Thank you TraSan, Miss Fenway and Polaris for the reviews. :-)
Chapter 11
Over the next two days, Peter Handling finished his questioning of Carlos Sanchez and proceeded to call several witnesses each of whom had some kind of encounter with Keith Rashman. The gas station attendant who had given Frank and Fenton their first solid lead on Joe identified Rashman and testified that he not only filled his car with gas but also purchased eight, one-gallon jugs of water and a box of salt. At Handling's request, he then pointed out Frank and Fenton, saying they had asked about Rashman and wanted to know who had been with him, what kind of car he'd been driving and which direction he'd headed in when he left.
A woman who ran a small general store also identified Rashman, testifying he'd been in her store and purchased three strips of leather. She too singled out Frank and Fenton saying they had asked about Rashman and anyone who may have been with him. She explained they had showed her photographs of two men, neither of which she had seen with Rashman that night, but one of whom she now recognized and identified as Joe.
After Handling finished questioning the woman on Friday afternoon, his final witness prior to the conclusion of the week's proceedings, he made sure to point out that all the purchases Rashman made that night clearly supported the theory that all of his actions were due to a carefully thought out, predetermined plan and not a bout of uncontrolled anger brought on by temporary insanity.
oooOOOooo
Later that evening, Fenton Hardy looked around the dinner table noting the tension that had been evident each night seemed to have diminished. Grateful for the two-day reprieve from the trial that the weekend afforded, he posed the question of just how those two days should be spent. After a rather loud debate and some serious eye rolling by Joe, it was decided that the men need not accompany the women who had all ready reserved Saturday for a full day of shopping on the Magnificent Mile hoping to put a significant dent in their Christmas lists.
"And what will the three of you be doing while we're out buying all your Christmas presents?" Laura asked.
"I don't know," Fenton admitted, as he exchanged a look with Frank and got a nod of approval from his older son, "why don't you decide, Joe."
"Me?" Joe responded, surprised. "Really?"
"Sure, why not." Frank shrugged. "How would you like to spend the day?"
"Hmmm," Joe tilted his chair back and gazed up at the ceiling deep in thought. "First, we sleep in. No alarm clocks allowed."
"Okay, no alarm clocks," Fenton chuckled, knowing both he and Frank would still be up early.
"The first thing we'll do is go to the ESPN Zone for lunch," Joe continued, warming up to the task.
"Lunch?!" Frank exclaimed. "What happened to breakfast?"
"I plan to sleep through breakfast so you're on your own there, bro," Joe grinned. "After lunch, maybe we can go to the Navy Pier. They have this really cool ride called Time Escape. No, wait!!" Joe cried out, now thoroughly caught up his own excitement. "The Pole Position Racing School! We can drive a race car around the track at one hundred and ten miles an hour!"
"What?!" Laura and Vanessa cried out in unison, causing the others to erupt in laughter.
"Oh, no," Vanessa began shaking her head, "I'd rather be blissfully ignorant about something like that. You can tell me all about it after you come back alive!" She looked at Joe pointedly.
"Well, I'd rather you didn't do it at all." Laura frowned her displeasure. "Why do you need to drive a car at one hundred and ten miles an hour anyway?"
"Because it's fun, Mom!" Joe replied, his eyes alight with excitement. "Hey, maybe they'd let me take you as a passenger!"
Laura choked on the water she'd been drinking and began coughing uncontrollably.
"Don't worry," Fenton reassured them as he patted Laura on the back, stifling a smile. "Unfortunately for Joe, I think the racing school is closed during the winter."
"Are you sure you can't pull some strings and get them to open it up just for us?" Joe tried to charm his father.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Self preservation," Fenton chuckled eyeing his wife. "I don't want to spend the next six months sleeping on the couch."
"Chicken," Joe muttered under his breath.
"Well, before you make a decision on where to go, let this chicken make a phone call." Fenton stood up. "I'll be right back."
Picking up the phone in the bedroom, Fenton smiled as the sound of his sons' voices and laughter drifted down the hall after him. It had been too long since he'd heard that sound. He waited before dialing, simply listening, knowing all too soon the teasing and laughter would be replaced once again with a tense and heavy silence.
Calling Pierre Tableau, Fenton explained what he wanted, apologizing for the short notice. The hotel manger brushed off his apology, assuring Fenton it wasn't a problem and promising that he would make the arrangements immediately. Returning to the dining room Fenton took his seat. Taking a sip of coffee, he smiled to himself noting all eyes were on him. No one had spoken a word since he returned obviously waiting for some kind of announcement.
