C.O.T.V.H. (Book 1): Creation by Dustin J. Palmer Page A

Very slowly, he opened the file in front of him and held out three pictures for John to see. “We found her car off I-20, twelve maybe thirteen miles east of town. Passenger side door was completely ripped off its hinges.”
    “ Was there blood in the car?” John asked, frantically staring at the pictures.
    “ Tell you what, John,” Henry pulled the pictures away. “You answer all of my questions. Truthfully. And I’ll do whatever I can to help you. Tit for Tat. What do you say?”
    “ Damn it, Ranger, you’re wasting my time!” John again slammed his fists repeatedly into the table. “She’s running out of time!”
    The door opened and the two cops John had ‘assaulted’ stepped through. “Everything alright, Lieutenant?” The taller of the two asked.
    “ Everything’s fine.” Henry said, not even glancing in their direction. “Thank you, officers.”
    They nodded then hesitantly stepped back through the door. “Listen, son, you’re in a whole mess of trouble. So just tell me what I want to know and I’ll help you as much as I can.”
    “ I’m not saying another damn word until I see a lawyer,” John leaned back, trying to remain calm. “I know my rights; you can’t hold me here without letting me consult an attorney.”
    “ Well, the local boys busted a big drug ring this morning. So, the public defender's office is going to be busy for quite a while. That should give us at least a couple of hours to chat. Unless you can afford some high priced attorney, and from the look of that shack, you were living in I'm betting that's a no. Am I right?
    John stared at him unmoving, his eyes hard and cold. “So back to my first question, why do you have an alias?”
    John leaned his head back and rolled his eyes, “Like I said, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
    “ Try me,” Henry laid the handcuff key on the table between them. “Believe me son, I have heard it all. So tell me what I want to hear and I'll loosen up those cuffs."
    The two sat their quietly for five more minutes, John continued to sweat profusely staring up at the clock. "You want to hear a story?" Henry asked, suddenly changing the subject. John sat there silently. "You ever heard of Lee Harvey Oswald, John F. Kennedy?" 
    Again, John wiped the sweat from his brow on his sleeve, “Of course I've heard of JFK.  Who hasn't? I was only three years old the year he was shot."
    "Well I figured as much.  A man of your education probably doesn't want to hear a story from a man that was actually there,” Henry grew silent again, knowing full well John wanted to know.  
    "You were there the day JFK was shot?"
    "Not exactly.  But I was there when they caught Oswald."
    “ No shit?” John asked his interest clearly peaked.
    “ I'll tell you what, John. How's about while we sit here waiting on the Public Defender to make his way through the twenty or so gang bangers they busted this morning, I tell you my little tale.”
    John rolled his head around cracking his neck. “Do I have a choice?”
    Henry chuckled, “You’ve always got a choice, John. I'm ready to listen anytime you're ready to start talking.”
    “ Alright, as long as I'm stuck here . . . tell me the story about the brave Texas Ranger that single handedly brought down the man that killed JFK.”
    “ Now I never said all that,” Henry chuckled. “Besides, if I’m going to tell this story I might as well start at the beginning.”
    “ Might as well,” John, agreed sarcastically. "I wouldn't want to miss out on the miracle of your birth."
    "Well, I don't think we need to go that far back." Henry chuckled again. "Did you ever have a dream, John? Something you knew you was destined for?"
    John nodded. "Sure, who doesn't?"
    "Well sir, for as long as I can remember my dream was to be a cop. You see, three months before I was born, my daddy was killed by a drifter. So, I never got to know him. But throughout my entire childhood I listened to my older brothers tell