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“You’re just saying that so I don’t feel like an incompetent fool for having lost him in the first place. I’d have had to sell the house if I’d let the poor little fellow freeze to death in that brook. More to the point,” he said, sitting up straight as Rohan ran off again, “I’d have felt terrible.”
“You’re new to puppy care.”
“Trial by fire.”
The puppy careened into the mudroom and climbed into his bed with his chew toy. Watching him helped Brody anchor his thinking. Too many memories in this town. There were some good ones, but the bad ones were clawing at him now. Heather Sloan wasn’t a kid anymore. That didn’t help. He hadn’t considered her—that she would be overseeing Vic’s house renovations—when he’d agreed to return. He’d expected to have a chat with Vic, talk some sense into him and leave after a couple of nights.
Brody took his beer bottle, still half-full, to the sink. It was pitch-dark outside, and dead quiet. Vic’s was the only house on this part of the lake. “You’re not used to the quiet and isolation out here, Vic. It’s worse now with the cold weather.”
Vic pushed his wineglass aside. “It’s been a while since either of us has been in a cold climate during winter.”
“Yes, it has.” Brody hadn’t expected to appreciate the bracing temperature and stark-white landscape—the quiet. Only the puppy’s playful growling disturbed the silence. He turned to Vic. “How are the renovations? Are you decisive, or do you dither?”
“We’re still pulling everything together and making decisions, but I wouldn’t say dither. I deliberate.”
Brody grinned. “Sounds like dithering to me.”
“I haven’t driven Heather crazy yet. I think the architect is about to bail on the project. Heather says not to worry, that’s just how he is. Mark Flanagan. You know him?”
“I did. He used to sleep in the back of class. Now he’s an architect?”
“A damn good one, too. He left town and came back again. He married a local woman in September. Jessica Frost.”
“I remember her. She’s younger—more like Heather’s age, as I recall. I didn’t have much to do with either one of them.”
Vic stretched, looking stiff and tired. “The Frosts still have their sawmill. They’re doing the custom woodwork on this place. Jessica’s sister, Olivia, married Noah Kendrick’s business partner on Christmas Eve.”
“Dylan McCaffrey.”
“I see you’re up to speed on the newcomers.” Vic didn’t sound surprised. “Dylan and Noah are exceptionally wealthy. What if their presence in Knights Bridge has attracted whoever is harassing me?”
“Harassing is a strong word, Vic.”
“Yeah, okay. Maybe the goings-on haven’t escalated to that level. Not yet, anyway.”
Brody leaned back against the sink. He had no concrete reason to suspect Vic was in real trouble. He was only weeks into retirement, but there were no lingering threats against him. “Sure you’re not just having trouble transitioning to retirement? Turning a draft into a suspicious incident.”
“I’ve never been a worrywart.”
“You worked nonstop in a high-pressure, high-profile environment, and now you’re chasing puppies and renovating your country house and stocking a wine cellar.”
“I was thinking about taking up bird-watching, too,” Vic added dryly.
“It’s not the life you’re used to.”
“It’s one I’ve been dreaming about for years.” He watched Rohan wander back into the kitchen. “Elly O’Dunn told me not to let him run wild.”
“Puppies need structure and a steady, firm hand. You need to be the alpha dog, Vic.”
“This is why I never was a father. I’d have had nothing but spoiled brats. I need to find him a good home. Winter’s a deterrent. People tend to get puppies in warmer weather. It’s no fun to train a puppy in January, but I can’t imagine someone abandoning the little guy out here.”
“Think that’s related to what’s been going on with you?”
“I hope not. We’re dealing with a real sick SOB, then. It’s been long enough that you’d think if he were lost an owner would have come forward by now.” Vic pulled his gaze from the puppy. “Why don’t you adopt Rohan, Brody? You can have a dog in the Diplomatic Security Service.”
“Not the places I’ve worked the past few years.” Brody stood straight. “Rohan seems to be at home here. Why not adopt him yourself? You could use the company now that you’re retired. You could take a puppy-training class so you know what you’re doing. It’s not too late. It would give you something to do.”
