Amber didn’t have an answer to Haley’s question. No doubt about it, she’d flashed to Raymond Alvarez tonight, at some point confusing the two men, the two situations. Miles away from her former terror, she thought she’d put it all behind her. Until tonight.

The height, the uniform, the eyes…

She shook her head, again thinking of Paul Evans’s eyes. Were they the same deep Mediterranean blue as Raymond Alvarez’s? She couldn’t remember, but the police chief’s were somehow different. Kinder maybe?

No, not kinder, she decided. Compassionate. Though he wore the uniform and carried the gun, Paul Evans’s eyes had regarded her with warmth. Raymond’s eyes, like his soul, were hollow, devoid of any human warmth or consideration. He was a heartless snake in the grass, and it had taken a long time for her to realize that. Too long.

“Would you like me to stay with you tonight?” Haley asked.

Amber shook her head. If there were any ghosts that needed exorcising, she’d do it alone. “No.”

“How about staying over with me and Matt? The bed in the guest room is mucho comfy.”

That got a small smile, but Amber shook her head again. “I’m all right.” And she truly believed she was. She rubbed her upper arm where the cop had gripped her.

“Maybe we should swing by the hospital and have that looked at.”

“It’s just a bruise, Haley,” Amber said. “I’ve survived much worse.”

There was nothing Haley could say to that.

After Haley dropped her off, Amber let herself into her apartment.

Once before she’d been a victim. Never, ever again. Anger still propelling her, and before the fear kicked in, she drafted a letter demanding an investigation into the unnecessary force used by the police chief of Wayside, Oregon. It felt good, too, to lambaste him in writing for the way he’d manhandled her.

In the morning, she’d mail copies to the mayor, the town council, the editor of the Wayside Gazette and the news department at the radio station she listened to. Amber knew that letting off steam in the letter was healthy—a much better response than when she used to pretend that nothing was wrong, that her feelings or her body hadn’t been physically violated.

Surveying her handiwork, she nodded, satisfied, then put the letters in envelopes and stamped them. Then, with every light on in her house, Amber sat in a deep chair, arms curled around her legs.

Eventually she fell into a fitful sleep.

Morning came quickly. She ran five miles to get the kinks out of her body and to chase away the shadows of the previous evening. The fresh air of an early Oregon morning did wonders in restoring her self-confidence. She’d face down this day and whatever it delivered with a new determination, a new purpose.

The lesson of last night, Amber decided, was a test of her commitment to rebuilding her life post-Raymond. It had taken three years—three long, liberating years—to get where she was today. Amber had no intention of letting one bullying police chief bring her down again.

After returning from her run, she showered and tried to shrug off the vestiges of the previous night’s trauma. Next to running, which she did at every opportunity, Amber’s all-time favorite stress reliever was working in her kitchen. Today she got to do something fun, something she enjoyed. She mixed up the basic dough for sugar cookies and chocolate chip cookies.

Using a light frosting, she decorated the sugar cookies once they were baked, with whimsical designs. It was time to pack up the cookies that were ready. She lined a large basket with a red-and-white gingham cloth and alternated layers of chocolate chip and sugar cookies.

She pulled a clean apron with the logo of her Appetizers & More company out of a drawer. She added a miniature version of it to the stack of stuff she’d need. Then, with basket in hand, she headed outside. That’s when she remembered her van wasn’t out back where it was supposed to be, but still at the community center. She couldn’t very well make deliveries on her bicycle.

Frustrated, Amber returned to her apartment and called Caleb, told him where the extra key was hidden under the tire carrier, and listened to a lecture about leaving a spare key where any common criminal could get it.

“Like we have common criminals in Wayside,” she muttered.

“Amber, there are criminals here.”

“And one of them wears a badge that says ‘Police Chief,’” she retorted. “Are you going to get my van or not?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “I’ll get it.”

She wasn’t about to tell him that, during the bad time, she’d taken up the practice of keeping a key hidden on her vehicle, never knowing if she might have to escape with just the clothes on her back, that spare key her only route to freedom.

It had come to that.

