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“I wished he lived inside, but he guards a pen that used to hold geese.”

“That’s his job.” Dr. Caraccioli smiled. “He’s fine outside.”

“Can I bring him inside if I want to? There haven’t been geese for years.”

“If you want to, and for the next few days, keep him in. What are you feeding him?”

“Um, I don’t know. My housekeeper fed him, but she left.” Julia worried it sounded snotty, but Dr. Caraccioli didn’t blink.

“I would put him on prescription kibble. We sell it here. It’s easier on his stomach. I’ll put it in your notes, for when you check out.” Dr. Caraccioli straightened. “So. Do you have any questions for me?”

“I’m wondering about his health in general? He’s new to me. I’m not the one who takes care of him, but I will be.”

“He’s doing well. His heart is fine and his hind legs are well situated in his hip joints. Do you know who his primary veterinarian is? There are several in the area. We have no records on him.”

“I don’t know, but I can try to find out.” Julia hoped she could find his records or get in touch with Anna Mattia.

“Good, please let us know, and we will send your vet a report.”

“Thank you.” Julia felt unaccountably choked up. “He’s a good dog.”

“They all are,” Dr. Caraccioli said with a kind smile.

Julia drove home with Bianco sleeping soundly in the back seat. She could tell she wasn’t being followed because the road was narrow and most of the traffic was farm trucks toting hay bales or lumber. She’d texted Gianluca to say that Bianco was okay, and he’d texted her a heart emoji that gave her a warm rush, then made her wonder if there was a guilt emoji.

Julia knew what she had to do next, as soon as she got back to the villa.

Hervilla.

Julia left Bianco sleeping in the kitchen and hurried out the back door. She had to find out if Anna Mattia and Piero had discovered something in the vineyard that scared them away, like bones or even a body.

She took a left, heading for the vineyard. The air had warmed, and sun blasted the tangled vines and unruly trees. She wondered if the little girl in the cell had been her biological mother and where she was now. Was she alive? Or was she dead, buried on this very property? The police weren’t going to look, so it was up to Julia. It was a crazy thought, but she was getting used to thinking crazy thoughts.

She crossed to the hole Piero had been digging over the original tunnel. She looked down the hole and all she could see was dirt and embedded rock. The battered shovel lay in the dirt. She picked it up, scanning the vineyard. She didn’t know if it made sense to go looking for a buried body, but she wouldn’t sleep if she didn’t try.

She got busy.

40

Two hours later, Julia hadn’t found any bones or bodies, but she’d toured her property and knew it better. Her legs and arms were covered with scratches, and she was sweaty and starving, so she trudged up the hill to the villa. She entered the kitchen, fetched a glass, and poured herself water, leaning on the sink. It felt strange to be in the kitchen without Anna Mattia.

Julia crossed to the refrigerator and looked inside. Everything was organized; and on the right were grapes, strawberries, and blueberries. On the left were jars of green and black olives, fresh broccoli, and packaged lamb chops. The middle drawer was filled with cheeses, and the bottom drawers contained romaine and butterhead lettuce, potatoes, onions, and garlic.

Julia grabbed some grapes and gobbled them. She found a thick loaf of rustic bread under the covered dish, so she retrieved a serrated knife and made a cheese sandwich, while Bianco shuffled into the kitchen, still hanging his head, his walk wobbly.

“Hey buddy, how are you?” Julia went over and scratched him behind his soft ears. His round amber eyes met hers, his pink tongue lolling adorably out, then he started shuffling toward the back door.She thought he might need to go to the bathroom, so she opened it, and he trundled out and turned toward Anna Mattia and Piero’s house.

Julia watched him go, then he trotted downhill and she lost sight of him. She took off, hurried down the hill toward the carriage house, then looked around. The dog had disappeared.

“Bianco!” Julia called, then heard a noise inside the equipment shed. She hustled to the shed and crossed into the cool shade next to the tractor. A plastic trash bin lay on its side, its lid off, and Bianco was sniffing soiled napkins on the ground.

“No, buddy!” Julia tugged him away by the collar and hooked a soggy napkin shred from his mouth. She realized he must’ve gotten into the garbage and it upset his stomach. She righted the bin, picked up the trash, and closed the lid.

Suddenly her phone rang, and she slid it out of her pocket. The screen showed the Philly area code, 215, but she didn’t recognize the number. She answered, “Hello?”

“Ms. Pritzker? Detective Tom Malloy from the Homicide Division. I picked up your husband’s case. I heard you called Detective Pivali.”

“Yes, is he in?” Julia walked Bianco out of the shed, holding onto his collar.