“The hikers never sold that picture to anyone,” Axel reasoned.

Mullins scoffed. “I’m not giving them a medal for their restraint.”

Marshall was a brilliant director and a protective father, but the man was more than a tad convinced the world revolved around him. “If they’d simply wanted money for their picture and to ride your coattails for their fifteen minutes of fame, wouldn’t they have doctored the image to make the man on the mountain with your wife look like you? Or someone you knew?”

A long pause followed. “That would be most obvious, but—”

“Then let’s pretend for a minute that the picture is real. You haven’t seen the image in . . . what? Over fifteen years?”

“No,” he admitted.

“I’ll send it to you again from my phone.” Axel texted the snapshot to him. “Just look at it one more time and tell me if you recognize the man with your wife at all.”

He heard a little ding on the other end of the line, and a few tense moments passed. “No. I have no idea who he is.” A pause ensued, followed by Mullins’s distressed sigh. “God, even seeing Julia in a grainy image like this is . . . It’s so hard. I loved that woman. I wasn’t a good husband. I know it. But she gave me the most precious gift ever.”

At that moment, Mystery skipped down the stairs and raced to the kitchen. “Hi, Dad.”

“Mystery. How are you, kiddo?” he sounded wistful.

“Fine. Heath and I drove most of the night, so I slept in. But I’m good now.”

“Excellent.”

Axel noticed cynically that the man didn’t ask his daughter how she felt about the newfound kink in her sex life.

“So . . .” Mullins went on. “How’s your aunt Gail?”

“I only saw her briefly last night, but she seems well. Nothing much has changed here.”

“I know that would have made your mother smile.”

“Yeah. It’s nice to be here again.”

A million questions swirled through Axel’s brain. He wanted to ask the man about his wife’s death, but he didn’t want to be the one to break the truth about the murder to Mystery. Unfortunately, waiting for the right moment cost time, and that was a luxury they didn’t have.

He took a deep breath and glanced at Mystery. She looked refreshed and beautiful, despite being sleep tossed and wearing yesterday’s clothes. “Have a seat. I called your dad to discuss the day your mother died.”

*   *   *

MYSTERY blinked, then sat slowly. She’d give anything not to rehash one of the worst days of her life, but she knew how necessary it was. “You mean the day she was murdered?”

“You knew that?” her father asked.

“I suspected. You never said anything, but . . .” She choked. Her voice broke.

“I just wanted to protect you, kiddo,” her father protested.

“I know.” And she did. Her mom’s death had devastated him, too. She didn’t understand why he couldn’t have loved her enough to be faithful. It was irrelevant now. “But the press was all too happy to report what they thought happened, and the murder scenario just made more sense.”

Axel squeezed her hand and sighed. “I’m so damn glad I don’t have to be the one to explain that she was murdered and rip your world apart. This is a photo taken by random hikers just before your mother died. Does this man look at all familiar?”

Axel showed her the picture, doing his best to zoom in on the two people on the hilltop in the distance.

“I can only see his back. Maybe if I had a face . . .”

“Do you remember your mother knowing anyone with that height, build, and hair color? He’s probably around six feet, medium build. In this picture, he looks more gray than not.”

“Nothing.” She shook her head. Then a distant memory spun through her head, and she laughed at it. “Well . . . The only person I can think of is this guy who came to one of my dance recitals. I was maybe five or six. When I ran offstage, my mom introduced me to him. He was wearing a suit a lot like this and was graying, too. She called him Peter.”

“Was he the dad of one of the other kids?”

“Probably.” She shrugged. “It only jumped out at me because Mom seemed really nervous, and they were having this very intent conversation until I reached them. Then they were suddenly all smiles.” She winced. “The guy’s stare was kind of creepy. I remember hiding behind my mother and wanting him to leave.”

“Did you ever see him again?” her father asked.

“No.”

“Do you remember anything else? Any detail?” Axel leaned in, face intent.

“I don’t even know why I brought it up. Three years passed between that incident and my mom’s death. I never saw the guy again. They’re probably totally unrelated.”

“You’re probably right.” Axel palmed her crown.

She felt so fortunate to have him here and sent him a faint smile. “I just wish I could help more. I’ve told you what I know about the day she died. Mom and Dad fought about divorce that morning.”

“We never meant for you to hear.” Her father sounded contrite.

“Dad, the whole house could hear.”

“Shit,” he cursed. “We really thought you were asleep.”

“No,” Mystery admitted softly. “Mom had been in my room about ten minutes before you two started arguing. I woke to the sounds of her crying.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” She could almost hear her father’s heartbreak on the other end of the line.

“And I’m sorry to ask either of you to relive it, but the information can only help.” Axel laced his fingers through hers—his silent way of telling her he supported her. “You’ve told me what you know, so I’d like to ask your dad what else he recalls now.”

That made sense. She’d been nothing more than a kid. Her dad would know more.

“I remember more than I’d like to.” Her dad sighed. “I came in that morning about three. I’d been out with . . . some people I was working with on a film.”

“Oh, just stop lying already.” Mystery gave him a frustrated huff. “You were screwing that blonde you were directing in the action/thriller flick you’d been working on, and Mom found out.”

“Yes.” Her father hesitated. “And she was pregnant.”

Mystery gasped, feeling as if someone had punched her in the stomach, and closed her eyes. As if this conversation wasn’t awful enough, the new revelations coming out now made it downright horrifying.

“Was she worth it? Were any of those slutbags you took to bed worth destroying your family?” The anger just poured out. Mystery heard it but couldn’t seem to stop it. It wasn’t as if her father had cheated on her . . . yet it had always felt as if he’d betrayed her, too, not just her mom. For years, Mystery had pretended she didn’t know. She’d never confronted her dad because his love life didn’t matter now that her mom was gone. But deep down, it mattered to her. His wandering dick had ripped apart a marriage, stained her childhood, maybe even somehow cut short her mother’s life. The resulting scars had nearly caused her to walk out on Axel forever.

“No,” he choked out.

Small consolation now. It didn’t really make a dent in her rage. Even if anger didn’t solve anything now, she couldn’t seem to stop feeling it. “So because your whore was pregnant, you asked Mom for the divorce?”

“No!” He was quick to correct her. “She found out somehow and told me that she’d called a lawyer. She wanted to leave. The sex meant nothing to me but a conquest and some fleeting pleasure, but your mother didn’t see it that way.”

No, her mom had seen it as a stab in the heart. Mystery did, too. It had made her wary and a bit cynical of relationships, and that wasn’t who she wanted to be.

“I loved her,” her father swore. “Too much to let her leave. But she asked me for a divorce. Worse, she wanted to take you with her back to Kansas. So we fought. We didn’t resolve anything. I lost my temper and left. That was the last time I saw your mother alive.”

“And the blonde’s baby?” Mystery snapped. “You just left that child to be raised by a single mother?”