Echo Lake

by Carla Neggers

  What an evening that had turned into.

  She forced it out of her mind and examined her reflection in a full-length mirror on the door to the closet where most of the long-hidden dresses were now stored.

  “All I need is a snake,” she said aloud.

  No way, though, would she pass for either Cleopatra or Elizabeth Taylor.

  She peeled off the dress and carefully hung it back in the closet then slipped into jeans, a flannel shirt, wool socks and boots. This was who she was, she thought, glancing at her reflection. She was the sixth and youngest sibling—the only sister—of the hardworking Sloans of Knights Bridge, Massachusetts, a small, pretty town on the edge of the Quabbin Reservoir.

  She liked her life, and she had nothing to prove.

  But she didn’t want to think Brody had decided that whatever was going on between them wasn’t in his best interest to pursue. She didn’t want to get some perfunctory text from him telling her he was in a faraway, undisclosed location.

  We had fun, but time for you to find yourself a regular guy.

  Maybe she wouldn’t get a message at all. Maybe he’d just disappear, thinking that was what was best for her.

  She hated it when people tried to decide what was best for her.

  She knew she was leaping well ahead of any facts and being negative, which wasn’t her style. She grabbed her jacket and headed outside, ignoring the dark, the cold and the mounds of snow as she walked down to the library and on to the skating rink.

  Justin was there, watching Samantha skate with Aidan and Tyler. He grinned at Heather. “You can tell Sam’s grandfather explored Antarctica, can’t you?”

  “The cold doesn’t seem to bother her, and she’s a natural on ice.”

  “I see you didn’t bring your skates.”

  Heather shrugged. “I just wanted some air and company.”

  Her second-eldest brother eyed her. “Brody back?”

  “His DSS friend Greg is. He’s bunking in Vic’s guesthouse. Apparently, Brody made a detour to Washington.”

  “Makes sense, given what he does for a living.”

  “Yep. Makes perfect sense.”

  “You never tell us what you’re feeling, Heather, but you don’t have to. You wear your heart on your sleeve. We’re not going to get into the middle of whatever is going on between you and Brody, but we’re here for you, no matter what. Just want you to know that.”

  She angled a look at him. “We? You mean you guys have all talked?”

  “Not Adam,” Justin said. “He never says much, but he’s with us.”

  “The pick-Heather-up-if-she-falls-apart brigade?”

  “You’re not going to fall apart. Hell, Heather, can’t you just say thank-you?”

  She grinned at him. “Thank you.” But her grin didn’t last. “I mean that, Justin. I admit it’ll be spectacularly awful if I never hear from Brody again.”

  “But that’s not going to happen.” Justin smiled as Samantha spun toward him on her skates. “Not right now, anyway.”

  “You say that with such confidence.”

  He handed her his phone. On the screen was a text from Chris.

  Just saw Brody turn down Thistle Lane. Where’s Heather?

  She could barely contain herself as she returned the phone to Justin. “Tell Chris I’m on my way to Thistle Lane.”

  “Don’t run,” Justin said, grinning. “You don’t want to slip on the ice and break an ankle. That would mess up your reunion.”

  She pointed a finger at him. “You guys need to stop spying on me.”

  “Who’s spying? It’s a small town. We see things.”

  There was no explaining to him, and Heather had to admit she and her other brothers had exchanged calls and text messages when Samantha Bennett had come to town last fall looking for pirate treasure.

  When Heather reached Thistle Lane, Brody’s car was in the driveway. She didn’t see him on the porch, but then remembered she hadn’t bothered to lock the door. She ran up the steps.

  He opened the door. “Evening, Heather.”

  She smiled. “Evening, Agent Hancock.”

  She went inside. He shut the door behind her. He still had on his jacket, and she noticed dark circles under his eyes. Wherever he’d been, it hadn’t involved much sleep.

  “I was hoping I’d catch you trying on another dress,” he said, easing his arms around her.

  “You missed your chance. I was Cleopatra an hour ago. No snake, though.”

