Shared Sorrow
Chapter 11
Fenton sat in the plush reception area just outside Marcus Andresson's private office, gazing out the window. He had called the owner of Myelin Manufacturing the previous afternoon and explained he was looking into Kevin's disappearance. Andresson seemed anxious to help and agreed to meet with him first thing in the morning.
Smothering a yawn, Fenton drummed his fingers on the back of the leather sofa, trying to shake the restlessness that had been plaguing him since he awoke. Yet he knew even if he was able to do that, it wouldn't erase the dream he'd had last night.
'If only it was just a dream.'
He hadn't thought about the incident in almost nineteen years. In fact he'd successfully blocked it from his memory, as if it had never happened. And while he still wasn't ready to admit it, Fenton Hardy knew very well why he'd conveniently forgotten the episode; it would put his wife on a par with his brother-in-law – or vice versa – and that was simply not acceptable. Yet his subconscious remembered it very well…
Fenton sat next to Sergeant Ezra Collig poring over the evidence the Bayport Police Department had recovered. It wasn't much to go on, which was why the victim's family had hired Fenton. He'd solved several cases since moving to Bayport and was just starting to make a name for himself as a private investigator. Still this was the first time he was officially working with the local police.
The two men had been working in silence when a knock on the door interrupted them. A young officer poked her head in and nodded at Fenton. "Your wife is on line two."
"Thank you," Fenton said, puzzled. Laura rarely called him while he was working.
Picking up the phone, he pressed the button Collig indicated. "Laura? Honey, is everything okay?"
"Oh my God, Fenton! He's gone!" Laura Hardy practically screamed into the phone, causing Fenton's blood to turn to ice.
"Calm down, honey. Who's gone?" he responded, soothingly. Laura sounded on the verge of hysterics.
"Joe! He's gone! My baby is gone!"
'Joe's gone?!' Fenton was on his feet instantly. Joe was only three years old! How could he be gone?
"Laura, honey, you have to calm down and tell me what happened." Fenton tried to mask the fear in his voice, not wanting his wife to feed off it. "Take a deep breath and tell me what happened." He heard a very shaky, sobbing breath as Laura tried to do as he asked.
"I'm at the mall. Grace Cohen called this morning and said Phil wanted Frank to go to the park with them. So I dropped him off there on my way. I thought with just Joe I could get some errands done. He was in the stroller. Fenton, I don't know how he got out! I don't know if he climbed out on his own or if someone took him!" As Laura spoke, her voice pitched higher and higher, her breathing increasing with each word. "I only took my eyes off him for a second, but when I turned around Joe was gone!"
Fenton closed his eyes and leaned his head back. As it turned out, there had been no sinister plot to kidnap their younger son that day at the mall. Prior to Joe's disappearance, Laura had given in to his endless requests to be allowed to get out of his stroller and explore the fountain in the middle of the mall. Sipping on the coffee she'd purchased, Laura indulged her little boy keeping a close watch on him as he repeatedly attempted to launch himself into the fountain, rather than simply enjoy it from afar.
When Laura had put Joe back in the stroller, he'd seemed agreeable but kept twisting this way and that, trying to get one last glimpse of the water splashing from the fountain into the shimmering, shallow pool below. A few moments later, when Laura was digging through her purse to pay for a purchase, Joe had somehow gotten himself out of the stroller and made a beeline for the fountain. And that was exactly where mall security had found him only moments after Laura's panicked phone call. Sitting in the middle of the small, concrete pool, Joe was squealing with delight as the water from the fountain cascaded around him. Splashing and giggling, Joe was apparently having the time of his life completely oblivious to Laura's near breakdown.
While Fenton smiled at the memory of arriving at the mall to find a very wet and happy Joe snuggled deep in his mother's arms, in the back of his mind he knew exactly why he had purposely suppressed it all these years.
"I only took my eyes off him for a second, but when I turned around Joe was gone!"
With Joe simply having wandered off in search of adventure that day, it had been easy to forgive his wife her brief lapse of attention. Yet three years later, when his brother-in-law uttered those very same words…
'No!' Fenton firmly reprimanded himself. 'That was different. Joe was hurt as a result of Jeff's incompetence. It is NOT the same thing! Not at all!'
"Mr. Hardy? Mr. Andresson will see you now."
The voice of Marcus Andresson's secretary rescued Fenton from opening the door to his own inner Devil's advocate. But as he stood and followed the woman down the hall, a little voice resonated somewhere in the recesses of his mind.
'Hypocrite…'
oooOOOooo
Fenton sat back and rubbed his eyes, tired and frustrated. After speaking with Marcus Andresson he'd been given full access to Kevin's work area. He'd also been given ample time to question Kevin's co-workers and his supervisor. Every one of them had painted pretty much the same picture – Kevin was a hard worker, reliable, never any trouble; but he kept to himself. Other than company functions like the annual picnic and holiday party, he rarely socialized with anyone from the office. He kept his personal and professional lives separate.
