“Sarah called me on my cell phone an hour ago,” I said.

“Your parole file is completely clear of any new violations or pending warrants,” Arthur said.

I turned the newly cut brass key in the lock and listened to the deadbolt slide firmly into the wooden frame.

The mechanical click was incredibly loud in the quiet afternoon air.

Arthur pushed open the heavy black door, and we walked together into the wide front hallway.

The air inside the house smelled faintly of old dust and artificial lemon polish.