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?”
“Alpha dog, Vic.”
Vic scowled and headed back into the kitchen. Rohan sat on Brody’s foot, looking irresistible. Brody pointed the newspaper at him. “No more messing on the floor, you hear?”
Whether Rohan was worn-out or heard something authoritative in Brody’s voice, the puppy sat politely, as if he were the best-minding golden retriever in the world.
“Good dog,” Brody said.
Rohan responded by diving face-first into his water bowl and then licking Brody’s hand as he squatted down to clean up the mess. When he finished, Rohan had curled up in his bed, all innocence.
Brody took a picture and sent it to Greg.
Meet Rohan.
Greg texted him back immediately.
All hope is lost.
Brody was surprised to find Adrienne standing in the driveway, looking at the stars. She must have gone out through the front. “I can’t resist the night sky here,” she said, crossing her arms on her chest. She had on a coat and hat but no gloves. “There isn’t much ambient light to spoil the stars. It’s freezing, though. I think this is the coldest it’s been since I’ve been here.”
“It’s supposed to drop below zero tonight.”
“I can’t remember the last time I was in below-zero temperatures.”
“You sound excited.”
She laughed. “I guess I am. Vic’s never stayed here through an entire winter. He says he likes winter, but I wonder if he’ll end up buying a condo in Florida.”
“How well do you know him?”
“Not well at all. He goes way back with my parents. I looked him up one day when we were both in New York, and we hit it off. Next thing, I’m house-sitting.”
“When was this meeting in New York?”
“November.” She shot him a quick look. “Easy, there. It was just lunch. Vic didn’t pass me any state secrets.”
Brody smiled. “That’s good.”
“We got to talking about wine, and he mentioned he’d like to know more about wine now that he was retiring to his country house in Knights Bridge. I’d never heard of Knights Bridge.” She stuffed her bare hands under her arms, presumably to keep them warm. “Vic says you’re like a son to him. He’s relaxed since you got here, even with Rohan’s escape this afternoon. He’s been keyed up. He won’t tell me why.”
Brody buttoned his jacket, trying
