Here is your next chapter! I hope you enjoy! Thank you for all the wonderful reviews on the last chapter.
"There's a Master Hardy here to see you," Dr Miller heard his receptionist say, her voice distorted slightly by the crackle of the intercom.
His brow furrowed. He was between appointments but none of his appointments that day was for Joe. He told the receptionist so, wondering if Joe might have gotten the date wrong.
"He says his name is Frank," the receptionist returned.
Dr Miller's brow furrowed. He glanced down at his schedule. He had been interested in talking to Frank for some time but his day was packed.
"Could you organise an appointment for him?" Miller asked.
There was a pause.
"He is asking if there is any chance he could see you today."
"I still have three hours' worth of appointments left today."
There was another pause. And then the receptionist's voice crackled through once more.
"He is saying he will wait."
"You aren't like most of the young people I talk to," Dr Miller said as he placed a cup of coffee in front of Frank.
Frank held his gaze very seriously.
"I've broken the law just like them," he admitted.
Miller cracked a smile.
"I'm talking about the coffee. Very few of my clients drink coffee."
Frank returned with his own smile, taking a sip of his coffee. Miller could already tell he was a young man used to being around adults, able to hold an adult conversation.
"It's a habit I picked up young from spending too much time around cops," Frank admitted. "You called them clients?"
"What word would you have preferred?" Miller asked, out of curiosity.
"Patients?" Frank suggested. "You are a doctor after all."
Miller hummed his agreement.
"Do you think your brother needs a doctor?" Miller asked.
He made sure to keep all judgement out of his tone. Frank scoffed quietly and shook his head.
"Joe likes you," Frank said.
"That is very high praise indeed."
Frank nodded. He shifted in his seat. Miller studied him. He was shocked to notice such similarities between the two. There were definitely clear differences but they seemed most superficial. It was like they were two computer games running on the same operating system, entirely different energy and yet the same basic principles.
Because Joe overtly treated every interaction transactionally. He expected something meaningful out of it and was very direct about it. Frank was clearly there for some meaningful purpose. He was edging around it but Miller could tell Frank was only there to get the information he was looking for.
"I can't tell you what your brother says during these sessions," Miller told Frank, cutting to the chase.
"And I would never ask you to. Joe needs somewhere he can be open about how he feels and, until he feels comfortable talking to us, he can turn to you."
"But?" Miller pressed.
"There's a name. The people who tried to kidnap us said a name. And Joe won't talk to anyone about it but he knew this name. It scared him. You made profiles of criminals and you talk to kids who are like Joe, kids who might know something about this guy. He has already come after Joe once. It feels like it is only a matter of time before he comes after him again."
Miller pursed his lips. Frank leant in closer.
"You know, don't you? He's told you about him," Frank said.
"I didn't say anything," Miller replied.
"You didn't have to."
Miller shook his head, chuckling to himself in disbelief.
"Joe was right about you. You are smarter than me. Beginning to wish I hadn't invited you in."
But Frank could see the truth couldn't be further from that statement. Miller was curious about him and appeared to care a great deal about Joe. He clearly had been looking forward to the meeting and was enjoying the way Frank was so openly showing his hand.
"Why does it matter if Joe told me?" Miller asked.
"Because you'll call the police if Joe is in danger."
"And if it is very clear to me that calling the police would put your brother in more danger?" Miller questioned.
Frank frowned. He looked away for a second, needing to consider if Joe's paranoia about cops was the reason he had made it clear to his therapist that he didn't want them involved. But Frank knew that wasn't true. Mr Mauve was clearly a powerful man and Marsden had had an inside man in the cops. Mr Mauve could have someone on his payroll in every police station in the country.
"Then you'd tell someone who can help him," Frank said.
"And who do you think can help him?" Miller asked.
"Our dad. Me."
Miller raised an eyebrow, asking Frank who exactly did he think Joe's silence was being maintained to protect.
"Then Sam Radley. Cops we know aren't dirty. Joe is only fourteen years old!"
"And you are only fifteen," Miller pointed out.
Frank glowered at the therapist. He was furious at him, mostly because he knew everything the doctor was saying was right. All Joe was doing was to protect them and his concerns were legitimate. And the few people Joe did trust weren't capable of helping because Mr Mauve was so big and most of the people Joe trusted were teenagers anyway.
"Now," Miller said, undaunted by Frank's glare, "I said I wasn't going to discuss what your brother discusses me with and you have tricked me into that. I feel it is only fair we discuss you now."
"You and Joe already talk about me," Frank said.
"I mean me and you."
Frank raised an eyebrow.
"I don't need a therapist," Frank said. "I'm not…"
'Like Joe' felt too harsh on his younger brother. Because Frank had needed therapists in the past. He had gone to plenty of sessions of grief counselling. And he never wanted Joe to think that getting therapy was a bad thing.
But the fact was that he wasn't like Joe. The reason he had needed therapy was because his brother had died and he had blamed himself. His brother wasn't dead anymore. Ergo, no therapy.
"You are a young man. The burden of being fifteen is difficult enough without having to face the turmoil that comes with Joe's situation. I take it you haven't told your parents about Mr Mauve either."
"Joe asked me not to."
"And I understand your desire to respect your brother's wishes. But knowing such a threat is out there and not having an adult you can discuss it with… That is a heavy burden. And I am sure there were already complicated feelings about essentially going from an only child to having a younger brother who, in the politest way possible, comes with substantial emotional baggage."
Frank shook his head, telling Miller he was thrilled to have his brother back.
"Thrilled?" Miller questioned.
"Absolutely."
"Absolutely is a very strong word."