  “Can’t be Cleopatra without a snake.” His mouth found hers. There was no fatigue in his kiss. “I like you just fine as you are.”

  “I’m not sure I know you just as you are, but it doesn’t matter.” She put her arms around him. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Back on home leave, at least for now.”

  “I met your friend Greg. He said he was going to build a fire down by the lake.”

  “He doesn’t stay still for long.”

  “You two are a couple of rugged guys. I wasn’t sure you’d come back to Knights Bridge.”

  “I was,” Brody said, drawing her closer.

  “You’ve had a rough time, haven’t you?”

  “It all worked out.”

  Heather touched her fingertips to his jaw. “Go and be with your friend, Brody.” She smiled. “I’m not sure I trust him with matches.”

  “Smart woman.” This time, their kiss was deep, lingering. Finally, Brody stood back and kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Twenty-One

  The next morning was overcast and cold, but Heather noticed the sunrise was earlier, a sign winter was winding down. Mud season would soon be upon them. She smiled to herself as she started up Vic’s back steps. She didn’t know if he’d ever been in Knights Bridge during mud season. Brody had, of course, but she doubted it was one of his fonder memories of his hometown—although mud season did spell the end of the darkest days of winter.

  She pushed open the back door, expecting Rohan to rush her, but he wasn’t in his bed or at his bowls. She unzipped her vest, wondering where Vic, Adrienne and the two DSS agents might be. She’d sneaked into Smith’s early for a breakfast sandwich, which she’d eaten while walking back to Thistle Lane. She hadn’t wanted to join her brothers or anyone else for breakfast and sit there pretending she’d slept well and wasn’t preoccupied with what was going on between her and Brody. Neither, she told herself, would distract her from doing her job.

  She went into Vic’s kitchen, frowning when she saw a chair overturned. Then she noticed shards of clear glass by the stove, as if someone had cleared off the counter and smashed whatever wineglasses were there onto the floor.

  She got out her cell phone as she edged into the dining room.

  It was worse there. Chairs upended. Photographs and Adrienne’s wine-cellar notes cleared off the table onto the floor. In the living room, it was the same. Shelves emptied of books, magazines and knickknacks. A footstool on its side. Something—a vase, maybe—smashed on the hearth.

  She hit Eric’s number. He answered on the first ring. “What’s up, Heather?”

  “Something’s wrong at Vic’s. It’s a mess. It’s like someone tore apart the place in a rage. I don’t know if someone had a fight or what.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Living room. I don’t see or hear anyone else. I’ll check upstairs.”

  “Don’t check anywhere. I’m on my way. Get into your truck. Lock the doors.”

  “Brody and his friend Greg are here somewhere.”

  “They were at Smith’s for breakfast. They should be back there soon. Wait for them in your truck. Got it, Heather?”

  “Got it.”

  As she disconnected, she heard men’s
voices in the kitchen. Before she could get her next breath, Brody and Greg were through the dining room and into the living room.

  “Whoa,” Greg said, taking in the mess. “Somebody was pissed.”

  “It was like this when I got here,” Heather said.

  “Where are Adrienne and Vic?” Brody asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “I’ll look for them,” Greg said, then melted into the entry.

  Heather noticed a photograph by itself on the mantel, otherwise cleared of its usual display. She lifted it off and saw it was of a dark-haired woman and a girl on a summer day. They were on a lakefront, sitting on a boulder with their feet in the water as they smiled at the camera.

  “That’s Adrienne,” Heather said as Brody stood next to her. “She can’t be more than ten. The woman must be her mother.”

  He tapped the photograph. “You recognize the spot, Heather?”

  She took a closer look. “It’s the cove out by your old place, isn’t it?”

  “I used to fish off those boulders with my father.”

  “Where did this picture come from?”

  “I’ve never seen it before. I would have been living here when it was taken, but I don’t remember a mother and daughter showing up. My father’s a sociable guy, but he didn’t have much company out here.”

