Echo Lake Page 9

  “Oh, Sophia,” Vic whispered, staring down at her smiling, heart-shaped face, feeling again the betrayal, the heartbreak, the ache of falling so hard and so fast for a woman who was incapable of loving him back. Sophia was wired to manipulate people. She would figure out what they wanted from her—who they wanted her to be—and use it to reel them in and get what she wanted.

  Then she would dump them when they were no longer of any use to her.

  A little harsh, perhaps, Vic thought, but essentially true. Richard Portale had escaped Sophia’s grip early. Adrienne, their daughter, couldn’t escape.

  No wonder she was a wanderer, a lost soul with no real home.

  Time to make peace with that.

  Ah, yes, Vic thought, so much easier to figure out someone else’s life, wasn’t it?

  He pulled his gaze from the photograph of Sophia of old. It was good Adrienne and Heather had become friends. Heather was solid and rooted, a woman who knew who she was and what she wanted and probably had since preschool. Knights Bridge was home for her in a way it would never be for him—or for Adrienne or Brody.

  Maybe the two of them would hit it off.

  But Vic thought of Heather’s reaction to Brody earlier in the living room and hoped having him back in town wasn’t throwing a grenade into her life.

  Vic closed the album, aware his thoughts were pinging all over the place. He glanced at his watch. Not even two o’clock. The day stretched ahead of him like a giant yawn. What the hell was he going to do with himself?

  Surely the fire had died down by now.

  “More wood,” he said, heading out of the bedroom.

  Seven

  By midafternoon, Heather was at Vic’s kitchen table with a pot of tea as she typed up her notes from their conversation and her foray among old pipes, beams and cobwebs. Rohan was safely asleep on his bed in the mudroom. She could hear a man and woman talking in the dining room. Vic and Adrienne, no doubt. She hadn’t seen Brody since she’d happened on him with Vic and Adrienne in the living room. For all she knew, being back in Knights Bridge for two nights had reconfirmed the wisdom of his original decision never to return, and he’d left town. She wondered if he had an apartment or a house somewhere in the US, or if he stayed with family and friends when he was on home leave.

  She heard the back door creak open and shut. Rohan barely stirred as Brody entered the kitchen. He hadn’t bothered with a jacket. He wore a dark sweater that seemed to accentuate his broad shoulders and taut abdomen.

  Heather shut her laptop.

  Nope. He hadn’t left.

  He greeted her with a curt nod. “Do you know where Vic is?”

  “I think he and Adrienne are in the dining room.”

  Another nod and Brody went into the hall, presumably to find Vic.

  Heather sprang to her feet and took her mug to the sink, not sure what was going on with her—why she felt so uneasy, so self-conscious. Why she kept noticing every little thing about Brody.

  She dumped out the remains of her tea and put her mug into the dishwasher, shutting the door more firmly than was necessary.

  Maybe she’d breathed in too much dust in the cellar, or she needed sunlight.

  Something.

  It couldn’t be being in Brody’s presence for all of thirty seconds.

  She returned to the table and opened up her laptop again. She had to review the specs on the last of the custom millwork she needed to order. She had done a thorough check of the house and decided what could and couldn’t be saved of the original trim, moldings, doors and the built-ins characteristic of an Arts-and-Crafts-style house. Vic, Mark Flanagan and she all agreed they wanted to modernize the house without sacrificing its unique character.

  Heather was deep into typing when Brody returned to the kitchen. She barely looked up. “One more number and I’m done with numbers for a while,” she said.

  He stood next to her. “A lot of what you do involves numbers?”

  “Some days all I do is wade around in numbers.”

  “Is Vic hard to pin down, or does he know what he wants?”

  “A little of both. He likes to consider every possibility.”

  “What about your brothers?” Brody asked, stepping back a little. “Are they involved in every decision on Vic’s renovations?”

  “Not every decision, at least not yet. Obviously, Eric and Christopher won’t be. They help out sometimes, but they have full-time jobs.”

  “Cop and firefighter. When does the actual work on the renovations start?”

  “Soon. Vic still has an apartment in New York. I don’t think he’s decided if he’ll stay there or at the guesthouse here during renovations. They’ll take a while.”

  “Would it be easier to tear down the house and start fresh?”

  Heather shrugged. “In some ways, given what he wants, but it’s a great house. It’ll be fun to work on. I’ve enjoyed it so far. I’m thinking about pursuing interior design, and this project is giving me an idea of what that would entail.” She sat back, not sure why she was telling him all this. “Interior design isn’t the same as interior decorating. A lot of people confuse the two.”

  “Wouldn’t want to do that,” Brody said with a slight smile.

  “Are you patronizing me, Brody Hancock?”

  He laughed. “Never.”

  The amusement in his dark eyes—the almost imperceptible dimple in his left cheek—caught her by surprise. Her pulse raced. Her face felt flushed. She wished she still had her mug so she could take a gulp of tea to cover for her reaction. But would it do any good? Would an experienced federal agent see through her?

