He laughed softly.
"Shame you weren't there. When they forced the boy to sign the consent form, he kept crying for his daddy.
"And you, his father, were out delivering food." He tilted his head. "Ah—!"
"You son of a bitch!"
I seized his throat with both hands. "Give me back my son!"
"Enough!"
A slap cracked across my face.
Three days without food. I collapsed into the heap of garbage.
Marian shielded Frederick behind her.
Frederick's voice turned wounded, pitiful:
"I was just asking where he's hiding Freddy. Mr. Graves can survive in a landfill, but a child can't take that kind of suffering!
"And just because I wanted to take Freddy somewhere safe, he tried to kill me?!"
"That's a lie! You just said—" "Enough!"
Marian's jaw was clenched so tight the tendons in her neck stood out. "If you have even a shred of conscience as a father, you'll bring Freddy back yourself.
"Otherwise, we're getting a divorce."
She opened the passenger door for Frederick and they drove away.
Divorce?
I laughed.
Fine. But before that, I had one more thing to do.
The next morning, a formal complaint letter sat on the desk of Marian's boss.
At the same time, a banner appeared across the front of her company building: