A Hero's Secret

thirty one

..

Slow, steady, and with guns following their every move, Dray and Wells sat down on dining room chairs while Porter tied their hands behind their backs. The rope weaved between the chair rungs and their wrists. They sat side by side, elbows touching.

Parson dropped his arm. His gun previously trained on Wells moved to his lap as he rested on the arm of the couch. "Hello, son."

Wells stared at him. His jaw clenched and he shook.

Parson smirked and his eyes drifted between his son and Dray. "Well, I suppose this is the time I let it all out, huh?" He scratched the side of his forehead with the end of his gun. He watched Wells for a few seconds before revealing his story.

"I killed the sheriff's brother."

Dray watched his unwavering focus on Wells.

"I had the others on your cute crime board killed."

Wells stiffened next to Dray. Her glance flitted to the side.

"I killed your mother."

Bile rose in Dray's throat and she snapped her eyes shut. She wanted to cry and scream out. She never wanted to look at Parson again.

"All right." Parson twirled the gun in his hand and shrugged. "The sheriff's brother overheard a conversation he shouldn't have when he came to return a ring he stole. He had always been suspicious of Tieg's relationship with me. Takes a criminal to know one, I guess." He crossed his arms. "Tough one for Tieg to get over, but I've had him under my spell from the beginning, so we made it through."

He stood up and paced in front of the chairs. Porter stumbled back a few awkward steps out of his path, but his smirk held tight to his face.

"Actually, your cousin, Ivory, was suspicious, too. I did foresee her being a problem, but the cancer took care of it before I had to worry." His arms swung with his steps and his head rocked back and forth.

Dray refused to look at his face, but his movements reminded her of a child. She rested her chin on her shoulder and focused on her breathing. A cold, smooth surface touched her cheek and interrupted any resolve she had built.

She flinched back. The chair creaked and she whipped her head to meet the gun. She followed up the arm to Parson's face.

"Hello, sweetheart," he said. "Just making sure you're paying attention."

Her skin crawled.

"Now, where was I?" He tapped his chin. "Oh yes, your mother." Parson sat back down on the arm of the couch. His arms flopped and his grip loosened on the trigger. The gun rested in between the cushions. "Man, I really didn't want to kill your mother."

Wells diverted his gaze to the floor—his first reaction—and clenched his jaw.

"But your mother, she just found out about me. She found out about everything and she didn't like it. I tried to make her, I did, but there was no hope. She was going to take you and run away, so I had to do it." Parson perched his arm over his chest while he held his face with the opposite hand. "It was either me or nothing, you know? And at that time it just felt right to disappear, in case she left behind any clues."