Author's Note: Thanks to all the reviews! Sorry it's been so long since
I last updated, but believe me or not, it wasn't my fault. *Rolls eyes*
Somehow, I completely forgot that I changed my email address, so when I
tried to log in it wouldn't let me. And it took me how long to figure this
out?
Don't ask. Anyway, thanks for drawing my attention to the formatting of the first chapter. *wince* That is NOT what it looked like before I uploaded it. Hopefully this chapter will turn out better. If not, I'll have to pull it and try uploading it again. Anyway, thanks again for all the support! Onto Chapter Two!
Dead. Their only link to the case was gone, and where the clues had once been slim, there were now none. Frank sighed wearily. The day had begun well enough with the promise of a new investigation, yet it had rapidly taken a turn for the worse. Questions swarmed his mind, demanding answers when he had none: why had Dobbins been killed? Had the thieves suspected the Hardy's involvment, and if so, why? They themselves hadn't imagined being offered this case, not when the water park robberies had been kept secret.
A policeman spotted him and offered a quick nod of sympathy; Dobbins was dead, yet the case wasn't closed. It was, Frank thought grimly, even more dangerous than before, and Chief Collig would undoubtedly request their removal immediately. Not that it would matter- he had no jurisdiction over them- but he would still try. Or would he? Frank cocked his head, thinking back to the previous night. They'd been hired over the phone, true, but Dobbins had mentioned a letter, stating that the case belonged to the Hardys. Ely Dobbins' last wish was for the case to be solved; there was no chance Frank would ignore that wish, and he knew the Chief could not do so either. Well, not in clear conscience, anyway. He could order them off, to stay away from the crime scene until the killer was caught, but only if the letter went undiscovered. If he and Joe could find it and convince the Chief to let them stay.
He shook his head. His plan was simple and would require little work, yet he was assuming Collig would take them off the case. As harsh and uncaring Collig sometimes seemed, he wasn't stupid. If the Hardys could find the killer, so be it. Of course, that wasn't usually how Collig viewed situations, but there were exceptions. He could only hope this would be one of those times.
A second later he was proven wrong.
"Frank!"
And then his brother was there beside him, looking slightly pale in the room's dim light. "Con's here-he said we're not to get involved with this, that the police will handle it. Frank- they want to take us off! Again!"
The frustration in Joe's voice was apparent. Frank nodded, glanced around, then motioned his brother into a corner where they wouldn't be disturbed. "Remember," he said calmly, "that Con takes his orders from Collig."
"Yeah," Joe grumbled. "I think that's kind of hard to forget."
Frank rolled his eyes. "Listen to me, will you?"
He waited until Joe gave a startled nod before continuing.
"You're forgetting something. something that will give us the power to continue this until it's solved- something neither Con nor Collig can deny as legal. Dobbins was paranoid after the robberies, remember? Wouldn't even meet us in daylight, instead devising this meeting as a way to 'fool the burglars.' Yet he knew things we didn't. He knew these aren't just petty thieves looking for a buck or two; they're murderers, murderers who will stop at nothing to achieve their goal. What that goal is I can't say, and neither can you, really, but that's beside the point. What's important is Dobbins' death in itself; it was no accident- not with us coming to meet him, and the timing was no coincidence, either. Someone killed Dobbins to keep him quiet, yes, but also to warn us. They couldn't attack us directly without causing every police officer and some Network agents getting involved, so they did the next best thing."
Joe nodded. "They gave Collig the power to remove us," he whispered. "But they didn't know about the letter Dobbins wrote!"
"Right. With luck we can find it and show it to the Chief. Then he'd have to respect Dobbins' wish and let us continue."
"But why bother? Collig has no authority over us." Joe grinned. "We rarely listen to him on our other cases; why should this be any different?"
Frank shook his head. "At the moment we have no allies. Dad's out of town with Mom, our client was just killed. we don't want to risk getting arrested or forced into protective custody."
There was a moment of silence, and Frank knew what Joe was thinking: the police would be watching the water parks closely. They would not hesitate throwing them in jail for meddling with a crime scene, but it was more likely they'd place both brothers in protective custody. They could do both, too, and hiding would make investigating very difficult.
