A/n: This chapter( and subsequent ones from Joe's POV) are going to be shorter as there won't be a whole lot for him to do for a while except wait for help.
Chapter Six
Joe was beginning to feel more than a little frustrated. He was trying to be patient, really, but since it was such a foreign concept it was tough. For the life of him he could not figure out why Frank was being such a stubborn idiot about the whole thing. Okay so this Mike character looked like him, and he died. He was a little weirded out by the resemblance. But he could not wrap his head around the fact that Frank was so insistent that he never find out 'the truth' whateverthehell that meant. The truth was simple, Mike got shot while walking back from a football game. At least according to the coroner's report and the subsequent police reports. He was confused as to why Frank thought this was soooo terrible that he couldn't tell him. Not like he'd never been shot before, or seen others get shot..and killed. Joe unconsciously rubbed the now faded scar that ran the length of his torso that was the most obvious indication of that irrefutable fact.
His latest attempt at getting the damned 'truth' was met with more denial and even a little anger. It was followed by Frank pulling the exact same stunt he had pulled 7 years earlier; he avoided Joe like the Plague. Ironic, a little annoying and, he reluctantly admitted, he was a little hurt. Yet another thing that hammered home the point that Joe had done his brother a disservice back when he enlisted. He'd love to try and make it up to him if only the Brat would just let him in.
His talks with Fenton began to revolve less around his continuing research in the aftermath of the Frisk kidnapping, as that had pretty much come to a standstill, and more about his devolving relationship with his brother. But he also noticed that his father was feeling the strain just as much as he was. And while Joe was able to channel his frustration and anger into physical releases such as going to the gym and swimming for hours at a time, Fenton was feeling his age. So after a while Joe stopped even talking to his father when Fenton had taken to leaving work early every day and coming in later and later when he did come in at all.
Joe was feeling extremely isolated and alone. All his attempts to get close to Frank were being rebuffed, and he recognized that Fenton had his own problems and out of respect he tried to lessen the burden on his father as much as he could. That mean he was spending more time out at Barmet Bay and reaching out to those friends that were still in town, which basically meant Chet, Biff and Tony. The latter 2 were very busy coaching and cooking respectively, and Chet was not exactly a man of leisure out on the family farm. And unfortunately, despite him living with Frank, was unable to offer any insight. Their schedules were polar opposites and Chet seldom saw his dark haired roomie.
It was becoming normal for Joe to be the only one in the office at any given time. Sam was ever their eyes and ears on the street and spent weeks at a time out and about. Frank was seeing Dr Suitland as often as 3 or 4 times a week now and he never returned after sessions, no matter what time of day they were. This particular afternoon, Fenton had gone home for lunch almost 3 hours earlier and had not returned. So when the mail arrived, Joe was the only one there. He sorted the mail into the usual piles; bills to paid, checks to be deposited and various assorted correspondence. Those envelopes addressed to individuals he placed on their respective owners' desks, while he slit open all the ones address to Hardy and Sons. A few he could pass along to others to deal with, but the largest envelope , which was from the FBI, he had no idea what to do with. It was a copy of a release notice for one Mario Vincente. The name meant nothing to Joe, so he assumed it was from a case that was before his time. He made a mental note to ask whoever came into the office first who the guy was and why the FBI would be so kind as to let the Agency know he was loose. He should have known better than to wonder.
Of course, as the day progressed beyond dinner and no one had returned, he decided it could wait until the morning. He had called the house earlier, but his mother had told him that Fenton was napping. Joe figured it was no big deal and a few more hours wouldn't make much of a difference. He would regret that assumption before the night was out.
He had dinner at Mr Pizza but didn't stay long as the place was very busy with the next generation of Bayport High students who filled the booths much the same way he and his buddies had in years past. He half thought about seeing a movie, but nothing interested him at all. Wasn't even 10 pm and he was contemplating hitting the hay. He grimly chuckled as he divested himself of the day's clothes and slipped into flannel PJ bottoms and an old Navy PT shirt. The reflective lettering had long since faded away but the painfully bright yellow was still as headache inducing as ever. It was probably 2 in the morning when he was woken by the alarm that connected his apartment with the office downstairs. Instantly awake, Joe ran downstairs barefoot. He knew the alarm system was linked to 911 and they would automatically send a squad car out so he didn't call Fenton. The front door was jimmied open and stood ajar. Joe slipped in and noticed the only light was coming from Fenton's office. He silently padded over to the door and stood there, listening. He heard only a slight rustling of papers and no voices. He risked easing the door open a little more and saw only one figure rifling through the desk and filing cabinets, their back to the door. Joe did a quick head swivel and decided there was no one else in the room, so he stood straight and pushed the door open wide, flipping the light switch on as he said in a hard voice "Who the hell are you and why are you ransacking my father's office?"
