“That’s not the part I’m worried about,” Maria said.
Maplewood Drive was one of those streets built to advertise safety. Neat lawns, porch lights, planted maple trees arching over the pavement like something out of a developer’s brochure. The kind of block where Halloween decorations stayed tasteful and people waved while bringing in groceries. By the time they pulled up to 1427, the house looked almost offensively normal.
White siding. Clean shutters. Swing set out back.
Daniel hated that. In his experience, the worst houses often looked like the nicest ones.
A tall man answered the door before they could knock a second time. He was broad-shouldered, work boots still on, T-shirt stained at the collar. Around forty. Construction build. The sort of man who looked like he’d spent a lifetime moving weight and expecting rooms to shift around him.