"All right," Joe said. "We find the letter and show it to the Chief."
Frank grinned. "Good boy."
"On one condition, though!" Now it was Joe's turn to grin. "You show Collig the letter."
* * *
It was dusk when the girl emerged from her hiding place. It had been a long day for her, beginning with her Uncle's murder. He knew it would happen; that was why he had shoved her into the passageway, why he had called in to two detectives for help, but it was too late. Seizing the opportunity, her Uncle's enemies had been swift and certain- they had not, however, counted on a seven year old child overhearing their entire conversation. Not that it would matter, of course. If she emerged from hiding they would kill her and her Uncle's murderers would walk free. Even protected by the police they would reach her, or simply scatter back into hiding and vanish. Her only choice then was to hide. Hide and bide her time, until her chance arose. Until then she would wait patiently, documenting the details as in her mind as neatly as if stored on computer. and then the murderers would pay.
She paused, staring at her Uncle's desk. It was his fault she was in this mess, yet she couldn't hate him. She was a young girl, with dark brown hair and blue eyes that stared solemnly. Yes, she was young, but only in body. Her mind was sharp, clear and calculated, and she understood what her Uncle had not: the murderers were nothing but that. Murderers and thieves. Their intention was not to help Uncle Ely, nor to help her, but to become rich in that very pretense. She understood this in the beginning, and it wasn't until a week ago that Ely realized their plan: rob him and use her as hostage if there was protest. That was why he had hidden her here, in this strange catacomb beneath the connected water parks. That was why he had marked the passages with symbols of her religion.
And that was why he was dead. Furious at being tricked, the murderers had killed Uncle Ely without a second thought. She didn't even think they knew about the two detectives-what were their names?- being hired. It was slightly ironic, really, that he was killed on the same morning the meeting was to take place.
She sniffed, brushing back tears. This was not the time to cry, not when her Uncle needed her to bring his killers to justice. After all he had done for her- raising her, teaching her, and dying for her-it was the least she could do. Turning, she entered the secret passage and followed the tunnel marked with encircled stars. Her Uncle would be honored. She would see to that.
* * *
Several days later the Hardys were standing in the Chief's office. It had been a long search- so long, it hardly seemed over- yet it had been successful. Clutched tightly in Collig's hand was the desired article; it had been hidden in the wall, and if Dobbins himself hadn't assured the brothers of its existence, it would still be hidden. But it wasn't. Collig was reading it now, an angry frown plastered on his burly face.
"So," he said in an icy tone, "the famous Hardy brothers are about to do it again. A man dies in a vacant water park in the dead of night- a water park which, I might add, was robbed but a week ago- and who should turn up? A couple of hotshot boys-"
"Now wait a minute-" Frank began, but Collig ignored him. "who think they are better than the law. Not only that, they think they're invincible! A man has been killed, yet the Hardys don't mind; foolish, really to be frightened over such a trivial detail when a case is concerned, don't you think? And do you think they care about how I'll feel when I'm forced to call their parents, informing them about their sons' deaths? Of course not! And why is that?"
He paused to take a breath, and Joe ventured acidly, "Because we're invincible?" An elbow to his side silenced him before continuing the offending comment. Frank turned to Collig with a smooth, placating gesture.
"Really, Chief. This discussion is quite unnecessary; we came here with a single goal, just one purpose in mind: to give you the paper and begin our investigation, an investigation that will bring Dobbins' killers to justice. Step one of our goal is complete, and I'm certain it would be beneficial to all if you let us take the case. I think," he added with a quirk of his eyebrow, "that we are in agreement of the matter? The killers need to be caught?"
"Yes, yes, of course." Collig waved his hand irritably. "However-" here his voice dropped to his normal growl-" I cannot help but wonder at your timing. For instance, why bring this note to me now, three days after the killing? It hardly seems likely you simply waited, biding your time until now."
It was one of those moments in life where a room, so full of tension, could have shattered at a single breath, and looking back Frank realized how lucky he had been. Normally Joe would have retorted instantly, using a witty wisecrack to anger the Chief and force Frank to scramble for an apology, but his brother remained quiet, still.
