The Truth (Mommy's House 2)

Part Twenty

WARNING: Potentially triggering material. Reader discretion advised.

I drove the car into a dark alleyway until the man was cornered. He stared at the brick wall as he then attempted to climb it and jump over it, but to no avail. He fell to the ground, groaning as I watched him from my car.

"What an idiot," I groaned, before quickly getting out of my car and holding my gun up in front of me.

Through the running, his bathrobe and baseball hat fell off. My bright headlights revealed his thick head of dark gray hair. He matched Steven's description from behind.

"Put your hands up," I yelled out to him, my breath showing in the frigid air as the man refused to listen to me.

He stayed still, his hands in his pockets and his head down as he faced away from me.

"Put your hands up!" I yelled again, and I shot at a garbage can beside him. I knew I wasn't supposed to, but I had to get this sick man to look at me.

The sound of the gun was loud and sliced through the air. The sound of the bullet hitting the metal of the garbage gave a deafening, rattling sound which made the man jump the second the shot rang out.

He immediately turned to face me, his face bright red. I stared at him closely as he squinted against the bright lights shining directly on him. His light coloured eyes opened to look at me, as his hands were held in the air and trembling.

I walked up to him, twisted his arms behind his back and slammed him against the car.

"Where is he?" I asked, my teeth clenched as I fumbled with the handcuffs.

"W-who?" he asked, his face pressed up against the car. "What?"

"Steven, where is he?" I asked again, my face close to his. When he didn't answer, I lifted him up and slammed him back against the car, to where he groaned and shook his head.

"I am Steven," the man said, his voice shaking rapidly. "I'm... I'm Steven."

I laughed under my breath. "No you're not. Tell me where he is."

I flipped the man over to face me, and sweat was beading down his face despite the cold air that blew around us. He wouldn't make eye contact with me.

"I am Steven, I don't know what else you want me to-" he tried to say again, but the sounds of more sirens played in the distance. The other officers were on their way, so I had to get the truth out of him fast.

"You are not Steven," I told him. My fingers reached towards my gun again, and the man's eyes followed my movement, before he gasped.

"Okay! Okay," he cried out, shaking his head. "I'm not - I'm, my name is Chris, I- I'm homeless and some guy promised me and my family money to pretend I'm him," he said, his words fast and melting into one breath. "Please don't hurt me. Don't shoot, please," he begged.

"Where's your wallet?" I asked him, and the man swallowed hard.

"My right pocket," he said, and I reached into the pajama pants he was wearing to find his wallet. It had a few dollar bills in it, and of course the idiot left his real I.D. in it, to prove to me that he really was just a man named Christopher Broden.

"Tell me where he is," I said, my teeth gritted together as I tossed his wallet back into his pocket and moved my face closer to his. "I know that you know."

The guy whimpered under his breath, "I- I don't kn-now, I was blindfolded the whole t-time," the guy said shakily. "I really don't want to go to jail. I-I have kids. I have kids, please. I don't want to go to jail. I've done nothing, I promise you!"