The Inn At Shadow Lake. Janet Edgar

embedded in his mind resurfaced from that stormy, rainy night. Stuffed animals lying on the mattress where she played with them hours before, the tiny pair of bloodstained sneakers she wore when she died.

      If only he’d been home instead of on a mission with the SEALs. Maybe he could’ve persuaded his wife Lisa to stay put, instead of driving in the torrential rainstorm she’d driven in that day. If only he’d been there for them. His gut tightened.

      If only God had been there for them.

      Zach adjusted the rearview mirror and checked the roadway behind him. Dark gray clouds loomed low on the horizon. In the distance, lightning flashed. A deep sense of loss burned in his heart. No more looking back.

      He needed to keep a cool edge to solve the international case of espionage and terrorism he’d been assigned. If he didn’t focus, he wouldn’t live to see the results of his hard work. If he were a praying man as he used to be, now would be a good time to start talking to the Man Upstairs.

      But it was too late for him and God.

      There was no room in Zach’s heart for faith.

      No place in his life for memories.

      Julie Anderson dragged the cardboard box along the dusty floor of the old attic. Ignoring the stuffy surroundings of the dimly lit room, she pulled the carton toward her. Thunder rolled and heavy rain pounded the roof, charging the confined area with electric tension.

      Julie set the box down in the muted glare of the small bulb and rubbed her arms in an attempt to warm herself. The image of the dead body she’d stumbled on during her morning walk two weeks ago still burned deeply in her mind’s eye. Paul, the groundskeeper of the inn, dead, his body cold, his blood pooling on the grassy spot under the tall spruce trees. Julie shook her head and whispered a prayer she’d uttered many times over the past week.

      God, please. Take that memory from my heart and mind.

      Angry over the still-unsolved murder, Julie vowed to overcome her dislike of small spaces to find the photographs in the attic. Maybe they held a clue to the identity of the killer.

      The homicide detectives had come up with nothing on the brutal slaying. The police, hinting she was a possible suspect, seemed to be at a standstill in their investigation. How could they even think of her as the murderer? Using her cell phone, she had reported the crime to them herself.

      Once she’d stopped screaming.

      Taking a deep breath, Julie opened the dusty flaps of the old box that held all her photo albums. She peered inside. Would five-month-old photos from the inn’s employee day provide her with a clue to the murder?

      Suddenly heart palpitations squeezed inside her chest. She wasn’t sure if the storm, the spooky attic, or the homicide at her beloved lodge caused her trembling. An old board creaked and she turned to look behind her. Why did she feel as if someone was watching her? Another wave of chills ran through her body and she shivered. The musty odor reminded her of the old shed at her grandparent’s farm.

      Were childhood memories haunting her again?

      Julie prayed for God’s presence to encircle her. Lord, help me not to give in to old fears. Heavy rain beat a relentless rhythm against the roof and a fierce wind whistled through the old wallboards. Wanting to run from the small space, Julie forced herself to stay. She took a deep, calming breath and then pulled an album from the box.

      As soon as her fingers touched the soft velveteen cover, she knew the navy blue album in her hands was not the one for which she’d been searching. This one was older. How long had it been since she went through the old college scrapbook?

      A brilliant flash of lightning cast eerie shadows on the wooden plank ceiling, revealing clusters of creepy cobwebs. An explosive clap of thunder echoed behind the flash of light, shaking the very floor on which she sat.

      Not willing to stay in the confining space any longer, Julie decided to take the carton with her and look for the employee album in the safety of her office.

      Making her way toward the ladder, she shut off the light, wondering for the hundredth time why she felt as if someone was watching her. She turned toward the tiny window and the sound of the howling wind, and swallowed hard. Did she really think she could solve a murder investigation on her own? But the detectives had been more secretive than ever the past few days. She couldn’t wait any longer.

      The next few months would make or break the future of Shadow Lake Inn. She’d worked nonstop to keep the inn running the past few years. Julie wouldn’t let anything get in the way of its success. Not even a murder.

      Saying a quick, silent prayer and shaking the uneasiness from her heart, Julie stood and promised herself she would solve the investigation on her own.

      The floor creaked under her boots when she walked and another loud crash of thunder rumbled against the roof. Luminescent lightning cast a sinister glow across the attic revealing a small, ancient-looking little doorway she had never noticed before. Funny. Why hadn’t she seen that tiny entry way until now?

      Maybe she’d call Nick and ask him to look at it the next time he paid a visit, or surprised her again with an impromptu trip up from Seattle. He’d been so sweet, helping to fix things around the lodge since Paul’s death.

      Julie gripped the box in one arm and made her way down the tall ladder that led to and from the old tower room. Another crash of thunder shook the inn. The heel of her designer boot caught on one of the lower wooden rungs. Losing her balance, Julie dropped the box and held on to the wobbly ladder. The cardboard container flipped over and fell, scattering several photos along the old oak flooring of the corridor beneath her. Holding on for dear life, Julie prayed she wouldn’t meet the same fate.

      “Whoa!” Strong, muscular arms settled around her waist and guided her down the ladder. “You okay? You almost took a nasty tumble.” A man’s deep voice rumbled gently against the back of her neck, his breath warm on her cheek. Gently turning her around in his arms, his gaze connected with hers. Familiar steel-blue eyes widened in surprised recognition. “Julie?”

      Swallowing hard, her gaze flew to the familiar face of her college sweetheart, Zach Marshall. She forgot about the storm thundering overhead, the murder at the inn and the narrow escape of falling from the ladder. Her heart reeled with a sudden rush of sweet memories.

      Zach’s good looks, tall lean body and mischievous grin had attracted her initially all those years ago. But his honesty and charm had won her heart. One slow smile from Zach and she was over the moon. And when he kissed her…

      “Julie!” Chuckling lightly, a slow grin lit his face. “Is it really you?”

      Julie swallowed and fought to still the dizziness as the passageway began to swirl around her. She blinked and cleared her mind, yet there he was standing before her. “Z-Zach?”

      “Yeah,” he answered, chuckling again. “I never thought I’d run into anyone I knew…way out here.” His intense gaze held hers. “Hey, you sure you’re all right?” he asked, his voice deep and low. “You’re shaking.”

      “Yes.” He stood merely inches away, his strong arms still lightly placed around her waist. Her hands rested on his cotton shirt. His steady heartbeat pulsed against her fingers. “I’m fine,” she managed, gazing into his eyes.

      He let her down until she stood on solid ground. Slowly lowering her hands from Zach’s hard, muscular chest, she pulled her gaze from his and turned toward the loud, clattering sound of approaching footsteps.

      “What on earth?” Beatrice, Julie’s British lodge manager, stood in the hallway. Placing both hands on her ample hips, she glanced up toward the attic door. “What were you doing up there?” she asked with a nod of her head. “You know it’s haunted,” she added, fixing a stern look at Julie.

      “Don’t be ridiculous, Beatrice.” Yet Julie wondered. She stole a glance at Zach, half-tempted to touch him again and make sure he wasn’t an illusion from her past. She pressed a hand