  Greg returned with Adrienne, sniffling, her face splotched from crying as she cuddled Rohan in her arms. “I found them out front,” Greg said. “She doesn’t know where Vic is. The mess is his doing.”

  Adrienne pointed to the photograph in Heather’s hand. “I showed that to Vic last night. I remember going to a pretty lake with my mother on our way home from a trip to Boston, but I didn’t know where the lake was until I came here in December. Something about it got to Vic. He didn’t say a word when he looked at it. He just went upstairs and shut his door.”

  “Bedroom’s a wreck, too,” Greg said.

  “When did Vic start tearing up the place?” Brody asked.

  Adrienne shook her head. “I don’t know. I got up early. Everything was fine, at least down here. I went to help Elly with the goats. I got back to this,” she said, going pale as she glanced around the trashed room. “I checked inside and outside, but Vic isn’t here. I was about to call you guys when Greg found me.”

  “Looks like Ambassador Scarlatti had himself a dark night of the soul,” Greg said, then shrugged. “Or a dark morning, anyway. Same difference out here.” But his teal eyes were serious as he turned to Brody. “His car’s still here. He must be out in the woods somewhere. You and Heather know the terrain. Want to see if you can pick up his trail?”

  “I’ve got snowshoes in my truck,” Heather said.

  “Snowshoes,” Greg said. “I’d rather jump out of a helicopter.”

  Brody ignored him. “You and Adrienne wait here, in case Vic turns up on his own or we need a formal search-and-rescue team.”

  “My brother’s on his way,” Heather said.

  Greg frowned at Brody. “Brother?”

  “Cop. There are five brothers. Expect them all.”

  Heather went with Brody into the kitchen. He grabbed a pair of snowshoes and poles hanging above Rohan’s bowls in the mudroom. She followed him out through the back door. They stopped at her truck, and she got her snowshoes, poles and a first-aid pouch.

  They didn’t put on the snowshoes. She and Brody would walk out along the road first.

  Heather tucked the first-aid pouch into her vest. “If Vic wasn’t in his right mind and didn’t dress for these conditions...”

  “He’ll be cold,” Brody said.

  They headed onto the road out toward the cove where the photograph of Adrienne and her mother had been taken. Heather knew she didn’t need to explain the dangers of hypothermia to Brody. She checked the side of the road but saw only animal prints. Wild turkeys, deer, rabbits.

  Brody pointed to a footprint visible on the plowed road. Heather nodded. “It’s got to be Vic,” she said.

  They continued down the road. A sharp wind gust blew snow off the trees.

  Brody glanced at her. “You okay?”

  “Yep. Let’s just find Vic.”

  “You’re dressed more appropriately than you were for the Rohan rescue.” He moved in close to her. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll keep you from falling in the lake or another brook.”

  “I didn’t fall into the brook. One foot went through the ice.” She tucked her poles and snowshoes under one arm. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to keep my mind off the million bad reasons Vic didn’t make it back to the house before Adrienne returned from helping Elly with the goats. He wouldn’t worry about scaring you and Greg, but he wouldn’t want to scare her.”

  “Or you.”

  “I got here a little early.”

  They walked a few more yards. “You still fell in that brook. You can admit it.”

  “How are you doing, Agent Hancock? You look cold.” She grinned at him. “Your nose is red.”

  He grinned back at her, but Heather knew their moment of levity didn’t allay their concern about the situation with Vic. They pressed on up the road. She kept up with Brody but noticed he stayed just ahead of her, as if to intercept any danger that might come their way.

  When they arrived at the site of his old cabin, he pointed at prints in the snow, clearly leading into the woods toward the cove where the photograph of Adrienne and her mother had been taken.

  “Vic’s in boots,” Brody said. “He must not have grabbed snowshoes before he left the house.”

  “The snow’s still relatively deep. He’ll wear out faster in boots.”

  Brody gave a curt nod. He pulled off a glove and got out his phone. “I’ll update Greg,” he said as he typed. “It’s a hike down to the cove. If Vic’s not dressed properly and not in his right mind, he could be in serious trouble.”

