J.M.J.

Chapter XVI

Friday, May 7

Day Seven

"I really can't believe this." Joe paced up and down the length of the holding cell. "If I ever see that Angelo again…"

"I wouldn't finish that threat if I were you," Frank interrupted. "We're sort of in the middle of a police station. Anyway, I'm sure it will get straightened out soon."

"You've been saying that for hours now," Joe muttered.

It was shortly after midnight, and the boys had spent the entire time in a holding cell, except for when Lieutenant Durant had taken them out one at a time to question them about what had happened. The boys had declined to remain silent, since they were sure that their story would be sufficient for them to be released. As the hours passed, they were becoming less sure of that.

"I don't get why Dad hasn't at least bailed us out," Joe went on. "Isn't there a set bail on trespassing? I mean, this could take a few days to clear up, and we don't have any time to waste sitting in jail." It was already the seventh day since Iola had been kidnapped. Half their time had run out, and it didn't seem like they were any closer to finding her than they had been in the beginning.

"I…" Frank began, but he stopped when he saw Durant had come to the door of the holding cell and was unlocking it.

"I've got good news for you boys," Durant said. "You're free to go."

"Really free or just bailed-out free?" Joe asked suspiciously.

"Really free," Durant assured him. "It was a bit of a struggle, but the tipping point in your favor came when we got hold of Beretta's landlady. Apparently, she didn't think too much of him having a girlfriend there without telling her about it and then on top of that, he's three months behind on his rent. She served him an eviction notice on the first of last month, and so technically he was supposed to be out of that apartment on the first and he can't very well press charges against anyone for trespassing in a place where he himself had no right to be. The landlady doesn't have any interest in pressing charges against anyone who was going to remove stuff from the premises because she doesn't want to have to haul it all out."

"Thank goodness," Frank said as he and Joe followed Durant out.

They met Fenton near the front desk. He looked relieved to see the boys, but there was clearly something else on his mind, as well.

"Come on, boys," he said without adding anything more or saying a word to Durant.

Frank and Joe followed him out to the car, getting a feeling that he was disappointed in them and their handling of the case.

"Sorry, Dad," Frank said once they were all in the car. "We didn't think…"

"No, it's not your fault," Fenton told him. "Allison had a right to get her stuff and ask anyone she wanted to help. The charges wouldn't have stuck anyway."

"I'm glad we got out as soon as we did, though," Joe said. "We've got to actually make some progress in this case. We haven't really found out anything. The guy didn't even give us a clue yesterday."

"I'm afraid you're about that." Fenton handed an envelope to him. Inside was a sheet of paper with the date June 17, 1995 typed on it.

Joe sighed and handed it to Frank. "Whatever. It's not like these dates actually help."

"Maybe not, but that one does tell us something," Fenton said. "I found it taped to the inside of our hotel room door."

Frank involuntarily shuddered. "That means this guy's been keeping an eye on us. I guess we should have figured that when he found your car parked in front of the Chronicle office. Being able to get into our hotel room is a little worse again, though."

"Right," Fenton agreed. "And I didn't get the chance to tell you, but right before the incident at Angelo's apartment, Sam called me. He has a possible lead back home in Bayport. You know, it's always been possible that Iola's kidnapping has nothing to do with what's been going on in Southport."

"You don't really believe that, do you, Dad?" Joe asked. "They have to be connected. It's the only thing that makes sense with that first phone call and everything."

"I know, but we have to look at all the possibilities," Fenton said. "We'll spend Friday—er, today up here, and then I think we'd be better off heading back to Bayport. There's not that much more to follow up here. At least, not much more that we can follow up."

"What do you mean by that?" Frank asked.

"Durant warned me that someone in the police department leaks information to the paper. They can't keep anything out of it. That means your arrest will practically guarantee that you'll make front page headlines again tomorrow and everyone will know that we're still in town and what we're doing. Then, too, with the kidnapper following us here and keeping such a close eye on us, we won't be able to keep ahead of him. It would be better if we went back to Bayport, and Sam took over here. Besides, both of you need to get back to school. Frank has finals next week and, Joe, you can't afford to miss another whole week of school."

