And he was beginning to understand that her obsession with securing the management agreement had become far more dangerous than he'd imagined.
Andre didn't sleep much that night.
After the responders completed the immediate scene work, he returned inside and locked the sliding door.
The pool was closed.
The backyard gate required repair.
And the familiar turquoise water had become something he couldn't safely approach.
He stood beside the kitchen island and stared toward the patio.
His phone contained copies of the recordings.
The video meeting had been preserved.
And the officers had taken statements from the people involved.
Andre knew he was fortunate.
Nobody had been swimming.
His niece hadn't visited.
And the incident had been interrupted before Cynthia could create any additional danger.
Yet he couldn't stop thinking about what might have happened.
He imagined Maya running toward the shallow end.
His father lowering himself into the water.
Tasha sitting beside the pool while the children played.
The images made him feel sick.
He poured a glass of water.
Then sat down.
For several minutes, he simply breathed.
Finally, he called his parents.
His mother answered.
"Andre? Everything okay?"
He hesitated.
Then told her what happened.
She was silent for several seconds.
When she spoke again, her voice trembled.
"Was anybody hurt?"
"No, Mom."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
He heard her exhale.
Then she asked whether he wanted them to come over.
Andre looked toward the dark backyard.
For a moment, he wanted to say yes.
He wanted his father sitting beside him.
His mother making tea in the kitchen.
And the familiar comfort of people who loved him without demanding anything in return.
But it was late.
And he knew they were worried.
"Tomorrow," he answered. "Come tomorrow."
His mother agreed.
Before ending the call, she said quietly.
"That woman doesn't get to decide whether you feel safe in your own home."
Andre closed his eyes.
He wanted to believe her.
But for the first time since purchasing the house, he wasn't certain how long it would take to feel safe again.
The following morning, Ruth arrived with Natalie Brooks.
Andre met them in the living room.
He wore a dark-gray shirt and jeans.
His usual composure had returned, but Ruth could see the exhaustion in his eyes.
She sat across from him and placed a folder on the coffee table.
For several seconds, she looked at him without speaking.
Then she said.
"I'm sorry."
Andre frowned.
"You didn't do this."
Ruth shook her head.
"I know. But I should have understood sooner that Cynthia wasn't simply being stubborn."
He looked toward the backyard.