A simple yes or no would suffice. Vickie didn’t understand why Tim wasn’t responding to her invitation to come inside for a late dinner.
He stared at the porch ceiling, his face losing its color. She glanced up to see what had affected him so adversely.
A mistletoe ball entwined with red and silver ribbons hung over their heads.
Her stomach clenched with a burst of alarm. She reared back, stumbling against the closed front door. Clearly, she wasn’t as good at containing her reaction to the mistletoe as Tim.
Why, oh why, did her dad insist on putting that thing there every year?
She knew exactly why. So he had an extra excuse to kiss her mother every time they crossed the threshold. After thirty years of marriage, her dad was still a hopeless romantic.
In the chaos of the evening, Vickie had completely forgotten about the offending plant taunting her each time she entered and left the house. No wonder poor Tim blanched and now quickly edged backward toward the steps, hoping to make a speedy exit. She didn’t blame him. Being trapped into a silly tradition of kissing beneath the green decoration wasn’t her idea of a good time. And apparently not Tim’s, either.
“Never mind about dinner,” she said, willing to let him off the hook so they could both escape the embarrassment of not wanting to share a kiss, despite the uncomfortable burn of disappointment leaching through her. “You have work to do. You should go. I’m sure your dog needs you.”
Now my family is the team and Frodo. The thought of him alone with only his dog as a companion made her want to hug him. A reaction she really shouldn’t be having about him.
He smiled slightly. “Yes. I should go. Work. Fire.” He stepped down the first stair. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She couldn’t help the tiny thrill to know she’d see him the next day. She clamped her mouth shut. Silly. He meant when she worked with the forensic artist. He obviously wasn’t interested in her on a personal level.
The thought depressed her, which was totally ridiculous. She wasn’t interested in him, either, regardless of how handsome and kind she found him, which could all be an illusion designed to trick her. She wouldn’t be taken in again by a chiseled jaw and thoughtfulness.
“Good night.” She fled inside and closed the door with a snap, then let out a breath. Her knees felt shaky. It was the residual adrenaline from the day, not because of Tim. Yeah, sure.
“Vickie?” her mother called from the kitchen. The delicious aroma of her traditional borscht soup, made from beets, broth and a host of winter vegetables, filled the house.
“Yes, Mom. Coming.” She decided she’d not tell her parents about the car incident. No need to worry them unduly.
Besides, she wasn’t sure the vehicle had been aiming for them. Maybe the person behind the wheel had been drunk or hadn’t seen her and Tim. There had to be another explanation other than someone trying to kill them. Despite her reasoning, a tremor of apprehension skated across her skin.
She could only pray that tomorrow she’d be able to give a detailed enough description of the man who’d attacked her and started the homeless shelter fire.
And tried to run her and Tim down.
She had to trust Tim would succeed in capturing the villain.
Maybe this time justice wouldn’t fail her.
Tim and Frodo returned to the remains of the Billings Homeless Shelter fire. The temperature had dropped and more snow fell from the sky, making the scene a soupy mess. Kind of how Tim felt.
When he’d glanced up and spotted the mistletoe hanging from the porch over him and Vickie, the thought of kissing Vickie had taken hold of his imagination and shook it until the yearning to kiss her had been overwhelming.
He’d barely managed to retreat before giving in. And judging from the way Vickie had reacted once she’d realized they were standing beneath the decoration, she wouldn’t have been amenable to fulfilling the Christmas tradition.
Which was good. For them both.
With effort, he put Vickie and his scattered feelings about her aside as he donned gloves and booties for him and Frodo before releasing the dog from the SUV and grabbing his evidence collection kit.
The fire chief and several other firefighters were still on scene, wrapping up their hoses and gathering other equipment.
“Chief,” Tim said in greeting.
“Agent Ramsey, good timing,” Clark replied. “The fire’s cold.” He rolled his neck as if to relieve his tension. “It’s a wonder the whole building wasn’t consumed. But thankfully, the call to dispatch came quickly.” The chief gestured to the blackened remains. “You two can do your thing. Let me know what you find.”
