Chapter 2 - The Secret Beneath Argo’s Skin
Argo moved first.
Not toward Dante Castellani.
Not toward the security guards.
Toward the five-year-old girl sitting in freezing water.
Ivy Novak held the damp gray cloth with both hands as the enormous black dog lowered his head.
His nose touched her fingers.
Then, slowly, he rested his scarred muzzle against her knees.
Nobody spoke.
For eleven years, Argo had obeyed Dante's commands without hesitation. He had guarded his bedroom, accompanied him through dangerous meetings, and once stood between him and three armed strangers.
Yet here he was, trusting a little girl he had known for less than three minutes.
Ivy gently touched the cloth to his neck.
"There," she whispered. "That's better."
Dante watched the dog's trembling hind leg.
Something about the scene disturbed him more than the animal's refusal to obey.
Argo wasn't being stubborn.
He was asking for help.
"Turn off the water completely," Dante ordered.
Bosow hurried toward the faucet.
"And get that chain out of here."
One guard collected the steel links.
Elise Novak remained beside the service entrance, her face tense.
"Ivy, sweetheart, can you move your hands away from his back leg?"
The little girl nodded.
But Argo shifted before she could move.
He lowered himself onto the wet stones, exposing his left hip.
Elise's expression changed.
"Mr. Castellani," she said carefully, "please don't let anybody touch that wound."
Dante looked down.
"What wound?"
Elise pointed.
Beneath the dog's thick black fur was a narrow, raised scar.
At its center, something dark protruded through the irritated skin.
Dante frowned.
"Bosow. What is that?"
Bosow looked uncomfortable.
"Probably an old stitch, sir."
"From what?"
"The accident last year."
Dante remembered.
Fourteen months earlier, Bosow had reported that Argo had been injured chasing another animal near the estate's rear gate.
A veterinarian had supposedly treated him.
Since then, the dog's limp had gradually worsened.
Dante had accepted the explanation that old age and damaged tendons were responsible.
But Elise wasn't looking at the scar like a woman examining an ordinary injury.
She looked frightened.
"That's not a normal stitch," she said.
Bosow snapped, "You're a housekeeper, Mrs. Novak."
"I was a veterinary rehabilitation technician for eight years before my daughter was born."
That silenced him.
Elise knelt several feet from Argo.
"I won't touch you," she whispered to the dog.
Argo raised one ear.
She made a soft two-note sound.
The dog's head lifted immediately.
Dante stared at her.
"How did you know to do that?"
Elise stopped.
For the first time since entering the yard, she seemed to realize how much she had revealed.
"Some dogs respond better to familiar sounds."
"That wasn't my question."
Before she could answer, Ivy spoke.
"Mommy, his leg has a little metal thing."
Elise went pale.
Dante crouched carefully.
What looked like a dark stitch was actually a tiny piece of metal pushing against the skin.
The surrounding tissue was inflamed.
He had trusted the medical reports.
He had trusted Bosow.
And for more than a year, Argo had been living with something buried inside his body.
"Get Dr. Sloane here," Dante ordered.
"She's already scheduled for this afternoon," Bosow replied.
"Then tell the gate to let her straight through."
Elise slipped off her cardigan and wrapped it around Ivy.
"Let's get you warm."
But Ivy shook her head.
"Argo's cold too."
Dante removed his expensive wool coat.
He folded it beside the dog without reaching toward him.
Argo sniffed it, then rested his chin on the fabric.
It was the first acknowledgment Dante had received from him all morning.
Something tightened in Dante's chest.
He turned toward Elise.
"How long have you known about that scar?"
"Since this morning."
"You're lying."
Elise stood.
Her voice remained steady, but her hands shook.
"I recognized the location of the injury. That isn't the same as knowing what caused it."
"Recognized it from where?"
She glanced at Ivy.
Dante understood the hesitation.
"Mrs. Novak, your daughter is safe here. But I need an answer."
Elise looked at the guards.
"Then send your men away."
Bosow stepped forward.
"Sir, I strongly advise—"
"Leave us."
The guards withdrew.
Bosow hesitated before following.
Elise waited until the service door closed.
Then she reached into her cardigan pocket and removed a small, worn photograph.
She had clearly carried it for a long time.
The picture showed a man in a firefighter's borrowed coat, standing outside a smoke-damaged brick building.
Beside him was a large black dog.
Argo.
The man had one hand resting on the dog's neck.
Dante recognized the building immediately.
Harbor House.
The waterfront family residence destroyed by fire fourteen months earlier.
One caretaker had died.
Several families had been injured.
And an electrical technician had gone to prison for causing the disaster.
Dante stared at the man in the photograph.
"Peter Novak."
Elise nodded.
"He's my husband."
Dante looked from the picture to Argo.
Then back to Elise.
Her next words were barely louder than a whisper.
"Your dog was with my husband the night everyone said he murdered that caretaker."
May you like
And she pointed toward Argo's injured hip.
"Whatever is buried inside him may be the reason Peter is still in prison."
