The windshield wipers clicked back and forth in a steady rhythm.

I watched the houses get larger and the lawns wider as we neared the Collins estate.

“There,” I said, pointing through the glass.

Two blue-and-white police cruisers were parked in the curved gravel driveway.

A black sedan stood behind them.

My father pulled his truck onto the curb a few houses down.

He turned off the engine.

“Stay here, Sophie,” he said.

“No,” I said, grabbing his sleeve.

“I want to see this.”

He looked at me, his gray eyes searching my face.

He saw that I was not going to back down.

“Alright,” he said. “But we stay by the edge of the property.”

We got out of the truck and walked along the wet asphalt.

The cold wind bit at my face.

We stopped near the tall stone pillars at the entrance of the driveway.

The front door of the large brick house was wide open.

A man in a dark suit stood on the porch, holding a thick manila folder.

Two uniformed police officers were inside the foyer.