his service piece in hand, safety off. Burhan’s stomach could now feel the slowing of upward motion, barely countering his other feeling of his stomach dropping to his belly. Steeling himself at the tone of arrival, the doors opened.
There, in clear sight, was a young brown-eyed woman sitting on a secretarial chair, bound, gagged, eyes wide in terror. She made unintelligible sounds, and looked right at him in a plea for her life. Captain Burhans turned the switch in his mind to ‘trained response’.
There was a noise, a stumble or perhaps a racing of feet, to her left, his right. She turned her face in that direction and her eyes went even wider. Her arms that were duct-tape bound to the secretarial chair now showed whitening knuckles. Her scream was only allowed out through her nose, as Captain Burhans felt time slow down to a crawl.
He side-stepped towards the door, the pistol in both hands, giving himself the least exposure as a target. Into his field of fire was ‘him’, the image from the report, from the reddish brown hair to the soft brown eyes. A rifle was in his hands, and the accelerated brain questioned that. The sound a rifle would make didn’t jive with the one heard in the assassination of Old Penway. Training took over on his list of priorities, and ‘weapon ID’ took a back burner. Prime suspect, armed, rapidly advancing, already witnessed as killing one man in cold blood, one hostage in his field of fire, one Captain ditto. It all added up to a three-shot response; ‘Two shots to the chest, one to the head, always makes sure, your target is dead.’
[Target is down, permanently. One hostage is alive, evident by her continued screaming. Where was the other? Who was the other? No time to attend the bird in the hand. Where was the one in the bush?] Burhans ran into the main office, and there was a young man, seated, against the wall, head down, breathing, no clear wound in evidence. There was a pistol next to him, clip ejected and next to the weapon.
The Captain’s training still in automatic, Burhans quick-kicked the pistol away to the other side of the room. Despite a lack of any obvious threat, though, something was still very, very wrong. The woman was still screaming nasal distress cries when the other hostage appeared unharmed. Maybe it was because she was the perp’s sister? The policeman checked the hallway again and looked harder at the perp. The body was staring at nothing with his father’s brown eyes. Now, the expanded search pattern of the body revealed a critical detail he missed before. The hands of the perp were duct-taped to the rifle.
With a blinding revelation that seared his heart, Burhans quickly stepped back into the main room and trained his service piece on the still-living young man. Yet, no threatening movement came to light. What did come was, in a way, much worse.
Arising from the suspect was a slow, low laughing; haunting, almost. Raising his head, the man also showed the facial features of Miriam Pendleton Park, so similar to his brother in appearance...his dead brother...his likely innocent dead brother. There was one difference in facial features. One very striking difference. Those eyes. They weren’t Park-brown. They were Miriam-blue. But blue was a recessive trait. The brothers were twins. That’s impossible, isn’t it?
The seated man waited for the inevitable confusion to set in, then administered the coup d’grace; his personal vengeance for his mother’s death and for his paternal abandonment.
“Confused, Captain? Understandable. It happens to one out of every four hundred or so fraternal births. Like litters of kittens or puppies...it can happen with humans, too. They kept the genetic truth from us, saying it was just a fluke regarding the eyes. We believed them, until a friend of mine at work said otherwise. Would you believe it? That was just three months ago. Never thought to pursue it until then. Found out he was right. The eyes…it can’t happen unless two separate fathers each contribute to a different egg. My conception was the night you blew it. Damon’s was the day after. His father was as much a horn dog as mine was. Guess Mom just gave up after that trying to find a prince.
“I killed the man who robbed Mom of the price of her ticket away from being murdered. You just killed Mom’s murderer’s son, and that is greater vengeance than anything I could come up with against him in prison. Having his daughter witnessing his son’s execution PLUS turning you into a murderer like me? Priceless.
“So tell me, Daddy-o, father, do you think you’ll get off with a lighter sentence for murder than I will?”
Thank you for reading Sins of the Fathers. It is my intention to explore other genres under the umbrella banner of ‘Slice of Life Series’. Constructive criticism or commentary on connections struck in your own life are welcomed at [email protected] (put the title of the book or story you’re referring to in the subject box). I invite you to peruse the novels on this site. VANESSA, the flagship of that series, is offered to you at a respectful price of FREE.
Sincerely
David L Howells, DC, EMT, NMT, NUT
OTHER WORKS BY THE AUTHOR
TIME SNAP – “In The Beginning” are the first words of Genesis, and they tell us that the first thing to be created was Time. When the machinery of Time fractures, all animal life on Earth freezes except those near enough to Heaven’s observation portals. While Heaven races to repair the machinery of Time, Host watch over Humans wandering through frozen life seeking other survivors, while watching out for Opposition Host.
HELL RISE - The sequel to Time Snap. Hell is not what it used to be, as the Fallen Host radically change how they manage Human souls. One of Lucifer’s leading Angels wants Moriah back in Hell and will stop at nothing to either bring her back, or destroy her.
VANESSA – A mentally fractured and hideously powerful spirit of a Georgian plantation and slave owner hold in thrall the men and mounts of a Civil War foraging party. She is avenging the death of her husband and children by putting the enemy spirits through a daily ritual of Hell. Ryan Fitzgalen was rendered spiritually clairvoyant and caused to be the world’s oldest man by a WW II experiment using electromagnetic power for naval stealth technology. He and the spirit of his deceased wife, Vanessa, are no match for Mad Annie, and so must call in his distant descendents to even the playing field.
VANESSA: FAMILY TREE – Sequel to VANESSA. The epic battle was over at the Edwards Estate. The Fitzgalen Family regroups to lick its wounds, mourn its dead, and pursue their mission of saving souls stuck on the Earth plane. What happens when an underground spirit desperately hiding from judgment beneath the ground doesn’t want to be found, and is ready to strike anyone who tries?
VANESSA: ALL HEAVEN BREAKS LOOSE – Sequel to Vanessa: Family Tree. Ever since humans began to wonder of the world’s miracles, knowledge of death and what comes after was precious and elusive. The Fitzgalen Family appears to have new authority in this awareness. That unwanted notoriety has a way of creating devotees, and very powerful enemies.
VANESSA: MENDED HARPS – Sequel to Vanessa: All Heaven Breaks Loose. When a human spirit merged its energies with an ancient oak tree during the Battle of the Rhinebeck Cemetery, a new species was born. Amidst legal entanglements that hamstring the growing Fitzgalen Family’s efforts to pursue its holy mission of spirit liberation, a greater question arises; how do you deal with an emerging competitive species?
VANESSA: FALLEN COLORS – Sequel to Vanessa: Mended Harps. Conclusion of the VANESSA series. The world’s religions have witnessed great changes, miracles, and proof that the dead walk the earth. Earth feels poised on the brink of a great change. The one who has a hope of leading the world away from cataclysmic holy wars of dominance is an autistic child, who is guarded by a being of great power…an Angel, Avenger Class.
Contact the Author with Comments and Questions
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