The Inn At Shadow Lake. Janet Edgar

I’m fine. Really,” Julie insisted, though she felt as if she might keel over when she noticed the subject of the pictures lying faceup on the floor.

      Zach. On his Harley.

      “What madness sent you up that ancient ladder anyway dressed up the way you are? And during a storm, no less.” Beatrice clucked her tongue in disapproval and placed the pencil she’d been holding into her curly, gray hair.

      “I…had some things to take care of.” Julie smoothed her long, black skirt. She couldn’t blurt out she was looking for clues to the murder. Not in front of Zach. Or anyone.

      “You should have asked for help,” Beatrice admonished. “You could’ve fallen. We’ve had enough accidents around here lately.” As she spoke, she flipped through the photographs in her hand. Eyes wide, she looked back and forth from the old pictures to Zach, then stood, transfixed.

      For the first time Julie could remember, Beatrice appeared speechless. Julie’s gaze focused on the photographs in Beatrice’s hand. She remembered with vivid accuracy the day she took those pictures—Zach on his bike moments before he proposed and then sped away.

      Out of her life. Forever.

      Until today.

      Glancing at Beatrice and placing a finger to her lips, Julie realized that her friend recognized him as the man in the photos. Would she at least have the common sense and decency to keep her mouth shut?

      “Let me grab that for you,” Zach offered. He reached for the overturned carton on the floor. “It looks heavy.”

      “No!” Julie and Beatrice exclaimed in unison, exchanging frantic glances.

      Zach’s eyes narrowed. “You sure?”

      “Yes.” Julie cleared her throat. “I can manage it.” Brushing remnants of cobwebs from her ice-pink cashmere sweater set, Julie gave her friend and coworker a warning look.

      Beatrice raised an eyebrow in response. “You should take some time off.” She stole another glance at Zach and the pictures she held in her hand. “After all, you are the owner. You certainly deserve a break. Especially after everything that’s happened around here the past few weeks.” She eyeballed Zach again.

      “I’m fine…really,” Julie croaked. She bit her lower lip. “No need to take the day off.” Surely, Beatrice knew not to utter a word about the murder or that Zach was the man in the photos. How embarrassing. Didn’t she have any sense of privacy?

      Though the lodge couldn’t afford the extra cost, Julie had insisted on paying a security guard for the safety of the guests. Besides the police, she and Beatrice were the only ones who knew about the crime.

      Beatrice just happened to be there when Julie came stumbling into the office in her bloodstained sweats early on that awful morning. Blood on her hands, too, from when she tried to awaken Paul, in vain.

      Soon after, the police had discreetly arrived, not wanting to alarm the guests, yet questioning several of them. The detectives said that maintaining a low profile was vital to the ongoing investigation. But keeping the brutal slaying quiet weighed heavily on Julie’s nerves. She didn’t like it.

      Still holding the snapshots in a death grip, Beatrice placed both hands on her hips again. “I shall speak with you later,” she added in her very proper British accent. She turned and started down the long corridor.

      “Wait!” Catching up with her, Julie gently took the photos of Zach from Beatrice’s hands. “I’ll take those.” Whispering lightly she added, “Not a word!” and marched back to the troublesome box before Zach could get a look at its contents.

      “Well then,” Beatrice said after a moment. “I guess I’ll leave you to your…guest.” She gave Zach a fleeting glance, turned on her heel and stalked away.

      Julie and Zach faced each other. A silent moment that seemed to stretch into eternity. The storm and the murder weren’t the only mystifying elements causing her pulse to race. His tall, powerful physique, black leather jacket and well-fitted jeans added several extra beats to her already fluttering heart.

      Her mind drifted back eight years. She saw herself riding with him on his motorcycle, her arms tightly wrapped around his waist. Memories of his clean, masculine scent—flashbacks of Zach wearing the very same leather jacket he wore today—filled her senses. Julie felt the distinct memory of his lips against hers. Images of their private picnic spot at Hurricane Ridge filled her mind with thoughts she should have forgotten, even as a chill of awareness prickled her spine.

      She’d been so young. Only twenty-one. Yet she’d loved Zach with all her heart. Julie forced herself to breathe. The deserted hallway suddenly seemed much too small, too narrow. Chestnut-brown hair fell across his eyes. His slow, crooked grin released a stream of remembrances to flood her mind—the way his eyes darkened with emotion when he kissed her, his tender touch.

      Did he end up in California on his impromptu adventure, the one he had asked her to go on with him the day he proposed? Surely he couldn’t have expected her to leave her family and friends on a moment’s notice and ride off with him into the sunset. She’d never even had the chance to tell him about her grandmother’s death the night before. He’d always been too adventurous for her. Too impulsive.

      She told him “no,” yet watching him speed away on his Harley without her left an ache, an emptiness deep in her heart. There had been many sleepless nights when she relied on God’s strength, wondering if she’d made a mistake in not going with him.

      But she couldn’t leave her family. Julie needed time to grieve over the passing of the beloved grandmother who had always made life fun for her and her brother. If only she’d had the chance to tell Zach. She drew a shaky breath. She’d never heard from him again. Until now.

      “What were you doing up there alone?” Zach asked, nodding toward the attic. Slowly his gaze drifted down the length of her body. His hands fisted inside the pockets of his leather jacket. His intense gaze returned to meet hers.

      “Nothing, really.” Zach was the only person she ever told about her claustrophobia. Had he remembered? “What are you doing in this section of the inn, Zach? This corridor isn’t open to guests. It needs to be renovated. Didn’t you see the sign?”

      “Sign?” Zach glanced down the hallway. “Must’ve missed it.”

      “I guess so.” Taking a quick breath, she reached for the box and slowly turned it upright being careful not to let the albums or any other photos slip out for Zach to see. She lifted it from the wooden floor. “I’ll just put this away.” Far away.

      “I can’t let you do that,” Zach said grabbing the carton.

      “What? Wait, I—”

      “It’s way too heavy. Good thing I happened to wander by.” He easily lifted the cardboard container from her arms. “You might’ve fallen off that ladder if I hadn’t been here.” He raised an eyebrow and nodded toward the stairs at the other end of the hall. “Lead the way.”

      “Fine.” Several minutes later, they reached the main floor and Julie opened the door to her private office. I should’ve duct-taped that box shut. Permanently.

      “Where do you want this?” he asked, hovering in the doorway.

      “Thanks, I can handle it from here.” Julie took the box from his arms, walked to the far corner of her office and then lowered it onto the carpet. She turned to face him. “See, it wasn’t that heavy.”

      “If you say so.” Zach leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his broad chest. His blue-gray eyes filled with a familiar longing and a lazy smile eased its way across his face. “So, how are you, Julie?”

      “I’m fine.” She took in a much-needed breath. Zach’s sudden presence in her life was taking its toll on her already frazzled nerves. The pleasant aroma of vanilla almond coffee brewing in the Capresso machine in the