Love Inspired May 2015 #2 by Missy Tippens, Jean C. Gordon, Patricia Johns

Because there suddenly seemed to be a very fine line between assistance and attachment.

Chapter Five
    W ith the help of the map app on his cell phone and Violet’s knowledge of the area, Jake steered his truck through downtown Atlanta traffic.
    Abigail slept peacefully in the backseat as Violet sat quietly beside him. She wore perfectly pressed khaki slacks and a summery silk blouse in a soft yellow color that made her look feminine. It reminded him of one of Aunt Edith’s expressions—a breath of fresh air.
    â€œLet’s get off at the next exit,” Violet said. “We’ll miss some traffic on The Connector.”
    Following her directions, he drove down the exit ramp. High-rise office buildings swallowed them as they wove their way along smaller roads, deeper into the city.
    â€œI appreciate you showing me the back way,” he said. “We seem to have avoided some of the worst bottlenecks and one-way streets.”
    â€œWhen I was a resident, I moonlighted at a couple of Atlanta hospitals.” Brushing back the flippy edges of her hair, she smiled. “I learned all the shortcuts.”
    â€œMust’ve been tough working all those hours.” He glanced over at her. “I imagine you were a serious student.”
    Chuckling, she shook her head. “Yeah, you can say that. Definitely determined.”
    â€œI’m sure your parents are proud.”
    When she didn’t immediately answer, he looked over.
    â€œOh, slow down,” she said, pointing at the next street sign. “We need to turn there.”
    She still didn’t acknowledge his comment. Could she be avoiding the topic of her parents?
    Interesting.
    Jake took a right and then went left one block later. At their destination, he parked in a small pay lot. The area had a few boarded-up buildings but otherwise looked like a small community. Across the street he spotted a pawnshop and dry cleaners. On their side of the street were a tiny grocery store, a barbershop and a deli. Power poles were papered with layer upon layer of faded concert and event posters.
    â€œI don’t think we’re going to find a shelter for women and children around here,” Violet said as she climbed out of the truck.
    Jake opened the back door and removed Abigail’s carrier seat. “Doesn’t look residential at all, does it?”
    They walked along the sidewalk.
    â€œOh, look. Here’s a building number.” Violet indicated a peeling painted address over the doorway of the deli. “Nine sixty-two.”
    â€œThen we need to look on the other side of the street.” He touched her elbow as they waited for two cars to pass before crossing. Full of energy, she searched for their address a step ahead of him, her flowery scent drifting his way.
    â€œThere it is.”
    Sure enough, the place had a worn sign on the door stating they’d found Peace House. The interior looked dark. He pulled the door handle, but it was locked.
    Frustrated, he groaned. “What a waste.”
    â€œNo, it was worth the trip.” She held her hands to the glass to look inside. “There’s still furniture here. Maybe it’s not closed permanently.”
    â€œWith the phone disconnected?” Shaking his head, he let out a sigh. “I can’t believe Remy was in danger, escaped somewhere like this and didn’t tell anyone in our family.”
    The idea of her being mistreated by a man who was supposed to love her made him want to punch a fist through the glass.
    With her eyes still between cupped hands, Violet moved from window to window, surveying the interior. “I don’t think she ever stayed here. It’s only a small office.”
    â€œRegardless, it’s a dead end.”
    â€œDon’t give up so quickly.” She stepped off the curb and glanced up and down the street. “Come on. Let’s go do some investigative work.”
    A vise lifted from his chest, and he