Road to Heaven
Chapter Two
Joe stood up slowly. "Hold out your arms," the musclar killer ordered Joe. Joe slowly put out his arms, palm side down. "Turn'em over," he was ordered. Joe did as he was told. "What's your name?" the killer demanded, looking Joe in the eyes.
"Joe," he replied.
"How old are you?" was the man's next question.
"Seventeen," Joe answered. "What does it matter anyway?" he demanded. "You're just going to kill me."
"Not if you do exactly as you're told," he surprised Joe by saying. "My name's Kenny," he introduced himself, still keeping the gun trained on Joe. "You're not one of the ones I'm after," he explained. "As soon as I've finished, I'll release you but if you try to get away, I will kill you," he warned.
He held out the briefcase. "Take it," he ordered Joe. Joe took the briefcase and Kenny used his freed hand to take Joe's arm. "I live near here," he told Joe. "We're going to go to my house. Don't cause a scene and don't draw any attention to us. I don't want to kill innocent people, but I will if I have to. Understand?"
Joe nodded and the two walked down the alley. Kenny looked around to see if anyone were watching but the humidity was high and most people were staying inside with their air conditioners on. Kenny and Joe walked down the street, stopping beside a pale blue van. Kenny ordered Joe into the back, following him inside and closing the door. He then picked up a roll of gray masking tape and wrapped Joe's wrists behind his back. He then put another piece ove Joe's mouth and wrapped Joe's ankles. Satisfied Joe was secure, he climbed through to the front.
They drove for several minutes before Joe remembered he had his pocket knife on him. He twisted until he could get his fingers into his shorts pocket and got a hold of it. He pulled it from the pocket and was attempting for a firmer grip when the van hit a bump and the knife jumped out of his hand and slid to the back of the van. Before he could get close enough to retrieve it, Kenny pulled the van to a stop. He climbed out of the driver's side and walked around and opened the side door. He grabbed Joe and threw him over his shoulder then picked up the briefcase.
A couple of moments later, Joe was dumped on the ground beside a green oldsmobile. Kenny opened the trunk and put Joe inside with the briefcase and locked the lid. Seconds later, they were once again on the road.
Less than ten minutes later, Joe felt the car slow down, make a turn and come to a stop. The trunk popped open and Kenny reached in and removed the tape from Joe's ankles. He helped Joe out of the trunk. Joe looked around and saw they were in a garage. Kenny herded Joe through a door and into a kitchen. As they passed through the living room toward a door leading to the basement, Joe's eyes widened in surprise. Kenny hadn't been lying. He did live near the soda shop and park. The house Joe saw on the opposite side of the street belonged to the Hoopers who lived only a block away from the Hardys.
In the basement, Joe was forced to sit with his back to a cement column and then tied to it, his wrists still taped behind him. Then his feet were rewrapped with tape and Kenny left the basement, leaving the light on.
Frank had gone to his room and read his letter. Callie Shaw, his blond headed, green eyed seventeen year old girlfriend wouldn't be coming back home to Bayport for another week. He wrinkled his nose at this news. This summer so far had been a bust. Callie had gone with her family to visit some cousins. Joe's girlfriend, Vanessa Bender, had accompanied her mother to Europe, and their best friends had all signed up at various camps as counselors. Frank and Joe had been going to sign up also, but their father had requested their help on one of his cases at the end of the school year and they had stayed to help him. The case was long ago solved and boredom was setting in.
At least he had his weekly chess game to look forward to, he thought, checking the time. He went on-line where he connected to a friend of his in Russia whom he had met in England as an exchange student. They played two games of chess, Frank losing both games. He finally logged off three hours later.
Frank went downstairs. "Where's Joe?" he asked his mother, stepping into the kitchen and finding her making a pitcher of lemonade.
"He went to the park," she answered, looking over her shoulder at him. "Why don't you go find him and I'll have lunch ready by the time you return?" she suggested.
"Can I have a glass of that first?" he asked, his brown eyes twinkling at her.
