Disclaimer: I don't own the Hardy Boys or Nancy Drew and I make no money from this.

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Chapter 25 Preemption of Progress

Frank ate his food as he reviewed the fact tree now spread across the coffee table in the sitting room of their cabin. Nancy and Vanessa had added quite a bit more information, and Nancy had begun to compile a list of questions that needed answers.

He tapped one of the fact sheets in particular as Nan took a seat next to him on the couch.

"We never did hear back from the local AM station. Maybe we should take a trip into town and visit the office."

"While it probably isn't critical given that we know Abe knows Lucy, I think it's still probably worthwhile," Nancy agreed. "I'm curious whether Alice fabricated that or not."

Balancing her plate on her knees, Nancy leaned over and added it to the growing list of follow-up work that needed to be done.

Joe stopped eating long enough to ask, "Hey, did anyone ever confirm with Rich and Craig that they told Mack and Abe about my wallet being returned?"

Frank looked over at his brother, sitting in the chair across from him and once again shoveling in food like a starving man.

"I asked Rich about that. They talked with Mack and Abe for quite a while, and he wasn't sure if Abe was there or not, but he said it probably had come up in the course of the discussion."

"I think we should follow up with Fern about when Sencha told her about Abe," Vanessa said. "I still find it strange that Sencha learned about him a full day before telling her family. Maybe Fern can shed some light on the issue."

"It's on the list," Nancy said. "You know, Van, you're getting really good at this investigative stuff."

Vanessa gave her a grateful smile. "It's not all that different from computer troubleshooting, when you get down to it. Start at the problem and work your way back until you figure out what caused it."

"But computers don't usually lie," Joe said. "And I'm pretty sure Alice is, or at the very least she's holding something back."

While Frank knew Alice might know more than she let on, he seriously doubted she was actively involved in anything that had happened. He was more interested in the potentially active players in Mack's death.

"Well, Alice may be hiding something, but I don't think her intentions are malicious. After all, she let me take Innes' notebooks. At this point, I don't suppose reviewing those should be a priority, though. I think we should explore what happened to give Abe that bruising. While I hate to agree with Agent Phillips, Abe's story about what happened when Lucy ran and Mack and he hunted her was definitely shaky. And given the varying ages of the bruising, I'm wondering if some of it might not have occurred on the night of Mack's death."

"I find it interesting that Alice, and supposedly Sencha and Abe, all heard the sounds of a struggle on the point and didn't go to check on Mack," Nancy said. "That seems very out of character – particularly for Sencha."

Joe returned for the second time after refilling his plate from the platters set out on the dining room table and took a seat. "So we have questions for Alice, Sencha and Abe, and we need to follow up at the radio station. What's the plan of attack?"

Frank stared at the sheets of paper for several seconds before answering. "Nan and I will go into town and see what we can find out at the radio station. Maybe we could stop by and see Becky, too. We haven't really checked into her motives and opportunity. Meanwhile, you and Van can go out and pay our primary suspects a visit and see what you can learn."

Standing, Vanessa said, "Great! Let's get started."

Joe looked up at her, mouth full, and gaze wide.

"But I'm not finished eating."

Hands on hips, Vanessa gave him a commanding glare.

"You're never finished eating, Joseph Hardy. Let's go!"

Frank snorted.

HHHHHHHHHHH

Joe was impressed with the way his wife made her probing questions seem like nothing more than idle conversation. Nancy was right, Vanessa was pretty good at this investigative stuff. He wasn't too sure how he felt about that.

As Alice finished telling them about having their quiet evening disturbed by the commotion up on the point the night Mack was killed, Vanessa leaned forward, her gaze wide-eyed.

"My goodness, I would have just frozen in terror hearing that," she said, then leaned back and gave a little chuckle, waving a hand in Joe's direction. "But of course, Frank and Joe would have gone right out and investigated."

Joe caught the nervousness in Alice's face as her gaze flicked briefly to Sencha. Bingo.

"You know my big brother and me pretty well, babe," he interjected with a relaxed smile, then looked up at Alice quizzically. "I am surprised you didn't at least call the police."

