I shut off the ignition, picked my briefcase up off the passenger floor mat, and stepped out onto the cold driveway.

Before my key ever touched the deadbolt, the heavy front door swung open three inches.

Daniel stood in the gap in his dark fleece pullover and gray track pants.

“You’re making enough racket to wake up every family on the block,” he said, stepping out onto the cold porch boards.

“It’s eleven thirty, Daniel.

I came up our driveway quietly.”

“The people across the street go to bed at ten,” he said, leaning his shoulder on the wooden porch post.