I set the cleaning spray down on the counter.

I walked to the window and parted the heavy drapes.

A black sedan was driving slowly up the long, winding driveway toward the main entrance.

It wasn’t Arthur’s car; Ethan had said Arthur drove a silver SUV.

This car had no markings, but it looked official, its tires crunching on the wet gravel.

It stopped near the front steps.

The headlights died, plunging the driveway back into shadow.

Two figures got out of the car.

They wore dark raincoats and carried clipboards wrapped in plastic protectors to shield them from the drizzle.

They were walking toward the front door.

They were here.

Daniel had not waited until tomorrow.

The doorbell rang, its loud chimes echoing through the empty, silent house.

I dropped the drape and turned toward the hallway, my chest tightening.

At the top of the stairs, a light flickered on.

Ethan stood on the landing, his shadow stretching long and thin down the polished wooden stairs.

He wore his suit trousers and a white shirt, the collar open and his sleeves rolled up to his forearms.