Quickly realizing Kevin's fellow employees wouldn't be much help, he turned his attention to the project Kevin was working on when he disappeared. While Kevin's supervisor, Gregory Bastian, had said the project was "routine stuff", Fenton still scrutinized every detail. He spent the remainder of the day poring over reports, financial projections broken down into one, five and ten year increments, graphs, charts and slide presentations. Everything appeared totally above board.
A search of the files on Kevin's computer, in his desk and small filing cabinet yielded the same results. Fenton found nothing that even remotely aroused his suspicion. With a dejected sigh he shut down the computer and returned to Greg Bastion's office, waiting patiently while Bastion finished a business call. After hanging up, he looked at Fenton hopefully.
"Did you find anything helpful?"
"I'm afraid not. Although I guess that's not necessarily bad news for you," Fenton replied.
"As distressed as we are about Kevin's disappearance, I have to admit I'm glad it doesn't seem to be connected to us," Bastion admitted. "Will you be coming back tomorrow?"
"I see no reason to at this point. Although if something turns up down the road…"
"You're more than welcome to return. As Mr. Andresson said, we are anxious to help in any way we can."
"Thank you, I appreciate that." Fenton reached forward and shook hands with Bastion, bidding him a good night.
Returning to his rental car, Fenton pulled out his cell phone and dialed Sam Radley. "Hi, Sam, it's me."
"You don't sound too happy," Sam said.
"I didn't find a thing at Kevin's office. How are the background checks going on the upper management at Myelin?" He heard a beep and the rat-a-tat-tat sound of fingers rapidly flying over a keyboard.
"Marcus Andresson, CEO. Inherited the business from his father, who inherited it from his father. He still runs it as they did - a tight-knit group of employees who are treated like family." Sam repeated the information Fenton had already gleaned from the company website. "He's got the usual CEO type salary and bonus package. Owns two vacation homes in addition to the main residence.
"Vincent Ellison, CFO. He's an old high-school buddy and frat brother of Andresson's. They went their separate ways after college but when the computer industry boomed, Andresson wooed his friend away from the firm where he was working. He gets a generous salary and lots of perks in his compensation package. Since he's basically in charge of the company's finances, he makes money every time the company does. Has a house on a several acres of land on the outskirts of town and a vacation cabin near the desert about two hours north of there.
"Gabriel Brandenburg is the chief operating officer. Another old friend of Andresson's. Has pretty much the same background as the other two right down to the vacation home, except he started working at Myelin right out of college. Sorry, Fenton, but they all seem to be your basic, run of the mill corporate types. No skeletons in their closets."
Fenton drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, frustrated. "Okay, thanks for checking, Sam. I'm going to start searching Kevin's house tomorrow. Maybe something'll turn up there."
After getting caught up on the other open cases the agency was working on, Fenton hung up and drove back to his hotel, wanting nothing more than a good meal and a good night's sleep – preferably a dreamless sleep.
oooOOOooo
Joe walked into Frank's office and dropped heavily into a chair, frowning. "You seen Mom today?"
"She was leaving when I got here this morning. She had to take those annual recertification classes for the Red Cross today. Why?" Frank replied.
"I haven't talked to her since yesterday morning. When I left last night she was on the phone with Aunt Gertrude so all I got was a wave goodbye. I just wanted to know how she's doing with… everything." Joe sat back and drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair.
Frank chewed on his bottom lip, wondering exactly how to respond. Joe was staring at him in that unnerving way he had, almost daring Frank to blink. It usually worked like a charm, getting Frank to spill his guts when he'd had no intention of uttering a word. Tonight, however, he stared right back, using the time to decide exactly how much of what happened the previous evening he should tell Joe, and just how much detail he should go into.
Joe leaned forward and spread his hands impatiently. "Well?"
"I talked to her last night," Frank replied noncommittally.
"And?"
Frank exhaled loudly and tossed the pen he was holding on the desk. The previous morning, he'd promised Fenton he would keep an eye on Joe, make sure he was handling this whole bizarre situation okay without backsliding. He'd promised himself a long time ago never to lie to his brother or keep things from him. So what was he supposed to do now, when those promises seemed to be colliding head on? Which one did he keep and which did he break?
'He's all grown up now,' Frank reminded himself. 'Doesn't need you trying to protect him from every little thing. Doesn't want you to either.'
"I wanted to say goodbye to Mom before I left last night. Wanted to make sure she was okay so I went looking for her. I found her in the attic." Frank leaned back in the chair and stared at the glossy, polished desktop.
"What the heck was she doing in the attic?"
"Packing boxes. Or rather unpacking boxes, looking through them and repacking them."