"What? You can't be serious?" Joe protested. "How could we just go back to school like nothing happened?"

Fenton sighed. "Look, Joe, there's never going to be a time when the only thing you've got going on in your life is a case. There will always be other important things that you can't just ignore. Your studies are important, and you can't spend every second working on the case, anyway. You might as well spend that time doing school."

Joe folded his arms and looked out the window. "If Mom had been kidnapped, would you just go back to school like it was any other ordinary day?"

Fenton looked at him through the rearview mirror. "I don't know. I really don't."

HBHBHBHBHB

The paper that morning did have big headlines, announcing the arrest of the Hardy Boys and practically ignoring Angelo and his crimes. The story was very up-to-date, including Frank and Joe's subsequent release, although there were definite implications that the reporter felt this wasn't much different than released the Southport Slayer, himself, from jail, if once he could be arrested. Frank merely shook his head and threw the paper in the nearest trash can as he and Joe headed out to the car.

"Did you notice the byline?" Joe asked.

"Yeah, but I figure who had written it before I even read the article," Frank replied. "Kelly Alston."

"I don't understand why she decided to become our arch-nemesis. What does she have against catching criminals anyway?"

"Don't you remember that review Sally Marsh put in the school paper for that movie last fall?" Frank asked. "You're the one who showed to me. You know, the whole 'It was a refreshing break from good guys versus bad guys to have it turn out that the people the main character trusted were actually the villains' thing. I think a lot of people feel the same way. If that's the kind of movie you like to watch, fine, but some people don't seem to be able to separate reality from a movie. Kelly Alston wants us to be the bad guys because it's what her readers don't expect but will like, so it'll be a big thing."

"Hmm." Joe mulled this over. "That's a really stupid way to see the world, meaning no offense to the ever-charming Kelly Alston or the completely-trustworthy GTA suspect Sally Marsh. Speaking of which, what happened with her? I've got to admit, now that I have some first-hand experience with it, I do feel a little sorry for her sitting in jail."
"Chet's probably going to drop the charges once we can be sure Sally didn't have anything to do with Iola's kidnapping. He's not the vindictive type. Anyway, Sally's probably out on bail."

A few minutes later, the boys reached the campus of Southport Community College. While their dad continued to look into the Tara Michaels angle, Frank and Joe had decided to spend their last day in Southport seeing what they find out about Rhett Gaint. They met Tony at the door of his dormitory. Phil was in class, so he couldn't join them.

"Can't you get any information from Admissions?" Tony asked as they climbed the stairs to the second floor, where Rhett's room was.

"Nope. Apparently they still can't give out that information even if the student in question happens to be dead," Joe told him. "Anyway, we can probably learn more from his room and roommate than we could from Admissions."

They found Rhett's roommate in a different room. He was a freshman named Trevor Cannon. He wasn't too eager to go back to his room, but the boys persuaded him in the end.

"It's pretty weird thinking that Rhett's been murdered," Trevor commented as he pushed the door open. "I kind of wish I forget about it. The police have already looked through his room, anyway, so I don't know what you're hoping to find."

"You never know," Frank said. He looked around at the normally-messy dorm room. "Is there anything you can tell us about Rhett?"

"You mean, like, if he had any enemies?" Trevor replied.

"I doubt that would tell us much, but did he?" Frank said.

Trevor shrugged. "I don't know. He was a weird guy. He didn't have any friends to speak of, but I don't know that he had any enemies."

"What was he like personality-wise?" Joe asked.

Trevor hesitated. "Well, to be honest, I feel kind of bad, him being dead and all, I never liked him much. He talked all the time about himself. At least, he talked whenever he felt like it. It didn't matter if I was trying to study or was on the phone or had anybody else in the room. If he felt like talking, I had to drop everything and listen or he'd blow a gasket. But if he was studying and I even dared to say 'hello'…oh boy. You'd think I'd offended his ancestors or something."

