Chapters (109)
- Part One
- ONE
- One day earlier
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- PART TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EIGHTY-TWO
- EIGHTY-THREE
- EIGHTY-FOUR
- EIGHTY-FIVE
- EIGHTY-SIX
- EIGHTY-SEVEN
- EIGHTY-EIGHT
- EIGHTY-NINE
- NINETY
- NINETY-ONE
- NINETY-TWO
- NINETY-THREE
- NINETY-FOUR
- NINETY-FIVE
- NINETY-SIX
- NINETY-SEVEN
- NINETY-EIGHT
- NINETY-NINE
- GLOSSARY
- Acknowledgments
- Continue reading
- Part One
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
Sowah deflected his gaze for a moment and then shook his head. “Our society is ridden with this cancer.” He pulled in his breath and released it harshly. “Anyway, even with money, Damptey might not have prioritized you, as you say. The police service is underfunded and choked with old cases. Not that I’m excusing them, but both Emma and I have worked in the Ghana Police Service, so we know what conditions are like.”
“Oh, really,” Derek said, looking at Emma with interest.
“Perhaps I should have asked you much earlier,” Sowah said to Derek, “but how did you find us, sir?”
“Once I figured out I wasn’t getting anything with DI Damptey,” Derek said, “I searched online to see if there were any private detectives who could help and came across the International Association of Private Investigators website. They listed you and your agency as one of only two in Accra that’s fully licensed and vetted. That’s how I found you.”
Sowah smiled. “Thank you. Yes, the IAPI often sends us referrals. Derek, I would prefer to believe this conundrum will have a happy, reasonable conclusion, but we must be realistic and hope for the best while preparing for the worst.”
Derek nodded, his jaw hardening and his eyes downcast. For his sake, Emma sent up a silent prayer.
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-ONE
May 17
Sunday afternoon after church, Emma took a couple of tro-tros to reach the Autism Center at the junction of Barnes Road and William Tubman Avenue. She was in a huff because the driver’s mate on the tro-tro had been slow—deliberately in Emma’s mind—about rendering the correct change. But once she arrived at the Center, she forgot the trivialities of Accra travel.
It was a modest place, but still far better off than the other autism institutions in the country. The rectangular brick building on the left was a small, converted home with a playroom, classroom, and an administrative office-cum-staff lounge/meeting room. The courtyard had a pair of swings, a slide, a climbing net, and two mini soccer goals on each side of the yard. The sky was darkening with rain clouds, so everyone was inside.
“Auntie” Rose Clarkson, the owner and director of the center, was a hands-on woman who didn’t mind working the weekends. She had only one staff member on with her on Sundays. Speech, art, and music therapy made up much of the activity during the week, but it was on the relatively unstructured Sunday when many of the permanent staff were off that Auntie Rose needed more volunteer help.