Chapter 12
Homecoming
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Frank stood by the entrance to their house. The sweat which plastered his T-shirt to his back was making him suffer from the prickling, summer's itch. The door had already swung close after Fenton gone in with Chief Collig. Most likely, his father would be the bearer of terrible tidings to their mother, Vanessa and Greg. He could see it in his mind now, how Fenton would sit beside the distressed mother, holding her slender hand in his large, strong but rather wrinkled ones, and break the news with a stoic face and steady voice. Then Vanessa would collapse into Greg's embrace while Laura would try to put on a brave front which would be betrayed by trembling lips and watery eyes. And Fenton would go forward and hold her and the two women would cry.
He had witnessed similar scenes before. During two of the 'missing persons' cases which he accompanied his dad on, the subject they were asked to find by anxious family members turned out dead. And it was in this manner which Fenton broke the news. But they never got too emotional- a flaw or a blessing, Frank would never know. All he knew was he could become jaded. With a solemn tip of their hats, they would leave the families to their grief.
And move on to the next case- the next person who needed their help. Every time a death occurred, they would send a wreath and a card to offer condolences. For closer clients, they would even attend the funeral.
Frank had learned how to handle such consequences but he knew Joe would never be able to just detach himself away from cases after they were closed. But he also knew that Hallie would not be a missing person whose death he could stomach and Joe, already too easily involved emotionally with the cases they took on in the past together, may just turn berserk.
"Aren't you going to come in?"
"No. Not yet. She'll be crying." Joe leaned against Frank's Lexus and stared dismally at the ground. "I can't bear to…" He flipped his fringe which lazily curtained half his over his forehead eyes- sweat and an earlier downpour which did spread to the forest, thankfully, had matted down those rebelling spikes.
Slowly, Frank made his way to his kid brother, searching for some words of comfort but none would come visit his tongue. He needed to hear them himself- to believe in them and to piece together the shredded canvas of hope. Perhaps it was really in giving that he received for as he draped a reassuringly arm across his brother's quivering shoulders, he felt a little calmer too. But it was not the peace of mind that everything would be all right- no. Frank would keep his hope but he would not succumb to delusions. It was the collectedness he needed to still his heart so his mind could work properly.
"…to see her cry." Joe whispered achingly before looking up with muted blue eyes seeking quietly for unquestioning understanding. "Can you just stay here with me for a while, big bro?"
Frank squeezed his shoulder and nodded silently. When no words could be spoken, Frank could offer the companionship of mere presence.
Which, in such trying moments, might be the best gift he could present to his kid brother.
***
The clock ticked.
They have been gone far too long and there was still no call. She knew where the water hole was as well. She had wanted to follow but they thought that it could get dangerous. Bluntly put, they figured that they would have more chance trying to save one rather than two lives. The depths of a mother's anxiety and anguish kept her pride from being bruised- there just wasn't time and energy for self-wallowing and she didn't want to delay the mission. So there she was, in the Hardys' living room with her husband holding on to her, giving her support- of not emotional then physical. He had, thankfully, understood enough to not pursue her show of concern for her ex- husband. Whatever it was, she couldn't handle such petty arguments and he would be less of a man if he put her through such ordeals. She had not known where she found the strength to offer her estranged ex comfort when she badly needed some herself.
At that moment, she and Joe were kindred spirits. The only comfort they wanted could not be found in kind words or sympathetic eyes. What could soothe their frayed nerves and lift their crushed spirits was having Hallie wrapped in their arms alive, warm and ever so playful.
The clock ticked.
The trip will take at least an hour and a half. Then there's the rescuing to be done. And the return trip.
But… but it's already four odd hours. Surely they would have called if Hallie's safe…
Did something go wrong? A gun fight? Is Hallie shot? Killed?
Why didn't they call?
No! Good thoughts. Good thoughts.
She clasped her hands together in a silent, perpetual prayer. Over and over again she beseeched God to keep her daughter safe. Waiting by the phone was the most tormenting task she had ever undertaken. Perhaps she had been too cool, too collected but it was the only way she knew of how to deal with the heart-wrenching mix of emotions churning in the pits of the stomach. She had believed that no one would be so perverse such they would want to hurt a little girl whose eyes simply radiated with so much innocence and goodness- a child through and through.
