Heroic Evil - A Henry Drummond Story

Chapter 3 - Alone Again

When Henry was home, he thought and thought and thought. What was so important about that suitcase? Why did that guy attack them over it? These thoughts buzzed in his head all night as he slept. He even had a dream about the suitcase coming to life and telling its side of the story.

There were a few answers to this question. One, the suitcase held something very important to the robber. That was the one most likely. Two, the suitcase was a very rare and impossible to find edition of its brand or name. That was more unlikely, however. For some unknown reason, Henry thought this was a part of something much bigger than a suitcase fanatic. Brady couldn't have stolen it from someone else, he was too pure for that.

Henry sat down at his desk and pondered, writing down ideas in red ink. His house was silent. You could hear each and every sound within those walls. The clock went tick tock inside Henry's head, each an earthquake of sound. The disturbed silence was unbearable.

Henry stood up from his desk, pacing back and forth in the small dark house. It was not raining today, thank Darwin. Maybe he would go to the park and think there.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. The lawyer quickly rushed over, answering it. It was his step-brother, Christopher Monroe. Henry's heart twisted into a knot. He hadn't seen his brother in what- 5 years? And even then, he did not miss him. Chris was a liar, a mama's boy, and was verbally abusive. Henry was tempted to slam the door right in that bastard's face.

"Hey Hen." He said in a very low, teasing voice. That terrible nickname, it made Henry want to rip his own ears off hearing it.

"What do you want, Christopher?" Henry spat, not making eye contact with his older brother. He looked at his attire- he wore a forest green blazer over a lime green shirt. Terrible taste. His tie was apple green with white stripes. His hair was straight and smooth, perfectly chocolate brown. Much unlike Henry's, which was black and wavy. He always cut it so you couldn't see the waves, however. Chris became Henry's brother 7 years ago, when his mother (Charice May Monroe) married his father (Zachary Drummond).

"Geez, Hen. I was just saying hi. I heard about what happened in the papers. Wanted to check up on ya. Mom says she's worried." Chris said cooly. He walked in and took a seat by the unlit fireplace in an old sofa, the seams were already coming apart.

"Well tell Charice May I'm fine. School has been okay, I'm eating well. Why are you really here? I don't have any money. I don't have anything to give you, actually." Henry said, losing his temper. This small talk was killing him. He shut the door loudly and sat on the sofa next to Chris.

".... I know the guy who did it. " Chris finally said after an eternity of silence.

"Who was he??" Henry blurted, his hands balling into fists. His curiosity was so strong at this point he felt like he could have a heart attack.

Chris leaned on the arm of the sofa, picking at a loose splinter sticking out. "'Ol' Fletch was a good friend of mine back in high school. Him and I always got into trouble. He seemed out of it half of the time, his decisions were always delayed, even if I asked him a yes or no question. Different." He paused, searching Henry's face for a second.

Henry thought for a minute, resting a hand on his beardless chin. Fletch.. That nickname. Chris had talked to Henry about him before. When he lived in Chicago with his father and stepmother.

This told him nothing. His stupid stepbrother was just being a time wasting idiot. Yeah sure that was a bit harsh, but his brother was nothing but a hybrid of bi-polar decisions and playing the blame game. He needed him out of this house before he broke something. (Like Henry's heart.)

"Well is that all you know?" Henry asked, drumming his fingers on the arm of the couch. "Because I have important work to do." He got up and walked over to his desk, arranging the messy scribbled on papers into neat little piles. He wish he could do that with his mind. It was the most messy room of his house times ten. But he was always a messy person and he planned to stay that way.

"Ol' Fletch never wanted to hurt anybody. He was a kind hearted soul, and a follower of God. I can't imagine why he would ever threaten a woman's life." Chris said calmly. Now the problem here was that Henry couldn't tell if Chris was lying. Why would he lie to him? What good would it do? Was he reformed throughout the years? Did he actually change his terrible ways since he was younger?

Henry really must work on his lie detecting skills if he ever wanted to become a lawyer.

"Follower of God Indeed." He muttered under his breath. But what if he wasn't lying? What if Randy Fletcher was being threatened to do this? He had to contact the county jail and ask. He had to know.

"What?" Chris asked in a surprisingly hostile voice. "You making fun of me, you little son of a bitch?" He raised his voice even higher. "I was just tryin' to help you!"

There goes the bipolar madness Henry knew and did not love.

"Go home." Henry said, not facing his brother. "I don't care about your feelings, you God damned hypocrite."

Henry heard the door open and slam shut behind him without an extra word.

Maybe Henry was the abusive one....

No. He was reasonable.

However, now he was back in his puddle of silence and ticking clocks.

Alone again.