Chapter 39

 

For Harry Ford it had been an extremely lucrative day. His office had been packed with customers all day long. He was busy answering the phone and dealing with varied therapy sessions.

He had no secretary for two reasons—it was an unnecessary expense—and Harry was cheap. Also, a secretary posed the potential threat of probing into his personal affairs. When he was in his consulting room, he had a sign in the outer office which said, “Mr. Ford is currently consulting—he will be with you momentarily; please take a number.”

He knew that due to the lack of a secretary, he sometimes lost customers. In fact the extra expense associated with help he could tolerate, but a curious secretary he could not, under any imaginable condition.

A permanent secretarial absence induced logistical problems but it never caused him to suffer financially. Because, in fact, it was not his daytime business that would make him rich.

Today he was extremely busy. His no-calls, a term he used to apply to those that were his walk in business, far exceeded his scheduled appointments. Ford was cunning and criminal but he was far from lazy; he continued to work with his clients as long as they came through the door and could make money for him. Often it kept him in the office long after normal business hours. Today had been one of those days.

The last rays of the sun were setting in the west as he exited his office door. His car was parked on a side street but it was only a two minute brisk walk. He started his car and pulled out of his parking space watching out of his rear view mirror as he exited. About a football field’s length away, he noticed a car turn on its headlights.

Ah, the cops, Ford said to himself. About two days ago he had observed the tail. Whoever was following him was clumsy. Ford had made a series of circuitous turns which eventually put him back on Tuttle Road about a half mile from where he started. The car behind him stayed about the same distance behind and had continued to make the same series of circular turns. The car trailing him yesterday had been a nondescript 1990’s Dodge. This evening, as the car behind him passed under halogen street lights, he noticed it was the same make and model.

He smiled. Well, they can follow me all they want and they will learn nothing except what I want them to learn, he thought. In fact, I really don’t care if they know where I live, but they will never find out that which I want to keep secret. He stopped at a convenience store to buy some coffee and watched the car behind him pull into a parking space a distance behind. Maybe I should buy him some coffee as well, since we have gained such a close relationship. He smiled as he thought of the irony of it. He allowed them to follow him to his trailer home. I want them to believe I have nothing to hide, he said to himself.

* * *

Fred pulled hard at the plastic sheet. As he pulled, he felt the soft material beneath the cover start to separate. “What the hell,” he muttered as he continued to pry out the object towards the front of the trunk opening. The limited illumination from the street light clearly identified what he had been struggling with. It was not one object, but two large bags of mulch held together loosely by the plastic cover. Maureen must have bought them for her flower garden. Fred removed the mulch and felt around the entire interior of the truck. Nothing else was there. Fred experienced momentary relief but then realized that Maureen was still missing and he had no idea where she could be. Sometimes love is reenergized when the health of a loved one is in question. Fred knew at this moment that he loved Maureen more than ever, and more than he had ever loved anyone else in his entire life.

“Please, God, wherever she is, let her be safe,” he prayed.