Under The Influence
Chapter 12
The ensuing silence lasted just long enough to become uncomfortable.
"What does that mean?" Laura asked nervously.
"It means whoever attacked Vanessa knew about the will," Frank said eyeing his father as pieces started falling into place. "It wouldn't be too hard to get the information."
"The primary beneficiary of a will cannot collect the money if they are convicted of murdering the deceased," Fenton explained at Laura's bewildered expression. "So if Vanessa died from the stab wounds and Joe was found guilty of her murder, he wouldn't be able to collect the inheritance. In this case it would go to the other beneficiary."
"Who just shot to the top of my suspect list," Frank said angrily. "They're the only person who would know about the inheritance and be able to benefit from it if Vanessa was killed and Joe was convicted."
"I think it's time we found out a little more about this other person," Fenton said getting up and walking through the connecting corridor into the office. Taking a seat behind his desk, Fenton looked at the letter Joe had given him and then picked up the phone, dialing the number on the paper. After getting an answering service and being told the offices were closed for the day, Fenton left a message requesting Mr. Wentworth call him first thing in the morning regarding the will.
"There's not much else we can do tonight, but at least we've got a solid lead to check out in the morning," Fenton commented.
Knowing his father was right, Joe once again bid everyone goodnight and returned to the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the windowsill and gazed up at the stars, wondering if Vanessa had been attacked simply because she had been named in a will. Rolling the information around in his head, Joe couldn't come up with anyone other than the other beneficiary as a suspect. Getting the additional inheritance would be a good motive, but without knowing anything more about this person, it was impossible to know whether they had means or opportunity. Staring up into the sky, Joe watched as a shooting star made it's way across the blackness.
"Come back to me, Van," he said quietly.
Getting up, Joe went into the bathroom and got ready for bed. Taking his old Bayport High t-shirt out of the duffel, Joe held it close to his face and inhaled deeply. He automatically smiled at the scent of Vanessa that still lingered on the shirt. Crawling into bed, Joe looked at the picture he had put on the nightstand.
"Night, Babe."
Turning off the light, Joe slid down under the covers holding the t-shirt in his hands. The chaos in his mind quickly gave way to exhaustion and Joe was asleep within minutes.
oooOOOooo
Joe's eyes darted rapidly around the kitchen as he crouched on the floor, his back to the cabinets. Feeling an overwhelming sense of paranoia, Joe was certain someone was after him.
He jumped at a noise from across the kitchen. 'What was that?!'
Pressing himself into the cabinets, Joe suddenly realized he was clutching something tightly in his hands. Looking down he felt his eyes grow wide as he saw the large butcher knife he was holding.
'Where'd that come from?' Joe thought as his paranoia skyrocketed. Crawling further into the kitchen, Joe settled himself in the corner. Convinced he was not alone, Joe was now satisfied that at least no one could sneak up on him.
Looking down at the floor, Joe noticed a trail of red liquid. He tried to stay focused and follow the liquid with his eyes but confusing images kept popping up in his head, distracting him…
There had been a knock on the door. Someone had started yelling. Had it been him or someone else? Joe wasn't certain. He thought he saw a shadowy figure, but it always stayed on the periphery of his vision. The sound of shattering glass caused him to flinch. The painful scream that followed made his blood run cold.
Suddenly, Joe heard yelling, cursing, and the sounds of a struggle. There were more screams but as hard as he looked, Joe couldn't see anyone else in the room. It seemed as if his eyes – and his mind - were playing tricks on him. As the chilling sounds swirled around him, Joe shrank back against the cabinets, confused and scared
'What's happening? What's going on?' Joe looked around frantically. He flinched at the sound of another scream and then everything was silent. The only sound was that of Joe's heavy, ragged breathing.
Looking down, Joe saw that he was still holding the knife but it was now covered in blood, dripping into a small puddle at his feet. Concentrating, Joe visually followed the trail of blood, becoming more anxious and fearful as the red liquid continued to grow. When his eyes finally fell on the source of the blood red liquid, Joe let out a scream that began in the depths of his soul and seemed to last forever…
Joe awoke with a start, his eyes wide open. Feeling his heart pounding wildly, Joe automatically placed a hand on his chest, shocked to find he was covered in a cold sweat. Pushing himself up slightly, Joe leaned back against the headboard, surprised at his rapid, shallow breathing. Taking several deep breaths, Joe knew what had caused the intense reaction.
Even wide-awake, Joe could still see the blood on the floor, the knife and his hands. He could hear the glass breaking, the sounds of a struggle and Vanessa screaming. What wasn't so clear to Joe was whether he was dreaming, or if he had just relived his own actions of the previous night. Sliding back down under the sheet, Joe considered the other alternative – that what he had just "seen" were violent flashbacks brought on by the LSD. Closing his eyes, Joe fervently hoped the horrible images were simply the result of a very intense nightmare. The alternative was too painful to consider.
oooOOOooo
Arriving at work and finding the office empty, Frank went into the house and made his way back to the kitchen. Standing in the doorway, Frank did a quick visual sweep of the room, coming to a stop at the sight of his younger brother sitting at the table.
"Hey," Joe greeted him tiredly.
Pulling out a chair, Frank sat down across from Joe who was pushing the cereal in his bowl around in circles, while nursing a cup of coffee.
