Sanford Crow

CHAPTER 24

Unbelievable.

But was it? All women are the same.

Goddamn women.

At least they were in Richie Kay's eyes. His ex-wife certainly was. She didn't like his drinking, so what did Richie do? He'd gotten clean for her. As clean as a whistle. And what'd she do? She cheated on him with his best friend, Dean. To be more exact, she gave mean Dean a mean blowjob.

Those thoughts of Dean bubbled to the surface of his mind as he watched his current girlfriend's ex-husband walk out of her house.

Her house, or our house?

Sanford Crow, that fucking weirdo; his cheeks were blushed as he walked to the car. Richie didn't have to guess what'd happened, in his mind he knew. He'd parked down the street when he saw that disheveled van of Sanford's in the driveway. His pulse raced when he got out of his car. Short, angry breaths escaped him as he approached the house on foot. The big bay window's curtains were drawn and he couldn't see inside.

Slowly he tip-toed back through the hard snow of the front yard. He'd lost his balance from the awkward footing and fell forward, catching himself with his hands in front of him in the snow. The cold, like piercing needles in his naked hands. He pushed himself back up to his feet. His socks were wet. His feet were cold. Walking through the snow in low-top sneakers wasn't his brightest of moves. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

Un-fucking-believable.

The picturesque image he had of his life began to dissolve. He always wanted to be a family man; he knew he'd be a great dad, a great husband. It's what would give him purpose. He'd picture them living in the house. Lucy, cooking dinner as Richie helped Sadie with her math homework. "Thanks, Dad," she'd whisper to him after he'd explain the formula for long division. Lucy, calling out, "Dinner's ready!" Richie, going into the kitchen with Sadie on his shoulders. Lucy, kissing him as he rubbed her protruding belly—their new baby on the way.

The cold in his hands turned to hot balls of hatred. Not for her; he knew Lucy wasn't like the rest. He loved her, and there had to be a reason for what was happening.

When it came to Sanford, Lucy hadn't told Richie much. But he was relentless. He had to know who he was competing with. Finally, after months of pestering, he'd broken her down. She'd told him the story of his past. In a way, Richie felt bad for him. In another way, he couldn't care less. But now, as he sat in his car and watched Sanford get back into his van, start it up, and fill the neighborhood with the clamor of a failing engine, he drew his attention back to the newspaper on the seat next to him.

The front-page story reminded him of what Lucy had told him about Sanford. She didn't give him much detail, but he didn't need them to connect the dots. Families murdered, the fathers as suspects, it sparked an idea in his mind. If Sanford was gone—gone for good—Lucy would be all his, their house would be his, Sadie might even call him Dad. The thought excited Richie in ways he hadn't deemed possible.

With Sanford gone, he'd finally become a family man.