Standing in that foyer, I realized I had been calling them “differences” because I didn't want to confront the warning signs.
I went to the heavy oak front door, turned the deadbolt, and called 911.
“Who are you calling?” Vanessa demanded.
“An ambulance and the police.”
I glanced at the deep, raw rope burns around Teresa’s wrists. “A paramedic will make that call.”
I took the pocket tool from my keychain and carefully cut through the cords around her arms. Teresa winced as her shoulders fell forward.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. David,” she sobbed.
“You have nothing to apologize for, Teresa.”
Vanessa gave a sharp, dry laugh. “Unbelievable. So now I’m the criminal and she’s the saint?”
Teresa looked toward the foyer’s high ceiling. “Mr. David… she knows about the security cameras.”
The color disappeared from Vanessa’s face.
I RETURNED HOME EARLY TO SURPRISE MY FIANCÉE—BUT FOUND OUR HOUSEKEEPER TIED TO A MARBLE COLUMN, SOBBING WHILE MY FIANCÉE HELD A LIGHTER JUST INCHES FROM HER FACE.
