Then I reached across to my left hand and pressed my gold wedding ring hard against the base of my knuckle until the metal left a sharp mark in the skin.

The garage smelled of lawn fertilizer and damp road salt from the winter treatments.

Julian had already stacked four white plastic file crates along the south wall, cutting off access to the lawnmower and the spare water heater.

A yellow tag dangled from the latch of the side door.

I bent closer to look at the lock.

The brass cylinder was brand new, its silver strike plate fastened to the painted jamb with three fresh Phillips screws.

Arthur had swapped out the deadbolt yesterday afternoon while I was at the grocery store.