“Yes, sir.” To Frodo, Tim said, “Seek.” The cue word was to let the dog know they were going to work now.
Tim and Frodo picked their way through the rubble of ash and debris covered in snow to the back door of the shelter and the Dumpster. Vickie had stated the fire had started in this area. The scorch pattern from the ground behind the Dumpster and up the side of the building was odd.
Not like the three arson cases he’d worked this month. Maybe they were dealing with a different perpetrator.
He poked around the rubble, not finding anything of note. Frodo sniffed the edges of the Dumpster and let out a loud bark, then sat at attention.
Tim squatted down to see what had the dog alerting. Beneath the back edge of the Dumpster were remnants of a matchbook and a tiny portion of a cigarette filter. Okay.
Tim’s heart rate kicked up. So the same method of combustion was used, but why had it burned hotter and faster?
He bagged the evidence, placed a marker in the spot with a number to correspond to the evidence bag, and stood to stare at the structure, taking in the unusual burn pattern. Definitely some sort of accelerant had been used, but not gasoline this time.
“Good job, Frodo.”
The dog let out a quick bark in response to the praise. Then he set his nose to the ground and sniffed. Tim let out the German shepherd’s lead, letting him explore a wider diameter of the cordoned-off area. Frodo halted a few feet away, then sat, once again alerting to something on the ground. Tim hurried over to inspect his find.
A dark glob on the pavement had drawn Frodo’s attention.
Using a small chisel from his tool kit, Tim pried the substance free to allow for examination. Though the crime lab would confirm his analysis, he knew without a doubt that he was looking at a drop of a highly flammable type of petroleum wax. The accelerant used in this fire. He slipped the substance into a pint-size arson evidence solid material collection container and marked the spot on the ground.
His educated guess would be the arsonist had coated the back wall of the shelter with the wax and left a trail to the matchbook, so that when the cigarette burned down and the matches ignited, the wax caught fire. Tim told the chief and his men as much.
“Clever and dangerous,” the chief said. “We’ve got to catch this guy.”
A murmur of agreement went through the group.
“Our witness is set to work with a forensic artist,” Tim told them. “The FBI will be operating closely with the Billings police department.”
And if all went well, they’d have their arsonist by the New Year.
Christmas morning dawned with a clear sky and the world carpeted in pristine white snow. Vickie glanced out her bedroom window overlooking the neighborhood, enjoying the peaceful serenity of the quiet street and the festively decorated homes. A few chimneys had plumes of smoke spiraling into the air, signaling that the day had already begun in many households.
The only thing marring the postcard-like scene was the police cruiser sitting across the street from her house.
She expected the sight to make her uneasy, scared, but having the police officer present was a reminder Tim had kept his promise of making sure she and her family were protected. That they were safe.
She turned away from the window. Normally on Christmas morning she’d head downstairs in her pajamas to have breakfast with her parents. But today she dressed with care, because she would be seeing Tim.
And the forensic artist. To catch a criminal.
Seeing Tim wasn’t a big deal and not why she’d chosen her new green sweater. As she applied a touch of lipstick, she made a face at herself in the vanity mirror. “Get over yourself.”
The sound of the doorbell sent her heart rate skipping.
A few moments later her mother opened the bedroom door to say, “Agent Ramsey and his dog are here. Looking very handsome. The agent, that is.” She laughed. “The dog, too, actually. You should invite Agent Ramsey to breakfast.”
“I doubt he’ll have time for breakfast.”
“Are you all right? You look a bit pale.”
Vickie waved away her mother’s concern. “I’m fine. I just didn’t sleep well.” Not to mention how nervous she was to recreate a mental image of her attacker. She prayed she could give enough of a description for Tim to arrest him.
Taking her hand, her mom drew her close. “That’s understandable. Yesterday was traumatic. But today is Christmas Day. A day of new beginnings.”