Sencha was the one to answer the unspoken question, her face set in a mask of regret.

"We didn't want Mack to get into trouble. He's always been able to take care of himself. Looking back, that was a huge mistake. Perhaps we could have saved him."

"I'm not sure anyone could have truly saved Mackenzie," Alice said sadly. "If only we had realized what depravity he had descended into… no, I think it is best that he is dead."

"Alice." Sencha's voice held a hint of reprisal.

"I'm too old not to speak my mind, Sencha," Alice said, sitting up, eyes blazing in her ancient face. "There was a time when perhaps Mackenzie could have been redeemed but that time was long past. For Abe's sake, I, for one, am very glad he's dead."

"Where is Abe?" Joe asked. They hadn't seen him since their arrival and it was nearly eleven.

"He's still up in his room. He didn't sleep well last night," Sencha said. "He's very sore. I called Dr. Jarvis. She said she's concerned about the possibility of internal bleeding and we should take him to the hospital, but Abe is still refusing. She promised to stop out and check on him, and said for him to rest and keep his abdomen iced down in the meantime. He was going to try and get some more sleep after I gave him some pain reliever."

"He really should go to the hospital," Joe said. "They can do scans and make sure there isn't any more severe injuries beneath the bruising."

Having personal experience with that type of injury, Joe knew full well just how painful it could be. But in his experience the pain usually lessened by the third or fourth day after the injuries, it didn't get worse.

Wringing her hands, Sencha stood. "Perhaps I should go check on him."

Vanessa rose to her feet and waved Sencha back to her seat. "Let me go check on him. Maybe I can persuade him to let us take him to the hospital for a more thorough examination."

As Van walked out of the sitting room, Sencha sank back into her chair, her face wan and pallid even under her olive complexion.

"I just wish there was something more I could do to help Abe. But he's so withdrawn. I'm simply furious with Mack… and with myself for not realizing what was going on."

Joe knew that for folks like Sencha – those who wanted to believe the best about the people they cared about – it was easy to miss the cues. Mack had learned from a young age how to hide the truth, and he'd learned under the tutelage of a master… MJ Champion.

"You can't blame yourself, Sencha," he said out loud. "It will take time, but Abe is young and he'll get past this. You just need to be there for him."

Sencha flashed him a grateful, if sad, smile. "He's family. Of course I'll be there for him. As will Craig and Fern and the rest of our family. Abe is not alone."

Which reminded Joe of another question that needed a more satisfying answer.

"Sencha, I was wondering… if you found out that Abe was Sissy's son on Tuesday, why didn't you tell your family until Wednesday?"

He hadn't taken his eyes off of her as he asked his question. Despite a definite effort to hide her reaction, her expression had betrayed her distress at the query. Her eyes had widened and her mouth dropped open ever so slightly. He couldn't wait to hear how she answered.

"I… um, Mack asked me not to tell," she said, hesitating and then adding, "he said he wanted to tell them himself. But of course, when he… died, I decided I should tell them."

"Oh." Joe sensed a partial falsehood behind that statement, but it was plausible enough. "So Mack planned to tell your family himself. Did he tell you how he found out?"

"No. And I didn't ask," Sencha said without hesitation. "I think Mack wanted to make sure that Abe was taken care of if… well, if anything happened to him."

"This conversation occurred the morning of the day Mack died, right?" Joe asked. At Sencha's confirming nod, he continued. "So it sounds almost as if perhaps he was anticipating trouble. Did you get that impression?"

"Yes… no. I mean, I don't think he anticipated dying that night, if that's what you're asking." Sencha stood abruptly. "I'm going to go check on Abe. If you'll excuse me."

"Of course," Joe said. He couldn't help but notice the troubled expression on Alice's face as she watched her caretaker and friend hurry out of the room.

"Alice," Joe said as gently as possible, "I need you to tell me the truth about the night that Mack was killed."

He held her gaze, willing her to drop him a bone. He was getting so frustrated with this mess he felt like screaming.

"I'm very sorry, Joseph, but I've told you all I can," Alice said, her tone weary. "I truly wish I could help you more."

