The Coltons of Shadow Creek

Chapter 3

She was too calm about this. That was all Hawk could settle on as Claudia walked in front of him into the coffeehouse. There had been that one, lone eerie moment in the car when she’d held the photo, her gaze seeming to memorize the image of the woman, only to hand it back, her own face an impassive mask.

Had he gotten through to her?

The photo was hard to argue with—it had been the biggest connection he’d made once he’d seen a photo of Claudia on the Everything’s Blogger in Texas website and made the connection to his case—but it could still be dismissed.

Anything could be dismissed if you refused to believe.

He’d spent two very long years of his life reinforcing that fact. He’d spent the next two trying to do something about it. Regardless of how you handled things—or didn’t—life had a way of smacking you in the ass. And if you didn’t choose to fight against it, it would take you down right along with it.

He’d spent too long in the bottom of that well, helpless.

Hopeless.

Claudia seemed anything but as she placed her order, then turned to him expectantly. “What would you like?”

“Coffee. Room for cream, please.” He already had his wallet out and before she could protest, he added, “It’s the least I can do.”

“Guilt, Mr. Huntley?” She hadn’t said much since climbing out of the car, but he couldn’t fully dismiss the light tease beneath her words.

“Just my good old-fashioned Southern gentlemanly charm.”

“We’ll see about that.” She smiled before moving down to wait for her coffee at the bar.

Once again, he was struck by her beauty. More, by her presence. He’d seen it in the photo—a small one taken from a distance on the Everything’s Blogger post—but was even more captivated by the same since walking into her store. She looked like something out of a fashion magazine, yet as natural and real as the Hill Country that stretched out for miles.

It was a strange juxtaposition. Texas was known for its beautiful women—he’d been fortunate enough to marry one—but there was an artlessness in this woman that drew him in.

Hawk didn’t miss the way the barista looked at Claudia while he built her coffee, his gaze drifting toward her as he juggled the staring with the coffee making. And how could he blame the guy?

Her hair fell around her face in glossy waves and the outfit she wore seemed to highlight every single curve of her body. Even the summer heat that had followed them into the air-conditioned coffeehouse couldn’t wilt her.

How was it possible?

Livia Colton hadn’t managed to spoil her, either. Neither had living in one of the world’s largest cities, working in one of the world’s most competitive industries.

So how was it she could remain calm in the face of her possible parentage, as well? More, how would someone reach adulthood as one person and then just take it on faith when a total stranger suggested it had all been a lie?

He’d assumed she would rant and rail, fighting off his suggestion that she wasn’t Livia Colton’s daughter, but Claudia had been understanding, warm and downright casual about it all.

Had life with her mother been that hard?

Or maybe money went a long way toward paving the path to easy living?

Whatever he supposed, none of it would compare to the reality of growing up in the home of a life-long criminal whose network literally stretched across the globe.

Since making the connection on the Everything’s Blogger in Texas website, Hawk had spent quite a bit of time digging into the Colton family. Livia’s crimes were considerable, holding a candle to Matthew Colton, her serial killer brother. The man had reportedly said that the only person he feared on earth was his half sister Livia.

What did that say about the woman?

Hawk took his own coffee and moved to the small station by the door to doctor it to his preferences. The wide-open window showcased the main street of Whisperwood, its storefronts surprisingly similar to Shadow Creek. A few small shops. A general store. The post office which seemed to share space with a feed and seed.

Small-town Texas life at its very best.

The coffee shop sat at the end of that street. The papers scattered on the small tables nearby appeared well-read and the trash can next to the door was close to full. Coffee had clearly become a good business here in small-town Texas. Fortunately, the rush had died down, the midmorning timing working in their favor.

Claudia had chosen a table in the back, out of earshot of the waitstaff, and he headed in her direction. She’d settled into a fluffy armchair, her gaze focused on her oversize cup.

“This is a nice place.” He settled into an equally cushy chair. “Unexpected, but nice.”

“We could use one in Shadow Creek. The drive over isn’t bad, but I’d like to have my latte fix a bit closer.”

“Do you miss New York?” If it seemed like he was delaying the inevitable discussion, she didn’t appear to mind.

“Some days I miss it terribly. And being here during Fashion Week is going to kill me. But it is nice to be home. And it’s incredibly wonderful to be with my brothers and sisters and Mac again.”

“Mac?”

“I thought you said you read the blog?”

That light tease was there again, yet there was something more in her words. A subtle challenge, as if she wanted to see just how honest he’d be.

“I did read the blog.”

“The sordid life and times of Livia Colton.”

