I latched on to the door handle, ready to rip it open and run for it. I hadn't walked into the home thinking of Arthur as an actual murder suspect, but no way could I ignore two screams.
One, sure, but not two.
Arthur let out a steady stream of swear words as he marched his way out of the room. I turned the knob half a rotation, wanting to give myself an easy out if I needed to make a run for it. If I held out a few more seconds, I might get enough incriminating evidence to prove Arthur had a basement full of women he was torturing.
Feet pounded on the floor as Arthur rounded the hallway, returning to the kitchen. I twisted the handle another inch and held the door ajar, letting a wall of cold air into the room from the open sliver.
He chucked a remote on the kitchen counter and lea
