Cold Case Colton. Addison Fox
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