Thanks to Police Chief Paul Evans, those memories, ones she’d managed to suppress in order to make it through each day, now lay right on the surface, taunting her again. Reminding her that a woman was never truly safe.

Fifteen minutes later, Caleb drove up in her van, a Wayside squad car behind him. Amber couldn’t see who sat behind the wheel.

“Sorry about the inconvenience, Amber.”

He smiled a shy smile and handed her the key. “Where you headed today?”

“Over to Sunshine and Rainbows,” she told him. “Hold on a sec, I’ll be right back.” Amber dashed back to her apartment, tucked a couple of cookies in a small waxed paper sleeve, sealed it with one of her company stickers and picked up her cookie basket.

Back downstairs, she handed Caleb the cookie bag.

A big grin split his face. “Thanks, Amber.” He glanced back at the squad car. “Do I have to share?”

“These,” she said holding up the basket, “are one way for the kids to learn about sharing. So the answer to you is yes.”

The cop groaned and Amber laughed. “Thanks for bringing the van over.”

“Not a problem. The chief’s really sorry about—”

Amber held up a hand. “Don’t even mention him in my presence.”

Shaking his head, Caleb glanced back at the squad car. “But, Amber, he’s a good guy. Really.”

She slid open the side door and tucked the cookie basket inside. “If you really want to show me that you’re a good guy,” she said, “you’ll help me load up the rest of the van.”

Looking over his shoulder again, Caleb shrugged.

Not waiting for an answer from him, she headed back inside to get the two additional deliveries she had to make: one to the Wayside Inn Bed & Breakfast, and the other, a special order, to the Train Depot.

A few minutes later, Caleb slid the tray for the inn into the specially designed rack in the van. “Amber, I really think you should reconsider about Chief Evans.”

She faced him, her expression serious. “Caleb, if you want to remain friends, and I hope you do, you’ll not mention the police chief or your unfortunate choice of occupation in my presence. Comprende?”

The cop nodded.

“All right, then. I’ll see you around.”

She left him standing in front of the house where she rented a second-floor apartment.

Caleb went back to the waiting squad car and got in the passenger seat.

“She’s still pretty steamed at you, Chief.”

“I gathered as much from your frantic waving. What’s she doing?”

“Making deliveries. I can’t believe you’ve been here for three months and you haven’t had one of her honey pecan rolls.” The cop smacked his lips together. “Delicious.”

“So I’ve heard.” Paul pulled onto the street to head back to the station. “She shouldn’t leave spare keys on her vehicle. That’s just inviting trouble.”

Caleb broke the sticker seal on his treat and counted his cookies. Two. He glanced at the chief sitting next to him.

“What?” asked Paul.

“I only got two.”

“Two what?”

“Cookies. She said I had to share.”

“Cookies?” In a flash, Paul knew just where one of her deliveries would be made. For the last month, Sutton and Jonathan had been raving about the Cookie Lady at their after-school program. She came once a week. From their description—soft and funny, and “she smells good”—that from Jonathan—he’d come to the conclusion that the Cookie Lady was a sixtyish grandmother who spent her retirement baking cookies for the town’s kids.

If, as he suddenly suspected, Amber Montgomery was the Cookie Lady…Jonathan was partly right. Paul could claim firsthand knowledge of the soft part. But the Amber he’d met smelled like beets, beef and lemon meringue. And there’d been nothing funny or entertaining about last night.

Breaking off a teeny, tiny bit of chocolate chip cookie from the large treat, Caleb offered it to Paul.

“What’s this?”

“Well, she said I had to share. But if she knew you were the person in this car, I don’t think she’d want you to have any.”

Paul snorted. “You’re probably right.” He glanced at the sliver. “This is your idea of sharing?”

Caleb bit a piece of his much larger cookie, closed his eyes and moaned. “I’d marry that woman in a heartbeat if she were interested.”

That comment earned him a quizzical look.

“She doesn’t date.”

Paul grinned. “Maybe you’re not her type.”

Caleb smiled back. “That may be so.” He waved the last bite of the first cookie at Paul, then popped it in his mouth. “But I’m the one with the cookies.”