With a pang of regret he knew why; Iola's death was still fresh on Joe's mind. If anything, they needed this case for Joe's own health. It was enough to strengthen his resolve. But how to reply? He had little time before Joe snapped back, and things would rapidly go downhill from there. Oh, Collig could not pull them from the case (not with the found document), but he would not hesitate to hinder their investigation. And hinder them he would. Frank remembered several months ago, before the Bullet and the death of Iola, when the Chief had attempted to place them in protective custody. There truly had been no need for it; sure, Joe had been kidnapped and ransomed, and an arrow had narrowly missed Frank's head, but it was no more dangerous than any previous cases. it was impossible, trying to investigate a case from over a thousand miles away, inside a locked and heavily guarded building. That had been their argument then, and it would be their argument now. If it came to that. It was highly improbable, for if handled correctly Frank could gently remind Collig about the 'protection' given to them.
With no regard to their protests, the brothers had been swept away to a base in Southern California- a base, ironically enough, that brought the brothers more danger than ever before. He remembered his satisfaction, his amusement when the gang they had been tracking attacked the base. leaving no one but Frank and Joe to send a distress signal. But hopefully the conversation would not reach such a point. He sensed, rather than saw, Joe open his mouth to protest, and he blurted out, "We could not find it. Dobbins informed us of his wish the night before his death, as he informed us of this note." He gestured toward the paper in the Chief's hand. "He realized he was in danger (though I don't think he knew the full extent), so he wrote a note and hid it."
"He did so with little time to spare." Joe's voice was harsh, unfeeling. "He was killed a mere hour or two later."
"Indeed," Collig muttered. "Well, I can hardly argue with you and this legal parchment. I can, however tell you to be careful." His face softened. "And good luck."
"Thank you, sir."
"Don't mention it. And I truly, truly mean that."
With a grin the brothers stood, grabbed the paper, and left. It wasn't until they reached their car that the subject of the investigation was approached.
"I don't know, Joe." Frank turned the key and fastened his seatbelt. "I just have a feeling we need help with this one. And you know it's bad when I get those." He grinned hollowly. Truth be told, he did have a feeling, but it wasn't just him. After telling Con about Ely, the officer had expressed his concern for Joe- a concern that wasn't completely unfounded. The younger Hardy had become withdrawn and pale over the last few weeks; Iola's death shattered their secure world.
But if Joe would just talk to the Mortons, understand that he was not blamed for anything, then maybe his depression would lift a little. Over the past few weeks Frank tried to convince Joe to visit the farm, only to be refused time and time again. It seemed impossible, and he was just about to give up when the case arrived. Now was the perfect time to act, now, when Joe couldn't refuse their friend's help. He was startled out of his reverie with Joe's reply.
"If you told me what you thought, I could answer. But when you repeat, 'I don't know, Joe,' and 'I think you should listen to me, Joe,' it becomes rather difficult. I'm a good detective, but I'm not that good. Neither are you, really, so I voiced my reply. about five times, I might add."
"Sorry. But this is a good idea, and you really should-" a glare from his brother cut him short. "Oops. I guess you're right, I have been repeating myself. Sorry. Anyway, I think we need help with this case. We're both tired now, and have nowhere to begin."
"And?" The suspicious tone implied foresight to their next destination.
"And I think we should see Chet. It wouldn't hurt, you know, and he deserves better than being ignored."
Joe sighed. He had suspected this, of course, but even he could not deny the Frank's logic. Chet had been their loyal friend and sidekick for as long as he could remember, and it really didn't seem fair to cower and hide whenever he came near. Joe understood this, but actually going, actually speaking to and seeing Chet. it was impossible! How could he face his ex- girlfriend's brother after the last case? After all they had been through?
That, he realized, was the answer. After all they had been through, he owed it to Chet. He owed him the opportunity to forgive and forget, to continue being his friend, even with his sister gone. But it was so soon, only a few weeks after the Bullet's deafeat. He took a deep breath, stealing himself for the inevitable. It was now or never, and in some cases never was better, but this time it was not. "Okay."
"What?"
"Let's go find Chet. But the rest of the gang will be upset it they're left out. Especially Callie."
