The engines started with a low rumble, and the five vehicles made tight three-point turns on the blue gravel.

They retreated down the long asphalt drive, their red taillights disappearing beyond the pine ridge toward the public highway.

Marcus walked to the main control box on the pillar and pressed the master switch.

The heavy black iron gates swept shut behind the retreating Mendoza vehicles, leaving complete silence on the estate drive.

Samuel walked into my father’s quiet library at ten minutes to six, carrying a flat blue audit folder.

I sat behind the heavy mahogany desk with my mother’s pearl brooch lying on the green leather blotter between my hands.