Читать книгу: «The Inn At Shadow Lake»
“You’re going to tell me everything tomorrow, remember?” Julie said with a teasing smile at Zach.
“Right.”
After making their way down the stairs, Zach mentally confirmed there were no dead bolts on her door. No alarm system, either. The team of agents would have no problem installing the electronic bugs and audio equipment, the pinhole cameras and microphones.
Zach and his unit would be able to hear every word and see every move inside her home once he had a federal judge approve the surveillance equipment. His gut knotted with worry, realizing that Julie would be here alone tonight in her unsecured house.
“Lock the door behind me.”
“I will. See you in the morning,” she whispered softly.
The door clicked as she shut and locked it behind him. Zach scanned the area along the lake. There were too many hiding places in this remote part of the grounds. Too many places for snipers to focus their scopes on unsuspecting souls and the special agents who were onto them.
MILLS & BOON
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JANET EDGAR
Her love for writing started in elementary school, when Janet saw her book report published in the school newsletter. The experience of seeing her written words in print made a powerful impact on her life. She is thankful to God that even when she was a child, He was directing her paths.
The Inn at Shadow Lake is Janet’s debut book. She is thrilled to be a member of the Steeple Hill family.
Married for over thirty years to her high school sweetheart, Janet has two grown children. Prior to working full time on her writing career, she worked as a marketing coordinator, radio talk show host, “extra” on a popular daytime television series (soap opera) and elementary school teacher.
Janet served as secretary of Faith, Hope and Love, the inspirational chapter of Romance Writers of America. She has also served as newsletter editor of a local RWA chapter and is a member of several more RWA chapters throughout the United States. She is also a member of the American Christian Fiction Writers.
Janet and her husband, Richard, live in a Southern-style house in Central Ohio with two adorable little dogs, Buddy and Molly.
Janet Edgar
The Inn at Shadow Lake
Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways, acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.
—Proverbs 3:5–6
To Richard,
I dedicate this book to you for all the incredible
adventures you have taken me on and for all the
adventures we have traveled together. I love you and
thank God for our life together.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my husband, Richard, for encouraging me to pursue my dream of writing women’s fiction. Your unwavering support has and always will mean so much to me. To our children, Sandi and Scott, thank you for always believing in your mom. I love you. And thanks to Mom and Dad and family in New York for your love and encouragement along the way.
To all my writing sisters—what a blessing you have been! There are so many names that come to mind, I can’t possibly list you all. You are members of ACFW, FHL, RWA, CRW, HODRW, KOD, NWHRWA, OVRWA, COFW, the AOL Boards, eHarlequin, the Love Inspired Authors loop and the Heart and Soul loop, where we have the best cyberwriting retreats ever. You know who you are. You’ve critiqued my chapters, prayed with and encouraged me when I was about to give up, cheered with me even when we finaled in the same writing contests. I thank God every day for you and for the road He’s allowing me to travel as I work toward establishing my writing career.
Thank you to Executive Editor Joan Marlow Golan, who almost made me fall off my chair at an editor appointment in Houston, Texas, when you asked for everything I’d ever written and then told me I should give a workshop on how to pitch a book!
Thanks also to my editor, Diane Dietz, whose voice I heard when I received The Call, and who always encourages me to ask any questions I may have as I learn the process of how a book is published.
A special thank-you also to my agent, Danielle Egan-Miller and everyone at Browne & Miller Literary Associates in Chicago, for believing in me and my works, and cheering me on.
CONTENTS
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
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
ONE
Zach Marshall instinctively ducked and yanked the steering wheel to the right after a sudden blast of gunfire rippled across his back window. The eerie sound of the bulletproof glass taking the impact of the shots rang through his ears.
In his peripheral vision, he noted a man and woman with guns blazing from the black van coming up fast alongside him. Muttering under his breath, Zach expertly maneuvered his vehicle as another barrage of bullets flew past his 4x4.
His cover was blown.
He aimed the truck into the thick cover of tall western red cedars typical of the Pacific Northwest, cut the lights and did a three-sixty. Zach reached for the subcompact .40 Glock he kept tucked in his shoulder holster. He steered the truck back onto the narrow logging road and positioned it so he was now on the bumper of the black van.
Memorizing the license plate number, he floored the gas pedal and lowered the driver’s window. Gun in hand, he took quick aim and fired off a few shots, hitting one wheel. Despite the flat tire he caused, the van shot forward with a sudden burst of energy and disappeared into the damp, dark night.
The engine of Zach’s 4x4 sputtered, the result of a couple of hits to the gas tank. Thankful it didn’t explode, Zach turned the engine off with a twist of the key, and allowed the car to coast.
At least one objective had gone according to plan. He’d finally drawn a remnant of the enemy out of their hiding place.
Someone was onto him.
But who?
Three days later
“I’m en route to the inn now.” Zach glanced out the driver’s window, scanning the dark blur of trees that obscured the edges of the interstate.
Was another shooter hunkered down in the trees, training his scopes on the car? On him? He adjusted the speaker volume of the cell phone mounted to his dashboard. “Any leads on that license plate number I gave you?”
“Just that the van was stolen,” Senior Agent in Charge John Castlerock answered. “No surprise there.”
“What about prints? Did we find anything?” Zach asked.
“Sorry, Marshall. Clean as a whistle. Wish I had better news for you, buddy.”
“Yeah, I figured as much. Those two knew what they were doing.” Zach ran a hand through his hair and studied the county road in front of him. “At least the plan is working. I’m drawing them out in the open.”
“Right. But a lot sooner than we thought. You want Agent Robbins to meet you at the inn?”
“Not yet.” His gaze moved back and forth from the road to the tall trees typical of Washington State. “Let me get a feel for the place first. I’ll let you know.”