Frank studied the man. He knew Miller wasn't going to let up if he didn't give him something. He grimaced, drawing in a very long breath.
"It's not Joe's fault. And I don't… There is no ill will toward him because he came back. We're his family. Bayport is his home. He belongs here. But adults don't change as fast as kids. Ten years for my parents is a good amount of time but, essentially they are the same people. Dad still works the same job and gets the same terrible coffee and still likes the same boring old black-and-white films. And Mom's favourite restaurant is the same and she still cuts the crusts off when we have packed lunches even though I have asked her not to a hundred times and… They're the same people as when they lost Joe. I'm not. I was five. I can't just revert back to the person I was when I lost Joe, can't go back to those routines. I can't even remember half of them. It feels like people expect me to do that though and I don't know how to tell them I can't."
Miller hummed his agreement, saying he thought people often believed getting back a loved one would allow them to go back to the way things had been before they had 'lost' them, in whatever form that had been.
"Even if you had been an adult, you are in a constantly changing world and ten years is a long time. Ten months is a long time. You are allowed to be a different person now."
Frank nodded, looking away like he didn't quite believe it.
"There's something else too, isn't there?" Miller asked.
"Would I be a horrible… I… Is it terrible that I miss Joe being gone sometimes?"
The therapist remained silent. His eyes played over Frank, letting the young man know he was reserving judgement until he had further information.
"I don't… I never want him back in New York. I would die before Joe had to go back to a life like that but… When Joe was gone, it was just me and Mom and Dad and it was… There were good times. It was far from perfect but we had fun and good times and I felt like I mattered. Now I kinda feel like my brother's keeper. Everything we do has to be about Joe. And he needs help settling in and he's in constant danger and I get all of that but… I go out with Chet and Iola and I am still worried about Joe, terrified I'm going to get a call about him going missing or being taken or something. And at home, everything we do is about getting Joe to settle in."
Frank let out a very deep sigh.
"I know it is temporary and I would go through far worse for Joe. I would take his place in Mr Mauve's crosshairs if I could. But… it doesn't mean I enjoy it. Do you understand?"
"I understand perfectly," Miller told him.
He smiled kindly at Frank, reassuring him he should not feel guilty about wanting parental attention or about missing the time when he was an only child, free from the responsibilities of looking after his younger brother.
"No one is doubting how much you love your brother. Even Joe knows it. It's okay for you to want to be a responsibility-free young man again. You aren't Joe's father."
Mr Mauve sighed as he entered his office. It had been a long day. Joe Hardy's testimony had dismantled much of New York's gang system and smaller gangs with power-hungry, violent thugs leading them had sprung up like weeds. It was chaos. And Mr Mauve had never liked chaos. Crime was meant to be organised. That was the sort of crime that made a person untouchable.
He was spending so much of his time pulling up weeds and forcing the less radical gangs to fall into line. Unfortunately, many of the teenagers who had operated under Marsden had decided to give up their lives of petty crime. A workforce like that might have been useful.
But he was managing, limiting the damage to his business. And then he could work on expanding once more, hopefully with a certain blond fourteen-year-old forced back into the fold. Joe was smart. He hadn't included anything in his testimony about Mr Mauve and his business. But sooner or later he was going to let something slip or do something stupid. Mr Mauve couldn't have that. He would rather have the boy killed than let that happen and he really hated to waste such talent.
Just as he sat down at his desk, he heard his phone buzz. He pulled it out, seeing he had received a text. The number was unlisted but he knew exactly who it was. After all, just because he wasn't prepared to make another move against Joe so soon didn't mean he wasn't having the boy watched. He wanted to know the moment Joe began thinking about talking so he could ensure it never happened.
'FH Jr knows you exist. Someone said your name in the kidnapping.'
FH junior. Frank Hardy.
Mr Mauve glowered. He didn't like complications and he had known he wasn't going to like Frank Hardy from the moment he had seen his picture.
He began to plan the demises of those fools he had sent to abduct Joe. Being in prison was not enough to remove someone from his influence.
'Is a name all he knows?' Mr Mauve texted back, forcing himself to remain calm.
'He knows JH is scared.'
'Scared of what?' Mr Mauve messaged back.
'You'
There was a certain thrill to hearing that.
'As he should be.'
Mr Mauve paused before continuing his message.
'Does FH Sn know?'
The last thing Mr Mauve needed was Fenton Hardy breathing down his neck. If he thought either of the boys were about to tell their father about him, Fenton and Laura were going to learn how painful it was to lose both their children.
'No. JH asked him to keep it a secret.'
'Wise boy' Mr Mauve remarked.
He sat back, putting the phone down. He was torn. His first attempt to kidnap Joe had gone wrong. Thus far it had been blamed on the New York gangs but a second kidnapping attempt so soon was risky. Fenton Hardy was sure to see a pattern. It seemed there were some benefits to allowing Joe Hardy freedom while he stabilised New York gang life and restored his business to its full strength. Certainly, he did not want to risk going up against Fenton Hardy without his organisation operating like the tightly oiled machine it always did. He knew he was untouchable but he was accustomed to a certain standard of living that took a lot of money. And he wouldn't have as much of it if Fenton Hardy was able to dismantle any of his organisation.
But every second Joe was out there was a risk. Mr Mauve had always thought that, should Marsden be arrested, Joe end up being looped into his organisation. He had let the boy know perhaps more than was wise as a way of enticing him to consider a position in his inner circle. He had never expected the Hardys to find him, to turn him.
Mr Mauve pressed a button on his desk and within moments two burly thugs came into the room.
"I think it is perhaps time we start tightening a noose around little Joseph Hardy."
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