Vickie wanted to believe she had the chance to begin again; however, she wouldn’t feel safe until the police caught the man responsible for the fire. The man who had attacked her and then possibly tried to run her down. Though she wasn’t convinced the car incident had been intentional. But Tim was. And she trusted him to know. It was his job, after all. To know things like that.
Not wanting to cause her mother any more worry, Vickie suppressed a shiver and took a calming breath. She’d become stronger over the past few years. She would get through this.
Her mom tugged her hand. “Come along. You don’t want to keep your young man waiting.”
Vickie groaned. “He’s not my young man, Mom. Please don’t say things like that in front of Agent Ramsey.”
Irena grinned. “Touchy, touchy.”
Holding on to her composure, Vickie followed her downstairs. Tim and her father were in the living room, talking. Both men turned as they entered. Vickie’s heart gave a little knock against her ribs at the sight of the handsome agent. His brown hair flopped over his forehead in a cute way that made her want to reach out and brush it back. Her fingers curled at her sides.
He wore civilian clothes—dark wash jeans, a button-down plaid shirt beneath a warm, shearling-lined leather jacket. He held a small wrapped box in his hands. For her?
Swallowing back the sudden delight, she dropped her gaze. At Tim’s booted feet lay his muscular German shepherd. The dog stared at her with dark, intelligent eyes. The pair made a striking picture.
Tim smiled and his blue eyes glowed with appreciation. “Good morning, Vickie. Merry Christmas.”
Heat flushed through her cheeks. “Merry Christmas.”
He extended the gift. “This was on your porch. It had your name on it.” He frowned. “The patrol officer didn’t see anyone drop it off, so it must have been there from before you returned home last night and we hadn’t noticed.”
Disappointment surged and she fought the emotion back. Of course he wasn’t bringing her a present. She stared at the package. Who would leave her a gift? And why?
“Well, open it,” her father said. “Maybe there’s a card inside.”
“Ooh, a mysterious admirer,” her mother quipped.
Reluctantly, Vickie took the package and carefully unwrapped the festive paper to reveal a black box. She lifted the lid. A small gold cross on a delicate chain lay nestled in the batting. Her hand trembled. Her mind rebelled. It couldn’t be. She forced herself not to flinch.
“That’s pretty. You used to have a cross like that when you were in college,” her mother said. “Whatever happened to it?”
“I lost it.” She’d realized she was missing her cross the day after Ken assaulted her. She’d figured it had come off during the struggle, but she hadn’t found it in the apartment. Then she’d packed up and returned home, never thinking about the necklace again.
“Is there a note?” Tim asked.
“No. No note.” She slammed the lid shut and met his concerned gaze. Now was not the time or place for her to discuss the past. No matter how distressing she found the gift. “Shouldn’t we go?”
His gaze never wavered. “Brian, the forensic artist, won’t be available until tomorrow.”
The news was both a relief and a disappointment. She wanted to get this part over with, but now, with this box in her hand making her skin crawl with anxiety, she wanted nothing more than to hole up inside her parents’ house and forget the past existed. “You could have called to tell me.”
Tugging at the collar of his shirt, he said, “I could have. But I thought it would be better for me to tell you in person.”
Interesting. And a bit disconcerting. Was he attracted to her, too? The thought left her feeling unbalanced. Or was that caused only by the box in her hand. “Thank you.”
Her mom nudged her in the side. Oh, right. Breakfast. “Would you like to stay for Christmas breakfast?”
Tim hesitated a fraction of a second before he nodded. “I’d like that very much.”
Warmth spread through her chest. She would, too. “Good.” She set the little black box on the mantel, glad to not be touching it. If only she could put it from her mind as easily. “Here, let me take your coat.”
He slipped his outerwear from his wide shoulders and handed it to her. The jacket retained his body heat and a faint spicy aroma.
Her father clapped Tim on the back. “We can’t thank you enough for your help yesterday.”
“All part of the job,” Tim replied, his gaze on her.