"Well?!" Joe finally said, exasperated. "What's the big secret?"
Sitting back, Fenton smiled at Joe anticipating his reaction. "How would you like to go see the Chicago Black Hawks take on the Detroit Red Wings tomorrow afternoon?"
Joe stared at his father with his mouth gaping open and his eyes huge, apparently rendered speechless by the question.
"In a club box at center ice," Fenton continued, teasingly.
Frank laughed, watching his younger brother who had yet to say a word. "That's a first! Joe Hardy, speechless!"
"The Black Hawks? And the Red Wings?" Joe repeated in disbelief. "A club box?!"
"I think there's an echo in here," Frank teased.
"Well?" Fenton said with a wry smile as he looked at Joe expectantly.
"Well what?!" Joe cried out. "Of course I want to go!"
"Took you long enough," Frank continued ragging on his brother.
"Can we leave him here?" Joe asked his father, while looking at Frank through narrowed eyes.
Frank grinned. "Not a chance, little brother. You're usually more entertaining than the game itself. I'm not going to miss this one."
Listening to Frank and Joe playfully teasing each other, Laura sat back and gazed at her husband. She didn't see one of the world's best private investigators, but a devoted father who would do anything for his children. Catching her husband's eye she smiled at him, knowing he would do whatever it took to make sure Joe landed on his feet, no matter what the outcome of the trial.
oooOOOooo
Reaching out, Frank pressed a button and slowed to a fast walk as the speed of the treadmill steadily decreased. Grabbing the towel he'd thrown over the handle, Frank wiped the sweat off his face and glanced at the clock. Even without the aid of an alarm, he had risen early and gotten in a nice long workout. He still had enough time to shower and change prior to joining Callie for breakfast before she, Laura and Vanessa headed out to "make a large donation to Chicago's economy", as Joe had put it the previous evening.
Bringing the belt to a stop, Frank stepped off the treadmill and took a long drink from the water bottle he'd brought with him. Shaking his head, Frank smiled and marveled once again at his father's ability to pull off the impossible and make it look easy. Scoring a club box to a Black Hawks game less than twenty-four hours before the opening face off should have been out of the question, yet Fenton Hardy had done it almost without batting an eye. Thinking back on his childhood, Frank realized Fenton Hardy had been doing the 'impossible' as far back as Frank could remember.
Although Fenton was out of town almost as much as he was home while Frank and Joe were growing up, he made every second with his sons special. Frank had lost count of the vacations, camping or fishing trips, baseball games, football games and family outings he and Joe had shared with their father. And Fenton had never missed the special occasions and important milestones in his sons' lives – birthdays, holidays, Little League championships, high school tournaments, award banquets, and graduations. A few times, he'd made it with barely a second to spare but Fenton always made it, no matter where in the world he was.
It was only when he and Callie had started talking about having children of their own that Frank really understood the lengths his father had gone to, to always be there for him and Joe. Walking back down the hall towards the suite, Frank hoped he could live up to the example Fenton had set and create a bond with his own children as special as the one he shared with his father.
After a quick shower and change of clothes, Frank walked out to the kitchen just as Callie and Vanessa were sitting down to the breakfast that room service had delivered. Kissing his wife good morning, Frank filled his plate and sat down at the table.
"Has Joe shown any signs of waking up yet?" Frank asked Vanessa who was seated across from him.
"Not really," Vanessa grinned, "although he did roll over and remind me to buy him lots of presents when I kissed him goodbye."
'The world's biggest kid,' Frank thought with a smile. "And I'm sure he gave you a list to guide you," he said wryly.
"Weeks ago. And he updates it daily," Vanessa confirmed much to Frank and Callie's amusement. "Hey, he mentioned wanting to go out dancing tonight at one of the local clubs. You'll come with us, won't you?" she asked looking from Callie to Frank, hopefully.
While Joe and Vanessa often made the rounds of the clubs in and around, Bayport dancing the night away, Frank and Callie preferred more subdued, less frenetic outings and rarely joined them. Despite that fact, Frank was willing to do whatever it took to keep Joe's mind occupied with anything other than the trial. He turned to Callie, hoping she'd agree only to find she was one step ahead of him.
"Of course we'll go!" Callie said enthusiastically. "It's always fun watching you and Joe put everyone else to shame on the dance floor."
"Thanks," Vanessa replied gratefully.
"Yeah…thanks," Frank said quietly, kissing his wife on the cheek.
"Now just make sure you save a dance for me," Vanessa winked at Frank, who blushed slightly.