  “Cobweb,” he said, brushing a finger above her eye. “Crawling around in the attic?”

  His brief touch just about undid her. She cleared her throat, covering for her reaction. “The cellar. It’s not my favorite place, but at least it’s dry. That’s a good sign.”

  “Do you like being in construction?”

  “Sure. It’s a good job. I’m fortunate I have work I enjoy. Are you surprised?”

  “No, but I almost forgot the Sloan brothers had a baby sister.”

  Heather closed her laptop. “I made that big an impression, huh?”

  “Let’s just say you’ve changed since then.”

  “So have you. I didn’t even recognize you at first.” Now, why had she said that? She had a tendency to blurt things, but she had warned herself to exercise more self-control around Brody, given his history with her family and Knights Bridge and what he did for a living. “I recognize you now, of course.”

  “You stayed in Knights Bridge to work in the family business. Was that what you imagined at twelve?”

  “I don’t know at twelve. I think I imagined being swept off my feet by a swashbuckler. Do you remember Grace Webster? She was a legendary English and Latin teacher in town, before our time. Turns out she loved to read classic adventure novels. We’ve all been reading them lately. Well, I just started one.”

  “So you have swashbucklers on the mind,” Brody said, his tone unreadable.

  “Yes. Well...no. Not for real.” She had to stop. Stop, stop, stop. “Anyway, I started working for my father in high school and kept up through college, and now here I am. It’s a good job, and I enjoy the work. I’m very fortunate. This is the first big project I’m overseeing on my own. I do a lot of planning, ordering and bookkeeping, more so than hammering and nailing.”

  “But you can hammer and nail.”

  “Yes, I can. My father put a hammer in my Christmas stocking when I was two.”

  “I’ll bet that’s a true story. What about your mother?”

  “She’s supportive of whatever I want to do—within reason, of course. She’s handy herself, but she says it’s only because she can’t get anyone
to pick up a hammer or drill around the house.”

  “I can’t imagine raising six kids.”

  “It was a madhouse growing up,” Heather said with a laugh.

  “Did you feel like you had something to prove as the youngest and only girl?”

  “That’s not something I ever waste time thinking about.”

  Brody touched a finger to the measuring tape she’d left on the table. “Meaning you do have something to prove.”

  “Not me. Nothing to prove.” Heather eyed him. Definitely not an easy man to read, but she doubted he was chatting with her just to get to know her better. He had another agenda. “You’ve known Vic since you were a teenager, but you’ve never turned up in Knights Bridge until now.”

  “That’s a fact.”

  “Why now? Are you going to tell me?”

  “I have told you.”

  “Because he invited you and it’s time to see your land.” Heather shook her head. “That’s not why. Most people probably can’t see past your broad shoulders and scary looks, but I have five brothers. I’m not intimidated. I know you’re not telling me everything about why you’re here.”

  “Good for you.”

  His comment didn’t come across as either a compliment or an insult. Just another fact, maybe. She grabbed her measuring tape and laptop and got to her feet. “I read up on what you do,” she said, trying to sound as if it hadn’t made her break out in a cold sweat. “DSS agents are an elite group of federal agents who provide security at US embassies and consulates all over the world. You protect dignitaries visiting the US. You advise private citizens and companies on overseas security. You conduct criminal investigations and hunt for fugitives overseas.”

  “All in a day’s work.”

  “How many languages do you speak?”

  “A few.” He stood straight. “Are you looking to take a break?”

  His non sequitur caught her off guard. “As a matter of fact, I am.”

  “Good. You can hike out to my property on the lake with me and tell me what else you know.”

  “About what?”

  “Life in Knights Bridge. Puppies. New England winters. The Diplomatic Security Service. Whatever.” He nodded toward the window over the sink. “It’s cold out there. I shouldn’t go alone in these temperatures.”

  “You’re not worried about the cold weather or about going alone.”

  “But you’ll come with me?”

  It wasn’t an order from a federal agent, she realized. It was an invitation—or maybe something between an invitation and a request. A little of both, even. He could want company on his walk out to his property but also want to seize the opportunity to get more information out of her.

  Although she had no idea what she could know that would be of use to a federal agent.

  With that unsettling thought, she grabbed her vest off the back of the chair. Whatever Brody was up to, she wouldn’t mind getting some air after crawling around in the cellar. Maybe she could turn the tables on him and find out for real why he was in Knights Bridge. Call it mad curiosity on her part, but being away from the house could get him to open up.

  The exposure to him on the walk might also help her get control of her hyper-aware reaction to being close to him.

  Now, that was a rationalization.

  Heather zipped up her vest and followed Brody out into the cold winter afternoon. He might not intimidate her, but he wasn’t one of her brothers.

  Not even close.

  * * *

  A private, narrow dirt road, plowed but not sanded, wound past the end of Vic’s driveway into the woods above the lake, then cut down to its western shore. The north shore of the lake and its adjoining woods were town conservation land. There were two small seasonal cottages on the eastern shore. The Hancock house had started its life as a summer cottage, but Brody and his parents had converted it into a year-round home, if only marginally so. Heather didn’t know if they’d enlisted Sloan & Sons for help. Probably not.