"Hey, yourself. Where are Mom and Dad?" Frank responded.
"Mom dropped her car off for servicing this morning. Dad followed her so he could give her a ride to the hospital," Joe answered continuing to study the bobbing, sugar-coated shapes floating in the milk.
"Have you talked to Andrea this morning?"
"Yeah. No change," Joe replied, slumping back against the chair.
"And how are you doing?" Frank leaned forward slightly. "You didn't sleep well," he observed with concern.
"Not particularly," Joe agreed.
"Nightmares?" Frank asked sympathetically.
"Nightmares. Memories. Who knows." Joe rubbed his eyes.
Frank raised an eyebrow in question, wanting Joe to explain further. "You're starting to remember?"
"That's just it, I don't know. I have no idea if they're nightmares, hallucinations or memories," Joe answered, his eyes showing uncertainty.
"Probably all three," Frank guessed. "What did you see in this dream?"
Joe shuddered slightly as he remembered awakening in a cold sweat. "A knife. Vanessa screaming. And blood. A lot of blood. On the knife, the floor...my hands."
"Anything else?" Frank pushed, feeling a little guilty. He couldn't imagine how scary, and painful, it must be for Joe, grasping at bits and pieces of information that may or may not be real. But Frank knew one of those pieces of information could be all they needed to break the case wide open.
Joe leaned forward and rested his chin on his arms, frowning in concentration.
"I heard more than I saw. Noises. Like there was someone else there, moving around in the apartment. I felt like someone was watching me. And there was a struggle, a fight, but I wasn't involved. I heard someone yelling, cursing."
"Did you see them at all?"
"Just shadows. Like whoever it was purposely stayed out of my line of sight," Joe replied, frustrated. "I heard breaking glass, then she screamed." Joe looked up and stared at his brother, haunted. "She was in so much pain, Frank."
Frank reached across the table and squeezed Joe's shoulder, knowing words were useless.
"I was holding a knife," Joe continued, thinking hard. "At first it was clean, but the next time I looked, there was blood on it. On my hands too. It was dripping onto the floor. I looked to see where it was coming from…" For one brief second, a look of absolute terror passed over Joe's face. Abruptly, he pushed back from the table and began pacing the short length of the kitchen floor, as if the movement could chase away the heart-wrenching image of Vanessa sprawled on the floor.
After a few frenzied passes of the room, Joe stopped at the kitchen sink and stared out the window. A moment later, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"We'll catch them, Joe. Whoever did this will pay." Frank gave his brother the only assurance he could be certain of.
'What if 'them' is 'me' Joe thought, as the image of the bloody knife in his hands repeatedly flashed through is mind.
"Joe? Frank?" Fenton's voice carried down the hall into the kitchen a few seconds before he appeared in the doorway.
"Hi, Dad," Frank greeted him.
"Good morning, Frank," he smiled, taking a seat at the table, motioning for Frank and Joe to join him. "I showed Andrea the letter from Wentworth this morning. George Bender, the benefactor, was her husband's uncle. She said he used to visit them often when Vanessa was a baby. When Andrea's husband died and she and Van moved to New York, the visits started to dwindle and then stopped altogether. They hadn't seen him in over twenty years. But George always sent money to Vanessa on her birthday and holidays. Apparently, George never married. Other than the money he left Vanessa and this other beneficiary, he left most of his estate to charity.
"I asked Andrea if she had any idea who the other beneficiary might be and she mentioned a cousin, Ryan Bender. He's a few years older than Vanessa. Aside from Vanessa, he's George Bender's only other blood relative."
"How well does she know Ryan? Does she know where he lives or how we can get in touch with him?" Joe asked, excited at the new information.
"Unfortunately, no. She never really knew him that well. Ryan's father and Vanessa's father were brothers. Ryan's parents divorced when he was young and his mother got full custody of him. Andrea said it was a bitter divorce. Her brother-in-law was the 'black sheep' of the family. Not a very nice person at all. He was killed a few years later by a jealous husband. His wife moved away shortly after the divorce and Andrea lost track of her and Ryan."
"Well, I'm betting he's right here in Bayport," Frank said, darkly.
"Let's try Wentworth again," Fenton said as he got up from the table. "If Ryan is the other beneficiary, Wentworth will know how to get a hold of him."
Following their father into the office, Frank and Joe listened as he called Marcus Wentworth. After Fenton introduced himself and explained that someone had attempted to kill Vanessa two nights earlier and he thought it might have something to do with the inheritance, the attorney willingly shared what information he had. Leaning closer to the speakerphone, Frank listened intently, jotting down notes on a pad.
Wentworth confirmed that Ryan Bender was indeed the other beneficiary. He also verified that should either beneficiary die prior to receiving the money, their share would go to the primary beneficiary named in their own will. Should they have no will, the money would go to the remaining beneficiary in George Bender's will.
"Mr. Wentworth, what would happen if Vanessa was killed and her primary beneficiary was convicted of her murder?" Fenton asked.
"Well, you know as well as I do, Mr. Hardy, that no one can profit from a crime they've committed. Given that scenario, Ryan would automatically be awarded Vanessa's share of the inheritance."
Frank sat back, listening to the words that validated his original suspicions. The only person who had anything to gain by both Vanessa being killed and Joe being convicted of the crime was Ryan Bender.