Chapter Three

Amber’s trademark honey pecan rolls went to the inn, then she dropped off a baker’s box filled with miniature versions of the sweet rolls to the Train Depot, a gallery in town that showcased model trains and railroad memorabilia.

Amber’s little business was growing. Soon it would be time to consider expanding, maybe finding a space to rent or building a Web site. But she liked being a small, one-woman operation. That way, she didn’t have to depend on anyone else. Self-sufficient. That’s how she described herself.

And that fit in more ways than one.

Appetizers & More by Amber didn’t have any employees. But Amber did have two faithful college students who, for a flat fee and a meal, helped her out with some of the larger events.

“Oh, no!” She’d forgotten to check on Dana last night. She couldn’t recall seeing her at the police station. So maybe she’d gotten away before the police roundup.

If she got caught in the dragnet, Dana probably got as much of a kick out of it as that little man Silas.

Amber didn’t like or trust cops. The only reason she tolerated Caleb Jenkins was that she’d gotten to know him first as a fellow runner and then as the instructor in a karate class she’d taken shortly after moving to Wayside. It had been almost six months before she found out what he actually did for a living. By then, she’d learned to trust him. A little.

That thought led her right back to Paul Evans, and her mood soured.

The Cookie Lady couldn’t greet the kids at Sunshine and Rainbows looking or acting like Oscar the Grouch. So she deliberately forced out of her head all thoughts of a tall, broad cop with steely blue eyes.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

But she did make a quick cell call to check on Dana.

“Wasn’t that a riot? Those old folks really tore up the place. Hey, what happened to you?”

Amber quickly explained about getting caught in the roundup.

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay. I gathered up all the serving utensils and your knife kit. A knife is missing, though. I looked everywhere.”

Amber rolled her eyes. Her best—translation, “most expensive”—carving knife was safe and sound…in police custody. “Don’t worry. I know where it is.”

“Whew, that’s a relief. That’s the one thing they teach us to guard like Fort Knox.”

Amber made a note to get Dana a good wrap the next time she went to her favorite cook’s supply store in Portland. Just like barbers and beauticians, every professional chef traveled with a personal kit that carried the tools of the trade. Amber had seen it all used, from heavy-duty toolboxes purchased at hardware stores to carryall bags that looked like sling packs. She preferred wraps that had slots for every knife and easily rolled up.

Of course, that numbskull police chief wouldn’t know anything about what a chef needed to do her job. He just made assumptions, and probably would have snatched her kit as evidence if Dana hadn’t rescued it. Amber assured Dana she’d swing by the college, pick up her knife kit and give Dana her pay.

“And I’ll add a little something extra,” she told the young woman. “When I asked you to help, I didn’t know I needed to provide combat-duty pay.”

Dana laughed. “Hey, I’m not gonna turn it down. I’m a starving college student.”

“Starving, eh?”

The plump Dana, who always complained that she gained three pounds every time she worked for Amber, chuckled. “Well, you know. Amber, I can’t thank you enough for this opportunity,” the college student gushed. “I have a blast when I work for you.”

Amber grunted. Seeing her food thrown around like garbage, then being arrested didn’t exactly rank in her book of top ten ways to have fun. “Different strokes for different folks, I guess.”

On the short drive to Sunshine and Rainbows After-School and After-Care Center, Amber did some deep breathing exercises, trying to center herself again. It didn’t work. But when she walked through the doors of the kids’ center, her spirit soared.

Delighted squeals and children racing each other to clamp themselves around her legs could do that to a woman.

“Well, hello there! With that kind of welcome maybe I’ll have to come here more often.”

One child, while clearly excited, hung back from the others. Amber smiled at her. “Hi, Sutton.”

The girl beamed, but didn’t say anything.

“Come on, you guys, let the Cookie Lady through.” Marnie Shepherd shooed kids away. “Why don’t you go get your mats and show the Cookie Lady how good little boys and girls greet guests?”

