CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
The home that stood before Ella was unassuming; too ordinary for the man she suspected held extraordinary secrets.
Nestled in a postcard-worthy neighborhood, its facade was as modest as it came.
Merely a small structure set against a backdrop of verdant lawns.
Ella jumped out of her car, rushed up the small, carless driveway, and hammered on the door.
She waited.
No answer came.
She circled the perimeter and stole glances through the windows. The snapshots of interiors within betrayed nothing but the mundane: a living room frozen in time, a kitchen untouched. The lack of response and absence of any vehicle on the driveway suggested Derek Graham was nowhere to be found.
Ella’s frustration threatened to overflow as she stood before the unresponsive house. She rapped on the door one more time, but her knocks again echoed unanswered.
She considered her options.
Breaking in was tempting, and would be a quick way to quench her thirst for answers. But she knew better. She was bound by protocols that couldn't be ignored even in the face of desperation. The rules were clear: without a warrant or immediate danger, breaking into a suspect's home was off-limits.
As she retraced her steps, her gaze lingered on the windows once more, half-expecting a shadow to move, a sign of life to reveal itself. But the house remained stoic, any potential secrets locked behind doors that would get her suspended if she tried to open.
She couldn’t wait for Derek to return home. It could be hours, by which point there could be another body on the pile. Or he could already be a hundred miles north of Milwaukee, maybe sheltering in some backwater town where nobody would ask his name.
Just as Ella was about to turn back to the car, a voice sliced through the evening air.
‘Excuse me, dear,’ it said, floating towards her from across the neatly trimmed lawn.
Ella spun and saw an elderly woman standing on the edge of a neighboring yard.
Her posture was slightly bent with the weight of the years, and the green eyeliner below an ashen-colored mop gave the impression of a woman who still valued appearances.
She wore a floral dress, synthetic gloves, and clutched a rusty gardening trowel in one hand.
‘Hi,’ Ella said. ‘Sorry if I disturbed you.’
‘You’re looking for Derek, aren’t you?’ the woman asked.
'Yes, I am. You're his neighbor?'
‘Twenty years and counting. I’m Mabel.’
‘Good to meet you. Have you seen Mr. Graham today, by any chance?’
Mabel shook her head. 'It's Wednesday, dear. Derek's usually at the church on Wednesdays. Doing his thing.’
Ella nodded. An abrupt plan formed. ‘Thank you. Do you know if he went there today?’
'I'd wager he did,' Mabel said. 'I didn't see him head out, but he's regular as clockwork, that one. Four o'clock on the dot, he's off.'
'Got it,' Ella said. She bit down on the curiosity that was growing in her, but if anyone could shed some light on Derek Graham's personality, it was someone who'd known him for twenty years. 'I'm sorry, but could I ask you a few things about Mr. Graham?'
Mabel’s face clouded over as she pruned an immaculate rosebush. ‘You can try. We weren’t bosom buddies or nothin’. Just neighbours since the Clinton years.’
‘Long time ago. What’s Derek like?’
‘Harmless, sweet as sugar but boy can he talk. Get him started and he doesn’t shut up.’
‘Really?’
‘Usually. He’s been a bit quieter in the past few months but he never talks about it. The man’s like a lake that never ripples.’
‘Quieter? Ella asked.
‘Yeah. Had some bad luck, but he never lost his smile.’
Ella backtracked, fearing she’d missed something. ‘Hold on a second. Bad luck? What happened to him?’
Mabel inspected her shears then looked back at Ella. ‘Yeah, but who’s asking, anyway? I’m not one to go spilling a man’s business out to strangers.’
Ella opted for the honest route. She flashed her badge at her new friend. ‘FBI, working with the Cedarburg police. I just need to talk to Derek about a few recent incidents.’
‘The fuzz, huh.’
‘Afraid so.’
Mabel hesitated. ‘Is he in trouble?’
‘That’s what I’m here to figure out.’
The neighbor plucked a few stray leaves and sprinkled them onto her lawn. ‘Well, don’t go telling him I told you about this, but Derek lost his kid last year.’
Ella paused. Derek’s profile just got a little deeper. ‘His kid? Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘Terrible business. He was only nineteen, didn’t even have hair on his chest. Now he’s gone. Tell me this world ain’t the cruelest.’
‘That’s awful,’ Ella said with a grave nod. A pang of empathy broke through her detective’s veneer. ‘Do you know how it happened?’
‘Drugs. Silly boy went down the wrong path. Overdosed one night and never woke up. It really knocked Derek around.’
Ella considered the sudden idea that emerged as the mentally pieced together the fragments of Derek Graham’s shattered life. Could the loss of a child, a wound so deep and raw, be the catalyst that twisted a grieving father into something monstrous?
‘It’s ironic, ain’t it,’ Mabel continued. ‘A man who spends his life helping others couldn’t even help his son. Derek told me over the years – losing his son to drugs was his worst fear.’
Mabel’s comment wrapped around Ella like a shroud.
A therapist, an expert in confronting and overcoming fears, haunted by the very nightmare he couldn't prevent.
Derek Graham, a healer of fears, had been living his own worst nightmare – one that ultimately consumed his son.
She considered the possibility that Derek, in his anguish, might have projected his own pain onto others.
Was it conceivable that in his twisted state of mind, inflicting fear on others was a way to diminish his own hurt?
A way to externalize and confront the terror that had torn his life apart?
The psyche, when fractured by trauma, sometimes sought solace by replicating that trauma in other people.
As Ella pondered this grim reality, she couldn’t help but wonder if Derek Graham, in his profound grief, had stumbled down this same path.
‘Thank you, Mabel. You’ve been a great help, but I need to get to the church.’
‘Good luck. If he gets home before you’ve found him, I’ll tell him you were looking for him.’
Ella made it to her car. ‘No. Please don’t. If I don’t catch him then… it’s best he doesn’t know I was here.’
‘Alright, missy. Whatever you say.’
Ella’s sudden hypothesis, this cruel twist of fate, now seemed all too plausible.
She needed to find Derek Graham.