“Besides fretting about odd occurrences that don’t sound odd to you, you mean?” Vic put up a hand. “Don’t answer. Did you ever have a dog when you were growing up? I don’t remember.”
“Two before we moved to the lake and one after. No golden retrievers, though. Whatever’s up with you, Vic, doesn’t have to do with puppies.”
“No. Rohan’s a handful, but he’s not our culprit.” Vic grabbed his wineglass but didn’t take a sip. “Things not in the same place I left them. Anonymous hang ups. They aren’t a puppy’s doing.”
“Were the hang ups on your landline or cell phone?” Brody asked.
“Both. I think someone’s been pawing through my files, too. My physical files in the library. I haven’t given up my apartment in New York yet, but I’ve been moving things here bit by bit. It’s like...” He paused, his eyes distant then focused again on Brody. “I don’t know. It’s like I’m being watched. Studied.”
“Only here? Nothing in New York?”
“Only here.”
“When you’re here alone, or when Adrienne and Heather are here?”
Vic shrugged. “Mostly when I’m here on my own. I had a hang up at least once when Adrienne was here. It was shortly after she started house-sitting for me in early December. She’s not here all the time. She went out to San Francisco for a week after New Year’s, and she pops down to New York every now and then.” He shook his head, as if he were reading Brody’s mind. “It’s not Adrienne.”
“What about Heather Sloan?”
“Heather? Why would she want to spook me?”
“I’m not concerned with whys right now,” Brody said. “How often is she here?”
“As necessary. She’s in charge of renovations. There’s a hell of a lot to do. We’re down to it now, so she’s been here every day since I arrived last week. There will be people in and out of the house once renovations start, but there aren’t now. I’m telling you, Brody, something weird is going on around here.”
As Vic spoke, Rohan yawned and headed for the his bed in the mudroom. Brody was ready to do the same with his spot in the guesthouse. He didn’t want to delve deep into Vic’s mind, but he knew he had to, at least to a degree. “Could you have moved things and not remember?” he asked.
He half expected Vic to spring up out of the chair, offended, but instead he tapped a finger on the rim of his wineglass, thoughtful. Finally, he shook his head. “I don’t think so, no. I admit that I’ve wondered if I’m losing it. I asked myself that repeatedly before I contacted you. I decided no. If I had decided yes, I would have called a doctor instead of you. I’m retired, but I’m in good mental and physical health.”
“I had to ask,” Brody said.
“I know you did.” Vic sucked in a breath and smacked a hand down on the table, an unusual display of frustration for the career diplomat. He exhaled. “I’ve nothing concrete to give you, Brody. No evidence. It’s possible someone toyed with me for a while and figured out I’m not that interesting, and that’s that.”
“Do you have any reason to suspect you’re in danger, Vic?”
“I have enemies. There’s no question about that.”
There wasn’t, but it wasn’t Brody’s point. “Is one of them in Knights Bridge?”
“That’s why I asked you to come here, Brody.” Vic’s voice was quiet but intense, his frustration with his situation unabated if under control. “I need your objectivity and professionalism to help me figure out what’s going on.”
Brody crossed his arms on his chest. How many times had he stood in this same spot as a kid, getting Vic’s advice? How many times through college, training and his years with the DSS had he counted on Vic Scarlatti to be a phone call or an email away?
“All right,” Brody said. “We’ll figure this out. Anything else you can think of?”
“I was followed,” Vic said. “I didn’t mention that. The other day this black car followed me from Amherst right to my driveway, then kept on going out toward the upper lake. You tell me that was a coincidence, Brody. You tell me.”
“Did you get the plate number?”
“Did I—” He stared at Brody, looking baffled. “No, I didn’t get the plate number. I had my hand on my cell phone in case I had to call the cops.”
Brody lowered his arms to his sides. Vic wasn’t paranoid by nature, and even now Brody didn’t sense that his mentor and friend was afraid. Curious, annoyed, uncertain. Not fearful.