Joe frowned. "Ya lost me."
"Pictures, photo albums, scrapbooks…every memory she had of her sister. She was looking at them one last time before getting rid of them for good," Frank said solemnly.
Joe's mouth fell open slightly as the significance of what Frank was saying sank in. He looked at Frank, confused. "I didn't even know those boxes existed."
"Me neither. And that was the idea. After Dad rescued you from Tilghman, you saw a child psychiatrist – apparently for several weeks." Frank spoke haltingly, not really sure how he wanted to explain this. Joe's predilection for taking blame for things he had no control over was in the front of his mind. He did not want this conversation to end with Joe feeling he was personally responsible for the severed relationship between Laura and her sister.
"Yeah, I know. They told me. But I don't really remember it."
Frank raised his eyebrows, slightly surprised. He'd assumed that once the buried memories pushed their way to the surface, Joe had remembered everything from that time. 'Guess not.' He shifted uneasily suddenly not wanting to have this discussion.
"So what does that have to do with the boxes Mom had hidden in the attic?"
"The psychiatrist told them you didn't remember a thing about the kidnapping. Absolutely nothing. Totally repressed it because you weren't ready to deal with it. Mom wanted to know what would happen if something you saw or heard triggered the memories before you were ready to deal with them." Frank picked up the pen again, rolling it nervously in his fingers. "The psychiatrist said she didn't know for sure – but it wouldn't be good. You needed to remember it in your own time, when you were ready."
"Trust me, you're never ready to remember something like that." Joe started bouncing his leg, ever so slightly, a sure sign he was anxious. "Can you fast forward and cut to the chase here?"
"Mom was afraid being around the Cutters – seeing them, playing with Kevin and Kelly – would trigger something and you'd remember too soon."
"Never remembering woulda been good for me," Joe mumbled. "Sorry," he said when Frank looked at him sharply, "go ahead."
"Mom said she knew her relationship with her sister would never be the same after what happened and your sanity was more important to her than trying to salvage something with Carole. Mom told Carole she was cutting her out of her life – Carole and her family. About a month later they moved to Arizona." Frank watched his brother warily as Joe absorbed everything. It was a long, tense silence before Joe spoke again.
"Okay, but that still doesn't explain why Mom wants to throw out those boxes now. I remembered what happened. What difference would it make if I saw anything that was in them?"
Frank shook his head, so not wanting to do this. He felt trapped. Joe had legitimate questions and he deserved answers. Frank had asked basically same thing of his mother only twenty-four hours earlier. Choosing his words carefully, Frank wanted to respond in a way that wouldn't leave Joe feeling guilty.
Standing, he walked around the desk and sat in the chair next to Joe's. He scooted it over a few inches, making sure he was in close proximity to his brother. "I think it's more about Mom than you, Joe," Frank began softly. "I get the feeling she's thought about contacting her sister more than once in the past year. She's adamant that she'll never do it though. She thinks it would be like saying that just because you remembered, everything was okay now."
Frank watched and waited for Joe's response. Not sure what to expect, he was caught off guard by Joe's question.
"Were they close? I mean before all this happened?"
"Uh… yeah. Both Mom and Dad said they were close."
"Really close? I mean…like us?"
"Kind of," Frank hedged, recalling the way Fenton had described the relationship between his wife and her sister.
Joe's brow creased in concentration and he slowly shook his head. "If they were that close, throwing out all those memories… I don't know, it just seems wrong. Yeah, they haven't spoken in almost twenty years, but Mom doesn't know what might happen in the next twenty years. What if her feelings change? What if she decides she does want her sister back someday? This is so permanent. Once those things are gone, she'll never be able to get them back." Joe looked at Frank with an intensity that went straight to Frank's heart. He knew Joe was thinking the same things he had the night before, considering all the what if's and impossible choices that were too distressing to even contemplate. Frank stared at his brother and saw the plea in his eyes. 'Don't ever let this happen to us!'
"I know," Frank replied simply.
"You think she'll ever talk to her sister again?"
Frank shrugged, genuinely unable to answer.
"Did she really throw the boxes out?"
Frank hesitated for a moment and then replied. "I told her I'd take care of it for her."
Joe eyed Frank with suspicion and raised one eyebrow, questioningly.
"They're in my garage."
Joe gave him the hint of a smile. "Good thinkin', bro."
They sat for another moment, in comfortable silence before Joe stood, stretched and looked down on his brother. "Isn't it about time for you to be running home to your better half?" he grinned. "The little woman, the old ball and chain…" Joe's voice drifted back over his shoulder as he turned and walked out of Frank's office.
Frank ignored the comments, grabbing his briefcase and following Joe out the door. "So what's on the wedding planning agenda for tonight?" he shot back, laughing out loud when Joe groaned in despair.