William Edwards Leaves His Screaming Son on a Friday Afternoon in Hartford
David looked through the rear window of the sedan, where Owen was busy arranging three small pebbles along the armrest of his booster seat.
“He looks calm,” David said, his slow drawl reassuring in the quiet parking lot. “He looks like he has had enough excitement for one afternoon.”
“He asked about the chimney,” I said. “He wanted to know if the new apartment had one.”
David twirled the yellow pencil between his fingers, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“That is a reasonable question for a five-year-old,” he said. “The department has some news, William. The dean approved the extra seminar for the winter term. Developmental Psychology 201. It is another four thousand dollars, which should help with the security deposit.”
“Thank you, David,” I said. “The deposit on the two-bedroom was twelve hundred.”
“Have you spoken to Marsha’s attorney about the civil complaint?” David asked.
“Karen wants me to file criminal charges for the custodial interference and the bank withdrawals,” I said. “She says we have enough evidence to put Sue in front of a grand jury.”