Joe sighed and sat back.

"So do I."

HHHHHHHHHHH

Nancy knocked and looked in the window of the little AM station offices. A woman sitting in an inner, glassed-in room didn't seem to hear the knocking. Then Nancy noticed the 'ON AIR' light was lit and realized she was in their soundproof studio room.

"She's on the air and I don't see anyone else in there. We'll probably have to wait until a commercial break."

"Does she at least see us waiting?" Frank asked.

Pressing her head against the glass and shading her eyes with one hand, Nancy waved a hand until the woman caught sight of her and acknowledged her presence.

"She does now."

Frank rolled his head. "Did your dad say when they'd be evaluating Abe?"

"No," Nancy said, leaning against the door frame. "He just told me he was taking care of it… actually, he wanted me to take a break and let him take care of it. Sometimes I wonder if he remembers that I'm his daughter."

Frank chuckled and brushed her hair back from her face. "He remembers. He's just always hopeful that you'll take his advice and relax. In this case, I'm right there with him."

The door opened, but the woman who had opened it was already moving back toward the sound room.

"Come on in. I have a few more minutes before the classical hour. Then I'll be able to take care of you."

She scurried back into the sound room and closed the door, motioning them to seats while she finished up her radio program. True to her word, she came out less than five minutes later and greeted them properly.

"Hi there, I'm Marie Ryan, station manager… and engineer… and receptionist. And just about everything else around here these days, I guess. How can I help you folks?"

Nancy shook the woman's hand as she took up introductions. "I'm Nancy Hardy and this is my husband, Frank. We just have a quick question about your newscast this past Wednesday morning."

"Oh, Frank Hardy, you're the one that left a message a couple days ago. I totally forgot about returning your call. Hm, newscast on Wednesday morning, huh?" Marie asked. "I don't do a newscast on Wednesday morning. I used to, but I ended up losing my reporter to budget cuts and gave it up. Nobody wanted to listen to me reading the Champion Ferry Chatter on air."

"So you didn't report anything about the rescue of a victim at Champion Gorge?" Frank clarified.

"I read about that in the Chatter. But to answer your question, no, I didn't report anything about it. I rarely report on local news unless it's something unusual."

Despite this assertion, Nancy was certain this woman kept up on local events.

"Unusual? Like Mack Champion's death?" Nancy asked.

"I didn't even report on that, really," Marie said. "I did ask the local librarian to help me pull together a piece on the Champion family history. I plan to air it during our Champion Ferry Blast from the Past hour. Usually Chuck Rosewell does an interview with one of the old timers around the park, but I thought with Mack's death such big news we could capitalize on that. Maybe even make budget this month."

"Becky Reed helped you pull it together?" Frank asked.

"Actually, Becky pretty much did it all herself in like a day. She said she had all the records pulled out anyway, so she wrote the script for me, focusing on Mack's birth mother and her family."

Frank asked, "Do you have a recording of the show?"

"We haven't aired it yet," Marie said. "I asked Becky if she wanted to do it, but she said she'd rather not. I haven't managed to connect with Chuck to get him to record it. It's a really great piece. Becky is one heck of a writer. She really brought the Champion family history alive – the good, the bad and the ugly."

"Would it be possible for us to get a copy of the script?" Nancy asked.

"I'm not comfortable with providing that. I told Becky she should copyright it. I think you should ask her."

Frank nodded and smiled. "We'll do that. We need to go see Becky anyway. Thanks for your help."

"No problem!"

Marie showed them out and they waved as she headed back toward the sound room.

"Well, I'm not sure whether that helped or not," Nancy said, scanning the street thoughtfully. "But it is interesting that Alice fabricated the story."

Frank was pulling out his phone. "Yes. It proves that Alice lied to us that day at the hospital. She didn't hear about it on the radio. I wonder what else she's lied to us about."

It only took Frank a couple minutes on the phone with Joe to relay the information. There wasn't that much to tell. He hung up and shoved his phone back in his pocket, wrapping an arm around Nancy and steering her down the street, away from the car.