The Perp stood sharply, surprised but not rattled. He was dressed head to toe in black jeans, sweat shirt, boots and gloves. Although he wore no mask he was wearing the sort of camouflage paint he was used to seeing on the Marines that used to hitch rides on his ship for deployments. He made no sound but swiftly came at Joe, the flashlight in his hand held high as a weapon.
Joe easily avoid the initial attack and responded with his own right hook. He knew the police response would be a few minutes so he was determined to either keep the guy busy until then, or if he got lucky, be able to subdue him altogether. He should have known it wasn't going to be that easy. The guy was older than he, but in just as good a shape and not hindered by bare feet and sleepiness. He also used that flashlight like a truncheon. All Joe had was an intimate knowledge of the dark office and a fierce loyalty to his father.
The fight went on for several long minutes. Joe was sure the cops would be there any second so when he heard a noise behind him he assumed it was them. He was wrong, as he realized half a second too late to avoid the back end of a gun that crashed down behind his left ear.
In the silence that followed, the intruder nodded in thanks at his partner. "What do we do with this joker?" the new guy asked with a trace of a Jersey accent.
"Asked me what I was doing in his father's office" came the reply, a feral grin showing tobacco stained teeth.
"Oh really?" was the response as the implication set in. "Betcha the Boss would just love to meet him then doncha think?"
"I was just thinking the same thing, yeah. Be way more useful than some damn papers. Help me tie him up."
The two men swiftly secured Joe's hands behind his back with a zip tie cuff and did the same to his ankles. They ripped his tee shirt off him and tore strips to use as a blind fold and gag and one longer one to tie his ankles to his wrists in a modified hogtie. The man with the flashlight led the way out into the main area while the other hoisted the unconscious blond over a shoulder. They were out of the building and away in less than 5 minutes, even after taking the time to close the door leading onto Fenton's office and closing the main door after flipping the lock from the inside.
It was late the next morning before anyone was aware of the events of the night before. As Fenton came to the front door a little after 10 am, he noticed a small manila envelope addressed to him propped up against the doorjamb. He picked it up as he entered. The office door that held his sons' desks was partly open and he waved to Frank, who was deep in conversation on the phone. Frank tipped his head in acknowledgement but continued speaking. There was no sign of Joe. Fenton was walking toward his office door as he slit open the envelope. He had pulled out the contents, but the photographs enclosed were back facing him, so he didn't see them as he entered his disaster of an office.
"Frank! Get in here! NOW!" Fenton bellowed as he turned the photographs over an automatic pilot. It proved to be a mistake as the contents of the photographs made his blood run cold. Actually it did more than that as Fenton immediately crashed to the floor, hitting his head on an overturned chair as his heart gave out on him.
Frank had heard his father's shout but made no move to do as he had been instructed until he heard a heavy thud. Hastily hanging up, he ran to his father's office and stopped short at the horrific scene before him. He barely registered the destroyed office and didn't even see the pictures as they had fallen face down when Fenton collapsed. He dropped to his knees beside his father and felt for a pulse but there was nothing.
He was frantically administering CPR when Sam came in, giving a general "Anybody home?" as he walked past the coffee pot. Frank shouted for Sam to call 911 in a panicked voice. Sam whipped out his cell and was dialing as he rushed across the room. As soon as he finished, he knocked Frank's hands out of the way and took over CPR, giving Frank a short rest. But it was for no more than a few seconds as Frank continued to breathe into his father's lungs.
It was less than 10 minutes before the EMTs arrived and they wasted no time getting Fenton onto a gurney and off to the hospital. Frank was clearly useless despite his automatically starting CPR so Sam called Laura and gave her the bad news. Hanging up the phone, he turned to Frank and asked, a trifle harshly "Where's Joe?"
Frank only shook his head, he had no idea and wasn't all that interested in keeping tabs on his brother lately. Sam gave a snort of disgust as he too was well aware that Frank had been acting like a twit recently and often lent a sympathetic ear to Fenton who was caught between his two sons' issues. As he surveyed the wreck around him, his eye caught a glimpse of a photograph on the floor near where Fenton had been laying when he came in. It was the only picture to have fallen face up of the group of five or six. Like Fenton before him, Sam's blood ran cold as he gazed at the picture more carefully.
"Oh hell" Sam's voice was quiet but intense and it wormed its way through the self imposed haze Frank had been hiding behind. The picture slid out of Sam's nerveless fingers but Frank snatched it out of mid air. His,blood too turned to ice in his veins as he saw the bloodied and battered face in the photograph. It was covered in bruises, but there was no mistaking it. Joe's bright blue eyes leapt out at him and the pain in them ripped his heart to pieces.
A/n: before you ask/comment/etc: yes the question of why the cops never showed will be answered. The next chapter will backtarck a smidge as you finally find out how Mike met his end with a few more details. Then you get to see Frank be given what for by an unlikely source.