"That's interesting," Frank commented. "Did you ever notice any other strange behavior?"

"Oh, yeah, but…" Trevor paused. "They say you shouldn't speak ill of the dead, and I don't know if there's really any harm in it or not, but I do know that there's nothing I can really say about Rhett that isn't bad, you know?"

Frank knit his brows. He understood if Trevor didn't particularly like his roommate, but to be so adamant about his faults after he was dead seemed a little callous. Nevertheless, all Frank said was, "I think, under the circumstances, it would be okay."

Trevor took a deep breath. "Well, then, Rhett was a narcissist. You know, all hung up on himself like he's the only one in the world that matters. He was also a—what do you call it?—a pathological liar, one of those people who can't help lying. He'd lie about silly things that didn't matter and he'd even lie when he should have known perfectly well that I knew it was a lie."

"Did he ever do anything violent?" Joe asked.

"No, at least, not that I know of." Trevor looked around the room. "Look, it's bad enough having to say all this bad stuff about Rhett, but do we have to stand around in his room while we do it? I thought you wanted to search the place."

"Right," Frank agreed. "One thing I'd definitely like to find is a copy of his class schedule and his advisor's name. Some of the faculty who knew him might be able to shed some light on him."

"He kept a copy of his schedule taped up over his desk." Trevor nodded toward one of the two desks in the room. The wall above it was cluttered with papers that had been taped there and sticky notes. It took a minute to look through it all.

"Here it is." Tony pointed to a schedule. "Wait a second. Never mind. This is from last semester."

In the few seconds it took for Tony to notice the date, Frank noticed something else on the schedule. The names of the instructor's for each class were listed under the class's section number and one jumped out at Frank: P. Pearson. If he had any doubts that this was the same person who had spoken at Clairmont College last week, they were quickly wiped away when he saw that the title of the class was "Human Genetics."

"What was Rhett studying?" Frank asked, still looking at the schedule.

"Pre-med, I think," Trevor replied. "I would have hated to have him for a doctor, though."

"It's a strange coincidence," Frank commented, half to himself.

"What is?" Joe asked.

Frank explained and pointed out the name. "It was a very uncomfortable lecture. It wasn't really about genetics at all. It was about eugenics."

Tony made a face. "Who thought inviting someone like that to speak was a good idea?"

Suddenly, Joe snapped his fingers, making everyone else look at him. "That's it! There was an idea that almost hit me yesterday when Frank said that two of the victims weren't in college. I couldn't quite put my finger on it then, but I think I've got it now."

"What?" Tony asked.

Instead of replying, Joe turned to Frank. "Do you still have those notes on the victims? Were any of them besides Iola disabled?"

Frank took out his phone and looked through the notes. "Yeah," he said after a few moments. "One of them had KSS syndrome."

"One of the high school students?" Joe asked.

Frank nodded. "You think that the killer's goal is eugenics?"

"Yeah. That's why he picked on Iola, out of all our friends. Maybe he doesn't realize that she was injured rather than being born that way, or maybe he doesn't care. He could see the two people who didn't go on to college as being mentally inferior or something, especially the one that dropped out. I don't know much about KSS, but I do know that anyone obsessed with eugenics would see someone who has it as inferior. And then weren't three out of the four victims from minority races? Eugenicists are usually racist."

"You could be onto something," Frank agreed. "And Rhett could have gotten interested in eugenics through Dr. Pearson's class."
"Hold on," Tony interrupted. "Rhett couldn't be the killer. He's dead himself."

"I hope he's not," Frank admitted. "It's not impossible, because after all the disappearances, but if he is the killer there wouldn't be much reason for Iola to have not turned up yet…"

"Unless she's dead," Joe finished, swallowing hard as he said it.

"But there was another guy, the one who dropped the knife," Tony pointed out. "He's more likely to be the killer."

"Maybe he was in the same class as Rhett," Joe suggested. "He might have gotten interested in eugenics the same way, and Rhett might have pieced it together. Maybe that's why he was killed."