The kids raced off, and Amber laughed. Sutton glanced over her shoulder at Amber. She sent the little girl a three-finger wave.

“You do have a way with them,” Amber said to Marnie.

Shaking her head, Marnie smiled. “You’d think they’d never had cookies before. It’s good to see you again, Amber.”

The two women headed to the area where once a week Amber sat in a rocking chair, read a story to the kids, then passed out cookies from her basket. She took pleasure in the activity and always suspected that she got more out of it than the kids did.

“Hey, I have all but three permission slips back for next week. And,” Marnie added, pleased with herself, “there are four parent volunteers to make sure things stay under control.”

“I’m impressed,” Amber said. “But remember, we’re not really baking. The no-bake cookies are pretty easy. It’s mostly just mixing ingredients. We won’t need that much help.”

“Oh, yes, we will.”

Amber shrugged. What did she know about kids? “If you say so.”

She paused at the aquarium, mesmerized as the fish in the huge tank swam by. Watching tropical fish could be the most calming thing.

A little boy approached. “Come on, Cookie Lady. We’re all ready.”

“Well then, let’s get started.”

Amber followed her young escort to the section of the room designated with a colorful banner proclaiming it Story Corner.

Some of the children tried to put their mats in front of others to claim a seat closer to the rocker where she’d sit. Amber smiled as one of the aides got them all settled, assuring everyone that they would be able to both see and hear the story. Looking over them, Amber’s gaze fell on Sutton.

She liked Sutton. The quiet little girl with the strawberry-blond curls reminded Amber of herself at that age. All pigtails and wide eyes, Sutton never said a lot, but Amber could tell she was bright; the child’s eyes never missed a thing and she’d unselfconsciously laugh at a joke until someone noticed her, then hide her face. The girl’s older brother always hovered near, keeping her in sight like a miniature bodyguard.

Amber smiled, wryly this time, for that, too, was a familiar scene. Her own older brother had always assumed the role of champion and protector—whether she had wanted him to or not. When she’d really needed a protector, however, Kyle had been half a world away. She’d neither seen nor heard from him in about five, maybe six years, and since she remained incommunicado with her parents, who probably knew his whereabouts, there existed little chance of finding him.

As she watched the boy—she believed Jonathan was his name—bend over and tie the little girl’s shoes, Amber realized just how much she missed Kyle. Moisture filled her eyes and she blinked rapidly to dispel the tears that threatened.

“Amber?”

“Huh?” She wiped at her eyes and glanced over at Marnie.

“Are you all right?”

Amber nodded, then forced a grin. “Fit as a fiddle and feeling fine.”

After placing the cookie basket on a low table, Amber took her seat in the rocker and addressed the children. It was an effort to dispel thoughts of Kyle, but she put a real smile on her face and in her voice.

“Today, Miss Shepherd tells me that my helper will be from the five-year-old class. All the five-year-olds, raise your hands.”

About eight little arms shot up in the air.

“Oh, my. I’m the lucky one today. So who will it be?”

“Me! Me!”

Marnie stepped up with a paper bag. “Have a seat, Junior. You know the rules.”

Each time the Cookie Lady—or any special guest—paid a visit, one child got to be the helper. The special role rotated among the age groups. All the children wanted to be the helper when the Cookie Lady came. Being her assistant meant getting to wear a special apron as well as receiving an extra cookie.

Marnie shook the bag with the five-year-olds’ names in it. Then, with her eyes squeezed shut, Amber stuck her hand in the bag and pulled out a slip of paper. She read out the name written in blue crayon: “Sutton.”

The little girl’s eyes widened. Then, suddenly unsure, she scuttled back. Her brother was right there.

“It’s okay, Sutton. You get to be the helper today.”

Amber held out a hand. “I have the Cookie Lady apron for you to wear. Would you like that?”

The girl nodded.

Amber held it out. Sutton got up and put her hand in Amber’s. The two smiled at each other as they donned their aprons.

Sometimes in addition to passing out cookies, the helper turned pages in the storybook. Amber whispered something to Sutton, who nodded and whispered something back. Then Amber started reading the story.

