Frank drove passed the front of the school and hurried out. The area
surrounding the school football field was chaos. An ambulance was there,
its siren blazing and dazed student paced up and down the street.
"What's going on?" Frank asked Melissa, spotting her amongst the crowd.
"It's Randy. He just passed out on the field." She replied, exasperated. Frank ran towards the field. "The EMT are there right now trying to resuscitate him!" Melissa called after him.
Pushing passed the crowd; he was stopped abruptly by Mrs. Contres yards before the field. Mrs. Contres was his European literature teacher; nice woman, just a slight bit naïve in Frank's opinion.
"I'm sorry, Frank, but no one's allowed on the field right now."
"What's going on? Is he okay?" Frank asked quietly.
Mrs. Contres wrapped a warm arm around Frank's shoulder.
"I don't know. I think they said he had some kind of heart failure."
"Heart failure?"
"Yes. Strange isn't it? I always thought that Randy was in the picture perfect of health."
Frank nodded, uninterested. "Thanks Mrs. Contres." He replied before stepping back. He bumped straight into Chet.
"Hey man." Chet greeted, warmly.
"What's this I hear about Randy having heart failure?" Frank asked immediately. Chet retracted a bit, startled. He recovered after a moment, noticing Frank expected an answer.
"I don't know. The Tritons had just gotten their first down in the second half of the game when Randy just let out this loud groan and collapsed on the field."
Frank shook his head, nauseous. "That can't be. I just spoke to him. He was fine."
"Well, he'll probably be all right." Chet assured him, not understanding Frank's uneasiness. "They need to run some tests though."
"No…it's just."
"What Frank? You seem to be on pins and needles all day."
"Who would want to hurt Randy?"
Chet shrugged. "Last time I heard, that line started with you and went around the block." The moment the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. Chet flushed and apologized.
Frank smiled slightly. "Don't apologize. You're right."
"So what next?"
Frank shook his head, eyes set and grim. "I have no idea."
Walking back to the van, he noticed the EMT loading Randy onto their vehicle. Seconds later it shot out into the darkness, bright red lights flashing, breaking the silent night.
"You look about as dazed as everyone else here."
Frank turned, recognizing the voice.
"Jules…"
"Lost your number one suspect today, huh?"
Frank smirked. "How did you know?"
"Wild guess." Jules went up and leaned against the van. "What're you going to do now?"
Frank shook his head. "Don't know."
"Do you know what happened with Randy?"
"Mrs. Contres said something about heart failure."
"For real? I doubt that. Anyone with heart problems can't play on the team, definitely not on varsity."
Frank shrugged. "It's not like we can check."
"Sure we can. I'm sure the school has some record of his physical on file."
Frank thought about it for a moment before responding gravely, "Where?"
"I'll show you."
***
"Joe?" Laura Hardy asked, peeking her head into the room of her younger son.
There was a brief moment of shuffling among the sheets until Joe emerged into her vision, eyes a bit droopy and his hair in a corkscrew.
He smiled wanly at his mother. "Hey mom. What's up?"
"It's Vanessa. She called again for you and I was thinking it was time you got up and said something to her."
Joe checked the clock. He had literally slept for 24 hours straight since the "incident" at school. Shrugging, we went into his closet and threw on a sweater over his sweatpants. "I will, mom."
Laura smiled and pinched Joe lightly on the cheek. "Good."
The living room was fairly empty, with Frank having rushed back to school without any real explanation except that he had to "check something," and their father buried in his office with work. Joe collapsed onto the sofa and laid there for a minute before reaching for the telephone.
It was picked up after only two rings with a tense, weary strewn "Hi."
Joe paused; swallowing a lump in his throat he didn't know had formed. "Vanessa?"
***
"Are you sure we can come in here?" Frank asked in disbelief as Jules flipped on the light switch for the nurse's office.
"I'm Mrs. Bascomb's assistant…so I come here a lot to file things for her. It's not a big deal. If we get caught, I'll tell them I was finishing up some work."
