Carol Steward - Shield Of Refuge

Garrett realized she’d read him too well. “I know you saw something in that parking lot, Amber. And the chief knows you saw something, but…”

“But what?”

“Nothing has turned up. They found no evidence of any kind of struggle like you described.”

Amber turned and walked to the door. “Please go now. I don’t have time for this.”

“Wait! They believe you. I believe you. It’s just that there’s still nothing more to go on. The chief hoped I could talk through it with you again, maybe find a lead….”

Amber looked skeptical. “I’ve told you everything I know. I’ve been in to try to talk to the police every day…they’ve never asked any more questions. No one is willing to even talk to me, Garrett.”

“Give me a chance to figure this out, Amber, before the suspect can target you, too. I’m not giving up on this case until I have answers.”

To Carol Steward, selling a book is much like riding a roller coaster—every step of the process, every sale brings that exhilarating high. During the less exciting times, she’s busy gathering ideas and refilling her cup. Writing brings a much needed balance to her life, as she has her character share lessons she herself learned.

When she’s not working at the University of Northern Colorado, you can usually find her spending time with her husband of more than thirty years, writing and thanking God she survived raising her own three children to reap His rewards of playing with her adorable grandchildren.

Throughout all of the different seasons of life, God has continued to teach Carol to turn to Him. She has also learned to simplify her life and appreciate her many blessings—His gift of creativity, sharing her love for God with readers and setting an example of what God can do when we say, “Yes, God, take me, shape me, use me.” To find out more about Carol’s slightly crazy life and her books, visit her Web site at www.carolsteward.com.

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This God, His way is perfect; the promise

of the Lord proves true; He is a shield for

all those who take refuge in Him.

—2 Samuel 22:31

There are so many people who have helped me

through this book and who have inspired this story,

there’s no way to list everyone. My editor,

Melissa, for your patience, my family for taking

care of me for a change, to my friends for

understanding and holding me up in prayer and to

my precious granddaughter and grandson,

Grandma is ready to play!

And to my son, Scott, and the love of his life,

God has a plan, hold on to His promise.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

Amber Scott rushed into the Victorian Inn with the bottom tier of the anniversary cake. The other layers and tools were already inside and prepped for assembly. She only had a few minutes to put this cake together and get the other one to her friend’s wedding shower across town.

Thanks to her assistant going home sick midafternoon, Amber was running behind on everything. She’d had several last-minute customers looking for just the right costume for the harvest party at the senior center. Her grandmother’s friends were thrilled with the changes Amber had made to Nana’s bakery and with her determination to keep the business alive.

She squeezed the bag of icing, piping the finishing touches to the bottom layer, then placed the six-inch heart layer on top of the base cake and piped a reverse-scroll design to cover the seam between the two cakes. After a final inspection, Amber left the invoice with the headwaiter and rushed out to her van.

A white car with a portable police beacon on top—like those she’d seen on reruns of T.V. cop shows—had pulled up behind the parked cars. The odd thing was, the beacon wasn’t lit.

In a hurry to get to her friend’s wedding shower, Amber pressed the sliding-door opener on the key fob, set her decorating kit into the gap, and rearranged the boxes of supplies and favors so the shower cake wouldn’t slide around and get damaged.

After a quick study of the officer’s haphazard parking job, Amber determined it was parked too close for her to back out. Her breathing quickened as she thought of asking him to move a little.

She didn’t like cops.

Just wait patiently until he’s gone.

She grabbed the gift bag for the shower and set it on the passenger’s seat and glanced at the policeman as he talked to the driver of a yellow SUV. He nodded toward his car, then grabbed the car door and yanked it open.

Amber felt a sudden chill.

The cop pulled the driver out of the vehicle. She looked young and pretty…and vulnerable.

Amber heard the woman protest, though she wasn’t exactly sure what she’d said. Watching the confrontation through the tinted windows, Amber wondered if the two knew each other.

The officer looked as if he was whispering in her ear, and Amber began to believe it was true.

Suddenly he grabbed her arm and pulled her to the unmarked car and the woman struggled to get away. She was wearing athletic pants and one of those tight-fitting tops with a hood that she’d seen the volleyball players wear into the shop. The door of the yellow SUV stood wide open.

Amber’s heart raced as the officer struggled to get the cuffs on the girl. She jumped into the driver’s seat, closed and locked the doors, trying to avoid bringing any attention to herself.

She searched for her cell phone. Not finding it on the console, she reached for her purse, hoping she’d dropped it in there. Her eyes darted nervously from the purse to the confrontation outside.

They must know each other. If not, why wasn’t she yelling? Or running? Something was wrong.

The girl freed one arm and took a swing at him. He lunged back, and the two rolled against the car as he fought to pull her other arm back into the cuffs. The struggle untucked his uniform shirt and the fabric billowed in the cold breeze. She screamed, and he snapped his hand over her mouth, pressing something into the small of her back. The handcuffed woman arched her back, then went limp. He gave her a final shove into the car, pushed her feet inside and closed the door. He hurried to the other side, stumbling at the trunk.

Amber was stunned. Was he a real officer? She tried to ward away the sick feeling in her stomach. If he was a real officer, she would be crazy to confront him. Not with her past. She had just put her problems behind her. She didn’t need to dig up trouble now.