CHAPTER 42
ARI
Arnold Wise lived in a single-storey, clapboard home with a wide front porch. The Stars and Stripes fluttered from a flagpole in the immaculate front yard, and somewhere inside, a small dog yip-yip-yipped when I rang the bell. While I waited for an answer, I studied the place. The siding was freshly painted in pale grey, the small front lawn a vibrant green. Colourful flowers exploded from pots on either side of the front steps, and the windows sparkled. Someone clearly took pride in the place. But the empty driveway was concerning. The only movement inside came from the dog, its claws skittering across a wooden floor as it ran back and forth.
“Are you looking for Erna?”
The voice came from the side, and I turned to see a dark-haired woman peering over the fence, grippin