  Heather nodded. “Eric can get a rescue team started out here.”

  “Makes sense.” Brody glanced at his screen after he sent his text. “Greg says two of your brothers have arrived.”

  “Eric and Christopher, probably.”

  “Three more to go.”

  Brody slid his phone back into his pocket. She could feel his intensity as they put on their snowshoes, quickly tightening the straps and adjusting the poles. They set off into the woods single file, Brody in the lead as they stayed to one side of the footprints, keeping them pristine. On a short, steep hill, she noticed a section of disturbed snow where Vic must have fallen, but the footprints continued through the trees, indicating he’d gotten upright again. He wasn’t crawling, and she didn’t see any sign of blood in the snow. She was tempted to rush but maintained a steady pace behind Brody.

  They reached the cove and the scatter of boulders where Adrienne and her mother had sat with their feet in the water. Brody stood at the edge of the water. Vic’s footprints disappeared among the boulders and patches of mud and melting snow on the open lakeshore.

  “Vic,” Brody called. “Where are you?”

  As if in response, a breeze blew through the trees, rattling bare limbs.

  Heather stood on a small boulder, surveying the brush and trees on the edge of the cove. What a spot for a summer picnic, she thought. Had Sophia and Adrienne Portale walked out here on a whim? Had they stopped at Brody’s cabin, or bypassed it and taken their break on the cove?

  Who’d snapped their picture? Did it even matter?

  Heather felt Brody touch her arm. He nodded to a cluster of boulders behind them. She saw a distinct footprint in the mud then another next to a knee-high boulder.

  They heard a moan. “Help.” Another moan. “Damn it.”

  Brody reacted instantly, leaping to the boulder. Heather jumped off her boulder and follow
ed him through the mud and into the snow to the edge of the woods.

  Vic lay sprawled on his back, motionless behind a chest-high boulder. Brody squatted next to him. “Vic,” he said. “Talk to me.”

  “I hurt like hell.”

  “You’ve got a lump on your left temple. Were you unconscious?”

  “No.” Vic grimaced. “Unfortunately.”

  “Are you sure?” Heather asked.

  He nodded and tried to sit up, but he yelped in pain, his face going gray. He was shivering, not wearing a hat or gloves, but he had on a warm jacket that would help delay the escalation of hypothermia.

  “Anything broken?” Brody asked.

  “My ego is in pieces.”

  “Vic.”

  He leaned away from Brody and vomited in the snow at the base of the boulder. He placed a hand on the gray rock, bracing himself, then sat up again. “That was unpleasant.”

  “No kidding,” Brody said. He pointed at Vic’s left hand, a bloody scrape extending from his wrist to his pinky finger. “You fell?”

  “I tripped over a damn rock and landed here. I managed to protect my head, but I did get clipped. Most of the bruises and scrapes are on my left side. I wrenched my hip. Hurts like hell.” He licked his lips, visibly chapped. “The pain turned my stomach.”

  “A rescue team is on the way,” Heather said.

  “A rescue team? I can walk out of here—”

  “You’re not walking out of here, Vic,” Brody said, firm but not impatient. “I’m not carrying you, either. I could drop you and really break some bones.”

  “Ha. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “I have a first-aid kit,” Heather said. “Do you want me to—”

  “No. Thank you, Heather.” He held up his left hand, looking at the scrape as if only now realizing it was there. He clutched Brody’s upper arm and sat up straighter, groaning but not vomiting again. “I’m sorry for all the drama.”

  “You’re the one who tore up the house?” Brody asked.

  Vic nodded. “I stopped myself when I started throwing dishes. I put on a coat and left to get some air. I started walking. I intended to calm down and return to the house and get everything cleaned up before anyone arrived. Next thing I knew, I was here.” He glanced around, squinting, obviously still in pain and somewhat disoriented. “Is it just you two? Or did Adrienne...” He didn’t finish.