The Detectives' Story

VII

November 8, 2016

1234 Hours

Dan looked over at his brother sleeping in the passenger seat of the car, then returned his restless eyes back to the endless road. He wondered if he could ever get around in life without his brother. It seemed like James was Dan's anchor into reality, and Dan would be devastated if James left him for whatever reason. Naturally, James doesn't know any of this, nor will he ever know as long as Dan was alive.

It's the reason why Dan always say he's sorry for everything that could potentially hurt James; including the stuff he's not really sorry for. He's also never blunt towards his brother... at least he doesn't try to be. It slips here and there, but only because Dan cares about James, and wants him to know how he truly feels. The bluntness, most of the time, hurts James' feeling; causing Dan to instantly feel bad. It's a catch-22, but Dan would rather tell the truth than lie to James to his face. Either way, he's hurt, so why not tell the truth.

Dan looked over at James again and noted that he looked peaceful sleeping. He loved his brother no matter what; he couldn't pull off half of the cases in the past few years without his help. He loved his brother so much, he's willing to go visit his child's murderer to help James with a case he didn't believe in himself. A person who he would start throwing punches at the mere mention of his name. Even now, thinking about it, Dan was gripping the wheel harder than usual.

James groaned as he woke up, and Dan returned his attention back to the road.

"Morning," Dan said with a jokingly smile. James grunted and sat up straight in his seat. "Good dreams?"

"They were dreams, that's for sure," James said, his voice deep from just waking up. He looked around to see where they were. Cacti and dry shrubs flew past their windows as they were cruising seventy miles per hour down the road. "We are going to the prison, right?"

"Oh, yeah. Definitely. It's just, this is the back road into town. It's also the closest road leading to the prison," Dan explained. James nodded his head, and looked out the window at the open landscape.

Where Hemingway was located, it was essentially a desert. Seventy-five percent desert, and twenty-five percent green plains. Random patches of green grass popped up from the harsh, yellow sand, giving it a lively touch in a dead, desolate place. Mountains could be seen faintly in the background, and if one person could look hard enough: they would see the mountains were capped with snow on their tips.

James looked over at Dan, wondering if he was okay. The dream he had was pretty vivid.

They were in the middle of talking to Rogers when Dan flipped, and pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket to show to Rogers. Rogers looked at the paper nonchalantly, but then his face turned white. His expression turned from snide, to anger in a flash. He banged the window separating the brothers from the inmate, and cursed out Dan's name. Dan took a gun out of his jacket, and held it to Rogers' head, a look in his eyes that said "I want to kill."

James looked around to find everyone in the hall on the ground, bleeding out. It was horrifying, and he wondered how this happened so quickly. Dan hit the window with the gun, causing James to return his attention to him. James caught something on Dan's hand, and saw fresh blood. He looked at Dan's other hand, and saw more blood by the knuckles. James looked around some more and came to a conclusion.

He did this.

Rogers was yelling at Dan, but James couldn't hear him. He couldn't hear Dan either; all he could see was Dan's lips moving, yet no audio. The yelling got more intense, indicated by the shade of redness on Dan, and a flash rang out in the hall.