She had hoped that Hallie had simply wandered lost and was found when Chief Collig called her earlier to ask her to congregate at the Tudor-styled house. But the sinister phone call spoke volumes about the dire straits her daughter was in. Her eyelids were so heavy as she did not sleep a wink at all last night but even with the daunting weight of lethargy, she could not close them for more than a second. Her guilt, anxiousness and frustration kept her up, causing her to teeter along in a nightmarish patchwork of fear-conjured images. After the phone call, whatever she had dreamt of last night while her eyes were opened was tamed in comparison.
The clock ticked.
Greg squeezed her shoulder. Her forehead throbbed and she could not think properly anymore. Laura, in the kitchen fixing some drinks, worrying for not only her granddaughter but also all three men in her life, was still a pillar of strength. Such stoic courage, Vanessa knew, could only be borne out of her harrowing experiences as the wife of a self-sacrificing private detective and now, mother of two investigators who had no qualms risking their lives to save others. The older lady emerged from the kitchen with not a hair out of place and a smile on her slightly trembling lips. She placed two cups of spicy, pungent tea on the coffee table.
"Ginger tea. It'll calm your nerves." Laura soft eyes hooded with understanding and there was no judgment at all. She rubbed Vanessa's hands reassuringly. "Especially you. Your hands are so cold."
"Thanks." She squeaked, almost bursting into tears. The clock's second hand was sluggish in its movements. Time seemed to be slowly losing energy and drawing close to a standstill. The men were not back yet- her baby was not by her side yet. No calls. Nothing.
Nothing.
Laura gave her hands a final squeeze and it was with that sudden pressure that she was shocked back to reality. Vanessa saw Laura smiling kindly at Greg and vaguely heard her say, "Your wife's a very brave woman."
"I know…" There was an element of poignant pride in Greg's smooth, velvety voice. "Thanks for everything. I'm sorry but we're all worried here. Is Fenton the sort who will wait until he comes home before breaking any news, good or bad?"
"No… he isn't." Laura stammered a little but she could not lie to them, to herself, even at this time. Her crestfallen mien lifted up in a hopeful smile almost instantly though. "But we must have faith. Maybe… maybe Hallie's found and they've forgotten there are three worrywarts back here in their elation. Come, drink the tea." Laura cajoled them weakly and moved away to sit in the middle of the long couch. Strength and courage were receding fast from her. Downcast blue eyes stared at somewhere faraway and anxiety twitched the corners of her lips uncontrollably. As Vanessa watch Laura sinking in the couch, her two hands grasping the hot mug of tea as if she was gathering comfort from its warmth, she knew, with a plummeting gut, that Fenton Hardy would never forget to call his wife, no matter how happy he was.
And even if they would all forget, Joe would not. No matter how rough the friction between the both of them, Joe would never give her any cause for worry if he could help it.
The clock ticked.
Greg tried to get her to drink the tea but she refused, knowing it would only burn down her throat like molten lava. Laying her overwrought mind on his shoulder, a drop of tear seeped down from the side of her left eye, spreading dampness on the material of his atypically rumpled shirt.
The door creaked open after another prolonged wait. The sky had taken on its purplish pink hue in its transition phase between day and night. A wearied Fenton trudged in followed by an apologetic Chief Collig close behind. They did not even have to say anything; their expressions spoke the truth about the failure of the rescue operation.
The clock ticked.
Fenton shook his head at Laura dejectedly but still with that dignity that came with wisdom. Vanessa sat up, watching his every movement with fixated eyes begging him to break some news most contrary to his expression.
Hallie… baby… You're outside, aren't you? Tell mommy it's just a prank… please…
He stood in front of her and leaned over, taking her shivering hands into his. "Ness, I want you to be strong. We can't find Hallie but we have other means of tracking the kidnapper out…"
Greg held her tighter as if he as afraid her quavering frame would fly into bloody pieces right before everyone's eyes. He had always treated Hallie like she was his own, taught her to play baseball, taught her to swim and spent nights reading to her with the patience of still waters under the onslaught of her incessant questionings. Vanessa could feel his heart pounding faster and harder against her body.
We can't find Hallie.
Then she couldn't feel nor hear anything anymore. All that was being repeated in her mind was Fenton's low, fatherly voice telling her what she did not want to hear. His composure had cracked when he began, his voice breaking at some parts.
We can't find Hallie.
The clock stopped ticking.
