“Carlos, please watch the girls for an hour,” I said. “The nanny is on her way to help them unpack.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Carlos replied.

“I have one last piece of business to finish in Highland Park,” I said.

I drove my own sedan back toward the old neighborhood.

The sky was beginning to turn a dusty pink as the sun dipped lower.

When I turned onto the familiar, manicured street, I saw three police cruisers parked near the Ralston gates.

A small crowd of neighbors had gathered on the sidewalk, whispering behind their sunglasses.

I parked down the street and walked up the paved driveway.

Two men in dark suits were speaking to Graham near the front steps.

Graham’s tie was loosened, his hair messy, and his face was a dark, angry red.

“You can’t just padlock the doors!” Graham yelled, waving his hands.

“Sir, the property is in foreclosure, and the owner has requested immediate possession,” one of the men said calmly.

Gloria stood on the top step, holding a silver framed portrait of her late husband.

Her knuckles were white.