"What do you think about a hot date at the Champion Ferry Carnegie Library?"

Nancy reached up to give him a peck on the cheek, but he turned his head to capture her lips in a warm, open-mouthed kiss. A satisfied hum escaped her lips as the kiss ended.

"Mm, anywhere is a hot date with you, hon."

"It's not far. Let's walk and maybe get a bite to eat at the diner on the way."

"That sounds perfect."

HHHHHHHHHHH

Frank and Nancy enjoyed a simple lunch of soup and salad and then strolled to the library. There, they found the assistant librarian who informed them that Becky Reed was home with her mother, who had fallen ill. After getting directions, they returned to the car.

"I hope Becky's mom is ok," Nancy said.

"She told Joe and me that her mother was the reason she returned to Champion Ferry – apparently she's had some health problems."

Frank pulled to a stop in front of a neat little bungalow in the middle of a rundown neighborhood at the outskirts of Champion Ferry. Past the pretty little wildflower gardens along the walk and up onto a peeling front porch, Frank rang the doorbell. It was a couple of minutes before Becky appeared.

"Frank, Nancy, why, you're about the last people I expected to find here."

"We stopped by the library to see you, but your assistant said you were here," Nancy said. "I hope we aren't intruding. How is your mother?"

Becky gave her a tight smile and stepped back. "Of course you aren't intruding, come on in. Mom's doing… ok. She's actually resting right now."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Nancy said. "I hope we aren't disturbing her."

"No worries. She's just not up to visitors. This morning was pretty exhausting for her." Becky waved them to seats in a shabby but comfortable living room. "I, however, welcome the company. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"No, thank you," Frank said. "We just finished lunch. We don't want to take up a lot of your time, we just had a couple questions we were hoping you could answer for us."

Sinking into a chair, Becky smiled wanly at him. "Sure, ask away."

"If it isn't too upsetting," Nancy said, her gaze sympathetic. "What's wrong with your mom?"

"She has Parkinson's disease… it was diagnosed nearly fifteen years ago. The doctors have done wonders with treatment, but it's getting to the point where none of the therapies are working any more. Mom's mobility has been rapidly deteriorating in the last few months and she's getting very frustrated. She seemed to be doing well this morning when I left, but called me in a panic before I even made it to work."

"I'm so sorry," Nancy said. "Do you have anyone to help?"

Becky sniffled and shook her head. "It's just me and mom, always has been. She has a physical therapist that works with her a few times a week, but even with Medicaid and Disability it's hard to make ends meet… it's going to be even harder now."

Frank asked, "Was Mack still giving you money?"

Nodding, Becky said, "It's funny. I hated him, but I wasn't so proud that I wouldn't accept his money. Even with it I had to give up our house in town and move out here. Now I don't know what I'm going to do."

"You must have been upset when you learned he was dead," Nancy said.

Becky sighed. "Actually, I was relieved at first. It was so hard accepting those checks every month. Every single one was a reminder of what had happened. I don't think it really occurred to me what it meant to our financial stability until today."

"I wish we could do something to help," Frank murmured. He couldn't imagine not having an extended family to rely upon.

"It's nice to just have someone to vent to. Thank you," Becky said.

"Any time," Frank said sincerely, and then remembered why they had come in the first place. "By the way, we stopped by the radio station in town. Marie said that you had done a piece on Mack and his family. We were wondering if you'd mind giving us a copy."

"Sure." Becky stood and walked to the entry, digging through a briefcase. Coming back, she held some papers out to Frank. "It's not the final, so there are a few editorial marks in it, but you're welcome to keep it. Because of you and Joe the research was mostly done and it came together very easily, so thank you!"

Frank stood as he accepted the paper. "We're the ones that should be thanking you for everything you've done. Really, if there's anything we can do to help, please let us know."

"Actually, I am truly grateful to you, Frank. Craig called me last night – said you had told him about my situation with my mom. We talked for a long time. I forgot how nice it was to just talk to him."

"Craig seems like a really good guy," Frank said.

"I agree," Nancy said. "And I think he really cares about you. I'm sure that he and his family would be willing to help, Becky. You aren't in this alone."

