THREE YEARS TOO LATE MR STANTON
Then she dropped to the floor, curled around her stomach, and dialed.
"Caleb." Her voice cracked beautifully on the second syllable. "Please, help. Veronica, she's trying to kill me."
I pressed my good hand over the wound, blood seeping warm between my fingers, and stared at her like she was a stranger speaking a language I used to know.
"What is wrong with you?"
"Who do you think he's going to believe?" She didn't even lower her voice for that.
"The pathetic wife, or me?" The door slammed open before I could answer.