Frank grinned. It wasn't much; Joe still seemed tired and depressed, but it was a start, and maybe when the case was over things would return to normal. It was highly unlikely, for Iola's absence would prevent things from being truly normal again, but it was a start.
And with that, he was content.
Don't ask. Anyway, thanks for drawing my attention to the formatting of the first chapter. *wince* That is NOT what it looked like before I uploaded it. Hopefully this chapter will turn out better. If not, I'll have to pull it and try uploading it again. Anyway, thanks again for all the support! Onto Chapter Two!
Dead. Their only link to the case was gone, and where the clues had once been slim, there were now none. Frank sighed wearily. The day had begun well enough with the promise of a new investigation, yet it had rapidly taken a turn for the worse. Questions swarmed his mind, demanding answers when he had none: why had Dobbins been killed? Had the thieves suspected the Hardy's involvment, and if so, why? They themselves hadn't imagined being offered this case, not when the water park robberies had been kept secret.
A policeman spotted him and offered a quick nod of sympathy; Dobbins was dead, yet the case wasn't closed. It was, Frank thought grimly, even more dangerous than before, and Chief Collig would undoubtedly request their removal immediately. Not that it would matter- he had no jurisdiction over them- but he would still try. Or would he? Frank cocked his head, thinking back to the previous night. They'd been hired over the phone, true, but Dobbins had mentioned a letter, stating that the case belonged to the Hardys. Ely Dobbins' last wish was for the case to be solved; there was no chance Frank would ignore that wish, and he knew the Chief could not do so either. Well, not in clear conscience, anyway. He could order them off, to stay away from the crime scene until the killer was caught, but only if the letter went undiscovered. If he and Joe could find it and convince the Chief to let them stay.
He shook his head. His plan was simple and would require little work, yet he was assuming Collig would take them off the case. As harsh and uncaring Collig sometimes seemed, he wasn't stupid. If the Hardys could find the killer, so be it. Of course, that wasn't usually how Collig viewed situations, but there were exceptions. He could only hope this would be one of those times.
A second later he was proven wrong.
"Frank!"
And then his brother was there beside him, looking slightly pale in the room's dim light. "Con's here-he said we're not to get involved with this, that the police will handle it. Frank- they want to take us off! Again!"
The frustration in Joe's voice was apparent. Frank nodded, glanced around, then motioned his brother into a corner where they wouldn't be disturbed. "Remember," he said calmly, "that Con takes his orders from Collig."
"Yeah," Joe grumbled. "I think that's kind of hard to forget."
Frank rolled his eyes. "Listen to me, will you?"
He waited until Joe gave a startled nod before continuing.
"You're forgetting something. something that will give us the power to continue this until it's solved- something neither Con nor Collig can deny as legal. Dobbins was paranoid after the robberies, remember? Wouldn't even meet us in daylight, instead devising this meeting as a way to 'fool the burglars.' Yet he knew things we didn't. He knew these aren't just petty thieves looking for a buck or two; they're murderers, murderers who will stop at nothing to achieve their goal. What that goal is I can't say, and neither can you, really, but that's beside the point. What's important is Dobbins' death in itself; it was no accident- not with us coming to meet him, and the timing was no coincidence, either. Someone killed Dobbins to keep him quiet, yes, but also to warn us. They couldn't attack us directly without causing every police officer and some Network agents getting involved, so they did the next best thing."
Joe nodded. "They gave Collig the power to remove us," he whispered. "But they didn't know about the letter Dobbins wrote!"
"Right. With luck we can find it and show it to the Chief. Then he'd have to respect Dobbins' wish and let us continue."
"But why bother? Collig has no authority over us." Joe grinned. "We rarely listen to him on our other cases; why should this be any different?"
Frank shook his head. "At the moment we have no allies. Dad's out of town with Mom, our client was just killed. we don't want to risk getting arrested or forced into protective custody."
There was a moment of silence, and Frank knew what Joe was thinking: the police would be watching the water parks closely. They would not hesitate throwing them in jail for meddling with a crime scene, but it was more likely they'd place both brothers in protective custody. They could do both, too, and hiding would make investigating very difficult.
"All right," Joe said. "We find the letter and show it to the Chief."
Frank grinned. "Good boy."
"On one condition, though!" Now it was Joe's turn to grin. "You show Collig the letter."
