Evelyn threw her hands up immediately, her umbrella falling into the mud.

Dante stepped into the edge of the camera’s frame, standing beside Detective Miller.

He did not draw a weapon.

He simply watched as the officers pulled Marcus up and forced his arms behind his back.

Marcus was shouting, his mouth moving frantically, but the audio was not connected.

Even from a distance, I could see the terror in his eyes.

A third police car arrived, and out of the back stepped Vanessa Hale.

She was already in handcuffs, her expensive wool coat ruined by the rain.

It seemed Dante’s men had picked her up hours ago at her office.

The screen went black as Dante terminated the feed.

A few minutes later, the rear door of our car opened.

Dante climbed back in, bringing the scent of ozone and wet wool with him.

He wiped a few stray drops of rain from his cheek.

“It is done,” he said.

“The district attorney has the offshore account routing numbers and the forged signatures.”

“What about Vanessa?” I asked.

“She talked,” Dante said.