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J ulia sat in the waiting room like a nervous mother.

A tattooed vet tech in green scrubs had taken Bianco and whisked him behind a door of frosted white glass.

She was the only person in the room, small but decidedly Tuscan.

The walls were of exposed stone, the lighting recessed, and the low couch covered with a brown pleather.

End tables held brochures about vaccination, microchipping, and heat stroke.

On the wall hung diplomas from the University of Pisa and the University of Bologna. The air smelled vaguely antiseptic.

Julia shifted on the couch, her thoughts returning to the villa.

She would miss Anna Mattia and Piero, and it stung that they thought she was crazy, like Rossi.

Nor could she deny that the prospect of being alone on the property made her nervous.

The Italian police hadn’t called her back, and neither had the Philly detective.

Her phone pinged, and she scrolled to the text function. Her heart lifted to see it was from Gianluca.

I’m happy you got home ok. I hope you’re more useful than I am today. I sit in meetings and think of you. Please tell me I didn’t dream last night. It felt like one.

Wow. Julia was about to respond, but a guilty pang stopped her.

She still couldn’t believe she’d slept with him.

She didn’t know if she wanted to start a relationship with him.

She both wished he would and wouldn’t come over tonight.

She felt pressure to respond because he would be waiting. She texted:

Bad news. I’m at the vet. Bianco is sick. Anna Mattia and Piero left.

Gianluca texted back instantly:

Oh no! Let me know how it goes. See you at 8. Until then, a kiss.

“Ms. Pritzker?” the receptionist called to her. “The vet is ready to see you. Exam room D.”

Julia entered a windowless white room that held a forty-something woman with a studious gaze behind rimless glasses and bouncy black hair.

She had on turquoise scrubs and a pink stethoscope with its bulb tucked into her pocket.

She stood behind a stainless-steel examining table across from black plastic bucket chairs and a cabinet with a sink. Bianco was nowhere in sight.

“Is he okay?” Julia asked, her heart in her throat.

“Yes, I’m Dr. Caraccioli,” the vet said in perfectly schooled English. “We’re giving him IV fluids and a sedative that should help him sleep. You can take him home today.”

“Thank God.” Julia felt a wave of relief, then introduced herself. “Was it a stroke?”

“ Stroke is an imprecise term. We’re uncertain as to his specific diagnosis.

Sometimes older dogs have neurological events that come and go.

This may happen more frequently as he gets older.

We’re testing his blood.” Dr. Caraccioli opened a manila folder on the examining table. “I understand you found him this way?”

“Yes, I was out last night and when I came home, he was walking funny.”

“I assume he lives outside. This breed usually does.”

“Yes.”

“So, unfortunately, they can get into anything, like animal feces or toxic plants.”

“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.

Her villa.

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.