Tim reluctantly released Vickie. It was time for them to leave, despite how much he would prefer to continue holding her.
Knowing what he did of her traumatic past and the way she’d been let down by the campus security and the college dean, he didn’t blame her for being wary of trusting law enforcement. He could only hope she’d come to trust him.
He opened the bakery’s front door so Vickie could exit in front of him. The winter sun glinted in her light-colored hair peeking out beneath her hat, and her cheeks grew rosy from the frosty weather. She was so pretty it made his heart ache.
To distract himself from her charms, he bent to untie Frodo’s lead from the metal bike rack outside the bakeshop.
Vickie held out her hand for the dog to sniff. Frodo brushed up against her, lapping up the attention. His partner apparently liked her, too. The dog didn’t give approval to many people.
They neared the corner as the traffic light turned red, forcing them to halt. A prickling at the base of Tim’s neck sent his senses on alert. He had the distinct impression they were being watched. Slipping his arm around Vickie, he drew her closer as he scanned the area.
“What’s wrong?” A tremble punctuated her words.
“I don’t know. Maybe nothing.”
She gestured with her chin. “Is that Greg?”
Caution tightened the muscle of his shoulders. “Where?”
She looked up at him, her blue-gray eyes troubled. “Across the street.”
Tim searched the crowded sidewalk opposite. Sure enough, there was Greg Sherman, the neighborhood security guard, staring at them from the other side of the busy street. His bald head was covered by a dark beanie, and his wide shoulders were squeezed into his security guard uniform jacket. Had he been following them? The man had dodged Tim’s calls, and now he was here. An unlikely coincidence.
“Let’s go have a chat with old Greg,” he said, as soon as the light changed and the Walk sign flashed. He steered both Vickie and Frodo onto the crosswalk.
Greg spun on the balls of his booted feet and darted down the nearest side street. Tim wanted to give pursuit, but with Vickie in tow that wasn’t a possibility. Why was Greg following them? But more importantly, why had he run away?
Vickie was surprised to realize the six-story brick structure in the heart of downtown looked like any other office building. There were no markings to indicate this was where the FBI Tactical K-9 Unit had its headquarters. She was even more stunned when Tim took her to a large training center taking up the ground floor. He handed Frodo off to a trainer, who led the German shepherd away.
“How many dogs are used by your unit?” she asked.
“There are eight working dogs and seven puppies of various ages training to become working dogs.” An emotion Vickie couldn’t quite decipher passed across his face. “Last spring one of our agents went missing. We thought he’d been kidnapped but—” He broke off, his jaw tensing.
Vickie’s heart lurched. Something bad had obviously happened to his fellow agent to cause Tim to be so upset. She laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”
His eyes were grim when he met her gaze. “He turned bad. Started working for a crime syndicate. But we didn’t know that at first, so in honor of Jake—his name was Jake Morrow—the other agents started collecting puppies to train so we could build up the existing FBI K-9 program.”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “You used the past tense. Did something happen to Jake?”
He nodded. “Jake was killed. In the end, he did the right thing and protected his own son from being murdered, by sacrificing his own life.”
Her stomach dropped. “That’s so sad and horrifying. I’m sorry for you and your team’s loss.”
He covered her hand with his, making her realize she still held on to him. Though she probably should release her grasp, she didn’t want to let go. He anchored her, gave her a lifeline in the storm that had overtaken her world.
“Thank you. It hurt. All of us,” he said. “But life goes on. And I have to trust that somehow this is all a part of God’s plan.”
Her heart ached for him and his fellow agents. “I will pray God will heal the wound left by Jake Morrow’s choices.” Just as she prayed every night that God would heal her own wounds from Ken’s assault and the authorities not believing her.
“I’d appreciate that.” Tim placed his hand to the small of Vickie’s back. “We should get upstairs.”
Awareness spread through her and settled in her cheeks. She hoped no one noticed her blush.
Tim led her to the second floor, past cubicles to a conference room that also served as the kitchen area. At the conference table sat a man with salt-and-pepper hair. He wore jeans and a button-down shirt with no tie. He held an electronic tablet, which he set aside with a smile. “Hello.” He rose and held out his hand. “I’m Brian Ames.”
He had kind eyes, she decided as she shook his hand. “Vickie Petrov.”