“I suppose.”

Her eyes rose as she lifted her coffee to her lips. “You just suppose?”

“It was an exposé, I’ll grant you that. But I saw a bit more there, as well.”

She snorted at his reference to an exposé, but waved him on. “Do tell.”

“For all the gossip—”

“Sordid gossip,” she reminded him.

“So noted. But for all the digging the reporter did, I took a few things away beyond the story of your mother’s life.”

“Such as?”

Hawk had read the article so many times he nearly had it memorized. And while the first few reads had given him the direction he needed to work the Krupids’ case, making the connection between Livia, Claudia and Annalise, it had been the later rereads of the article that had stuck with him.

Livia’s six children were a unit. Even as the story had painted them—born of different fathers—there was still a sense about the siblings. A closeness. A bond.

Heck, it might have even been the simplicity of shared battle scars growing up under Livia’s influence.

Regardless of the reason, he’d walked away from that article convinced there was a vibrant, well-tended support system that was a by-product of the lives Livia had created, quite likely beyond her intentions.

“You and your siblings are tight. I got that sense.”

“We are.”

“You’re also close with Thorne’s father, Mac.”

She smiled at that, a genuine smile that filled her face, softening the slightly wary edges. “Mac has been a surrogate father to me, too. To my siblings as well, but especially me and my younger sister. He took us in after my mother went to prison. He’s an amazing man and he’s been all the father I’ve ever needed.”

“From all I can see, he’s done a damn fine job.”

“He’s perfect on all counts.” A small frown marred her lips. “Except his willingness to ask Evelyn out.”

“Your store assistant?”

“One and the same. They’re perfect for each other and both are stubbornly resistant to being fixed up.”

He couldn’t hold back the low bark of laughter, or the subtle delight at the clear grimace on her face. “Think you know best for them both?”

“On this I do. They’re bright, wonderful, vibrant people. And there are clear sparks between them on the rare occasion I can manage to get them in the same room. It’s a match. I’m sure of it.”

“Most people like to decide that for themselves.”

“Most people aren’t as stubborn as Mac and Evelyn.”

“Pot? Kettle?” The words fell from his lips, light and easy.

But it was the answering smile that touched something inside of him, lighting a spark of its own.

“Or maybe just the unwavering hopefulness two people I think the world of can find each other and live happily ever after.”

The easy camaraderie faded, her words a swift, harsh reminder that there was no happy ending. No blissful fade into the sunset. He’d believed it once. Hell, he’d had it once. Happy ever after.

Jennifer had even placed a small wooden plaque prominently on their kitchen counter, proclaiming they’d live the rest of their lives that way.

And it had all been shattered in the course of one horrific, haunting evening.

* * *

Claudia knew it the moment she’d overstepped, yet had no idea why. Although she was curious about the photograph Hawk had showed her in the car, she wanted a few moments of equilibrium.

A few quiet moments to process the information that had whirled into her morning, along with an attractive, virile man who tugged at something inside of her she’d believed buried.

Or, at minimum, on hold for a while.

The conversation about her family and the easy shift to Mac and Evelyn had flowed, a fun discussion in a quiet coffeehouse. Yes, it had been a distraction, delaying the inevitable discussion about her mother, but it had been fun. Light.

Sweet, even.

And then he’d seemed to crash.

If it were just the mood change she might have shrugged it off and moved on, but it was the utter bleakness that seemed to cover him. A blizzard-like whiteout of anger and sadness and grief.

“Is something wrong?”

“Of course not.”

“Since I believe you about as much as I believe the caramel in this latte isn’t fattening, you might as well tell me.”

“It’s nothing.”

His tone was sharp—pointed—yet she didn’t feel threatened. She’d faced that with Ben, especially in the last few months they were together. The change in conversation and the lightning-quick shifts in mood.

She’d learned to fear those moments.

Hawk continued on before she could say anything. “Sorry. I’m sorry. And it’s not nothing, either. I lost my wife a few years ago. There are moments—” He broke off, hesitated. “There are still moments that rear up and remind me. Of her.” A sign he was even less like Ben.

Claudia quickly cycled through their conversation before landing on the moment. “The happily-ever-after part?”

“Yes.”

The images she’d carried all morning—the first few moments in the shop, her impulsive decision to drive him in her car, even the light teasing over coffee—cycled through her mind, as well. Each had combined, leaving an impression of a capable man who was on a determined mission to find her history and heritage.

But it was this man—the vulnerable one with grief and scars and pain—who spoke to her the loudest.