"Only if it's a ballad," Frank stipulated, "I'm not quite as rhythmically gifted as my brother and I don't want to make a complete fool of myself."
oooOOOooo
As Frank had predicted, Joe's reactions to the hockey game had proved just as entertaining as the game itself. Even more enjoyable, Frank thought, had been watching Joe beat their father at most of the interactive games at ESPN Zone prior to the game. The day had flown by in a blur of wisecracks and laughter. After rejoining Laura, Callie and Vanessa for dinner in the hotel restaurant, Frank now found himself in one of the most popular clubs in Chicago. Seated next to Callie at a corner booth, Frank sipped a now lukewarm soda as he scanned the crowd of bodies packed onto the dance floor, occasionally catching a glimpse of Joe and Vanessa. Sensing that he was being watched, Frank turned his head and found Callie staring at him. "What?"
Leaning over, she kissed him in silent response.
"What was that for?" Frank asked even more baffled. "Not that I mind, of course."
"It's because you're such a good brother," Callie replied, laughing softly when Frank blushed enough to be seen even in the dim light of the nightclub. "I can think of a hundred other things you'd enjoy more than this," she waved her hand at the noisy crowd for emphasis, "but you're here anyway."
Frank tried to brush off the compliment. "Yeah, well, I promised Vanessa a dance."
Callie raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh, and it has absolutely nothing to do with Joe."
Frank shrugged. "Chicago's a great city. I'd hate for his only memories of it to be of Keith Rashman."
"And you know he's still too uneasy to explore the city on his own."
"If I recall, you agreed to this before I even opened my mouth."
"Because I knew you wanted to do it for Joe. Like I said, you're a good brother." Callie leaned forward again, this time pressing her lips firmly against Frank's.
"Hey, hey, not in front of us kids!" Joe and Vanessa slid into the booth, flushed and breathless.
"Look who's talking," Frank rolled his eyes, referring to Joe's penchant for public displays of affection.
"Who me?" Joe replied with wide-eyed innocence.
"Don't forget you promised me a dance," Vanessa reminded Frank.
"I haven't forgotten," he assured her, "the next ballad, I'm all yours."
"Ballad?!" Joe snorted. "What a wuss. Come on Cal." Joe grabbed Callie's hand and pulled her from the booth. "Let me save you from this old fuddy-duddy."
Before she could utter a word of protest, Joe had expertly maneuvered himself and Callie to the center of the dance floor.
Vanessa touched Frank's arm lightly. "Thanks for coming tonight. I don't think he would have come if it was just the two of us and he's having a great time."
Frank smiled. "You don't need to thank me. I'm having fun."
Vanessa crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh yeah, you look like you're having the time of your life," she said sarcastically.
"It's good people watching," Frank laughed, referring to some of the more 'colorful' patrons.
"Well, whatever the reason, thanks. He really needs this." Vanessa let her eyes wander over the crowd and stared at Joe. "It's gonna get bad next week isn't it?" she asked quietly, watching her fiancé laughing and joking with Callie as they danced.
"It'll get worse before it gets better," Frank confirmed somewhat evasively. "But there should only be a few more days of testimony and then all that's left is closing arguments. The worst will be over by then." He stopped as the music slowed and the lights dimmed even further. Smiling, he extended his hand towards Vanessa. "I think they're playing our song."
As Frank and Vanessa made their way onto the dance floor, Frank had no inkling of the nightmare those closing arguments would ignite.
oooOOOooo
It seemed to Fenton Hardy that Sunday night arrived all too soon. They had spent the day visiting Shedd Aquarium and the Hancock Observatory, two of Chicago's premiere attractions, finishing with dinner back at the hotel suite. He surveyed his family, now comfortably sprawled out in the living room watching the last few minutes of a movie.
In contrast to the whirlwind of activity of the past two days, they had opted to close out the weekend quietly, spending the evening together. Fenton smiled at the relaxed and playful banter between Joe and Vanessa, grateful that they had been able to push aside thoughts of the trial even if only temporarily. As the closing credits rolled across the screen, Fenton sighed, knowing it was time to return to reality.
Slowly he stood, watching and waiting, as Joe whispered something to Vanessa and kissed her before rising himself. Frank joined them a few seconds later and the three wordlessly retreated to the sunroom. Taking a seat on the couch, Fenton picked up the papers containing notes he'd made while speaking to Peter Handling earlier in the evening. He'd quickly come to hate these little "briefings", never knowing what kind of nightmares they'd unleash on Joe during the night. He took a deep breath, resolving to get it over with as fast as possible tonight, hoping some of Joe's relaxed good mood might remain in tact.