At this point, Brody couldn’t tell his old friend anything except that he was here now, and he’d have a look around.
He felt a cold draft coming through the kitchen window. The place needed work. It had for a long time, and Sloan & Sons was the outfit to do the job.
He didn’t need to go there right now.
He shifted back to Vic. “You could have called the police and asked them to look into these incidents instead of calling me.”
“I don’t want to sound like a crazy old man. I call the cops, it’s a thing.”
“It’s a thing when you call me, Vic.”
“I asked you here as a friend with experience in these matters. I know you’re a law-enforcement officer. That’s not what I mean. I’m talking about the local cops. Heather’s brother is a police officer. Knights Bridge is a small town. I’m an unknown. People are curious. They gossip.”
“I’ll need to bring in the police if it looks as if there’s more going on here than a bored retired diplomat with an overactive imagination.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Once I decided to contact you, I knew there was no good outcome. Either I’m overreacting, or something’s going on.” Vic pushed back his chair, the legs scraping on the worn floor. “You’re not here just because of me, anyway, are you, Brody?”
He glanced at the window above the sink but could only see the darkness and the reflection of the lights in the kitchen. “I dreamed about Echo Lake right before you got in touch with me.”
“A sign, you think?”
“A sign it’s time I saw about the land I own here.”
“Think you’ll put it on the market?”
He shrugged without answering Vic’s question.
A gust of wind rattled the kitchen windows. The age and condition of the house could be responsible for some of what had Vic unnerved, or at least for triggering him into ratcheting up normal occurrences.
“I’ll need to ask Adrienne and Heather if they’ve noticed anything,” Brody said.
Vic clearly didn’t like that idea. “Be tactful.”
“Sure, Vic. No problem. Tact is my middle name.”
“Tact is an unknown concept to you,” Vic muttered.
Brody grinned and started for the mudroom. “I’ve got some work to do.”
“I thought you were on home leave.”
“I am. You relax and let me know if you remember anything else. Write every incident down. You can email it to me or hand me a sheet of paper.”
Vic shook his head. “I’m not writing a damn thing. I don’t want you or anyone else using it against me if this turns out to be nothing.” He raised his wineglass. “It’s called plausible deniability. If I’m losing it, we’ll all know soon enough.”
“I doubt you’re losing it, Vic.”
“But you also doubt I’m in danger.”
“Correct.”
Vic didn’t seem offended. “How was it seeing a Sloan again?”
“I told you I never had much to do with Heather.”
“But she is a Sloan. She didn’t stir up old wounds?”
“No.”
“Then your feud with the Sloans is in the past. No hard feelings.”
It wasn’t a feud, and it had never been a feud, but Brody wasn’t indulging Vic, especially if he was in a mood to stir up trouble as an outlet for his own problems. “Call if you need me. Otherwise, I’ll see you in the morning.”
Brody headed into the mudroom where Rohan reigned. It was immediately evident that the fur ball had relieved himself in the corner. Brody grabbed some newspaper to clean up the mess but felt his phone vibrate in his jacket.
He saw he had a text from Greg Rawlings, a DSS colleague and friend recovering from a bullet to the shoulder incurred two months ago during a difficult mission.
How’s Knights Bridge?
Brody decided to answer.
I’m cleaning up puppy poop.
Auto-correct problem?
No.
Oh man. At least it’s not Vic’s poop. Later.
Brody didn’t know whether to laugh or grit his teeth, but tackling the mess on the floor wasn’t optional. It had to be done, and he might as well be the one to do it.
He noticed Vic standing in the doorway. “Thank you,” Vic said, his relief palpable. “Cleaning up after Rohan isn’t my favorite activity, and I hate to ask Adrienne to do it. I never had a dog. A cat, either. I had a goldfish once, but it disappeared. My parents told me it died and they got rid of the body before I could see it. Suspiciously, we were about to leave for a month in France.”
“Think they flushed it?”
“It wasn’t well...” Vic sighed. “I suppose I should take them at their word. Think our pup here misses his siblings and that’s why he’s been tearing up the place?”