Frank reached the park twenty minutes later. He asked around to see if anybody had seen Joe. "Yeah," said a blond headed, blue eyed girl of about thirteen. "He was leaving the park," she told him. Frank thanked her and headed out of the park. He stopped in at the soda shop.
"Hey Frank," he was greeted by the counterman. "What'll you have today?"
"Nothing, thanks," Frank declined with a smile. "I'm looking for Joe."
"Try the arcade. He mentioned it on his way out about an hour ago."
"Thanks," Frank said, leaving. He started down the street, slowing down as he reached the alley. His smile became a frown as he saw Sergeant Con Riley, a friend of his and Joe's, hanging yellow crime tape around the alley.
"What's up?" Frank asked the brown haired young officer as he reached the alley's entrance.
Con looked up and saw Frank. "We've got a murder on our hands," he informed Frank.
"Joe?" Frank whispered, his face draining of all color as he began to feel light headed.
"No," Con quickly assured him. "A drug dealer," he said. "Why did you think it might be Joe?" he asked curiously.
Frank explained about Joe heading toward the arcade and possibly having taken the alley as a short cut.
"Do you know about what time Joe might have been by here?" Con asked. "He might have seen something."
"About an hour ago," Frank replied.
Con nodded. "That's about how long we figure this guy's been dead. He must have busted his watch against the wall because it stopped at ten twenty eight." He looked Frank in the eyes. "Do you have your cell phone on you?" he asked.
Frank shook his head. "Why?"
"Then go to the pay phone," Con ordered him, pointing to one a few yards away. "Call the arcade and ask Joe to get back here."
Frank nodded and went over to the pay phone. After looking up the number, he made the call. When he hung up, he made another. Returning to Con, his forehead was creased with worry lines. "Joe hasn't been there," he said. "I called home, but mom said he hasn't gotten back or called."
"It's early yet," Con said. "Look, don't worry," he continued, knowing Frank would anyway until Joe did turn up. "If Joe had seen something then he would have reported it."
"You're right," Frank admitted, feeling a little better. "And if the killer had seen Joe, then there would have been two bodies in the alley."
Chapter Two
Joe stood up slowly. "Hold out your arms," the musclar killer ordered Joe. Joe slowly put out his arms, palm side down. "Turn'em over," he was ordered. Joe did as he was told. "What's your name?" the killer demanded, looking Joe in the eyes.
"Joe," he replied.
"How old are you?" was the man's next question.
"Seventeen," Joe answered. "What does it matter anyway?" he demanded. "You're just going to kill me."
"Not if you do exactly as you're told," he surprised Joe by saying. "My name's Kenny," he introduced himself, still keeping the gun trained on Joe. "You're not one of the ones I'm after," he explained. "As soon as I've finished, I'll release you but if you try to get away, I will kill you," he warned.
He held out the briefcase. "Take it," he ordered Joe. Joe took the briefcase and Kenny used his freed hand to take Joe's arm. "I live near here," he told Joe. "We're going to go to my house. Don't cause a scene and don't draw any attention to us. I don't want to kill innocent people, but I will if I have to. Understand?"
Joe nodded and the two walked down the alley. Kenny looked around to see if anyone were watching but the humidity was high and most people were staying inside with their air conditioners on. Kenny and Joe walked down the street, stopping beside a pale blue van. Kenny ordered Joe into the back, following him inside and closing the door. He then picked up a roll of gray masking tape and wrapped Joe's wrists behind his back. He then put another piece ove Joe's mouth and wrapped Joe's ankles. Satisfied Joe was secure, he climbed through to the front.
They drove for several minutes before Joe remembered he had his pocket knife on him. He twisted until he could get his fingers into his shorts pocket and got a hold of it. He pulled it from the pocket and was attempting for a firmer grip when the van hit a bump and the knife jumped out of his hand and slid to the back of the van. Before he could get close enough to retrieve it, Kenny pulled the van to a stop. He climbed out of the driver's side and walked around and opened the side door. He grabbed Joe and threw him over his shoulder then picked up the briefcase.