Frank shrugged. "Sounds good to me. Where's Randy's file?"
"All the sports consent forms and such are filed in these two cabinets," Jules replied, pointing to the cabinets in front of them.
Frank carefully slid one of the drawers open. "Carmichael…should be somewhere in the first drawer, right?"
Jules shrugged, turning away to look out for anyone coming. The hallway was empty. "I guess."
"So what's up between you and my brother?"
Jules turned her head slightly; only able to view the back of Frank's head from where he was crouched.
"What do you mean?" She asked, innocently.
"I saw the way you looked at one another."
"An expert on facial expressions, are you?" Jules replied, a bit incredulously.
Frank shrugged. "It's in my job description. Have you seen each other around before or something?"
"He'd say no…but yeah. Actually, we've been going to the same school since kindergarten…and we usually have at least one class together."
"But you've never spoken to him?"
Shrugging.
"Why?"
More shrugging.
"Well, I think I found it," Frank said after a moment of silence.
"What does it say?"
Frank opened the folder and flipped through a few documents. A sick note written in his handwriting signed by "his mom," the school release form for sport's players and finally…his physical.
"He's healthy as a horse." Frank replied, staring at the document hard.
"Looks like you've got the wrong guy then…if Randy's the guy who tried to hurt Joe, what's he doing laid up in the emergency room?" Jules asked.
"I don't know…Mind if I look any of the other files?"
Jules shrugged. "I don't care."
Frank flipped through the cabinet…Jerry Damascus, Eric Earnshaw, Sean Fisher…
"Thomas Harding."
"What do you want with his file?"
Frank's eyes darted up for a second. "Checking up on a lead."
Jules blinked, glaring at Frank in amusement.
Frank opened the file and flipped through its content. Jules continued to watch out for intruders, after a few minutes she grew restless and began to pace.
"Bingo." Frank said at last, a grin spreading over his face.
Jules walked over and peered over his shoulder curiously. "What?" she asked after a moment's silence.
"It says here that Thomas Harding has a prescription for barbiturates."
"What's going on?" Frank asked Melissa, spotting her amongst the crowd.
"It's Randy. He just passed out on the field." She replied, exasperated. Frank ran towards the field. "The EMT are there right now trying to resuscitate him!" Melissa called after him.
Pushing passed the crowd; he was stopped abruptly by Mrs. Contres yards before the field. Mrs. Contres was his European literature teacher; nice woman, just a slight bit naïve in Frank's opinion.
"I'm sorry, Frank, but no one's allowed on the field right now."
"What's going on? Is he okay?" Frank asked quietly.
Mrs. Contres wrapped a warm arm around Frank's shoulder.
"I don't know. I think they said he had some kind of heart failure."
"Heart failure?"
"Yes. Strange isn't it? I always thought that Randy was in the picture perfect of health."
Frank nodded, uninterested. "Thanks Mrs. Contres." He replied before stepping back. He bumped straight into Chet.
"Hey man." Chet greeted, warmly.
"What's this I hear about Randy having heart failure?" Frank asked immediately. Chet retracted a bit, startled. He recovered after a moment, noticing Frank expected an answer.
"I don't know. The Tritons had just gotten their first down in the second half of the game when Randy just let out this loud groan and collapsed on the field."
Frank shook his head, nauseous. "That can't be. I just spoke to him. He was fine."
"Well, he'll probably be all right." Chet assured him, not understanding Frank's uneasiness. "They need to run some tests though."
"No…it's just."
"What Frank? You seem to be on pins and needles all day."
"Who would want to hurt Randy?"
Chet shrugged. "Last time I heard, that line started with you and went around the block." The moment the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. Chet flushed and apologized.
Frank smiled slightly. "Don't apologize. You're right."
"So what next?"
Frank shook his head, eyes set and grim. "I have no idea."
Walking back to the van, he noticed the EMT loading Randy onto their vehicle. Seconds later it shot out into the darkness, bright red lights flashing, breaking the silent night.