Today’s tale came straight from the barnyard and required a lot of animal sound effects.

Paul dropped Caleb off at the police station, then continued his patrol of the town. Even though he served as chief of police, a job largely administrative in a town the size of Wayside, Paul had put himself in the patrol shift rotation after he got acclimated to the day-to-day job as chief. He wanted to get better acquainted with the Wayside community and its residents, and there was no better way to do that than work patrol. And in East Wayside, a section more prone to crime, he walked a beat, getting to know people.

Today, though, since the center was near his patrol area, he decided to swing by to see if Caleb’s cookie lady was indeed the Amber he’d met last night. Sutton and Jonathan raved about the Cookie Lady. Paul wanted to see for himself. Maybe last night had been an aberration.

Where his kids were concerned, Paul had to admit to being an overly protective and cautious parent. He’d checked out several programs before choosing Sunshine and Rainbows. Three different people, including Eunice, had recommended it. It was going well, so far. He’d even signed up to be a parent volunteer when they had a cooking lesson next week.

Paul strode into Sunshine and Rainbows and greeted the aide who manned the front desk.

“Hi, Chief Evans. Did you come to check on the kids?”

Paul took off the Wayside Police Bureau cap he wore and tucked it in a pocket. “I was just in the area,” he said, feeling a little guilty since he’d deliberately put himself in the area. “Thought I’d stop by. How’s everything going?”

“Just fine,” she said with a grin. “The Cookie Lady is here.”

Paul bit back a smile. This grown woman sounded as delighted about that as Sutton and Jonathan had been the last time this infamous Cookie Lady put in an appearance.

“Everybody’s in the activities room,” she told him. “She just started reading not too long ago. If you hurry, you’ll get to hear some of the story.”

“I think I will,” Paul said.

He headed to the center of the U-shaped building. Classrooms and nap rooms ringed the perimeter, but the center of activity was the core of the horseshoe, a large room subdivided by a hundred-gallon aquarium to the right and a bunny cage to the left.

The fish usually caught his eye and gave him a reason to pause. But not today. His gaze zeroed in on the story corner.

What he saw floored him.

Like peacocks showing off their plumes, Amber Montgomery and his daughter strutted around, clucking and fluttering their arms. The children sitting on mats on the floor giggled, some of them rolling over on the floor laughing.

The sight of Amber and Sutton stopped Paul cold for two reasons. Sutton never, ever opened up like that. And the two of them together had to be the most adorable sight he’d seen in a long time.

Chapter Four

After finishing their clucking, Amber and Sutton turned back to the storybook. Amber read a page of the barnyard tale. Sutton, lifting the book high so everyone could see the pictures, spotted him.

“Daddy!”

Amber looked up.

Paul knew the exact moment when Sutton’s greeting registered with Amber and she recognized him.

Her eyes shuttered and the light so evident a moment ago disappeared. She swallowed, and he watched as a shudder seemed to move through her. She held his gaze—almost defiantly, Paul decided—then deliberately turned her attention back to the children and the book.

“Hi there, sweetheart,” he said to Sutton.

“I’m the helper today.”

“Is that a fact?”

Sutton smiled and nodded, her pigtails bobbing. Paul’s heart wrenched. It had been so long since he’d seen her animated—or talkative. And the woman who’d made it so was the very one who even now surreptitiously inched away from the girl. But was it really away from Sutton, or was it away from him? Paul was afraid he knew the answer.

Some people just didn’t like cops. He needed to apologize to her again, and today was his opportunity. After she passed out the cookies, he’d have a word with her. But Paul watched her withdrawal and wondered what she was hiding—and why he took her rebuff personally.

“Cookie Lady, are you going to finish the story?”

Amber jerked as if she’d been pinched. “I… I… Yes.”

She reached for the book Sutton held and tried to see beyond the police chief, who suddenly stood much closer than she liked. She stuck her head in the book, anxious to finish the tale so she could escape. But her skin grew clammy and she lost her grip on the book.

Sutton caught it and glanced at her. “We still have three more pages, Cookie Lady.”

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