"It still doesn't explain how Allison fits in," Frank objected. "Unless…Maybe it was the killer who attacked her and maybe it was his own knife all along. If he's a eugenicist, he could have an issue with her situation."

"Right, and if he was in the same class, he could be living in this dorm building," Joe went on. "That's why he was coming here when Phil saw him."

"Ugh, I'm about done with this dorm." Trevor shivered. "First Rhett gets murdered and now you think the guy who did is living here."

"I'm with you," Tony commented.

"Come on," Joe said, ignoring them. "Let's go tell Dad. The police can probably get a student roster from that class and the names of everyone living in this dorm. Then we can cross-reference them and see if we come up with any suspects."

"Good thinking," Frank agreed.

They practically ran down the stairs, feeling that they had finally made a breakthrough on the case. Tony and Trevor weren't far behind them, since neither had any desire to stay in the room. Frank, Joe, and Tony were about to jump into the car when Frank noticed an envelope under the windshield wiper. With a slight amount of hesitation, he took it off the windshield.

"Is that what I think it is?" Joe asked.

"Yep," Frank said after he'd looked inside. "Another date. November 4, 1971."

HBHBHBHBHB

Iola's arms and shoulders ached. It felt like she had been crawling for hours. Maybe she had been. It was such hard work, dragging herself across the floor, and she had only made it as far as she had the first time she'd tried. After getting caught that time, she had been too afraid to try again, but as each day passed and she was still a prisoner, she was desperate to try something. This was the only thing she could think of, and she would simply have to take the chance of getting caught.

She paused when she encountered a minefield of broken fragment of glass. They were from the picture frame she had knocked over the other day. Her captor had never bothered to clean it up. Getting around it without cutting her palms would be difficult; getting around without cutting her dragging legs would be impossible. She hesitated, the thought of glass getting imbedded in her skin turning her stomach, even if she wouldn't feel the cuts on her legs.

As she tried to work up her courage, she turned the picture frame over so that she could see the picture inside it. It showed a smiling mother and father and two daughters. They looked happy and content, but Iola's stomach turned even more as she recognized her captor. She turned the picture over again so that she wouldn't have to look in those eyes.

So…even this maniac had had a family once. Iola wondered what had happened them. Was it some tragedy? Or had the rest of the family simply distanced themselves when they realized? Perhaps her captor was the one who had done the distancing?

But what did it really matter? Iola didn't even know these people. All she knew was that she was wasting possibly her last chance for escape. She needed to keep going.

So keep going, she did. After a few minutes, her right palm started to sting, and she knew that she had cut it on the glass. She tried not to think about it. She just needed to keep going…and going…and going.

Finally, she reached the door. This presented a new problem, since it took a lot of effort for her to reach the doorknob. Even when she did, she was afraid it might be locked and she wouldn't be able to unlock it. That fear was unfounded, though. The door opened without problem, and Iola wondered why her captor would be so careless. Then she saw.

The door didn't open onto a city street as Iola had expected. This wasn't a studio apartment she was trapped in. It was a two-room cabin out in the middle of some woods. Iola couldn't possibly drag herself to safety, even if she wasn't at that moment greeted by the sound of the voice she hated most in all the world.

"Well, aren't you a plucky one, love. It's a pity. You deserve so much better than what you've gotten."

"Then, maybe, you could let me go?" Iola asked. She knew it was hopeless, but she couldn't help but try.

What was probably meant to be a sympathetic smile twisted her captor's lips. "No, that wouldn't be the mercy you think it is. Your family and your boyfriend and all your friends are glad they don't have to look out for you anymore. Don't worry. It won't be much longer. Less than a week and then you can rest with the others, and no one will be able to hurt you anymore."

Author's note: Thank you again for reading and especially to everyone who has reviewed! I'm not sure when I'll have the next chapter. It's going to be a little bit of a busy weekend with Halloween, my sister's birthday, and getting to meet my brand-new little nephew (!) I'll do my best to get another chapter out soon. There are less than ten chapters left! Happy Halloween (if you celebrate it) and God bless!