Feeling as though he could see right through her to the hidden torment bubbling inside, Vickie headed toward the hall closet to hang up his outwear. She held it to her chest for a moment and again breathed in the lingering scent of Tim’s aftershave clinging to the leather collar. The material was so warm and inviting. She had the strongest urge to slip the jacket around her, as if doing so would keep her safe.
The sight of the cross necklace loomed in her mind like a neon sign. Her hands tightened, bunching up Tim’s coat. Who sent it? Why? She wanted to believe it was a benevolent gift, but she couldn’t shake the alarming feeling the present held more malice than goodwill.
Quickly, she grabbed a hanger and hung up the coat. Security wouldn’t be found in a coat or in the arms of an attractive FBI agent.
The scuff of a shoe on the hardwood floor sent Vickie’s heart jumping. She spun from the closet door, her fists raised high so that her forearms protected her face.
“Whoa!” Tim said, his hands held up, his palms facing her. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Recapturing the breath that had leaped out of her, Vickie lowered her arms and tried to school her features into a neutral expression. “You didn’t.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Right.”
Caught. She sighed. “I’m a little jumpy.”
“Understandable, given the circumstances of the past twelve hours.”
He had no idea. The necklace was a reminder of a time in her life she’d worked so hard to forget. “Thank you for keeping your promise of a police presence last night.”
A hard glint entered his blue eyes. “You’ll have protection until we catch this guy.”
Such a different response than she’d received from the police when she’d reported Ken’s assault. “We appreciate your care.”
“You’ll have a police escort any time you leave the house. I don’t want to take any chances the guy in the car makes another attempt to run you down.”
Her stomach lurched at the reminder. She glanced toward the kitchen, where her parents were busy putting the last touches on their Christmas breakfast. “Shh. I didn’t tell my parents about that.”
His eyes widened. “I’m surprised. I thought you and your parents were close.”
“We are,” she told him in a fierce voice. “I love them beyond measure. Which is why I need to protect them.”
“They should know what’s happening,” he insisted.
“It could have easily been an accident. Or you could have been the intended target.” The skepticism and resolved gleam in his eyes told her he wasn’t buying her rationale. “But even if that car meant to mow me down, why make my parents worry about something they can’t do anything about?” She touched his arm. “Please. I don’t want to upset them any more than I have to.”
He shook his head in clear disapproval and stared at her for several moments.
She entwined her fingers together, waiting for him to either argue with her or flat out ignore her plea.
Finally, he stilled and narrowed his gaze. “It’s your call.”
She blinked in surprise. It took her a moment to recover. She hadn’t expected him to acquiesce so easily. Men in authority, like him, usually wanted to be in control. Nevertheless, she was grateful he understood. She squeezed his arm. “Thank you.”
“For now,” he amended. “If anything else happens, you’ll need to let them know. They would be devastated if you ended up hurt.”
His words rang ominously between them. Anxiety ate at her gut. He was right, of course, which was why she would do everything in her power to keep them all from being hurt.
“Tell me about the necklace,” Tim said. “It upset you. Why?”
“It’s creepy that someone would leave it on the porch,” she stated.
“I agree, but there’s something more, because your face lost all of its color the second you opened the box and saw what was inside.”
Her uncontrollable response had betrayed her. How could she tell Tim about Ken? Would he dismiss her claim of being attacked, as everyone else had? “I was surprised. Why would someone send me a gift and not leave a note with it?”
“Like your mother said, a secret admirer?” His eyebrows rose. “Or maybe not-so-secret. Greg?”
The thought had merit. She was panicking for nothing. Of course the necklace was from Greg. “But why a cross?”
“Because anyone who knows you knows you are a person of faith,” Tim said.
She supposed he was right. There was no reason for her to read more into the gold charm and chain than a nice gesture. “Why would Greg leave it on the porch? He came to the shelter last night.”
“Maybe he came by here before going to the shelter,” Tim reasoned. “I’ll find out. You don’t have to worry. I’ll take care of it.”
His determination and thoughtfulness endeared him to her even more than he already was—which scared her nearly as much as knowing there was a serial arsonist out there who wanted to silence her.