Deputy Daddy. Patricia Johns

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      “He also has no tickets or driving infractions.”

      “Okay.” Was Bryce just rubbing it in now? “I guess we were wrong. That’s a good thing. Thanks for looking into it.”

      She turned on the water and rinsed out the jar, then put it onto the dish rack to dry. Bryce didn’t say anything else until she turned again and saw him watching her, arms crossed over his chest.

      “The bad news is that he’s most definitely not who he claims to be. He doesn’t have much of a government paper trail at all.” Bryce’s voice was low and soft. “He has a credit history that’s about ten years old. Anything before that is a black hole. He has a driver’s license—again, obtained ten years ago. No birth certificate. I can dig some more, though. I could find out what ID he used to get the driver’s license here.”

      Lily turned this information over in her mind slowly. How did a person go through life without leaving much of a trail? She personally had all sorts of proof of her existence, from parking tickets to the mortgage on this house. A person put their signature down so many times during a lifetime, even in order to move into another state, that it seemed impossible to have no paper trail fated further back than ten years. Obviously something happened ten years ago.

      “There are about two hundred Aaron Bays in the United States right now, so investigating could take some time.” He gave her an apologetic smile.

      “So, what’s he hiding?”

      “Hard to tell without a little more digging,” he said. “And now I’m curious. There is definitely something up.”

      Lily nodded. It looked like her suspicions had been right, after all. It was one thing to imagine the worst, and quite another to have her worry supported by a police officer.

      “I should add, though,” Bryce said, “while I’m looking into this, it would be best not to tell anyone else about it. If we come up with a perfectly logical explanation for it all, and in the meantime we’ve turned your entire family against the guy—”

      Lily nodded and leaned back against the sink. “That’s a good point.” Her mind went back to her aunt’s invitation to dinner tonight. She’d turned her down, saying that she had a lodger and couldn’t get away, but an idea was percolating. It was risky—it would pull him in closer to her family matters, but it could also distract him from her brothers, and possibly give them all the answers they needed before this wedding.

      “How would you like to see him in person tonight?”

      Bryce raised an eyebrow. “How would you pull that off?”

      “My aunt asked me to dinner so she could see Emily.” She shrugged. “What self-respecting aunt doesn’t want to snuggle a baby?”

      “Wouldn’t it be a little strange for me to come along?”

      It would, she had to admit. But if Bryce were more than a friend, his presence would be explained easily enough.

      “We could take our chances on that,” she said. “We’ll tell them that you’re my first guest and that I’m terrible with professional boundaries. Which is entirely true.”

      Bryce was silent for a moment, and she wondered if she’d overstepped once more. Then he nodded, humor sparking in his eyes.

      “Yeah, that would be good. I’m curious to sit down with the guy.”

      “So should I tell her that we’ll be there?” she asked.

      Bryce turned toward the doorway of the kitchen, then paused and looked back at her.

      “Sure,” he said with a nod. “I’ve got a meeting with the chief in about fifteen minutes, so I should head out.” A smile twitched at the corners of his lips. “I have to say—my stay in your town isn’t turning out to be anything like I expected.”

      It wasn’t anything like she’d imagined, either.

      “We’re like that around here,” she replied. “Welcome to Comfort Creek.”

       Chapter Three

      Bryce was used to driving a regular police cruiser, and being in the “loser cruiser” made him feel like a kid with a dunce cap. He wasn’t here to do any real police work—and that point was made clear by the minivan. No one would take him seriously in this thing.

      I can survive anything for two weeks, he reminded himself.

      The discipline was the embarrassing part of this. He didn’t need to learn his lesson about not lashing out. He knew that full well, and he was going to make sure it never happened again. He didn’t need the attitude adjustment, so coming out here like one of the department’s problem officers stung. His dad had been a problem officer, and he wondered if this chastisement was because of the shadow his father had cast. Like father, like son, right?

      He glanced at his watch. He was due to be in a meeting with the chief in about ten minutes. Today, the “book work” portion of his sensitivity training started. He wasn’t looking forward to this. This was the place where they outlined for him in painful, workbook-filled detail that he shouldn’t pummel fellow officers. It was like writing lines in elementary school.

      I will not punch idiot coworkers.

      I will not punch idiot coworkers.

      I will not—

      Bryce wouldn’t let himself be baited like that again. Part of what made this so humiliating was that Leroy was proving a point—Bryce was just like his father. His dad had been disciplined twice for excessive use of force, and in the end they’d found him involved with a couple of other officers who’d been taking bribes. While his father hadn’t been caught red-handed, he did resign quite promptly, and the rumors swirled. Richard Camden was a prime example of when good cops go bad, and his reputation was forever tarnished.

      If he’d been innocent, why resign? Why not clear his name? By that time, Bryce was already a young officer on the force, and his father’s fall from grace had hurt him, too. The thing was, Bryce had hoped that he and his dad could bond over some mutual ground now that they were both cops. He’d hoped that his distant, negligent father would see someone in Bryce he could be proud of at long last, but there hadn’t been time for any of that. When his father was disgraced, Bryce lost a last, tenuous connection to his father. Turned out that his dad didn’t have a good excuse for his parental absence, after all. And now that Bryce was a cop, and his father was no longer on the force, it only pushed Bryce further away.

      The Comfort Creek police station was a quaint little affair, and it reminded Bryce of Mayberry and The Andy Griffith Show. The whole town had that feeling about it—like all problems should be able to be solved in twenty-two minutes, and end with some time at a fishing hole. If only real life were so picturesque.

      Bryce parked and hopped out into the warm summer sunlight. He stepped over the bulging cracks in the asphalt where the tree roots were barging through, and trotted up the front steps to the station. The receptionist gave him a curt nod as he came inside—obviously she was used to the run of visiting officers and hadn’t much time for pleasantries. It was just as well. He was feeling less than pleasant СКАЧАТЬ