Echo Lake. Carla Neggers
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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