“How much time do they have?” I asked.

“The court order is effective immediately,” Arthur said, opening the passenger door for me. “They will be locked out the moment the deputies arrive.”

I climbed into the passenger seat, the cold leather chilling me through my coat.

Arthur got behind the wheel and started the engine.

The heater began to blow lukewarm air into the cabin as we drove up the ramp.

Outside, the Chicago sky was a heavy, bruised gray.

The rain fell in sheets, blurring the towering office buildings of the Loop.

I watched the screen of my phone as Arthur navigated the wet streets.

The security app showed the main gate of the Prescott estate.

A black Mercedes SUV pulled up behind the idling town car at the entrance.

My mother-in-law, Vivian, was inside that Mercedes.

Her driver, Donald, stepped out into the downpour, holding a large black umbrella.

He walked to the intercom pillar and pressed the call button.

Nothing happened.

I had disabled the entire system from my phone.

Donald pressed it again, then shook his head and walked back to the SUV.