Hummingbird Lake by Emily March

sent up a prayer and decided that whoever had named this pass certainly called it right.
    Colt had made this drive dozens of times before, but never in the dead of winter. Never in ten-degree weather. Never with snow deep enough to swallow his rental SUV. This would be his first trip to Eternity Springs during the off-season. When his boss told him to go someplace to cool off, he couldn’t think of a more fitting place to go. As his back tires fishtailed, he muttered, “Hope that wasn’t my last fitting thought.”
    Colt was coming off the most difficult stretch of weeks he’d experienced since coming to the CSB. Two horrific accidents, eighteen deaths that could have and should have been prevented, and a bureaucratic wall of red tape and politics that made him see red and, unfortunately, lose his temper.
    Well, sliding off the road here on Sinner’s Prayer Pass would at least get him out of the lawsuit that was probably coming. He’d really screwed up when he threw that punch at the OSHA guy.
    But dammit, he was sick to death of the agencies all working both sides against the middle, and he’d finally erupted. He’d just ended a phone call to Melody Slaughter in which he’d had to tell her that the chemical spill that had killed her husband and eleven others the previous week had been completely avoidable had the OSHA inspector done his job.
    “I don’t know why I even try,” he muttered as he downshifted. What good were they doing, really? Only a small percentage of their recommendations ever made it into regulation. Only a percentage of those regulationswere being followed in the field. “Why should they follow regulations when it’s easier to bribe an inspector instead?”
    That was the piece of news he’d received that had led to the meeting that led to his blowup. Were there no good, honest people in the world anymore?
    Yes, there were. That’s why he was headed to Eternity Springs.
    Having been given two weeks of forced leave, he’d booked his flight to Colorado, and since his usual rental was closed for the winter, he’d called Celeste Blessing to arrange for a place to stay. He’d asked for one of the outlying cottages on the Angel’s Rest property, but after Celeste explained that a church group from Kansas had rented the entire facility for a week, she suggested alternative lodging that she believed would suit his needs perfectly. She’d volunteered to make all the arrangements for him and instructed him to stop by Angel’s Rest to pick up a key.
    He couldn’t wait to get there. He’d flown to Denver last night, then headed into the mountains this morning. He’d added at least an hour and a half to the trip by stopping to admire the snowy vistas at least half a dozen times since entering the mountains. He was hungry, craving a strong cup of coffee, and nursing a strong sense of anticipation. He loved Eternity Springs, its people, and their small-town values.
    Life wasn’t gentle in the mountain valley—especially not this time of year, he imagined—but in many ways, life was kinder there than elsewhere. People didn’t cut other people off in traffic in Eternity—there wasn’t any traffic. They weren’t rude to strangers, because the only strangers were tourists and tourists were the economic lifeblood of the area. And of special appeal to him, here people said what they meant and meant what they said. The only spinning done in Eternity Springs was done byskaters on Hummingbird Lake in winter. They damn sure wouldn’t take bribes and look the other way, putting lives at risk.
    Finally he rounded the hairpin curve that offered the first sight of the little town nestled in the narrow valley. Once again he pulled to the side of the road and took a moment to soak in the view. “It’s a postcard,” he murmured. Gorgeous. Beautiful.
    Special.
    Mountains filled with evergreens and snow ringed the narrow valley with a small town nestled at its center. Unlike other times of year when nature