It was Mary.

“Where is he?” she whispered.

I looked at the police car pulling away into the snow, its red lights fading into the white storm.

I didn’t know what to say.

“He’s here, Mary,” I said. “He’s here.”

But as the sirens faded into the distance, the silence of the Chicago winter settled over us once more.

I looked at the flash drive in Paul’s hand, its small red light blinking in the darkness.

We had the proof, but the price was already paid.

And the man who had built a castle on secrets was now standing in the ruins, waiting for the snow to cover it all.

The phone line went dead, the soft hum of the dial tone the only sound left.

I turned to Paul.

“What do we do now?” I asked.

Paul stared at the ramp where Vance had disappeared.

“We survive,” Paul said.

He shifted the car into reverse, the tires gripping the wet concrete as we prepared to face whatever was waiting for us at the top of the ramp.