Losing a loved one was always hard, but to lose one’s spouse—their love—and at such a young age... She’d already placed him in his early thirties. The news that he’d lost someone so young was a terrible shock.

“I’m so sorry.” She reached over before she could check the impulse, laying a hand over his. “How long since your wife died?”

“About four years.”

Claudia added the time to her age assessment before nodding. “I am truly sorry.”

The hand beneath hers was warm and solid, exactly what she’d expected when she’d given him the surreptitious glances in the car. When his gaze drifted over that same place, she began to pull her hand back, aware of how quickly she’d leaped to such intimacy.

But as he laid his other hand over hers, she sensed his need for the simple connection.

“Thank you. I don’t talk about my wife much but I usually don’t freeze in the middle of a conversation, either.”

“You’re welcome.”

She debated her next step, but knew the time for the personal had passed. Even if she was curious about his wife and how the woman had died, they weren’t there to explore his past.

Nor did she need that added wrinkle of awareness that whispered across her senses, reminding her Hawk Huntley was single.

“Since you didn’t accompany me here to drink lattes and while away the morning, why don’t we discuss what’s really going on. Namely this family you’re working for.”

“The Krupids.”

“Yes.”

“They’re from Russia but live here now?”

He nodded, the lines that grooved around his eyes fading at the shift in topic. “They do now. They did eventually manage to emigrate from Russia. It was several years after Annalise had vanished, but they’ve never given up hope or the desire to find her.”

“And you’ve not told them what you suspect? About me?”

“No, not yet. They know I’m following leads on their behalf but have given me carte blanche to manage the investigation as I see fit.”

“And you found me because of a blog article?”

That damned article was responsible for more pain than anyone could have imagined. From the initial hurt and damage it caused her sister Leonor, to the broader family embarrassment they’d all suffered because of the exposé on Livia, she’d be happy if she never heard mention of the internet or its contents again.

But what if it was the pathway to your own personal truth?

The question whispered through her mind, more tantalizing than she wanted to admit.

She loved her sisters, brothers and Mac without bounds, but even their love for each other had never been able to assuage that pervasive sense of never belonging. The idea that there was an answer for that—one that went beyond basic embarrassment she’d come from a woman who thought the rules of life simply did not apply to her—was heady.

And far too enticing.

“The blog article was the missing link. I’d had several leads, all centering on sex trafficking, but couldn’t get that last piece.”

“The baby piece?”

“Yes.” He nodded, pulling out his phone and opening up a note-taking app she loved. “Here’s the trail I’ve followed. You can scroll through, but you can see the basic path.”

Claudia took the extended phone, surprised by this facet of his personality, as well. Mobile phones were such personal devices, yet he’d surrendered his as if it was nothing.

“Start at the top?”

“You’re welcome to read all of it, but if you begin at the notation after she left Russia, you can work through the high points.”

The heat of his body was still imprinted on the phone and Claudia did her best to ignore it. Instead, she read the carefully detailed entries, a picture forming in her mind of a young woman, suffering and alone. To have gone from Russia and the only home she’d ever known, essentially kidnapped and moved through the world like a piece of property...

Add on a pregnancy and the loss of her support system and Claudia couldn’t hold back the rising anger.

Or that continued sadness that refused to abate when she thought about all her mother’s bad behavior and all the myriad ways she’d ruined lives. A hundred lifetimes in jail could never fix or repair what she’d damaged.

No, Claudia amended to herself. What she’d broken.

The entries at an end, the photo from the blog his last entry on the screen, she handed back the phone. “You make a convincing argument, I’ll give you that. But it still doesn’t explain why my mother would take on the responsibility for a baby.”

“It can’t be that hard to figure out.”

“What do you mean?”

“All we have to do is ask people if they remember her pregnancy or her behavior at that time.”

“It’s not a secret my mother met my father, Claude, in a whirlwind rush while visiting Europe.”

Hawk persisted. “Yes, but did she completely abandon the young children she had here? I know they’re not close, but would Mac remember?”

“I could ask him.”

“Could you do it now?”

For all she loved Mac, the man didn’t handle surprises well. That went triple when the surprise had anything to do with Livia. She’d worry him unnecessarily if he couldn’t see her face when she asked the question.

“We can go see him, but I’m not calling him with that.”

“Why not? It’s a simple question.”

“Nothing about Mac or his relationship to my mother is simple.”

“I guess I can see that.”

Hawk reached for his coffee, impatience telegraphing off him in waves.

“You want to go this morning?”

A wry, sheepish expression crossed his features. “Can we?”

“Can I finish the errands I came here for?”

“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 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.