She flashed them a wide grin and nodded enthusiastically, her voice firm with determination. "I know that now – I just needed to be reminded that I had friends in Champion Ferry. I have faith that everything will work out."

Nancy smiled at her. "I'm sure it will."

"Thanks again for your time, Becky. And for this." Frank held up the paper, then took Nan's hand and led her toward the door.

Becky followed them out on the porch. "I really doubt that's going to reveal much of anything to you. I mean, I just used the research stuff you and Joe already had pulled out so it's probably nothing you don't already know."

Nancy paused and turned back to look at Becky. "I did have one other question. Did you know who Sissy Newhouse was dating –"

"You mean Sissy Kightlinger?" Becky asked.

Frank frowned, "No, we're talking about Craig's sister, Sissy."

"Yes. Sissy Kightlinger," Becky said. "She was actually Craig's half-sister. Pete Kightlinger married Craig's mom when Craig and I were in kindergarten. I remember because Craig just hated having to get dressed up for the wedding – he was the ring bearer. Any way, as I recall she was dating some troublemaker in her class, at least according to Craig, but I don't remember a name. I'd ask Craig if I were you."

Nancy was shaking her head. "I can't believe we didn't realize that earlier. Fern Newhouse is Sencha's sister, not her sister-in-law. She must have gone back to her maiden name when she divorced Pete Kightlinger."

"Well then who is Craig's father?" Frank asked.

Becky pressed her lips into a thin line. "I don't know, and I don't think Craig did, either. But again, you'd have to ask him."

Nancy nodded, eyes blazing.

"Yes, we will."

HHHHHHHHHHH

Vanessa had almost had Abe convinced to go to the hospital when Sencha had arrived and coaxed him downstairs with food. They had just finished lunch when Dena Jarvis arrived.

She took a seat next to Abe as he cleaned up the last of the cherry pie that Sencha had made for dessert.

"How are you feeling, Abe?" Dena asked.

"M'fine," Abe mumbled.

Dena raised an eyebrow. "That's not what Sencha tells me."

Abe looked up at Sencha. "I told you I was fine. You aren't my mother and you need to mind your own business."

"Abe, I was just worried," Sencha said.

He pushed away from the table, the impact of the gesture ruined by his involuntary grunt of pain. "I'm not your problem!"

He turned and stalked out of the room.

Sencha blew out a puff of air. "I haven't been able to do a thing right since he learned we're related."

"He won't even talk to Mom or me," Craig murmured. He and his mother had arrived around the same time as Dena.

Fern nodded. "And I'm at a total loss what to do. Honestly, I'm not sure I blame him for being furious with us. He must feel like we just abandoned him..."

Alice stood. "Oh for goodness sake, none of you are to blame for what happened to Abraham – that lies squarely at Mackenzie's feet. You did what you thought was best for the boy when he was born, and someday he will come to understand that. You just need to give him time. He's been through so much and right now he's just angry. He's lashing out at everyone because he can't take his anger out on the one person responsible."

"Alice is right." Dena sighed. "And I would really feel much better if we could convince him to go to the hospital and have some testing done. I'm concerned that there may be internal damage that can't be detected by a physical examination alone."

"My sister, Willa, said the same thing, but Abe refuses and I'm hesitant to force the issue unless you think it's absolutely necessary," Sencha said. "Abe has so little control over everything that's happening that I hate to take the decision away from him."

Vanessa stood. "Let me go talk to him. I almost had him convinced to let us take him to the hospital earlier. I think he's really hurting."

"If you can, please check his temperature," Dena said. "If he's running a fever we should definitely force the issue."

Vanessa nodded and hurried upstairs.

She knocked on his door and waited. When there was no answer, she knocked again, slowly pushing the door wide open.

Abe wasn't there.

Running down the hall, Vanessa found the bathroom empty as well. She then checked every bedroom before running back downstairs.

Stopping in the entrance to the formal dining room, she took a second to catch her breath.

"Abe's not in his room, or anywhere else upstairs."

Craig and Joe both jumped to their feet.

