CHAPTER THREE
Stella headed out into the fresh, gusty morning, and she and Maxwell strode purposefully across the road.
This home had a sweeping front yard that was neatly maintained, with rose bushes that were now stubby and pruned back, and hedges that were impeccably trimmed.
The gray-haired man stepped out of the house and made his way toward them, looking nervous and unsure. He was wearing a fleece jacket and tracksuit pants. This combination on a working day made Stella think he might be retired. She guessed he was in his mid-sixties.
“FBI agents Fall and Maxwell,” Stella introduced. “Sir, we need to speak to you.”
“Of course,” he replied, sounding courteous, but with a clear undertone of worry in his voice. “I’m Graham Haddow. Please, I understand if you can’t give any details,
