Chapter 2 - The Dog Who Wouldn’t Eat
For twenty minutes, I did nothing.
Atlas watched me.
I watched the rain.
Eventually, his eyes moved toward me.
“Hey, handsome,” I whispered.
His ear twitched.
Good.
I slid a bowl of water closer.
Nothing.
Food?
Nothing.
Then I noticed something.
Whenever footsteps approached outside, Atlas became rigid.
Whenever they faded, he relaxed.
The door opened.
Jared entered.
Atlas immediately shut down.
Interesting.
Jared saw my expression.
“What?”
“Leave again.”
“No.”
“Then you wasted a hundred thousand dollars.”
His mouth tightened.
“What did you find?”
“Your dog is afraid.”
“Of me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You thought it.”
I stood.
“Does Atlas sleep here?”
“He used to sleep upstairs.”
“What changed?”
Silence.
“When did he stop eating?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“What happened three weeks ago?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s impossible.”
Jared stepped closer.
“Be careful.”
There it was.
The warning everyone probably obeyed.
I didn’t.
“You hired me because everyone around you is careful. How’s that working out?”
His eyes hardened.
Then Atlas made a quiet sound.
Both of us turned.
He was staring at Jared.
Not fearfully.
Sadly.
Jared’s expression changed.
For one second, the feared man disappeared.
“Atlas.”
The dog looked away.
Jared swallowed.
“He was my brother’s.”
That changed everything.
“Was?”
“My younger brother, Caleb, died eighteen months ago.”
I lowered my voice.
“And Atlas stayed with you?”
“Yes.”
“Did he behave normally until three weeks ago?”
“Yes.”
“What happened then?”
Jared looked toward the hallway.
“I replaced several household employees.”
“Why?”
“A security problem.”
“Who handles Atlas?”
“My staff.”
“Names.”
Jared gave me a cold look.
“You’re investigating my employees now?”
“I’m investigating your dog.”
I pointed at Atlas.
“And he’s telling me something happened.”
“He can’t talk.”
“Neither can most frightened people when nobody bothers listening.”
The words came out sharper than I intended.
Jared studied me.
“You’re not talking about Atlas anymore.”
“Don’t psychoanalyze me.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Good.”
Atlas suddenly lifted his head.
A cart was rolling somewhere outside.
His body stiffened.
I watched the doorway.
A middle-aged man entered carrying a silver tray.
Atlas scrambled backward.
The change was instant.
“Stop.”
The man froze.
Jared looked between us.
“This is Edwin.”
“Put the tray down.”
Edwin frowned.
“Sir?”
“Do it,” Jared said.
Edwin obeyed.
I approached the tray.
There was Atlas’s food.
“Who prepared this?”
“The kitchen.”
“Who brought it?”
“I did.”
“Every night?”
Edwin hesitated.
“Usually.”
Atlas was trembling.
Jared saw it.
His voice became quiet.
“Edwin.”
“Mr. Kensington, I assure you—”
“Leave.”
Edwin disappeared.
Jared looked at me.
“You think someone poisoned him?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
I picked up the bowl.
“I think your five elite veterinarians were looking for something inside Atlas.”
I turned toward the doorway.
May you like
“They should have been looking at what was happening around him.”
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