Harlan rested a solid arm against the aged oak growing along the boulevard and took in the scene just a few houses down the street. Yep. This is it.
The first address he’d come up with had been an empty house. A few questions to neighbors—posed as if he was an old family friend—had led him to a live-in hospital for old folks with all sorts of ailments. It had the look of a top-shelf sort of facility although security was nonexistent. Finding the exact room had been as simple as walking in and reading the directory posted in the lobby. Once he had the old man pegged, he spent a few days in surveillance mode. Harlan had watched the blond dish sit for hours reading aloud and talking to the old guy, though it didn’t appear to Harlan she ever got much of an answer back.
Today Harlan had watched as the woman and a couple of orderlies bundled the old man into her minivan. Harlan followed them across town to a Victorian house on a manicured street of stylish homes. A man and a boy threw the football across the lawn; the same pretty little thing he’d seen all week hung back and watched, her arms draped over the old man’s shoulders. The years had left a hard mark on the man, but the resemblance was still clear. “So what the hell happened to you?” Harlan spoke in a low voice. “Stuck in a wheelchair. Drooling all over your damn self?”
The woman continued to dote on the old man just as she had at the care joint. At first Harlan thought maybe she was one of those kindhearted volunteer types, but no. That wasn’t it. Even from this distance Harlan could see the affection in the old man’s eyes. Those two were flesh and blood.
“Officer Lars Norgaard, in the flesh,” Harlan mused out loud, “looks like you went and got yourself all fucked up and crippled somehow, didn’t ya? Little justice came early.”
His initial disappointment at the old man’s condition was short-lived. Harlan thought back to the last bitter years endured by his own father. Alone and abandoned, in failing health, with his only kin locked away. Standing under the tree watching the family scene, Harlan wondered why he hadn’t seen it before. Course he hadn’t known the details, but now it all came clear. With a few minor deviations, with some careful planning, he would strike a most meaningful blow.
“Looks like we got us a chance for some true symmetry.”
As he stood there with his new plan beginning to fall into place, Harlan noticed the stalwart figure giving him the once-over from his place on the lawn. With the ball in one hand, Norgaard’s son-in-law began a slow walk to the curb that drew Harlan’s attention. Time to get gone.
Fifty yards down the road, Harlan allowed himself a last look over his shoulder and saw the man was still watching. Harlan turned away and kept walking, deciding to himself that he’d be sure to give this guy a wide berth.