Chapter Two
Dana stepped from her Honda on to the sidewalk in front of the unassuming city house. Except for the wrought iron fence just off the sidewalk, a sure sign that visitors were not encouraged, it was a rather unremarkable place for Ariel Broussard to call home. And yet she had for nearly twenty years until her death. The dark brick facade looked too dark, and a little forbidding; the smoky blue shutters hardly made it more approachable. The door was black with a heavy brass knocker.
Dana took her first pictures from outside the fence. There was already something about this project that was grabbing her imagination. Ariel Broussard was an art world mystery she couldn’t wait to unravel. And yet as much as she was attracted to her imaginings, she was a little fearful the way she s
