“Someone else just entered the property.”

Ramiro kept his hand pressed against his earpiece, his eyes locked on the blinking red light.

“It is the local police, sir,” Ramiro said, his voice steadying. “And two unmarked vehicles.”

My father did not look surprised.

He had made the call himself half an hour ago, before he came up the stairs.

“Let them through the main gates, Ramiro,” my father said.

“Understood, sir,” Ramiro replied, pressing the button on the wall panel to release the locks.

The heavy iron gates at the end of the long driveway groaned open in the distance.

I stood close to Martina, my arm still wrapped tightly around her trembling shoulders.

She pressed her face into my side, her fingers clutching the fabric of my sweater.

Rosa stood beside us, her chin held high, though her hands shook against her apron.

We heard the sound of tires crunching on the wet gravel outside the front entrance.

The blue and red lights began to flash through the high stained-glass windows of the foyer.

They threw long, distorted shadows across the marble floor and up the grand staircase.