I was making my way down the stairs when the doorbell pealed once again in a rapid staccato.

“Hold on!” I yelled, not that I really expected anyone outside to hear me. “I’m coming, I’m coming…”

I skipped the last couple of stairs near the bottom, making the turn at the landing, and almost jogged across the living room. With a quick turn of my wrist, I unlocked the door and swung it open.

My friend, homicide detective Benjamin Storm was standing on my front porch, along with someone else I thought I recognized as a member of the MCS but to whom I couldn’t place a name. Neither of them looked particularly happy, but I didn’t need to see their expressions to know something was wrong. The warning signs had been there for a while now. I had just been too absorbed, and even more unwilling, to pay attention to them.

Ben reached out and pulled the storm door open, looking at me quietly for a heartbeat or two before saying, “Do you mind if we come in, Row?”

I definitely didn’t like the sound of his voice, and my skin started prickling once again.

“That depends, Ben,” I replied evenly. “Do I have any choice in the matter?”

He reached up and smoothed his hair back, looked down at the porch briefly, then back up to my face. “Actually… No.”

“Do I need to call our attorney?” I asked.

He returned a shallow nod. “It’d be a good idea, Row.”

What transpired in the fifteen minutes following that simple statement set a series of events into motion that, if they didn’t kill me, would undoubtedly leave an indelible scar upon my life, and the lives of those I loved.