Adrenaline rushed through Zach like wildfire in a wind gust when he thought about the attempt on his life. The protection of the special glass and his quick maneuvering of the unmarked FBI vehicle on the empty logging road had saved his life the other night. That and luck. Or divine intervention. It had been a long time since Zach talked to God. Yet even he recognized God’s saving hand.
He didn’t want it. Or deserve it.
Placing his life on the line was a daily drill on this assignment. Especially the past couple of years. Drawing all factions of the enemy into one location was exactly what the Bureau had intended. The opposition would be on his tail for the duration. But time was running out. The agency’s most recent intelligence reports indicated something big was going down. And soon.
“We’re close, John. I can feel it. Let the team know I’ll initiate an encounter with Julie before the night is over.” With a sense of numb disbelief, Zach’s thoughts raced back to the young woman he’d fallen in love with during his last semester of grad school. Disappointment sat heavily in his gut.
Could Julie Anderson, his old college flame, really be one of their prime suspects—a spy, selling national security secrets to terrorist organizations? Hard to believe the girl he’d fallen in love with and the criminal they sought were one and the same person. Maybe it was time they met again, under entirely different circumstances and with a whole new set of rules.
He’d seen the damning evidence of numerous calls placed from an unlisted number somewhere inside Shadow Lake Inn to several internationally known Russian terrorist supporters. “Once I check in, running into Julie will be a snap.”
“Good. Your history with her might be just what we need to crack this case. I don’t think she’ll suspect you, but don’t take any chances.”
“Yep.” Zach understood why the Bureau wanted to take advantage of their past relationship. But he didn’t have to like it. “When we split eight years ago, it wasn’t exactly on the best of terms.”
“You were going to marry her, right?”
“Affirmative.” Zach’s heart filled with bittersweet memories of the deep love he’d had for Julie. And how she’d refused his proposal. He’d sped away on his Harley so quickly, he’d never heard her explanation. “It didn’t work out.” He kept an air of indifference in the tone of his voice. No need for the Bureau to figure out how devastated he’d been by her reaction. They already knew too much.
“Don’t let any old emotions influence what you have to do. Sweet-talk her, Marshall.” John chuckled. “I’ve seen you in action.”
“Right.” Zach drew a quick breath. He would take extraordinary measures to protect the lives and freedoms of the American people. All the agents he worked so closely with the past few years would, too. “You know I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“I’m counting on it. We can’t afford slipups. Not with this bunch.”
“You don’t have to convince me.” Zach’s resolve hardened. His cover was blown. He needed to be more focused than ever. At their last meeting, John had hinted that Special Agent Richard “Tommy” Tomasino might have gone over to the other side. The last thing the unit needed was having a member turn. Muttering under his breath, Zach recalled the image of the woman firing her semiautomatic weapon from the passenger side of the black van. “Do we have any leads on the identity of the female shooter?”
“Negative. Our sources indicate that Yuri’s wife, Katya, was just seen in Moscow the day of your encounter.” John drew a quick breath. “She’d be our first guess. We’re still checking our sources on that one. I find it hard to believe she wouldn’t join her husband here in the States for what they’re planning. Too bad you didn’t get a better look.”
“Not much to see with their faces covered in black ski masks. Except for that piece of gray hair sticking out from her knitted cap.”
“Don’t sweat it. I’m looking over a list of other suspects now,” John replied. “We’ll handle it from our end.”
“Yeah well, keep me posted. I like to know who’s trying to kill me.”
“Don’t blame you. I’ll update Robbins. What do you need from her?”
“Detailed background checks on Julie’s friends and associates, everything within the past eight years.” Zach paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the heavily wooded area along the road. “Check the file we have on her late husband, see if he was a part of this before his death.”
“Got it.”
Zach blew out a long, deep breath. “I also want a full report on the British woman Julie hired six months ago. She could be the international connection we’ve been looking for. Maybe even our shooter.”
“She’s on our short list. I’ll get the ball rolling and make contact with you at the resort.”
“Where are you, John? What’s your cover? When is your ETA?”
“You’ll see me soon enough.” John’s words were followed by an ominous silence. “I need to fill you in on some new circumstances.”
“What new circumstances?”
No response. John had already hung up. Great. Just what they needed. More surprises. As if the recent attempt on his life and sudden disappearance of Agent Tomasino weren’t enough. Steeling his resolve, Zach let it go for now. He had his own problems. Winning Julie’s trust was just one of them.
He planned to use their shared grief—Julie’s loss of a husband, his loss of a wife and daughter—to bring them close again. Opening up to her, revealing his sorrow, his unspoken guilt, would be difficult. He hadn’t shared that deep inner part of himself with anyone.
Zach muttered a series of curses under his breath and slammed a hand against the wheel. What kind of man had he become to even consider using such coldhearted tactics against a woman he’d once cared for so deeply?
But someone had almost killed him a few days ago and that changed things. He would do anything to gain Julie’s confidence, to pump her for as much information as possible, to keep the bad guys from going for the kill again and from pulling off another horrendous crime against innocent Americans.
The truck’s powerful engine rumbled loudly as he continued the drive north to Shadow Lake Inn. Windshield wipers slid vigorously across the waterlogged glass of his replacement vehicle as the heavy rain continued its deluge.
Rain.
Like the sound of a metronome, the rhythmic resonance of the wipers pulled his memory into the past. Zach’s mind drifted back four years, to the last time he saw his late wife and daughter. His little girl would be in kindergarten this year if not for that horrible accident.
Images of Ashley’s empty crib the night he’d flown back from an intense Special Ops assignment flooded his memory. Visions forever 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 to her lips. He really was here. But why?
Beatrice hurried to collect the loose photographs that lay scattered across the floor. “Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Yes, 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.
