Bad enough if he stopped right there, but he couldn’t. He’d left Knights Bridge while Heather’s brothers were heating up the tar and gathering the feathers.
His negative history with the Sloans aside, Brody didn’t need them or anyone else in town meddling in whatever was going on with Vic. If Vic was being paranoid, no one else needed to know. Knights Bridge was his home now. That kind of gossip wouldn’t help him.
“What a day,” Vic said, yawning as he entered the kitchen. He put his full wineglass on the table, pulled out a chair and flopped down. “Adrienne’s reading by the fire. I think she’s disappointed we didn’t drink all the wine, but one more sip and I’ll pass out on the floor.”
“The leftover wine will keep. She’s got some gadget that helps.” Brody took a swallow of his beer. “You weren’t close to passing out, though.”
“I was. I don’t hold my alcohol like I used to.”
“Another of the myths you live by these days.”
Vic quirked an eyebrow. “Another?”
“You’re an optimist and a romantic at heart, Vic. Maybe that’s why you lasted as a career diplomat for as long as you did.”
“Forty years. Damn, that makes me feel old.”
Brody grinned. “You are old.”
“Hell, no. Sixty is the new forty.” Vic watched Rohan tear across the kitchen. “The little fella’s no worse for the wear, anyway. Heather didn’t recognize you right away. That surprise you?”
“Not really. She wasn’t pretending. She’s not one to hold back what’s on her mind. I didn’t ring a bell at all.” Brody set his bottle on the table. He’d spent far too much time thinking about Heather Sloan ice-skating. “Why didn’t you tell me a Sloan was working on this place?”
Vic shrugged. “I didn’t think of it. Nobody remembers your fallout with the Sloans. You haven’t been back here since then, so it’s on your mind. That’s understandable. Anyway, they didn’t run you out. You left of your own accord. You’re a federal law-enforcement officer now. A respected agent with the Diplomatic Security Service. You’re as big a hard-ass as any Sloan.”
“Not Heather. She could kick my butt.”
“Ha. I have no doubt.” Vic lowered a hand at his side and snapped his fingers to get Rohan’s attention. The puppy bounded to him. “His fur’s so soft. He wore himself out on his romp in the woods, but he’s got his energy back now. What would have happened if Heather hadn’t found him when she did?”
“I’d have found him,” Brody said.
“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.