Carolina Mac [Mac - The Turn

THE TURN

THE BLACKMORE AGENCY: BOOK 7

Carolina Mac

Copyright 2018 by Carolina Mac

THE TURN - 1st ed.

ISBN 978-1-988850-53-

All rights reserved

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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You cant go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending.

C. S. Lewis.

CHAPTER ONE

September 3 rd .

Labor Day.

Medical Building. Downtown Austin.

SILENCE, total silence was what his mind craved. The ultimate escape from the noise and chaos of family life. All he needed was alone time to shake off the increasing number of demands Renee placed upon him, to relax and pursue his hobby and hed be able to pull it together.

The office of Maxwell Endicott, Dental Surgeon was closed for the long weekend. Closed and locked up tight until Tuesday morning.

Max had made sure none of the cleaning staff had seen him cross the glassed-in lobby of the medical building on his way to the elevator. When he reached the fourth floor, he was equally as cautious, glancing to the left and then to the right before making a beeline to his suite.

As he locked the door behind him, a low whistle escaped his lips. What a fun day this would be. He strode through the spotless waiting area, the magazines neatly stacked on the table the way he liked to see themthe dates checked weekly to insure no publication in his office was more than six months old. The reception desk vacant and clutter freeHannah enjoying the weekend with her new husband. The phones turned off.

Not bothering to start the coffee, Max hurried straight into his private office and turned on his computer. He entered his passwordsomething no one would ever crack maxillofacial. A grin spread across his face as he typed it in. Brilliant.

His breathing picked up speed as he clicked on the dating site and sat back in his leather chair while the messages came up.

Lets see how many pretty girls are lying to me today.

Blackmore Agency. Austin.

THE AGENCY, his agency, was headquartered in an old renovated Victorian in Austin, in a not-too-desirable area of the city. The ancient house had a few quirks of its own, unidentified noises with no definable source, that hed chosen to ignore, but overall the place was beginning to feel like home. Fate had landed Blaine here at this point in his life and he wasnt moving. At least not today. Much too busy.

Seven a.m. with Lexi, his big Newfoundlander running loose in the yard, Farrell still sleeping, Carm making comforting sounds in the kitchen, and a mug of Panama blend at his elbow, he was at long last getting a chance to examine the contents of the two boxes hed discovered in the attic of the house where hed been raised.

The police report said hed been in the car with his parents when theyd been killed, but he had no memory of the accident, or of anything before the accident. It was as if he woke up under the bleachers at the Odessa fairgrounds when he was fourteen and that was the day he was born.

All the years growing up at Coulter-Ross, his adopted home, hed never questioned the death of his biological parentshis mother, Emeline, a beautiful brunette, and his father, Ricardo, a slim Latino with black hair and the same black eyes Blaine recognized in himselfhed blindly accepted their deaths as an accident until a few months before when an old friend of his fathers, Arlo Maznik, came forward and raised questions Blaine couldnt answer.

Sitting on the Persian carpet in his study, Blaine opened the lid of the first box. In fact, it was the second box of the three. The first box had been sorted through weeks before, filled with photographs of him and his family, and Lily, his personal assistant, had taken box number one to a woman who turned mind-boggling piles of old pictures into keepsake albums. He hoped to hell and back when Lil picked up the finished product it wasnt strewn with ribbons or hearts or some damn thing.

He lifted the flaps and started. Box number two was filled from bottom to top with paper. Pieces of musty smelling, dusty paper: his old report cards, pictures hed drawn in kindergarten and elementary school, a growth chart that had been featured in several of the photographs, and all manner of paperwork his mother had felt compelled to squirrel away for her son. He stacked everything neatly back in the box and moved on.

Box number three held different contents. A collection of business items that possibly had been selected by his father. After a quick sift through deeds, tax returns and expired warranties for appliances that no longer existed, nothing seemed more important than the phone number on a piece of stationery that had come from the U.S. Marshalls Service.

Why did my parents move to Abilene? Were we in witness protection? Mister Maznik wondered about that very thing. Was it possible?

Before Blaine could put more thought into it, his cell rang and using the corner of his desk for support, he hauled himself up off the carpet. Hey, Annie, all ready for the picnic?

Almost, but Jesse is tired this morning. Would you mind helping me a bit before everybody gets here, sweetheart?

Course not, Mom. Ill get dressed and bring Carm over. Well both help you.

Are you bringing Misty?

Didnt ask her. Thought Id just have more of a relaxing drinking day with Jesse and the boys.

Things not that good between you two?

Stressful. Shes umm too much work, Mom. I need somebody that aint so much goddam work.

Ill find you somebody.

Jesus in a handcart, Mom, please dont do that.

Annie giggled and hung up.

Coulter-Ross Ranch.

BY the time Carmelita finished making the enchiladas for the picnic, and then giving the newly renovated kitchenher personal queendoma thorough cleaning afterwards, it was almost noon by the time Blaine got her out of the house.

Carm was the mother of his deceased ex-girlfriend, and Blaine had stayed with the woman, who had no other family, for a while after Fabianas death. He couldnt bear to leave her alone and they became attached to each other. Circumstances changed, and he ended up buying Carms old Victorian relic, renovating it and turning a number of rooms into office space for the agency.

Carmelita Flores was close to fifty and carried a few more pounds than she wanted to, but still a lovely dark-haired Hispanic beauty. She only spoke Spanish, but that had fueled Blaines resolve to master his fathers language. He had never figured out why he wasnt taught Spanish as a child. One more mystery from his past.