  Brody said nothing as the road curved down to the lake. Heather had no trouble matching his pace. He wasn’t in any hurry, despite the cold temperatures. “Thinking about being back on your home turf?” she asked.

  “A trip down memory lane? Not really.” He glanced at her with a small smile. “Mostly I’m trying not to fall on my ass in front of you. There’d go my swashbuckler credentials.”

  “That’d do it,” she said lightly. “I imagine it would be tough to go back to your DSS bosses and tell them you broke your wrist in a fall on the ice.”

  “I’d never live it down.”

  Heather realized he wasn’t serious, nor was he worried about falling, although there were a few treacherous patches of ice where the packed snow had melted during the day and refrozen overnight. There’d be no melting today. It was too cold, even in the sun.

  They continued down a steep section of the road. Brody kept his eyes pinned ahead of him. “Have you noticed anything unusual since you started coming out here?”

  It wasn’t what she’d expected him to say. “Unusual? Like what?”

  “You tell me.”

  “I’d describe things as new rather than unusual. Vic’s retired, Adrienne’s house-sitting and now you show up.”

  “Have you been up here much on your own?”

  “A few times.”

  “Then you have a key.”

  “I do, yes.”

  “Does anyone else have access to it?”

  “Just me.” She wasn’t sure she liked his tone. “Why?”

  “Making conversation.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re asking questions.”

  His pace slowed, and he turned to her. “You’re blunt, aren’t you?”

  “Direct.”

  “When did you start coming out here on a regular basis?”

  “After New Year’s. On and off before that. Vic hired us last fall. I’ve been working directly with the architect, but the heavy lifting on that end is done.”

  “The architect is Mark Flanagan,” Brody said.

  “You remember him, then.”

  “He and I had a few classes together. Half the time he was asleep in the back of the room. I never thought he would stay in Knights Bridge.”

  “He didn’t. He left and then came back. Same with my brother Brandon—”

  “Who married Maggie O’Dunn, the next-younger sister of Phoebe the librarian, who is engaged to billionaire Noah Kendrick.” Brody resumed his earlier pace as they came closer to the lake. “Maggie and Brandon were an item back in high school.”

  “I’m not sure I remember when they weren’t together. Did you ever consider you might stay in Knights Bridge?”

  “For ten minutes when I was twelve, maybe. You?”

  “I never thought much about it. I went to college—I commuted, though. Knights Bridge has always been home. I imagine it always will be.”

  “So, why no man in your life?”

  Heather almost slipped on the slick road. “Now, what kind of question is that?”

  Brody shrugged. “An idle one. Old times’ sake. We grew up together, right?”

  “Not quite. You’re older than I am. Doesn’t matter. I’ve got no secrets. Anyone in Knights Bridge will probably give you a host of reasons as to why there’s no man in my life. My brothers aren’t a deterrent, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m just busy right now with Vic’s renovations and...” She abandoned her thought. “Why am I explaining myself to you?”

  “I don’t know, Heather. Why are you?”

  “No idea. I went to a movie before Christmas with a guy who told me we weren’t meant for each other because he doesn’t know how to fix things.”

  “Did you offer to give him a tutorial on running a power
saw?”

  “Ha-ha. No, I did not. He was being sarcastic. He knows how to fix things. He just didn’t like it that I know, too.”

  “I know the type. He’s from Knights Bridge?”

  She shook her head. “Amherst. Friend of a friend.”

  “Not a friend of one of your brothers, then. Did he realize you have so many brothers?”

  “Yeah, sure. It’s not something I hide.”

  “You might want to hold off on saying ‘I have five older brothers’ until a guy gets to know you.”

  Heather grinned. “Eric tells me that, too.” She noticed the road ended just ahead. “This guy also told me I look like my ‘buff, professional firefighter brother.’ His exact words.”

  “Meaning Christopher.” Brody shook his head. “I’m not seeing it.”

  “He said it’s my jaw. In his mind, I was another Sloan brother.”

  “There’s a strong family resemblance between you and your brothers, but no one would mistake you for a man, Heather.”

  “Well, thank you,” she said.

  Nineteen degrees out, and she wasn’t even close to being cold. Walking within inches of Brody was keeping her quite warm. He didn’t have to touch her. Not that she wanted him to, of course—not that she wanted to be thinking like that out here alone with him.

  He stayed close to her as the road narrowed. “Knights Bridge is a small town,” he said. “You must run into the occasional guy who has issues with your brothers and plays them out on you.”

  “Imagine that,” Heather said half under her breath.

  “I don’t have issues with your brothers, Heather. Not any longer. If they have issues with me, they can take them up with me.” Brody slowed his pace. “Are their problems your problems?”

  “Not in the way you’re thinking. We’re a strong family. We care about each other and listen to each others’ ideas and concerns, but I’m not under my brothers’ thumbs. Now, what about you, Agent Hancock? Is there a woman in your life?”

  “At the moment? No.”