looking up at her in quivering anticipation. She was eager to go to work.
Tavie glanced back at Kieran, who still hadnât responded. He was pulling his gear out of the back of his old green Land Roverâpack, radio, water bottle, Finnâs lead, the squeaky ball that was Finnâs reward for a findâall automatic motionsâand he didnât look at her.
âKieran, are you sure youâre up to this? I can do this on my own if the stormââ
âIâm fine,â he said, still not meeting her eyes, but something in his voice made Finn stop whining to get out of his crate. The dog gazed at his master, his lip wrinkled in a puzzled expression Tavie would have found comical if she hadnât been worried.
She knew that Kieran had bad days, and that he was uncomfortable with storms. Heâd never said much about his past, and as for the present, she knew only that he fixed boats in the little shed on the island above Henley Bridge, and that he rowed.
But in spite of his reticence, theyâd become friends. A chance meeting in the park had led her to offer him help in training Finn, then to her suggesting that Kieran join the SAR team. At first heâd resisted the idea, but as Finn grew, Kieran began to admit that the dog needed a job. Tavie never said she thought that it was Kieran who really needed a reason to get up in the morning, but as he began to ask her to recount the details of searches and finds, she saw a spark come back into his eyes.
Before his first training session with the group, however, sheâd stopped, moved by some impulse to protect him. âKieran, you know a good many of our finds are deceased. Will that be a problem for you?â
Heâd given her a crooked smile. âNot as long as theyâre strangers.â
His answer came back to her now. She touched his arm. âKieran, I have to ask. You turned white as a ghost when you heard this womanâs name. Sheâs a rower, youâre a rower, and I think itâs a pretty small world here in Henley. Do you know her?â
Melody Talbot gazed at the bow-fronted, terraced house, furrowing her brow. âItâs, umâitâs veryâsuburban.â Then, seeing her companionâs crestfallen expression, she amended. âItâs nice, Doug, really it is. Itâs just not exactly single-guy territory, Putney, is it?â She gave him a calculating glance. âUnless you have plans youâre not sharing, mate?â
Doug Cullen flushed to the roots of his fair hair. âNo. Itâs justâI wanted something as different as possible from the Euston flat. Itâs an easy commute to the Yard. I wanted to be near the river and the rowing clubs. And it was a good deal.â He surveyed the house with obvious pride. âJust needs a bit of fixing up, is all.â
Gazing at the peeling paint on the window frames and the door, and the damp stains in the plaster, Melody suspected that might be an understatement. âYouâve actually bought it, then?â
âSigned the last papers an hour ago.â Doug fished a set of keys from his pocket and held them up like a trophy.
Melody had been surprised when heâd rung her at Notting Hill Station that morning, asking her if she could meet him in Putney for lunch. She knew heâd been flat hunting. And Gemma had told her that Duncan intended to take a few daysâ holiday before starting his official family leave, so sheâd supposed that Doug, as Duncanâs sergeant, might be at a bit of a loose end. She hadnât expected to be told that heâd taken the plunge into homeownership.
âYouâre full of surprises today. I never thought of you as the DIY type.â Sheâd never thought of Doug as the athletic type either, although heâd told her one of the reasons heâd settled on Putney was because he wanted to take up the rowing he hadnât done since school. When
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