* * *
It was dusk when the girl emerged from her hiding place. It had been a long day for her, beginning with her Uncle's murder. He knew it would happen; that was why he had shoved her into the passageway, why he had called in to two detectives for help, but it was too late. Seizing the opportunity, her Uncle's enemies had been swift and certain- they had not, however, counted on a seven year old child overhearing their entire conversation. Not that it would matter, of course. If she emerged from hiding they would kill her and her Uncle's murderers would walk free. Even protected by the police they would reach her, or simply scatter back into hiding and vanish. Her only choice then was to hide. Hide and bide her time, until her chance arose. Until then she would wait patiently, documenting the details as in her mind as neatly as if stored on computer. and then the murderers would pay.
She paused, staring at her Uncle's desk. It was his fault she was in this mess, yet she couldn't hate him. She was a young girl, with dark brown hair and blue eyes that stared solemnly. Yes, she was young, but only in body. Her mind was sharp, clear and calculated, and she understood what her Uncle had not: the murderers were nothing but that. Murderers and thieves. Their intention was not to help Uncle Ely, nor to help her, but to become rich in that very pretense. She understood this in the beginning, and it wasn't until a week ago that Ely realized their plan: rob him and use her as hostage if there was protest. That was why he had hidden her here, in this strange catacomb beneath the connected water parks. That was why he had marked the passages with symbols of her religion.
And that was why he was dead. Furious at being tricked, the murderers had killed Uncle Ely without a second thought. She didn't even think they knew about the two detectives-what were their names?- being hired. It was slightly ironic, really, that he was killed on the same morning the meeting was to take place.
She sniffed, brushing back tears. This was not the time to cry, not when her Uncle needed her to bring his killers to justice. After all he had done for her- raising her, teaching her, and dying for her-it was the least she could do. Turning, she entered the secret passage and followed the tunnel marked with encircled stars. Her Uncle would be honored. She would see to that.
* * *
Several days later the Hardys were standing in the Chief's office. It had been a long search- so long, it hardly seemed over- yet it had been successful. Clutched tightly in Collig's hand was the desired article; it had been hidden in the wall, and if Dobbins himself hadn't assured the brothers of its existence, it would still be hidden. But it wasn't. Collig was reading it now, an angry frown plastered on his burly face.
"So," he said in an icy tone, "the famous Hardy brothers are about to do it again. A man dies in a vacant water park in the dead of night- a water park which, I might add, was robbed but a week ago- and who should turn up? A couple of hotshot boys-"
"Now wait a minute-" Frank began, but Collig ignored him. "who think they are better than the law. Not only that, they think they're invincible! A man has been killed, yet the Hardys don't mind; foolish, really to be frightened over such a trivial detail when a case is concerned, don't you think? And do you think they care about how I'll feel when I'm forced to call their parents, informing them about their sons' deaths? Of course not! And why is that?"
He paused to take a breath, and Joe ventured acidly, "Because we're invincible?" An elbow to his side silenced him before continuing the offending comment. Frank turned to Collig with a smooth, placating gesture.
"Really, Chief. This discussion is quite unnecessary; we came here with a single goal, just one purpose in mind: to give you the paper and begin our investigation, an investigation that will bring Dobbins' killers to justice. Step one of our goal is complete, and I'm certain it would be beneficial to all if you let us take the case. I think," he added with a quirk of his eyebrow, "that we are in agreement of the matter? The killers need to be caught?"
"Yes, yes, of course." Collig waved his hand irritably. "However-" here his voice dropped to his normal growl-" I cannot help but wonder at your timing. For instance, why bring this note to me now, three days after the killing? It hardly seems likely you simply waited, biding your time until now."
It was one of those moments in life where a room, so full of tension, could have shattered at a single breath, and looking back Frank realized how lucky he had been. Normally Joe would have retorted instantly, using a witty wisecrack to anger the Chief and force Frank to scramble for an apology, but his brother remained quiet, still.
