My stomach tightened.
“What do you mean?”
Mr. Peterson explained that for months he had seen Dererick leaving at two or three in the morning. Even more disturbing, unfamiliar visitors sometimes parked farther down the street and approached our house on foot after dark.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
He told me Dererick had already prepared an explanation. According to my husband, I suffered from severe sleep problems and was taking powerful medication, so he occasionally needed to check on me or take me to emergency medical appointments.
“He asked me not to mention it to you. He said you were embarrassed.”
I felt sick hearing how carefully Dererick had protected himself. He hadn’t simply hidden his behavior from me; he had created a believable story for anyone who might notice something unusual.
Fortunately, Mr. Peterson had never completely believed him. He said I had always appeared healthy, and the people visiting our house at strange hours certainly hadn’t looked like medical professionals.
I showed him the photographs I had taken of Dererick’s notebook. As he read the entries, the color disappeared from his face.
“Dear God, Anna, we need to call the police right now.”
We contacted 911, but the dispatcher initially treated my report cautiously, apparently hearing it as a complicated domestic situation. They promised to send an officer when one became available, but Mr. Peterson immediately said waiting wasn’t good enough.
“Dererick could come back at any time.”
Then my phone rang.
It was Clare.
“Anna, I got your message. What’s going on?”
I told her everything, from the tea to the camera, the photographs, the other women, and the disturbing records on Dererick’s laptop. Clare remained silent until I finished.
“I’m coming over right now. And I’m bringing someone with me.”
About an hour later, Clare arrived with Detective Martinez, someone she knew through the hospital who specialized in complex investigations. I handed over the flash drive, and after reviewing the evidence, Martinez’s entire demeanor changed.
“This is much bigger than just what he was doing to you. Based on what you’ve found, he’s been running a criminal enterprise for years.”
She immediately called for additional officers. Investigators began tracing information from Dererick’s records, and within hours, they had identified several men in different states who appeared connected to his network.
But there was one problem.
Dererick was still free.
And instead of remaining in Chicago for three days as he had told me, police learned that he was expected home that evening.
Detective Martinez decided they wouldn’t wait for him to disappear.
They were going to let my husband walk back into our house.
And I was going to be waiting for him.
PART 5
Detective Martinez moved quickly once she understood what was on the flash drive. Officers began monitoring our house while investigators traced phone numbers and other information from Dererick’s records, and within hours they identified several men in different states who appeared to be connected to his operation.
Some of those men were already being located by law enforcement, but Dererick remained the immediate problem. He was supposed to be away on business, yet investigators learned that he was returning home that evening, which meant there was no time for me to disappear quietly and hope he wouldn’t realize I had uncovered everything.
Detective Martinez proposed a plan that terrified me. Instead of warning Dererick or arresting him somewhere else, they wanted to let him return home normally while officers surrounded the property and waited for evidence of what he intended to do.
I would have to act as though nothing had changed.
Every instinct told me to get as far away from that house as possible, but I also understood why catching Dererick with his equipment could strengthen the case. After everything I had found about the other women, I wanted investigators to have enough evidence to expose the entire network rather than only what he had done to me.
That evening, I sat in our living room with a concealed wire under my shirt. Police officers were positioned around the house, but knowing they were nearby did little to stop the fear tightening in my chest.
At exactly seven o’clock, I heard Dererick arrive.
He walked through the front door carrying flowers and chocolates, looking exactly like the affectionate husband I had once believed him to be. Nothing in his expression suggested that he knew his private files had been copied or that police officers were waiting only a short distance away.
“I missed you.”
He kissed me hello, and I forced myself to respond normally. Sitting beside him while remembering the photographs, notebooks, and names on his laptop felt surreal, but I couldn’t allow him to suspect anything.
Eventually, bedtime arrived.
Dererick went into the kitchen and returned carrying the familiar cup of tea. The sight of it made my stomach tighten because I finally understood what those quiet nightly rituals had really meant.
“Sweet dreams, honey.”
He kissed my forehead with the same gentle expression he had used countless times before. I pretended to drink the tea and later lay motionless in bed, waiting for him to believe the substance had taken effect.
About twenty minutes passed before I heard him moving.
Dererick retrieved the black bag.
He entered the bedroom with the same confidence I had witnessed before, apparently convinced that I was completely unconscious. He positioned his camera, opened the notebook, and began preparing for another session.