Far From True

Fifty-three

Ed Noble first followed David Harwood and Samantha Worthington back to what, he concluded, must be Harwood’s house. Parked at the curb was the woman’s car, the one Ed had slashed the tires on the previous afternoon.

Harwood pulled into the driveway and he and the woman got out. The woman was carrying a simple plastic bag.

Ed parked five houses back. He had to wait the better part of half an hour before there was any more action. Finally, however, Harwood and the woman came out with two boys. Of course, Ed recognized Carl — the little shit — but the other kid wasn’t familiar to him. Ed figured that was the Harwood guy’s brat.

The boys were decked out with backpacks. Carl stood next to his mother’s car; the other boy positioned himself by Harwood’s. But before either parent got into his or her vehicle, they conferred, face-to-face, almost head-to-head.

Ed tried to figure out what they might be saying. His best guess was that they were deciding they didn’t need to take the boys to school separately. One of them could drop both of them off.

As if on cue, Sam said something to the kids and they both jumped into the backseat of her car. But she was slow to follow. She and her fuck buddy — as if there were any doubt, Ed thought — were still talking.

Then they moved in for a quick hug, an equally fast kiss. Couldn’t exactly get down and dirty with the boys there, could they?

They each got into their own car.

At which point, Ed was presented with a choice. Follow the woman, or follow the man?

Of course, if Yolanda were here right now, there’d be no question. It was his job to follow Samantha. Ed knew that was where the money was. Yolanda wasn’t going to pay him a dime to off Harwood. She didn’t give a shit one way or another about him.

But it was a different story for Ed. He really wanted to take the guy out of the picture. As long as the two of them had been together, he’d thought he had a shot — no pun intended — at that. Now it was a lost opportunity.

He could wait until the next time they were together. Judging by how lovey-dovey they were, it would probably be later today. But Ed didn’t feel he had that long to get the job done. The police had to be looking for him, as well as Garnet and Yolanda. He had to get on with things.

So that meant following the woman.

Harwood’s car headed off in one direction, Sam’s in another. Harwood was headed toward Noble, so he scrunched down in the seat, trying to make himself invisible. It must have worked, because when he glanced in his mirror, he saw Harwood’s Mazda receding into the distance.

He sat up straight, started the engine. He kept a good hundred yards behind Sam. There was a chance, Ed figured, that she knew what kind of car her former in-laws drove, so he didn’t want to get close enough to spook her.

Just as he’d expected, Sam was heading for Clinton Public School. The last thing he wanted to do was get caught in that traffic clusterfuck of moms and vans, just in case someone recognized him in the car, so he held way back.

He could pretty much figure out where Sam was going to go next, anyway. It made some sense to get there before her.

So he drove to the Laundromat, parked down the street.

Sure enough, five minutes later, Sam showed up, drove to the lot behind the business, where he’d found the car the day before. She’d probably come in the back way. In another five minutes or so, the place would be open for business.

Ed figured, walk in and one pop to the head would do it.

The way he saw it, and for sure the way Yolanda saw it, if the police couldn’t prove she’d ordered it, what choice would the authorities have but to give the kid to her and Garnet? And when Brandon got out of jail, so long as he behaved himself, he’d probably get custody.

A boy should be with his father, Ed reasoned.

A boy needed a man to teach him the ways of the world. A mother, even a good one, just couldn’t do that. Ideally, a child needed two parents, one of each sex — none of this same-sex shit everyone was going on about — but if a boy could have only one, a father was the way to go, he reasoned. Ed supposed the opposite was true with a girl. If she had to be raised by one parent, better that it be the mother.

Ed Noble was something of a traditionalist in these matters.

Carl, years later, would probably look back at what was going to happen today as a good thing. A real turning point in his life.

Now that Ed knew Samantha was at work, he decided to park around back, too. When he came in, it would be through the back door. Walking in through the front, that hadn’t been a very good strategy last time. Sam had seen him out there on the sidewalk before he’d even come through the door. Gave her too much time to think. Or run. Plus, there was the chance there’d be people in there doing their laundry.

Like that dipshit who threw soap in his face.

Yeah, back door was the way to go.

He reached over for the gun on the seat next to him. Time to get this done.