"Frank is going to be recalled to the stand first thing tomorrow morning. You'll get a few perfunctory questions about what happened between the time we left O'Hare and the time we got to the restaurant." Fenton finally looked up at his sons who were seated across from him, focusing on Frank. "After that Handling is going to have you describe following Rashman and ultimately finding Joe. And he wants details – a lot of them. The more shocking, the better. If you don't respond the way he wants, it will get ugly pretty fast," Fenton warned.
Frank sat silently for a moment, obviously trying to get a grip on his temper. "Why?!" His voice was tight with barely restrained anger. "He's got all those damn pictures to flash around, he doesn't need minute details from me. And Joe definitely doesn't need to hear it." Frank stopped abruptly, seeing Joe chained to the fence clear as day and feeling his anger close to boiling over. "It's overkill and it's not necessary. If Handling is as good as he seems to think he is, he should be able to get his point across by asking me a few pointed questions and letting those pictures speak for themselves!"
"Believe me, I know how you feel, Frank. I'm going to have to do exactly the same thing as soon as you're finished."
"Twice?! He wants every gory detail twice?" Frank said angrily. "Does the guy have ice in his veins? Does he think Joe can just take that all in stride? He can't possibly expect Joe to be in the right frame of mind to testify after hearing that – from both of us!" Frank raged, momentarily forgetting Joe was sitting right next to him.
"Just do it," Joe said softly.
Frank abruptly turned to his younger brother, as if just realizing he was there. To his surprise, Joe shrugged indifferently. "Tell him what he wants to hear and get it over with. If you don't he'll just drag it out until he gets what he wants anyway and drive you crazy in the process. Don't put yourself through that."
"It's not me I'm worried about," Frank said honestly, clearly concerned about the effect his testimony would have on Joe.
Fenton finally spoke, resigned to the emotional toll their testimony would take on all of them. "I'm afraid he's right, Frank. The longer you try and parry with Handling, the worse he'll get. We know what he wants. The sooner we give it to him, the sooner it'll be over." Fenton threw his pen on the table, leaned his head back and ran his fingers through his dark hair in frustration.
"Fine," Frank replied stonily, not quite hiding his anger as well as he hoped. "Anything else I need to know or can I go now?"
Fenton studied his son for a moment and wondered if he had that same look in his own eyes – the same rage, bubbling just below the surface, begging for an outlet. "Yes, you can go."
Frank stood and hurried out of the room, leaving Fenton and Joe in awkward silence.
"He doesn't want to make it any harder on you than it all ready is," Fenton tried to explain, finally sighing in defeat. "Neither do I."
"Dad, I understand. Really, I do." Joe found himself trying to reassure his father. "If it gets too bad I'll just block it out. I'll recite the Star Spangled Banner...backwards," he joked, happy when his father responded with a smile. "Don't worry about me. I think tomorrow is going to be a lot harder on you and Frank than it is on me."
Staring at his younger son, Fenton realized he was probably right. Deep inside he had been dreading this day, when he would have to relive the heart-stopping moment when he'd first seen Joe and thought for sure he was dead. It had been a parent's worst nightmare and something he never wanted to go through again. Yet, here it was staring him in the face.
'And you're not even close to being ready to relive it all again,' he admitted, now fully understanding Frank's uncharacteristic show of anger. 'In front of a room full of strangers, no less.'
"Dad?" Fenton heard Joe's voice and realized he'd gotten lost in his own fears for several minutes. "Are you all right?" Joe leaned forward, looking at his father with concern.
Fenton forced a smile. "Fine. I think we're done here."
"Okay." Joe stood up and got halfway across the room before he stopped and turned back towards his father, who had resumed poring over the notes from his conversation with Peter Handling.
"Dad?"
Fenton looked up meeting Joe's eyes. "Yes?"
"Thanks." Joe smiled at his father's obvious puzzlement. "The hockey game, the aquarium, the observatory…I know you were just trying to get my mind off the trial for a little while and I just wanted you to know it worked. Goodnight."
Fenton watched Joe disappear down the hall, finding it difficult to swallow over the lump in his throat. "You're welcome, Joe," he whispered hoarsely.
Slowly turning back to the papers in front of him, Fenton saw the words run together and disappear in a blur. Roughly wiping his eyes, Fenton cursed the hand of fate that had dealt his beloved golden child more anguish in the past eleven months than most people would see in a lifetime. And then he cursed himself even more for being unable to prevent it.