William Edwards Leaves His Screaming Son on a Friday Afternoon in Hartford
“What is it?” David asked, stepping closer to the table.
“An emergency order,” I said, my voice barely louder than a whisper. “Sue has temporary custody of Owen.”
“Your mother-in-law?” David asked. “On what grounds?”
“I do not know,” I said, my eyes skimming the dense legal paragraphs. “It says my presence in the home is a danger to the child’s emotional stability.”
I looked at the signature at the bottom of the page, the ink dark and dry.
“They took him,” I said.
The community college parking lot was quiet at three o’clock, the yellow school buses from the local high school passing on the street outside the chain-link fence. I sat in the front seat of my sedan, holding the steering wheel with both hands while the phone pressed against my ear. The line rang four times before Marsha answered, her voice sharp and clipped.
“I told you not to call this number,” Marsha said.
“Where is Owen?” I asked, my voice tight. “The papers say Sue has him.”
