Vargas moved in, taking Patricia by the arm and pulling her hands behind her back.

The metallic click of the handcuffs locking around her wrists sounded incredibly loud in the quiet hallway.

Patricia did not fight, but she glared at my father with a fury that seemed to burn through the space between them.

“You are a fool, Emiliano,” she spat, her voice raw. “You would have been nothing without the connections I brought you.”

My father did not reply.

He simply turned his back on her.

The two uniform officers took Patricia by her elbows and began to lead her down the stairs.

Her heels clicked sharply against the wooden steps, a rhythmic, angry sound that slowly faded.

We heard her shouting insults at the officers as they reached the front door.

Then, the heavy oak door of the mansion closed with a dull, heavy thud.

The flashing red and blue lights outside continued to paint the walls for a few minutes more.

We heard the squad cars pull away, their engines roaring briefly before fading into the distance.