Brian gestured to the chair beside him. “Have a seat, and we can get started.”
Flutters of tensions pranced like little reindeer feet along her nerves as she sat. She linked her fingers together to keep them from shaking. She looked at Tim, desperate to hold on to his promise that he’d protect her and her family.
He put his hand on her shoulder. “It will be all right. I’ve already given Brian my description of the man who attacked you. He’ll combine our details.”
She hoped this worked. She stared at her hands and willed her heart to slow down. Please, Lord, help me to remember.
“Agent Ramsey, it would be better if you left us,” Brian said. “Miss Petrov doesn’t need any distractions.”
Startled by the man’s proclamation, Vickie looked anxiously at Tim.
Tim’s eyebrows hitched up. “Right. I’ll be back when you’re done.” He stepped out of the conference room and shut the door behind him.
She gave Brian a weak smile. “I really didn’t get more than a fleeting glimpse of the man who attacked me.”
“Sometimes that is enough,” he assured her, and picked up the stylus for the notebook. “I understand you were attacked twice.”
“Yes.” She hated the helpless sensation crawling through her.
“Do you think it was the same man both times?”
There was no reason to think it wasn’t, was there? “I believe so.”
Brian nodded. “What I’m doing is building a composite sketch. At first all I want is for you to tell me your impressions of the attacker. Big boned. Wiry. That sort of thing. Then we’ll start working on the face and build on the details Agent Ramsey has already given me.”
Her mouth turned to cotton with the weight of responsibility pressing down on her shoulders. It was up to her to help Tim capture the villain. She could only do this with God’s help.
“He was big. Bulky. Taller than me.” She closed her eyes. “He was just a black blob. He wore a hoodie covering his head and a ski mask.” Her eyes flew open. “He had a beard. The night of the fire, I’m sure I saw hair or at least heavy stubble.” She shook her head as doubts infiltrated her mind. “I think. Or it could have just been shadows.”
“We can start there.” Using the stylus, he went to work on the computer. “Walk me through the night of the fire.”
Closing her eyes, she prepared herself to relive the assault. But her mind didn’t want to cooperate. Instead of recalling the Christmas Eve attacker, her brain took her back to her dorm room three years ago. Ken slamming her against the wall, his groping hands. His stale breath and wild eyes.
Vickie banished the past and tried to concentrate on the present. With her breath expanding in her lungs, she did as Brian asked, recounting the shelter fire, going through each moment as best she could.
Her brain grew tired as the artist showed her dozens of different facial aspects on the tablet, expecting her to pick the closest match to the man she’d seen. But the more images she looked at, the more muddled her memory became as she saw Ken in each feature.
Forty minutes later, Brian tilted his electronic tablet toward her. “What do you think?”
She blinked at the image. There were no eyes or nose, only full lips surrounded by a shadowed jaw beneath a hoodie.
Her heart sank. How would they find the fiend now?
The vague image the forensic artist held up made Tim’s stomach drop with disappointment. Apparently Vickie really hadn’t seen her attacker’s face clearly enough to give more than the barest details of a round head with smooth cheeks tucked inside a dark hoodie. Even adding in his description of the masked attacker hadn’t yielded the desired result.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice trembled.
Stuffing his frustration into a dark corner, Tim held out his hand. “It’s okay. You did great. We’ll find him anyway.”
She hesitated before slipping her hand into his. Her slender fingers wrapped around his and held on tight as they walked down the hall to his boss’s office. It shouldn’t feel so right to have her so close. It shouldn’t feel so gratifying.
Special Agent Max West rose as they entered his office, and came around the desk to greet them. Tall and formidable looking, Max was fair and brave and willing to put his own life on the line for his team. Tim couldn’t have asked for a better boss. Max had recently become engaged to a nice woman he’d met while working the case to find Jake Morrow.
Max wasn’t the only one who’d survived the ordeal and come through to the other side with love. It seemed the whole team had found someone to give their heart to.
Not Tim. He would be the lone holdout no matter what. But with Vickie’s palm pressed against his, he was having trouble remembering why he wanted no part of love.
Whoa! Love?
No.
Affection, yes. He held a good amount of affection for the lovely lady at his side. That was a long way from the L word.
