Midnight arrived, bringing with it a low-rolling summer thunderstorm. Lightning flickered across the sky, but no rain fell, trapping the suffocating stench close to the baking earth. Arthur slipped into the shadows of his own backyard. Standing at the property line, the smell was blinding—foul, chemical, and heavy, scratching at the back of his throat. He looked around to ensure Marcus or Clara weren’t watching.
With a series of sharp, metallic snaps, he peeled back a section of the chain-link fence separating his yard from Henderson’s overgrown pathway. He crawled through the gap, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was a man of absolute order, a stickler for the law, and he was currently trespassing in the dark like a criminal.