The agents led us to a suburban community about thirty minutes outside the capital. The community wasn’t gated, but it sported the tasteful stone walls and an arch over the entrance bearing its name. We traveled about five minutes past the entrance before we turned onto a dead-end street leading to cul de sac. I guessed the house at the very end was our destination from all the law enforcement and crime scene people roaming the place like an untamed herd. Our convoy stopped at the yellow police tape that crossed the street, and everyone stepped out of their vehicles to stretch after the long ride.
Hauser approached the uniform standing at the tape, and the two spoke for a moment. While we waited, I looked around the neighborhood, taking in the cookie-cutter houses that surrounded us. I di
