It was from a luxury department store downtown.

“Are you playing golf today?” I asked, keeping my voice completely steady.

“Just hitting some balls at the public range,” Mark said.

“It clears my head on the weekends to get out of the house.”

He walked over and slammed the trunk shut.

The latch clicked tight.

“Have a good evening, Arthur,” he said.

He led Emma up the wooden porch steps and unlocked the front door of the gray house.