William Edwards Leaves His Screaming Son on a Friday Afternoon in Hartford
The only sound in the house was the low, steady hum of the refrigerator.
The laminate tabletop at the diner on Maple Avenue was sticky with old syrup, reflecting the cold blue neon light of the beer sign in the window.
A bowl of lukewarm pot roast sat untouched between us, the gravy forming a dull gray skin under the hum of the fluorescent ceiling tubes.
Karen Gable, the family law attorney I had found in the brick strip mall behind the pharmacy, clicked her silver pen three times.
“A state suspension from six years ago does not prove the child is in danger today, William,” she said, sliding the printed page of Sue Melton’s nursing record back across the table.
I adjusted my thin wire-rimmed glasses, pushing them up the bridge of my nose, the scent of damp oak leaves clinging to my wool coat.
“She was investigated for medical neglect at a private youth home, Karen,” I said, keeping my voice low. “The state licensing board suspended her in 2018.”
