The elaborate two-story house with its fancy pillars and expensive landscaping exuded the warmth of a block of ice.
Freshly cleaned windows, immaculate walkways and shiny brass hardware on the front and side doors gave the image of absolute perfection, combined with the sterility of a surgical instrument. Somewhere in amongst it all, the personable feel of a home got lost to create a symbol of wealth and flawlessness for the outside world; all in the guise of economical superiority.
The potential of an emotionally detached man, lacking any sort of morals or compassion, much less empathy caused chills to run down Steve's back.
Sharing a worried glance with his partner who was one step ahead, he followed the wide sidewalk lined with oval landscaping bricks, feeling as though their presence was already known, if not expected.
Three granite steps led up to the massive oak door, a maroon mat in front of it looking so clean as though it had never been used.
Drawing in a deep breath, Steve let his eyes drift over the large veranda overlooking the front yard and busy road, the white railings recently repainted or newly installed.
"Now you know what the tax payers think our houses look like.", Mike mumbled, trying to add some lightheartedness to an increasingly tense situation, and yet not succeeding the least.
With his senses on edge, Steve reached across his chest to open the holster to his .38, only to have the Lieutenant stop him mid-motion with a strong hand wrapped around his wrist, and a subtle shake of the head to back it up.
Without another word, Mike protectively positioned himself in front of his partner and knocked on the door.
Much to his surprise, it swung wide open.