Vickie’s raised eyebrows brought Tim’s head out of the clouds. “Max, this is Vickie Petrov,” he stated.
“Miss Petrov, Tim has spoken highly of you.” Max hitched a hip on the edge of his desk. “We all appreciate your family’s bakery.”
A pleased glow lit her eyes. “Thank you, sir. We appreciate your business.”
Max shifted his gaze to Tim. “Success?”
“Unfortunately, it was too dark for Vickie to see her attacker’s face the night of the shelter fire. He wore a ski mask during yesterday’s attack. And we’re having trouble tracking down the car that tried to run us over. The plates had been removed,” Tim explained.
“I wish I could have been more helpful,” Vickie stated with remorse.
Max held up a hand. “Do not feel bad about this. And please, trust that we will do everything in our power to keep you and your family safe.”
Vickie glanced at Tim. “I’m learning to.”
Tim stood taller and widened his stance. He usually didn’t need to have his ego stroked, but hearing her words was satisfying and thrilling.
They said goodbye to Max. On their way out of the building, they ran into fellow agent Nina Atkins. She wore khakis and a dark, long-sleeved T-shirt with the FBI Tactical Team logo on the pocket, and her blond hair peeked out from beneath a knit cap. Beside her stood her partner, a large rottweiler named Sam.
“Nina, this is Vickie Petrov. Vickie, this is Agent Nina Atkins.”
“Hi, Nina,” Vickie said. “You’ve been into the bakery.”
Nina’s brown eyes sparkled. “I thought I recognized you. Is everything okay?”
“Working on it,” Tim said.
“Let me know if I can help.” Nina waved and took Sam outside.
Tim decided to have Frodo remain in his kennel. He didn’t want to have to leave the dog out in the cold while he and Vickie were inside the bakery. Instead of walking back, they took his SUV.
When they entered the bakery the bell over the door announced their arrival. Warmth wrapped around Tim, along with the scents of fresh baking bread and sweets. His stomach rumbled, reminding him it was lunchtime.
“I’ll fix you a sandwich,” Vickie murmured as she passed him.
He barked a laugh. This assignment definitely had its perks.
As she passed her mother, who was waiting on a steady stream of noontime customers, Vickie paused long enough to drop a kiss on her cheek. The quick greeting gave him an unexpected bump of his heart. They really were a tight-knit family. He automatically reached down to pet Frodo, belatedly remembering he’d left him at the training center.
He followed Vickie to the back of the bakery, where the real artistry happened. He’d never been on this side of the counter and he took in the racks of baked goods, and long counter spaces where Sasha was rolling out dough. Two college-age young men worked nearby, one manning the large oven and the other washing dishes.
Vickie donned protective gloves and set about making two ham and cheese sandwiches on thick slices of crusty bread.
“Can I help?” he asked.
“No, you may not,” she replied. “In fact, you shouldn’t be back here. Why don’t you grab a table and I’ll bring them out?”
Nodding, he made his way to the front part of the eatery. He spied an empty table just as Greg, the security guard, walked through the front door. Their gazes collided. For a second, Tim was sure Greg was going to bolt again, but the man squared his shoulders and lumbered forward as if to get in line to order food.
Tim blocked his path. “Why were you following us this morning?”
Greg narrowed his gaze. “Vickie is a friend. I’m worried about her.”
“Then why did you run off when we approached you?” Tim wasn’t buying his claim of worry.
“I received a call.” The man’s voice took on a defensive tone. “I had to go do my job.”
“I’ll verify that,” he warned.
Greg frowned. “Go ahead. I’ve nothing to hide.”
“Good. Then you won’t mind going to the police station to answer some formal questions,” Tim challenged.
“Why? I haven’t done anything wrong,” the security guard said. “What kind of questions?”
Before Tim could respond, a shrill alarm sounded, bouncing off the bakery walls. Smoke billowed out of the kitchen area. His heart jackknifed in his chest. He had to save Vickie!
“Everyone out,” Tim yelled, as he ran for the kitchen. He paused to grab Irena by the shoulders to prevent her from heading for her husband and daughter. “Out the front.”
“But Sasha! Vickie—”
Greg took her hand and helped to usher the crowd out the front door.
Tim grabbed a dish towel from the counter and placed it over his nose and mouth as he ran into the smoke.