Page 67 of Off Limits Daddy

"I really thought he was sincere in that he'd turned his life around," he'd told me.

Jonny's wife wasn't too happy to hear what Jonny was accused of either. Before she tossed me out of her house, sheinsisted that foul play had come to him and that was what I should focus on, not ruining her husband's reputation.

I blew out a breath, turning my focus onto the identity theft scheme that seemed to be at the heart of this case starting five years ago when Liam Quinlan was murdered. It was why Olivia Quinlan was kidnapped. Her father, Oliver, had exchanged a list of social security numbers Liam had stolen and hidden for her release. He'd handed them over to Detective Donovan and Darcy Patrick, who were subsequently killed and the numbers stolen. Luckily, Oliver had taken a photo of the numbers and I'd been able to work with the Social Security Admin to give the children new numbers. I had no idea what they were going to do with the old numbers. I hoped that if someone tried to use them, their system would be notified and they'd reach out to us, but so far, I hadn't heard from them. That either meant Wally wasn't selling the numbers or the SSA wasn't tracking them.

The question was, how was he getting the numbers in the first place? In my interview with Olivia, she made it sound like Donovan knew the source. I investigated to find out, but I hadn't had any luck. I'd cross-referenced all the numbers on the list Liam had, along with known cases of foster kids whose social security numbers had been used illegally. There was no central link. No one social worker. No one DSS office.

The idea that Donovan or some other tech-savvy ghost had infiltrated the DSS system was more than plausible, but so far, I had no proof.

I flipped through the files again, hating that in all this mess, Aiden was caught in the crossfire. All signs pointed to Wally's identity theft ring, but signs without evidence did little good.

I spread out every document on my desk looking for anything that I'd missed. There were bank statements, foster home placements, agency reports… My eyes danced over each page until they were just blurs of ink.

Staring at the mess of papers on my desk, frustration clawed at my insides. Every lead, every scrap of evidence, every painstakingly collected witness statement—they all seemed to mock me with their lack of answers.

As much as I tried to focus on the case, my mind betrayed me. It wandered to thoughts of Duncan and the nights I spent with him. I should've known better than to get involved with him in any capacity beyond professional. Yet here I was, ensnared in a no-strings arrangement that was quickly spiraling into something I didn't want to look too closely at. Falling for Duncan, enjoying his presence beside me in the quiet hours of the night, was something I couldn’t afford to do. Not if I was going to stay focused on my goal.

But every night, as I slipped under his sheets and felt the warmth of his body next to mine, it became increasingly difficult to deny how much I liked it—how much I liked him. His kindness made my heart warm, his body made me hot, and his embrace gave me a sense of peace I hadn't known I needed or wanted. It was dangerous, this comfort. It threatened the future I'd planned that didn't include marriage or family. At least not now.

Maybe it was time to put some distance between Duncan and me—to remind myself what I'd be giving up if I let myself fall for him. Duncan wanted a wife and a mother for Aiden. To do that would require sacrifice of my goals and dreams. I'd already made sacrifices with my siblings. As selfish as it was, I wanted to focus on myself now.

Shaking my head, I tried to refocus. Now wasn't the time for personal crises. Now was the time for action—for finding answers and putting away criminals. For saving little boys like Aiden.

I pushed back from my desk, deciding I needed coffee. The weight of the unsolved case mixed with this unexpected affectionfor Duncan was wreaking havoc on me. It had to be the cause of the overwhelming fatigue I was feeling this week.

I headed to the break room, making myself a coffee, adding cream and sugar for the extra energy, and returned to my desk. Picking up one of the files again, I methodically reviewed it, looking for the needle in the haystack I'd missed on previous reviews.

I drank my coffee, waiting for the caffeine to jump start my energy. Why was I so tired? Was it the job? Was it catching up with me? Or was it the effort it took to keep the walls around my heart from crumbling? A battle I worried I was losing.

Once again, I pushed thoughts of Duncan away and searched for the answer I was sure I was missing in all the papers scattered on my desk.

"You look beat." Eileen stood in front of my desk carrying a file.

"Nothing I hope coffee won't fix."

She tilted her head and studied me. "Not like you to be tired on the job. Is it a tough one?"

"Not so tough that I won't close it. I don't know. Maybe I'm coming down with something." Maybe that was it. Perhaps I was getting the flu.

"The tiredest I'd ever felt was when I was pregnant."

I snorted. "Yeah, well I know that's not it." The idea was absurd—I had my life meticulously planned out, and a baby wasn't part of the equation.

"I thought that too. Vinny had been snipped, you know?" She made a scissors cutting motion with her fingers. "Still got knocked up."

I doubted Duncan had been snipped, but it didn't matter. I was on the pill. No one got pregnant on the pill. Even so, her words lodged themselves in my brain. Could I be pregnant? Noway. There had to be another explanation—stress, lack of sleep… anything but that.

"Matthews wanted me to make sure everyone got a copy of some of the new training options coming up." She set the file on my desk.

"Thanks."

"Maybe you should take a day off—or an afternoon—and take a nap."

"Maybe."

Eileen headed off to deliver the training news to others. I re-engaged with work but again found myself distracted. This time, though, it wasn't Duncan, at least not specifically, that invaded my mind. It was Eileen's words. When did I last have my period? My mind raced through dates and times, but nothing came into focus. I pulled out my calendar and… oh, God, I was late.

But no. No, this was ridiculous. I couldn't be pregnant. Not me. I was on the pill. I took it religiously.

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