The new maid heard weeping beneath the mansion. Opening the heavy basement door, she found the missing wife, starved and chained. As gasps filled the dark room, the wife grabbed her hand, whispering, “Run before he hears you, or he’ll make you my replacement.” Suddenly, footsteps echoed on the stairs…

as I looked down, I saw a sliver of white beneath the heavy iron frame.

It was a piece of folded parchment.

I knelt and pulled it out. My hands shook so violently I could barely unfold it. In the dim beam of my flashlight, I read the shaky, desperately scrawled handwriting:

She locks me in every night. I heard you at the door. Please. Tell my son not continue reading …