Chương 2
“With the dog?”
“He’s better at it.”
The guard almost smiled before apparently remembering where he worked.
Brutus lifted his head.
Clara did not move.
The mastiff sniffed the air again, then pushed himself upright.
Every muscle in the courtyard seemed to tighten except Clara’s.
Inside, hers had turned to wire.
She kept breathing through her nose.
Brutus took one step.
Then another.
His claws clicked softly against the wet stone.
Clara looked slightly away from him.
He came close enough that she could smell damp fur and something medicinal beneath it.
His muzzle hovered beside her shoulder.
She resisted the childish urge to squeeze her eyes shut.
A cold nose touched the sleeve of her blouse.
Clara exhaled.
“Hello.”
Brutus sniffed her hair.
Then he sneezed directly against her cheek.
Clara flinched.
The first guard made a strangled noise that might have been laughter.
“Oh, that’s disgusting.”
Brutus sneezed again.
“You’re not charming enough to get away with that.”
The mastiff lowered his head and smelled her wet cardigan.
Clara glanced at him.
There was still fear in his posture, but curiosity had begun crowding it out.
She knew better than to confuse tolerance with trust.
She also knew better than to waste the moment.
“Can somebody move the bucket now?”
Neither guard volunteered.
Clara looked at them.
“Really?”
“I have a wife,” one said.
“I have rent.”
“That’s not equivalent.”
“It is this month.”
Brutus turned at the sound of their voices.
Clara immediately lowered hers.
“Hey.”
His attention came back.
“You’re okay.”
The rear door opened.
Agnes Whitmore stepped outside, saw Clara sitting beside Brutus, and stopped so abruptly that her keys struck the doorframe.
For once, the housekeeper had nothing to say.
Brutus moved closer to Clara.
Not much.
Three inches, perhaps.
But Agnes saw it.
So did Adrian.
Nolan cleared his throat behind him.
“I assume you want her dismissed.”
Adrian looked away from the courtyard for the first time.
“Why would you assume that?”
“She ignored a direct safety instruction.”
“She fell.”
“She remained after she fell.”
“Yes.”
“That was the part I meant.”
Adrian picked up his coffee.
It had gone cold.
He drank it anyway.
“Find out why she knows dogs.”
“We already ran her employment history.”
“Then you didn’t run enough.”
Nolan’s jaw shifted almost imperceptibly.
“Anything else?”
“Her finances.”
“That was included.”
Adrian turned.
“Was it?”
Nolan was silent for a beat.
“Three weeks behind on rent.”
“Debt?”
“Medical.”
“Hers?”
“I don’t know.”
“Find out.”
Nolan gave him a look he reserved for orders he considered questionable but not yet objectionable.
Adrian returned his attention to the window.
Clara had finally stood.
Brutus did not retreat.
She took one slow step toward the house.
The dog followed.
Agnes raised a hand.
“Clara, stop.”
Clara stopped.
Brutus stopped beside her.
The mastiff’s shoulder reached almost to her hip.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Whitmore.”
Agnes stared at the animal.
“What did you do?”
“Spilled a bucket on him.”
“I can see that.”
“Then mostly nothing.”
Brutus pressed his nose against Clara’s wrist.
Agnes’s face lost some color.
“You need to come inside.”
Clara glanced at the dog.
“How?”
Nobody answered.
She took another step.
Brutus followed.
At the threshold, he froze.
His paws planted against the stone.
Clara felt the change before she fully saw it.
His breathing accelerated again.
She looked inside the service corridor.
A cleaning cart stood against the wall.
A mop leaned from it.
Its aluminum handle caught the overhead light.
Brutus backed away.
Clara followed his gaze.
“Move the mop.”
Agnes looked at her sharply.
“Please.”
One guard reached inside and laid the mop flat behind the cart.
Brutus’s breathing slowed.
Clara stared at him.
Bucket handle.
Mop handle.
Long metal objects.
Not water, then.
Or not only water.
Something cold settled in her stomach.
She crouched again.
Brutus came forward until his forehead nearly touched her shoulder.
Clara did not pet him.
Not yet.
“You poor thing,” she whispered.
Upstairs, Adrian’s fingers tightened around the coffee cup.
Nolan heard the porcelain give a faint click beneath the pressure.
“You should go down there,” he said.
“No.”
“She may figure out more.”
“That’s why I’m not going down there.”
Nolan studied him.
Adrian ignored the look.
Four years earlier, Brutus had been found half-dead in a locked commercial garage belonging to a man who no longer owned anything, including the freedom to leave the country.
The police report had described neglect.
The veterinarian had used a different word.
Adrian had never learned exactly what instruments had caused the scars.
He had stopped asking after the second examination because every answer made him want to do something that would create paperwork for Nolan.
Below, Clara finally reached the service doorway.
Brutus remained outside.
She turned toward him.
“I have to work.”
The dog stared.
“I mean it.”
He sat.
“You live here.”
Brutus remained seated.
“I don’t.”
His head tilted.
Clara rubbed her arms against the cold.
“This arrangement is extremely unfair.”
Agnes found her voice.
“Inside, Clara.”
Clara stepped backward through the doorway.
Brutus rose immediately.
She stopped.
He stopped.
Agnes muttered something under her breath.
“What?”
“I said Mr. Vale is going to have a fit.”
Clara’s stomach dropped.
She had not yet met the owner of the estate.
She knew only his surname, the confidentiality agreement she had signed at the agency, and the fact that employees lowered their voices whenever they referred to him.
“Am I fired?”
Agnes looked toward the upper windows.
“I have absolutely no idea.”
Brutus gave a low whine.
The sound changed something in Agnes’s expression.
Clara turned back.
The mastiff stood exactly where she had left him, watching her through the doorway.
She took another step inside.
He whined again.
“Oh, no.”
Agnes closed her eyes.
“Do not say that.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“That may be the problem.”
Brutus approached the threshold, hesitated, and then forced one massive paw across it.
His entire body shook.
May you like
Clara stared.
He brought the second paw forward.
