Chapter 18
itsmeocean@hotmail.com
Homecoming
Frank leaned over the gearbox to help Joe push down the back of his seat. The sudden deterioration in Joe's health was a little worrisome and if it was up to Frank, he would drive his brother straight to the doctor and then to get some rest. Joe's forehead was burning and his breathing was irregular but, knowing Joe, he knew once Joe was set on doing something, he would be as difficult to move as a pig determined to remain in the mud.
"Better?"
Joe was now wheezing through his mouth- his closed eyelid quivered in spasms. "No… the freak did this… Hallie…" He waved his left hand limply at Frank, too enervated to talk.
Frank decided it was not up to Joe this time. They would work their souls dry to get Hallie back but it was pertinent that her father didn't die before seeing her. The short walk out of the desecrated place and back into their car had been torturous for Joe as he teetered and almost fell a few times. Frank had tried to get him to drink some water when they were back in the car but with each sip of the bottled water they bought from the airport, Joe gagged even more.
"I'm bringing you to the doctor. We passed by a row of stores on the way and I recalled seeing a clinic. And then, my dear brother, you're going to check into a hotel and rest. I'll handle the rest."
"No…" Joe's eyes fluttered open, overly startling, "Hallie… needs… me… I'm her… duddee…" Abruptly, Joe sat up and stuck his head out of the window, puking out more mess. For a moment there, Frank was extremely fearful that Joe was going to throw up his gut.
Gut. Frank heaved dryly at the memory of the corpse. They had tried their best to stop breathing until they reached their car. When they were out of the malodorous tomb, both brothers took in the fresh air like they hadn't breathed for twenty thousand years.
"Right. Her duddee is in no shape. You look like crap!" Frank reprimanded Joe sternly as he drove off carefully after Joe settled back down, not wanting to jerk the car unnecessary and upset Joe's weak stomach. With one hand on the wheel, he reached for his cell in his pant's pocket and hooked the earpiece over his ear before he realized that his phone battery had died on him.
"Damn!" He cursed softly. Now, he would have to trouble his brother who was drifting off into a much-needed rest. Nudging Joe's side gently, he whispered, "Joe… hey… kiddo…"
"Wuh…"
"Your phone?"
"Poeget…"
"Pocket…"
"Wight…" Joe mumbled before he dozed off again, unable to fight the fever anymore. Frank patted his brother's jeans' pocket and found the bulge of the phone. Drawing it out, he activated it while negotiating around a bend, telling himself that it was good that Callie was not around to witness his bad driving habits or he would be getting the third degree about how statistics proved that a significant number of traffic accidents occurred because the drivers were too preoccupied with cell phones.
"Hey… Joe… what's your pin?"
Joe shook his head feebly and Frank's gut twisted. He hated having to put Joe through all these inconveniences but he had no choice. He had to report the crime and get to Callie fast or she would worry. "No… bin…"
"Yes… there's a pin… your birthday? Birth year? You're always using your birth year, kiddo…you should change it."
"No…" Joe lifted his eyelids with extreme efforts, "Elle's bone…"
Joe crumbled into sick man's land and Frank left his brother alone, finally, to recharge.
At that mispronunciation, Frank let out a low chuckle. However, he also recognized that he would need to find a public phone fast.
He pulled up into a parking lot behind the row of shops a few streets down and tapped his brother's shoulder. "We're here. You're going to see a doctor."
"Huh?" Joe's eyes peeled open. "You're not doofawee…"
"Dang right I'm not the tooth-fairy. C'mon."
"Nooo…. Must bind Haawee… Fwank…No doe-duh"
"I know. I find her. You see doctor. Come." Frank unbuckled his brother's seatbelt and got out of the car before helping Joe climb out. Supporting a tottering Joe towards the clinic, he wondered if they would move faster if he carried Joe. But he also knew that Joe would never forgive him if he embarrassed him by cradling him like a baby when he could still walk.
After a brief but tedious walk, Frank finally made Joe comfortable on the clinic's waiting bench and was happy to find that there were no other patients lounging around. It was already seven twenty-five in the evening. Soon, it would be dark and Callie must be becoming paranoid. Even if she wasn't, he was anxious for her safety. He left Joe on the bench while he utilized the public phone right outside the clinic. He made a call to the local police, informing them about Donald Summers' death but he did not leave his name or number- his mind was already decided on the next course of action to take. Donald Summers did a lot of research on serial killers and, as part of his studies, he build up profiles of serial killers. The only logical link Frank could think of at this point about Donald Summers' death with consideration to Hallie's kidnap was that Hallie's kidnapper was not new in this business and Summers might have found out something dangerously incriminating which was why he must be silenced.
