The Confession Of Zakary Jameson

Chapter 7

Agent Alexander Donovan

I arrive home late that night, around midnight, completely exhausted. The house was dark, signaling that my wife and son were fast asleep.

Moving quietly, I set my book bag in a corner and shrugged off my jacket, then headed up the stairs.

My son, Trevor's, bedroom was right at the top of the dark stairs, so I cracked open the door and peaked inside. I saw him, laying in his bed, the comforter covered in dinosaurs wrapped snugly around his small, six year old body. Smiling, I closed the door and crept to my own bedroom.

Upon opening the door, I found my wife sitting up in bed. She was reading from a thick novel. The bedside lamp was on, casting a soft light throughout the cozy bedroom.

As I stepped inside, she looked up at me and smiled softly.

"You're late." She informed me. I smiled wearily, taking off my suit coat and hanging it up on the doorknob.

"Sorry. Another case opened, so I had to work late." I neglected to tell her of the note Zak had left me at the crime scene, fearing that would disturb her.

I undid my tie and began to unbutton my shirt in silence, thinking over the business and stress the following days and weeks would bring.

"Another case? What kind?" My wife asked. I hesitated for a moment, then turned to face her. She had set down her book and was watching me, wanting to become actively engaged in the conversation.

"A convict fled shortly after I was able to find out it was him who committed the murder of Anthony Turner." I kept my explanation short, though I knew she would ask for more details.

"Anthony Turner? Isn't that the case you've been working on for so long?"

"Yes, Samantha, it is. Trouble is, I have no idea where to even begin to look for the convict. I just don't know much about him." I changes into long, fleece pajama pants and a tank top, then climbed into the bed next to her.

Samantha, or Sam, was very pretty. Her straight blonde hair fell below her shoulders, and contrasted with her brown eyes. I took a few strands of her hair between two fingers and looked at it, trying to avoid further conversation about the case. I was home, not work, after all.

There was several minutes of silence between us as we sat, hand in hand, on the bed. Finally, Samantha laughed quietly. I looked at her, smiling.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"I was just thinking. Today, when Trevor came home from kindergarten, he was so excited. Next week, his class is having career day where, you know, every child brings in a parent to talk about there job. So, anyways, he told me about that, then said, 'I can't wait to being daddy so he can tell everyone how he is a super hero!'" She told me, a smile spreading across her face.

I chuckled, well, more like scoffed.

"Superhero? I'm no hero, Samantha." I said, looking her in the eyes.

"You catch bad guys, isn't that what a superhero does?" Samantha asked me. I shrugged, thinking this over.

"I think there's more to it, honestly. Yes, at the end of the day, a superhero does catch the bad guys, bring them to justice. But, a true hero should also be able to be free enough to be there for his family, and I am barely able to even so that. I'm not a hero, I just catch the villains." I felt cheesy, saying it like that, but that was truly how I felt.

A sad look came to Samantha's face, and I didn't know why, at first.

"You are to him, Alex." She said softly, "A hero is someone who you can trust an believe in, no matter where they are. I can always trust that you will make the right choices for our family."

This was almost like a slap in the face to me. It almost made me feel more driven to solve the case and find Zakary. I wanted to be someone my family could rely on, trust... believe.

* * *

Zakary Jameson

I stood on the hotel balcony, high above many of the buildings in the city. My black hair blew in the cool air, which nipped at my face. It was an especially cold summer night. My loose white shirt and black jeans barely kept me warm enough to stand outside.

From so high up, the cars and pedestrians on the street far below looked like ants, moving busily to where they needed to go.

Silly people. Always thinking of where they were going, things they had to do, never seeming to think of the big picture. They weren't like me in that way. Nobody was quite like me...

Looking down, I had a thought.

I could achieve my ultimate goal right now, no further action necessary.

No! It was too satisfying to toy with Alexander Donovan.

The door leading from the balcony to the hotel room behind me opened.

"Are you okay?" I recognized the voice as the woman whom had agreed to help me earlier by staging as a reporter. We had gotten to know each other better in the months previous to the incident, so we were no longer strangers.

"Yeah. I am, Charlotte. Just tired." I replied as she strolled to my side and leaned against the balcony railing.

Charlotte looked at me, her eyes full of worry.

"You should rest. A lot happened today." She told me. I nodded, folding my arms across my chest, my gaze shifting to fall upon the distant horizon. Though I knew I should have, I didn't move.

After a minute of quiet, the only sound coming from the wailing wind and busy noises of the city, Charlotte held up a small paper cup and a glass of water.

"You need to take your medication." She informed me.

Sighing, I took the two cups from her, the paper cup containing several different colored pills. I dumped the pills into my mouth and chased them down with the lukewarm tap water from the glass.

Charlotte took the glass and empty up, bit her lower lip, like she was hesitant to say something, then spoke. Her voice was kind.

"I'm worried about you, Zak." She said nervously. I didn't understand why she was nervous. Everything was going according to plan... of course, she didn't know that. I took the bait, sighing deeply again.

"Why." My response sounded forced and uncaring, which it really was. She didn't have to worry about me. I knew what I was doing.

"You're picture came up on the news an hour ago. People will be actively looking for you now. Plus, you haven't been speaking much... to anyone. That isn't healthy." She blurted out. I closed my eyes, annoyed.

"What can I say? I'm a bit soft spoken. Not my fault. Why do you think I write Alexander in notes? People won't find me. I'm a step ahead of everyone, and they all know it." I said coldly.

Charlotte thought this through, drawing a silly conclusion.

"You're scared. I can see it in your eyes." She observed. I turned to look at her, surprised by her proposal.

"No. You're wrong." I told her sternly. She flinched at my harshness, but I didn't care. It wasn't in her place to tell me how I felt, how I thought. Only I knew that.

• • •

AN: kinda short, but hope you liked it:)