Okay, I know that the story is coming out in chunks, but that's just the way it is. I would make the chapters longer, but I just can't wait to post them! This is as far as I've written so far, but I know what's comming next!
Review! Review! Review! ! And thanks to all of those that do!
CHAPTER FORTY FIVE
"Joe!" Frank pulled on his brother, "Joe, what are you doing?" Misty coughed, struggling to breath. "Joe, let her go!" Frank yelled, "Now!"
Joe ignored his brother. Misty's hands clawed at Joe's. Her face was reddening quickly. Joe wasn't waiting for an answer. He shook her violently and squeezed tightly around her neck. Misty gasped now, unable to breathe in at all.
"JOE!" Frank yanked his crazed brother as hard as he could, knowing that Misty couldn't go without air too much longer. With one final heave, Frank was able to pry Joe off Misty.
"Let me at her. I'll kill her!" Joe lunged again, but Frank pinned him against the porch. "I'll kill you!" Joe reached in vain for the girl.
Misty was coughing violently, clasping her throat. Her face was as red as her hair if not redder. Frank looked at the girl with concern. He wanted to rush to her and make sure she was alright, but he wisely chose to stay at Joe's side.
"Ms. Miller?"
"Yes," the young woman answered the unexpected knock at her apartment door, "I am Melinda Miller. Can I help you?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I think you can. Do you mind if I come in? This might take a few minutes."
Ned took the next left. "George?" he asked softly.
"Mmm?" was the distracted response. They were the only two in the car.
"Are you sure that you can…" he glanced at her quickly before returning his gaze to the road, "deal with this?"
She intently studied the passing scenery around her. Agonizing minutes of deafening silence passed between them. Ned didn't dare say another word until she was ready. He could only imagine how painful this last few days had been for her. She had been torn in so many different directions, emotionally.
"I hardly know…" she whispered in a chocked tone.
Frank struggled to keep Joe down. The younger Hardy was lashing out violently. "Calm down, Joe!" Frank growled, becoming angry.
"Calm down, Joe?" the boy spat, pinned under his brother's weight, "She killed Nancy! I know she did!" Misty looked in bewilderment at the pair at her feet. She was still coughing, though not as violently as she had been.
Furiously, Frank whispered in a deathly tone, "She was a suspect. Joe, you have no proof. You can't just lunge on suspects! You know better, Joe!" His voice was too low for Misty to hear, and just loud enough for Joe to hear.
"But she did do it! Frank, you agreed with me last night. How can you turn on me like this! She's the answer to the mystery. She's the one-"
"Who did what?" Frank glared, "Who killed Nancy? We don't even know that Nancy is dead- which, by the way, she's not. Good night, Joe, what has gotten into you?"
"But," Joe stammered, finally beginning to admit defeat. His voice lowered to a normal volume. It was slightly hoarse from his shouting, "last night…you…"
"I said that I would consider your theory as possible. I never said that I believed you, and I certainly never said that we could just attack some girl that we hardly even know anything about! The very girl that we're supposed to be helping and protecting, I might add." Frank felt that Joe was calming down, so he eased off enough to allow Joe to sit up. "You need to control yourself, Joe."
Misty had finally ceased her coughing. She was sitting in front of the swing, rubbing her neck. Her eyes were overflowing with tears and her face was still somewhat flushed. Frank crouched next to her. He reached out to look at her neck, and she flinched at his touch. "It's okay," he said soothingly, "I just want to see it." She sniffled, wiped her eyes, and allowed him to inspect her. He checked the back of her head, for he had seen her come down hard on it. He asked her a few questions in regard to what pain she felt. She answered that her back hurt and her head was getting better. "I don't think you'll have a concussion, but I do think that your back will be sore for a while. You landed pretty hard on it," Frank glared at the now silent Joe. "Why don't we all go inside and get cleaned up. It's about lunchtime."
"BESS!" George ran to her cousin, encompassing her in an embrace to shame all other embraces. "Bess, oh my word! Bess!" tears coursed freely and uncontrollably down the brunette's face. She'd never been happier in her life.
Ned, who had just parked seconds earlier, closed the doors of his car and stood in front of it, allowing the cousins time to themselves. He leaned against the hood and crossed his arms, grinning widely.
"George," Bess croaked, "You have no idea how good it is to see you!"
"Oh," George laughed, still clinging to her blonde mess of a cousin, "I think I do."
Bess was dirty and her clothes were torn. There were stains on her dress that appeared to be blood stains. They were standing beside a bank in Chicago. People were milling around as if nothing unusual had occurred. Some threw judgmental or disgusted glances at Bess, but she didn't seem to mind. No, she didn't seem to mind at all.
