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‘Help me,’ he silentlyimplored the image of the therapist etched into his memory, her green eyes abeacon in the tempest of his psyche. ‘Please, let this be different.’
The city seemed tohold its breath as he made his way toward potential absolution or anothercrushing disappointment. Whichever it was, the die was cast, and all he coulddo was follow the path laid out before him, a solitary figure inching closer toa crossroads where redemption and ruin awaited.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The modest living roomwas suffused with quiet despair as Ella Dark observed the man before her. Hiseyes were rimmed red, his face drawn long by grief. The man was Chester Holden,Rebekah’s now-widowed husband.
The space around themfelt stagnant, heavy with unspoken sorrow and the lingering presence of a lifeabruptly severed. There was nothing ostentatious in the room; it was the kindof place that spoke of simple lives and comfortable routines. But now, thoseroutines were shattered, and Chester was the embodiment of that brokennormalcy.
It was a countenancethat told the brutal tale of loss without a single word being uttered. As Ellaextended her condolences, her voice was a soft intrusion into the palpablesilence.
‘Mr. Holden, I'mdeeply sorry for your loss,’ she began.
‘Thank you,’ hewhispered. His voice was a fragile thread, barely holding together.
Ella took a moment tolet the gravity of his pain sink in before she continued. She had learnedthrough years on the Bureau that sometimes, silence was the most respectfulform of speech. But questions needed to be asked, truths sought amidst the veilof mourning.
‘Can you tell me aboutRebekah?’ Ella gently prodded, aiming to paint as vivid a picture as possibleof the woman whose life had ended too soon.
Chester's gazedrifted, unfocused, as if he was looking back through time to better days. ‘Rebekah...she was amazing. Full of energy and compassion. She thrived on being there forothers, always put their needs ahead of her own.’ His voice gained strength ashe spoke of her. ‘It was her calling to help people heal – emotionally,mentally. She couldn't stand to see anyone in pain.’
Ella noticed thesubtle shift in his demeanor as he remembered his wife's spirit. It was clearRebekah Holden had been more than just a therapist; she'd been a beacon of hopefor those who had lost their way.
Ella leaned forward,resting her elbows on her knees. The coffee table between them was clutteredwith glasses and an empty bottle of cheap vodka. Every object in the roomseemed to echo Chester's loss, from the mismatched throw pillows to the familyphotos crowding the mantelpiece.
‘Chester, did Rebekahhave any hobbies? Anything she did regularly in her free time?’ It was anecessary line of inquiry, mundane as it seemed. Ella was well aware that thedevil often lurked in the details; passions could become motives, and habitsmight unveil a killer hiding in plain sight.
He blinked slowly asif the question required him to surface from the depths of his memories. ‘Hobbies?’There was a tinge of confusion in his response before clarity emerged. ‘Yes,she... she loved aerobics. Joined a class every Thursday evening after work.And running,’ Chester added with a faint smile that didn't quite reach hiseyes. ‘Lace up her sneakers and just go - said it cleared her mind.’ He paused,his gaze shifting to the window where the curtains swayed gently with thebreeze. ‘She had friends, but a small circle, really. Most from high school. Wenever had children, so it was mostly just us... and her work.’
‘Troublesome clients?’Mia interjected, never one for subtlety. She sat straight-backed, a contrast toChester's slumped posture, her eyes alert and probing.
Chester’s facetightened, the muscles in his jaw clenching. ‘Rebekah would mention itsometimes - the difficult ones, I mean.’ He hesitated, seeming to weigh hiswords against the pain they dredged up. ‘But she was still new to the job.Still figuring things out.’
‘Did she say if sheever felt threatened?’ Ella pressed.
‘Threatened?’ Herepeated the word as though it was foreign to him. ‘No, not that she told me.Frustrated, yes. Scared for them, sometimes. But she believed in her work -believed she could help even the most troubled souls.’
Ella nodded, taking inthe details like a sponge. Chester's simple declarations were windows intoRebekah's world, and each sliver of insight was another step closer tounderstanding the darkness that had snuffed out her life. Ella's mental gearschurned, piecing together the life of a woman who lived to heal others, only tofall victim to an unseen malice. It was a cruel irony, one that Ella feltcompelled to rectify.
She watched ChesterHolden closely, her eyes tracking every twitch of muscle and flicker of emotionacross his haggard face. But beneath the sorrow, there was something else—atremor of withheld knowledge. Lips that refused to part. A thigh that refused tostop jittering.
‘Chester,’ Ella began,‘if there's anything you remember, any detail about Rebekah's clients—names,incidents—it could be crucial.’
He shook his headslowly. ‘I don't... I can't seem to remember names,’ he murmured, his voicebarely rising above a whisper. Yet, his fingers twisted into the fabric of histrousers, betraying an inner turmoil.
Ella leaned forwardslightly, her instincts flaring up by the cues of Chester's microsignals.
She pushed, justenough to pry open the door to his resistance. ‘Anything at all could help us,Chester.’ Her words were soft yet edged with the steel of determination.
For a long moment,Chester remained silent, his eyes clouded with memories. Then he rose abruptly,his chair scraping against the wooden floorboards. He moved with a purpose thathad been absent only moments before, disappearing into the adjacent room. Ellaexchanged a quick glance with Mia, who sat watchful and taciturn.
When Chester returned,the weight of decision settled upon his shoulders. In his hands, he carried asmall black book, its cover worn from use. He hesitated for a fraction of asecond before extending it toward Ella.
‘This is Rebekah's...it was her black book,’ he said. ‘She documented everything in here—notes,appointments, thoughts on her upcoming sessions.’ The action seemed to costhim, surrendering a part of Rebekah he still held close.
Ella accepted thebook, the leather cool and smooth under her fingertips. She met Chester's gaze,seeing the raw pain of his sacrifice.
‘I'm a doctor myself;I know the implications of giving this to you,’ Chester continued. ‘I'mviolating privacy laws that could get me in trouble, but I don't care. Iunderstand you'll be sifting through the lives of innocent people, but if thekiller’s name is in there, you need to see it.’