"You look about as dazed as everyone else here."
Frank turned, recognizing the voice.
"Jules…"
"Lost your number one suspect today, huh?"
Frank smirked. "How did you know?"
"Wild guess." Jules went up and leaned against the van. "What're you going to do now?"
Frank shook his head. "Don't know."
"Do you know what happened with Randy?"
"Mrs. Contres said something about heart failure."
"For real? I doubt that. Anyone with heart problems can't play on the team, definitely not on varsity."
Frank shrugged. "It's not like we can check."
"Sure we can. I'm sure the school has some record of his physical on file."
Frank thought about it for a moment before responding gravely, "Where?"
"I'll show you."
***
"Joe?" Laura Hardy asked, peeking her head into the room of her younger son.
There was a brief moment of shuffling among the sheets until Joe emerged into her vision, eyes a bit droopy and his hair in a corkscrew.
He smiled wanly at his mother. "Hey mom. What's up?"
"It's Vanessa. She called again for you and I was thinking it was time you got up and said something to her."
Joe checked the clock. He had literally slept for 24 hours straight since the "incident" at school. Shrugging, we went into his closet and threw on a sweater over his sweatpants. "I will, mom."
Laura smiled and pinched Joe lightly on the cheek. "Good."
The living room was fairly empty, with Frank having rushed back to school without any real explanation except that he had to "check something," and their father buried in his office with work. Joe collapsed onto the sofa and laid there for a minute before reaching for the telephone.
It was picked up after only two rings with a tense, weary strewn "Hi."
Joe paused; swallowing a lump in his throat he didn't know had formed. "Vanessa?"
***
"Are you sure we can come in here?" Frank asked in disbelief as Jules flipped on the light switch for the nurse's office.
"I'm Mrs. Bascomb's assistant…so I come here a lot to file things for her. It's not a big deal. If we get caught, I'll tell them I was finishing up some work."
Frank shrugged. "Sounds good to me. Where's Randy's file?"
"All the sports consent forms and such are filed in these two cabinets," Jules replied, pointing to the cabinets in front of them.
Frank carefully slid one of the drawers open. "Carmichael…should be somewhere in the first drawer, right?"
Jules shrugged, turning away to look out for anyone coming. The hallway was empty. "I guess."
"So what's up between you and my brother?"
Jules turned her head slightly; only able to view the back of Frank's head from where he was crouched.
"What do you mean?" She asked, innocently.
"I saw the way you looked at one another."
"An expert on facial expressions, are you?" Jules replied, a bit incredulously.
Frank shrugged. "It's in my job description. Have you seen each other around before or something?"
"He'd say no…but yeah. Actually, we've been going to the same school since kindergarten…and we usually have at least one class together."
"But you've never spoken to him?"
Shrugging.
"Why?"
More shrugging.
"Well, I think I found it," Frank said after a moment of silence.
"What does it say?"
Frank opened the folder and flipped through a few documents. A sick note written in his handwriting signed by "his mom," the school release form for sport's players and finally…his physical.
"He's healthy as a horse." Frank replied, staring at the document hard.
"Looks like you've got the wrong guy then…if Randy's the guy who tried to hurt Joe, what's he doing laid up in the emergency room?" Jules asked.
"I don't know…Mind if I look any of the other files?"
Jules shrugged. "I don't care."
Frank flipped through the cabinet…Jerry Damascus, Eric Earnshaw, Sean Fisher…
"Thomas Harding."
"What do you want with his file?"
Frank's eyes darted up for a second. "Checking up on a lead."
Jules blinked, glaring at Frank in amusement.
Frank opened the file and flipped through its content. Jules continued to watch out for intruders, after a few minutes she grew restless and began to pace.
"Bingo." Frank said at last, a grin spreading over his face.
Jules walked over and peered over his shoulder curiously. "What?" she asked after a moment's silence.
"It says here that Thomas Harding has a prescription for barbiturates."