Addison Fox - Cold Case Colton

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.