A couple of moments later, Joe was dumped on the ground beside a green oldsmobile. Kenny opened the trunk and put Joe inside with the briefcase and locked the lid. Seconds later, they were once again on the road.
Less than ten minutes later, Joe felt the car slow down, make a turn and come to a stop. The trunk popped open and Kenny reached in and removed the tape from Joe's ankles. He helped Joe out of the trunk. Joe looked around and saw they were in a garage. Kenny herded Joe through a door and into a kitchen. As they passed through the living room toward a door leading to the basement, Joe's eyes widened in surprise. Kenny hadn't been lying. He did live near the soda shop and park. The house Joe saw on the opposite side of the street belonged to the Hoopers who lived only a block away from the Hardys.
In the basement, Joe was forced to sit with his back to a cement column and then tied to it, his wrists still taped behind him. Then his feet were rewrapped with tape and Kenny left the basement, leaving the light on.
Frank had gone to his room and read his letter. Callie Shaw, his blond headed, green eyed seventeen year old girlfriend wouldn't be coming back home to Bayport for another week. He wrinkled his nose at this news. This summer so far had been a bust. Callie had gone with her family to visit some cousins. Joe's girlfriend, Vanessa Bender, had accompanied her mother to Europe, and their best friends had all signed up at various camps as counselors. Frank and Joe had been going to sign up also, but their father had requested their help on one of his cases at the end of the school year and they had stayed to help him. The case was long ago solved and boredom was setting in.
At least he had his weekly chess game to look forward to, he thought, checking the time. He went on-line where he connected to a friend of his in Russia whom he had met in England as an exchange student. They played two games of chess, Frank losing both games. He finally logged off three hours later.
Frank went downstairs. "Where's Joe?" he asked his mother, stepping into the kitchen and finding her making a pitcher of lemonade.
"He went to the park," she answered, looking over her shoulder at him. "Why don't you go find him and I'll have lunch ready by the time you return?" she suggested.
"Can I have a glass of that first?" he asked, his brown eyes twinkling at her.
Frank reached the park twenty minutes later. He asked around to see if anybody had seen Joe. "Yeah," said a blond headed, blue eyed girl of about thirteen. "He was leaving the park," she told him. Frank thanked her and headed out of the park. He stopped in at the soda shop.
"Hey Frank," he was greeted by the counterman. "What'll you have today?"
"Nothing, thanks," Frank declined with a smile. "I'm looking for Joe."
"Try the arcade. He mentioned it on his way out about an hour ago."
"Thanks," Frank said, leaving. He started down the street, slowing down as he reached the alley. His smile became a frown as he saw Sergeant Con Riley, a friend of his and Joe's, hanging yellow crime tape around the alley.
"What's up?" Frank asked the brown haired young officer as he reached the alley's entrance.
Con looked up and saw Frank. "We've got a murder on our hands," he informed Frank.
"Joe?" Frank whispered, his face draining of all color as he began to feel light headed.
"No," Con quickly assured him. "A drug dealer," he said. "Why did you think it might be Joe?" he asked curiously.
Frank explained about Joe heading toward the arcade and possibly having taken the alley as a short cut.
"Do you know about what time Joe might have been by here?" Con asked. "He might have seen something."
"About an hour ago," Frank replied.
Con nodded. "That's about how long we figure this guy's been dead. He must have busted his watch against the wall because it stopped at ten twenty eight." He looked Frank in the eyes. "Do you have your cell phone on you?" he asked.
Frank shook his head. "Why?"
"Then go to the pay phone," Con ordered him, pointing to one a few yards away. "Call the arcade and ask Joe to get back here."
Frank nodded and went over to the pay phone. After looking up the number, he made the call. When he hung up, he made another. Returning to Con, his forehead was creased with worry lines. "Joe hasn't been there," he said. "I called home, but mom said he hasn't gotten back or called."
"It's early yet," Con said. "Look, don't worry," he continued, knowing Frank would anyway until Joe did turn up. "If Joe had seen something then he would have reported it."
"You're right," Frank admitted, feeling a little better. "And if the killer had seen Joe, then there would have been two bodies in the alley."