s very best customer.

  The success of Honeysuckle Road depended on keeping the customers she earned and there was no way he was going to be a part of ruining that. Even if he did have to fight the overwhelming urge to tell the woman to mind her own business. “No, ma’am, I don’t.”

  “So that means you won’t be sticking around long?”

  “I’m here for a wedding this weekend. Then I need to head home to Houston.”

  Which had been his plan all along. Get into town. Get Claudia Colton on board with a DNA test. Hit the road.

  Only now here he was, already in town for more than a few days. She’d gotten on board, agreeing to the DNA test. He was the one who’d pushed to stay. And he was the one who decided it would be fun to join in on Thorne and Maggie’s wedding festivities.

  He had no one to blame for his situation but himself.

  So why did the thought of heading back to Houston have no appeal?

  It wasn’t like he had anything to go back for. The other cases he had in progress had moved forward, even with his travel schedule. And it wasn’t like he missed the one-bedroom apartment he called home. He’d sold the house he and Jennifer had lived in three years ago, the apartment feeling like a better fit at the time.

  But was it?

  For the first time, he was forced to ask himself that. Forced to look at the fact that in his efforts to atone for Jennifer’s death, he’d also given up any memories of her life or their life together.

  “Well, I hope you enjoy your time in Shadow Creek.” Mrs. Todd’s suggestion pulled him back to the store, the racks of clothes once again taking shape in his field of vision.

  “Is there anything I can help you with?”

  “Oh no. Not today. My husband will simply cut up my credit cards if I buy one more thing this week.”