It was still raining over the Don Vito estate, turning the steep private driveway into a slick runway of mud, shattered branches, and bullet casings.
Up in the sky, the low clouds were dancing with lights thanks to the flashing emergency lights of more than twenty cop cars, their sirens screaming into the night.
At the foot of the hill, the estate's outer perimeter was completely exposed. The heavy gates were bent inward, sheared clean off their pillars where the van had rammed them at full speed.
Jake slammed the cruiser door shut, pulling the collar of his trench coat high against the cold wind. His boots sank into the mud as he ducked beneath the yellow crime scene tape that cops were stringing between the trees.
Beside him, Officer Ava moved with a dark tension, her service Glock held at low ready, her sharp eyes sweeping the sprawling front lawn, even though it was secured beforehand.
