“Don’t leave them on the hall table.”

By eleven thirty that morning, five black luxury SUVs lined the paved driveway behind the Mendoza residence in Zapopan.

Doña Victoria walked down the concrete ramp, smoothing her silk neck scarf with clipped little flicks as she checked each door handle.

“The leather seats are spotless,” Doña Victoria said, peering through the tinted rear window of the lead vehicle.

“We’ll put the immediate family in the first two cars.”

Paola leaned against the garage door frame, tapping her acrylic nails rapidly on the painted wood.