Magic Hour

Julia hadn’t been out this way in years. Even now, with all the growth that had taken place on the peninsula in the two decades since high school, this was still the boonies. The locals called it the End; not only because of its location, but because of its isolation.

It was a stunningly beautiful, majestic corner of the rain forest, but she couldn’t quite match it to Dr. Casanova. He definitely struck her as a big city guy. What was he doing out here in the middle of all this green darkness?

As she turned onto the gravel road, the landscape changed. The trees blocked out the pearly moonlight. No lights cut through the inky night. The ever present fog off the lake gave the forest a brooding, otherworldly feel.

It occurred to her suddenly that she was following a man she barely knew into the deep woods. And that no one knew where she was.

You’re being an idiot.

He’s a doctor.

Ted Bundy was a law student.

She reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. Amazingly, she got service. She punched in Ellie’s phone number and got voice mail. “Hey, El. I’m at Dr. Cerrasin’s house, talking about the girl.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ll be home by midnight.”

She clicked the End button. “At least they’ll know where to start looking for my body.”

That actually wasn’t funny.

In truth, she wasn’t entirely sure why she was following him, anyway. She wasn’t really ready for a consult, and what she did have to present as a theory would make her look like a nutcase.

Unfortunately, the past year had stolen more than her reputation. Somewhere along the way she’d lost her confidence. She needed to hear that she was on the right path.

There it was. The true reason she was here. He was the only colleague she had in Rain Valley, and he’d examined Alice.

She hated the glimpse into her own weakness, but she was not one to deny the obvious.

Up ahead, Max turned off the main road. She followed him onto the driveway that had recently been graveled. The single-lane roadway took a hairpin turn to the left and ended abruptly in a tree-ringed meadow.

Max drove into the garage and disappeared.

Julia parked alongside it. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her briefcase and got out of the car.

The beauty of the place stunned her. She was in the middle of a huge grassy field, ringed on three sides by enormous evergreens. On the fourth border lay Spirit Lake. Mist rose from the lake like steam from a boiling pot, giving everything a surreal, fairy-tale look. Close by, an owl hooted.

She jumped at the sound.

“The infamous spotted owl,” Max said, coming up beside her.

She eased sideways. “The enemy of every logger.”

“And the champion of every tree hugger. Come on.”

He led her past the garage and toward the house. As she got closer, she saw the craftsman-style beauty of the place. Plank cedar siding, handcrafted eaves, a big wraparound porch. Even the chairs seemed to have been handmade of clean, pure fir. It was the kind of house you didn’t see in Rain Valley. Expensive and hand-tooled, yet plain. It was an Aspen or Jackson Hole kind of place.

He opened the front door and let her enter first. The first thing she noticed was the spicy aroma of bayberry; somewhere, he had a scented candle burning. Sexy music floated through the speakers. No doubt he kept the place in constant readiness for female guests.

Julia tightened her hold on the briefcase and walked into the house.

A gorgeous river-rock fireplace dominated the left wall. Windows ran the length of the house, looking out from the porch to the lake beyond. Two pairs of French doors led outside. The kitchen was small but perfectly constructed; every cabinet gleamed in the soft light of an overhead fixture. The dining room was big, and bracketed on two sides by windows that overlooked the lake. A huge trestle table took up most of the space. Oddly, there was only a single chair next to it. In the living room there was an oxblood leather sofa—no chairs—and a big-screen plasma TV. A thick alpaca wool rug covered the wide-planked wood floor in front of the fireplace.

There was also a jumble of ropes and pullies by the back door. They lay in a tangled heap b

eside an ice pick and a backpack.

“Rock climbing gear,” she said. It was too, too cliché. “Someone is into danger, I see. A man who needs extreme circumstances to feel alive?”

“Don’t try to psychoanalyze me, Julia. Drink?” He turned away from her and went into the kitchen area. Opening the refrigerator door, he said, “I have whatever you want.”