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.”
Amber gave the girl what she hoped was a smile, then quickly read the remaining pages of the book. She closed it and hopped up while the children applauded. Rubbing her hands against her apron she asked, “Who’d like a cookie now?”
Every child’s hand shot straight up. Amber lifted the napkin from the basket and carefully handed the cookie basket to Sutton. “Do you know what to do?”
Sutton nodded. “Everybody gets one cookie. At the end, I get two.”
“That’s right,” Amber said. Taking the little girl’s hand in her own, Amber led her to the front row of children eagerly awaiting the treat. Then she excused herself.
“Amber?”
“Miss Montgomery?”
Amber ignored both Marnie and the police chief. She headed straight to the rest room, a place to which she knew he wouldn’t follow her.
She closed herself behind a stall and leaned her head against the door.
Breathe, she coached herself. Breathe.
Her pulse pounded. She felt as if she’d been dumped into the middle of a marathon.
She tried to convince herself that she was in no physical danger from him, that she’d simply overreacted. But she couldn’t get her heartbeat to slow down, or her fear to subside.
A knock on the stall door made her jump. “Who is it?”
“Amber, are you okay?” Marnie asked through the door. “What happened?”
“I’m…fine,” she said, a hitch in her voice.
“You don’t sound fine,” Marnie persisted. “And you looked like you were about to faint out there. Would you like some water?”
“No, thank you.”
For several minutes, the only sound in the rest room was Amber’s breathing. Amber’s feet hadn’t moved from the edge of the door where she stood.
“Amber, are you okay? Come out. Please.”
“I will.” But she made no move to unlatch the door.
Marnie knocked again. “Amber?”
Amber closed her eyes and tried to remember everything she’d been taught, tried to recall some of the deep-breathing exercises she’d learned.
“Amber, you’re scaring me.”
She forced herself to face her fear, and slid the lock free.
Marnie reached for her hands and clasped them in her own. “You’re freezing.”
Amber tried to tug her hands free. “I’m fine. Really. I just…” She shrugged, unable to finish the explanation, sure that Marnie with her perfect life and perfect job wouldn’t be able to understand her problem, let alone identify with it.
Marnie pulled Amber toward the sink. She ran cool water and made a compress from paper towels that she then pressed on Amber’s forehead. Then she ran warm water and plunged Amber’s hands under the steady stream. She rubbed Amber’s hands, getting the blood circulating again.
“Does that feel better?”
Amber nodded, and Marnie handed her a paper towel to dry her hands.
“You want to tell me what’s going on? You ran out of there like something was on fire.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Amber said automatically.
If she kept telling herself that,