With a pang of regret he knew why; Iola's death was still fresh on Joe's mind. If anything, they needed this case for Joe's own health. It was enough to strengthen his resolve. But how to reply? He had little time before Joe snapped back, and things would rapidly go downhill from there. Oh, Collig could not pull them from the case (not with the found document), but he would not hesitate to hinder their investigation. And hinder them he would. Frank remembered several months ago, before the Bullet and the death of Iola, when the Chief had attempted to place them in protective custody. There truly had been no need for it; sure, Joe had been kidnapped and ransomed, and an arrow had narrowly missed Frank's head, but it was no more dangerous than any previous cases. it was impossible, trying to investigate a case from over a thousand miles away, inside a locked and heavily guarded building. That had been their argument then, and it would be their argument now. If it came to that. It was highly improbable, for if handled correctly Frank could gently remind Collig about the 'protection' given to them.
With no regard to their protests, the brothers had been swept away to a base in Southern California- a base, ironically enough, that brought the brothers more danger than ever before. He remembered his satisfaction, his amusement when the gang they had been tracking attacked the base. leaving no one but Frank and Joe to send a distress signal. But hopefully the conversation would not reach such a point. He sensed, rather than saw, Joe open his mouth to protest, and he blurted out, "We could not find it. Dobbins informed us of his wish the night before his death, as he informed us of this note." He gestured toward the paper in the Chief's hand. "He realized he was in danger (though I don't think he knew the full extent), so he wrote a note and hid it."
"He did so with little time to spare." Joe's voice was harsh, unfeeling. "He was killed a mere hour or two later."
"Indeed," Collig muttered. "Well, I can hardly argue with you and this legal parchment. I can, however tell you to be careful." His face softened. "And good luck."
"Thank you, sir."
"Don't mention it. And I truly, truly mean that."
With a grin the brothers stood, grabbed the paper, and left. It wasn't until they reached their car that the subject of the investigation was approached.
"I don't know, Joe." Frank turned the key and fastened his seatbelt. "I just have a feeling we need help with this one. And you know it's bad when I get those." He grinned hollowly. Truth be told, he did have a feeling, but it wasn't just him. After telling Con about Ely, the officer had expressed his concern for Joe- a concern that wasn't completely unfounded. The younger Hardy had become withdrawn and pale over the last few weeks; Iola's death shattered their secure world.
But if Joe would just talk to the Mortons, understand that he was not blamed for anything, then maybe his depression would lift a little. Over the past few weeks Frank tried to convince Joe to visit the farm, only to be refused time and time again. It seemed impossible, and he was just about to give up when the case arrived. Now was the perfect time to act, now, when Joe couldn't refuse their friend's help. He was startled out of his reverie with Joe's reply.
"If you told me what you thought, I could answer. But when you repeat, 'I don't know, Joe,' and 'I think you should listen to me, Joe,' it becomes rather difficult. I'm a good detective, but I'm not that good. Neither are you, really, so I voiced my reply. about five times, I might add."
"Sorry. But this is a good idea, and you really should-" a glare from his brother cut him short. "Oops. I guess you're right, I have been repeating myself. Sorry. Anyway, I think we need help with this case. We're both tired now, and have nowhere to begin."
"And?" The suspicious tone implied foresight to their next destination.
"And I think we should see Chet. It wouldn't hurt, you know, and he deserves better than being ignored."
Joe sighed. He had suspected this, of course, but even he could not deny the Frank's logic. Chet had been their loyal friend and sidekick for as long as he could remember, and it really didn't seem fair to cower and hide whenever he came near. Joe understood this, but actually going, actually speaking to and seeing Chet. it was impossible! How could he face his ex- girlfriend's brother after the last case? After all they had been through?
That, he realized, was the answer. After all they had been through, he owed it to Chet. He owed him the opportunity to forgive and forget, to continue being his friend, even with his sister gone. But it was so soon, only a few weeks after the Bullet's deafeat. He took a deep breath, stealing himself for the inevitable. It was now or never, and in some cases never was better, but this time it was not. "Okay."
"What?"
"Let's go find Chet. But the rest of the gang will be upset it they're left out. Especially Callie."
Frank grinned. It wasn't much; Joe still seemed tired and depressed, but it was a start, and maybe when the case was over things would return to normal. It was highly unlikely, for Iola's absence would prevent things from being truly normal again, but it was a start.
And with that, he was content.