Joe said, "I'll check the shop and deck while you check the rest of the house.

Craig nodded, and accompanied by Sencha he made for the living room. Vanessa followed Joe, who was headed straight down the hall to the back of the house. Somewhere, a phone was ringing insistently, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fern pushing Alice in her wheelchair toward the clanging old rotary phone in the entryway.

Vanessa caught up to her husband as he stepped out onto the deck. Though it wasn't raining at the moment, the trees were dripping and the wooden boards were wet and slick.

"I doubt he's back here, Joe."

"He's not," Joe said as he scanned the open deck. "But he might have taken refuge in the shop. Come on, let's go check before we panic."

The continuous dripping from the trees had both of them thoroughly damp before they had made the short trek to the garage.

Joe brushed a hand through his hair, sending a fine spray of water into the air. Vanessa found lights and switched them on, bathing the garage in a fluorescent glow.

"He's not in here, Joe," Van said. "Where could he be?"

She started to move into the garage, but Joe's hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"He's not here now, but he was recently."

Joe pointed to the wet footprints fading on the concrete. They followed them into the nearest corner of the garage where the trash collection area lined one wall and along the other wall were hooks holding all manner of outdoor clothing.

"It looks like he may have come in here to get a rain slicker," Vanessa said.

But Joe had moved into the corner and was looking at something. Vanessa moved toward him to see what he was examining, and wrinkled her nose as she got closer.

"What is that smell? Is that the trash?"

Pulling a mass of clothing down off a set of hooks, Joe turned and spread them out on the nearby potting table.

"Not the trash, it's these. They were hung up wet."

Vanessa helped Joe untangle the clothing – a pair of jeans and a t-shirt; a pair of women's slacks and a blouse; a hoodie. As Van went to pick up the hoodie to spread it out, the thunk of something heavy in the front pocket captured both their attention.

"What do we have here," Joe asked, as he pulled a Maglite out of the pocket.

Leaning down, Vanessa poked curiously at the seams of the hoodie.

"Joe, look here. There is mud absolutely caked in these seams. Someone tried to clean it off, but they didn't get it out of all of the nooks and crannies."

Joe held it up to the light and then sniffed. "That's where the smell is coming from, too. It's swamp mud."

"You don't think it could be from where Mack's body was found?" Vanessa gasped as the import of what they had just found hit her.

"I think that's exactly where it's from. Sencha and Abe are going to have some explaining to do."

"But first we have to find Abe," Vanessa reminded him.

Craig burst through the door at that moment, his sharp glance taking in the scene. He blanched noticeably.

"What are you two doing? We can't find Abe anywhere."

"We need to call the sheriff," Joe said. "I think we may have found the weapon that knocked Mack out up in the meadow."

Craig shook his head. "None of that matters right now. We need to find Abe."

Stepping around the potting bench, Joe put a hand on Craig's shoulder. "We'll find Abe, but we need to call the sheriff now."

"You don't understand, Joe. This is all my fault." Craig's voice was hollow, then he snapped his fingers. "I think I know where Abe might have gone."

The man turned and ran outside. By the time Vanessa and Joe made it to the door, he was disappearing down the drive.

Van looked at Joe, her eyes wide.

"What did he mean 'this was all his fault?'"

"I don't know," Joe said. "I want you to go inside and call the sheriff. I'm going after Craig."

"By yourself?"

Vanessa felt a surge of panic. That sounded like a very bad idea to her.

"I'll be fine," Joe said.

Icy fingers of dread made Van's scalp tingle as she watched her husband sprint to their car and open the trunk. One phrase repeated in her head though she refrained from speaking it out loud.

Famous last words.

HHH

A/N: Pretty quiet out there these last few days, so I really appreciate those who took the time out of their busy schedules to review: Guest (you know how our girl detective can be :), max2013, and fairytaleprincess03. You all rock!

I'll see you again on Friday… warning, a couple of nasty cliffies are headed your way (moohahahahaha).

Oh, and a very happy holiday to all who are celebrating this week. No matter what you're celebrating, the sentiment is the same ~~ Life, Love, and Happiness to all during this special season.