Every House Has a Secret - 34

 

 

"Damn," Rand said when they finished reading. "What a hateful son of a bitch."

 

"He was," Colin agreed. "He did his best to turn my father and uncle against my grandfather, and succeeded."

 

"Have you shown his confession to them?" Brady asked.

 

""No. I did let my brother read it. That was in twenty-oh-five, soon after I turned twenty-one and the lawyer gave it to me. We talked about it, and Frank and I decided to see if we could find the gun. There was one problem, though. Grandpa Hodges was living in the house. Since we barely knew him, we could hardly drop in and search for it without his wondering what the hell was going on."

 

"You could have told him about the confession," Brady pointed out.

 

"First we had to prove to ourselves the story was real. If it wasn’t, then Grandpa was everything that Ethan had told us, back when we were kids. That meant finding the gun, which we couldn't do while Grandpa was there." Colin sighed. "It was sort of damned if you do, damned if you don't. Then, five years later, he died. We took a big chance, but we knew he'd left the house to Alan and Steven. We figured the realtor wouldn't know what they looked like, so we pretended to be them so we could get the keys and make copies of them. Then we spent as many weekends as possible searching the house. We'd decided, if we did find the gun, we'd show Dad and Uncle Dennis the confession because we'd have proof it was the truth, not the ramblings of a dying man who may have made everything up because it was what he had wanted to happen. Does that make sense?"

 

"Yes," Brady replied. "The gun does exist. We found it, along with photos of your father and uncle when they were young, and of your grandmother. You two probably wouldn't have unless you'd literally torn the house apart."

 

"The photos are one reason we came up here," Rand said. "We thought you might like copies of them."

 

Colin nodded. "I would love them. Did you tell Dad you had them?"

 

"I did," Rand said. "He said he didn't want to see them."

 

"I can understand, I guess. They would only bring back bad memories. "

 

"Exactly what he implied," Rand told him.

 

"What will you do with the gun?" Colin asked, looking torn—as if having proof the confession was the truth was more than he had hoped for, and yet not what he'd wanted. "This has been a heavy secret to carry for all these years, but what recourse did Frank and I have, with no proof?"

 

"None, I think," Brady replied compassionately. "Technically, I should turn the gun, and the confession, over to a detective I know on the force."

 

Colin cocked his head in question. "Technically?"

 

"Yes. I'm a private investigator. I'm not supposed to withhold evidence. However in this case, I don't see what purpose it would serve to give it to my friend. Everyone involved is dead. Why subject you and the rest of your family to the publicity that would ensue once the story got out about what happened."

 

"You're a reporter, or so you told me," Colin said to Rand. "Do you agree?"

 

"Absolutely. As far as I'm concerned, the only people who will know we found the gun will be you and whomever you choose to show the confession to, if you decide to tell anyone about it other than your brother."