Page 57 of Bravo

“No. I asked her the typical questions and had her fill out the application.”

“I ran the background check myself,” Tucker offers. “But I didn’t go very deep. Just the basic surface-level one I run for everyone we hire.”

“You couldn’t have known.” Even as frustrated as I am that someone was hired under a false identity, I can’t blame Tucker. Deep background dives are standard procedure for our Search & Rescue business, but not for the ranch. Though they will be going forward. Another lesson learned.

The second we started pulling tax records—whichtechnicallywe’re not supposed to do—her identity fell apart. Sammy Lewis, as she put on her application, has never voted, paid taxes, orattended any kind of public school in the nation. The latter was not a surprise given she told me she was homeschooled, but she should still be somewhere.

And she’s not.

“We’ll get it figured out, son,” my father says. “We’ll sit down with her and figure it all out.”

I take a deep breath and offer him a smile. “I know, Dad. I’m going to get some air.” I head out of Tucker’s home office and onto the porch. Bravo is with me where he’s been ever since Klive Newart left.

We looked into him, too. Not only is he employed by Senator Alexander Brown, but he’s also his son. Klive Newart is actually Klive Brown—something he failed to mention when he was here. Olivia Brown, the daughter in question, is his stepsister and was taken in when she’d been twelve and her mother passed away suddenly.

The articles called it a suicide. But I get the feeling there’s more to all of this than I can find written in black and white.

Riley’s been keeping an eye on Sammy’s cabin for the last hour, and Dylan returned as soon as the SUV hit the freeway, though I have him ensuring our security measures are fully in place. Tucker and Elliot escorted Arthur off of the premises hours ago, so that’s at least one less thing we have to worry about.

My mom’s car pulls up into Tucker’s driveway, and she climbs out carrying a small bag. “Hey, honey.”

“Hey,” I greet as I make my way down the steps to give her a hug. “How are you holding up?”

“Just fine. I talked with God, and He calmed me as He always does.” She smiles and hands me the bag. “Here’s Sammy’s dinner. I was going to take it down, but Riley told me I needed to leave it to you. Care to elaborate?”

“Once I know more, I will.”

“I don’t mind being left out of some things, but I care for the girl. If there’s something going on?—”

“I’ll tell you about it.” I kiss her on the head. “Right now, I need to talk to Sammy first.”

My mom nods in understanding. “Very well. I’m going to head inside and grab your dad. There’s enough food in there for you, too, if you want to eat while you talk.”

“You’re the best. Thanks, Mom.”

With a final smile, she heads up the porch stairs, so I turn and open the door of my truck. Bravo hops in before me, and we head across the ranch toward the employee cabins. Riley is sitting in his own truck and rolls the passenger window down as I park beside him and climb out.

“No movement inside,” he says. “She must have really been out of it when y’all got back.”

“She was tired,” I tell him. “And said she had a nasty headache starting.”

“What was all that with the suit?”

“We’ll talk later. I need to check on Sammy. Dad and Tucker know though, so if you want info before I can get it to you, check with them.”

“Sounds good. You good here?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Anytime, brother.” Rolling up his window, he backs out and heads toward the main house, so I take the food and Bravo and head up to the front door.

I knock. “Sammy, it’s Bradyn. I’ve got your dinner.”

No answer.

I knock again. Is it possible she’s sleeping? She did say her head hurt; maybe she laid down and—Bravo growls. A deep, threatening growl.

My stomach plummets as I set the soup aside and draw my firearm. “Sammy? If that’s you, I’m coming in, okay?”

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