I scratched at the vral grime coating my skin. A shower would have to wait, because the second we stepped through the front door into the foyer with its cathedral ceiling, Drio snapped, "In here," in a way that left no room for discussion.

We hurried into the TV room with its brown leather man cave couches and comfortable clutter. The one place in the house that didn't feel straight out of Exclusive British Men's Club Monthly. Drio was perched on the fat arm of one sofa, staring in ...