And that did not bode well for Hallie's fate. Donald Summers' sole obsession was with criminals whose sins and motives were beyond a normal, sane human being's comprehension. He enjoyed unraveling their dark secrets and wicked desires- exhilarated in the fact that he could study the killers like bugs under the microscope and dissect their minds with a surgeon's precision. If Hallie's kidnapper caught Summers' attention, most likely, the kidnapper was also a serial killer whose arrest had eluded the police- whose logic was far beyond common reach.
Since Summers' house showed no signs of any study desk and even a workstation, Frank had a strong hunch that he did most his work in his office and it was there Frank wanted to explore before the police had the chance. There was always time to revisit the gruesome crime scene or talk to the police about it.
He punched in Callie's number violently. The first three times he called her, he kept hearing the operator sounding too cheery for his liking, telling him that the subscriber was unable to take the call.
Pick up the phone, Cal! Damn! Why did I forget my spare batt?
Pick up the damn phone!
However, he glanced into the clinic and noted that the nurse was trying to wake Joe up to go into the doctor's office. With an unsettled heart, swallowing down his dilemma, Frank left the booth and attended to his brother.
***
"Fenton! This is Elle. Listen. The kidnapper wants to meet me alone at warehouse 18 of Water Cooper's Street in Porter's Bay at nine-thirty tonight. I need back-up but he's a shrewd one. He said Hallie would die if he sees the police or notice that I'm alone…"
"Don't worry, Elle. We cannot jeopardize Hallie's safety, that's the most important. Leave it in my hands."
"For security sake, I'm not going to meet you, nor am I going to wire myself in case he asked me to strip as some perverted goodwill. Callie will meet up with you. I trust your acumen in this, Fenton."
"Where's Frank and Joe?"
"They're in Pennsylvania, going after another lead. Both of them are not contactable."
The two girls marched hurriedly out of the almost empty, humble local airport. Bayport- Joe had promised Elle before that he would bring Elle to meet his famous father whom she was always in awe of and this was definitely not the circumstance that she wanted to acquaint herself with the illustrious private investigator. Bayport too was a quaint, almost confused city, and there was much to see and explore- right then, she was praying that she would not have to explore the Baptist Church's dressed in black.
She did not even believe in God that much. But Faith in the Almighty wouldn't hurt then. She just hoped that the God would hurry up and help them.
"I wonder if Frank checked his voice mail yet. The plane we're on is the last plane landing at Bayport tonight." Callie bit her lips anxiously. "And even if he's taking a plane to New York and then driving over, he won't make it in time…"
"We can handle this, Callie. Don't fret now. He might… well, sense your fear and worry. We can't let the boys worry for us." Elle took her hand and squeezed it to offer strength and to borrow hope. She had some martial arts background but she was definitely not an expert. Joe had taught her some finer points of street-fighting, even taught her how to use the gun effectively, being a marksman himself. But she had no gun and if the guy's as strong as Joe, she wondered if she could take him down if she needed to.
No. I must be confident of myself. Losing my confidence is losing the battle.
"I know. He's a little telepathic when it comes to me. I'll be strong. I have been in similar situations before." Callie propped her spirit up and smiled bravely as her eyes shone with renewed courage. The sliding doors made way for them and she patted Elle's hand.
"That's the cab Fenton called for us. Let's go."
They climbed into the cab and Callie told the driver to speed them to the Hardy's home first where Callie would meet up with Fenton before they go over together. Elle would arrive in Porter's Bay by herself. Before boarding their flight, they had some time to surf the net and she carved the route to the warehouse in her mind- not wanting to risk being late for even a second. As Callie rambled off the short-cuts to the Hardy's home, Elle couldn't help but feel her gut sinking with the realization that she was the fulcrum that would swerve the case either way- it was too much of a responsibility for an ordinary person though it was her time to perform some extraordinary miracle with nothing but her wits.
Wits. Where are you guys? Ok. All here.
Her heart pounded crazily against her chest though her sculptured face was a picture of calm. The driver, a ruddy face man, gave them the thumbs up and floored the accelerator, throwing the girls suddenly forward then back. Elle thought his tires would burn out rapidly.
Halfway down an empty lane, a dark figure suddenly jumped out from behind the bushes growing wild on both sides of the road. The cab screeched to a halt and Elle cursed Fate for throwing a suicidal nutcase literally in their path at this critical moment. Timing was quintessential- they were working on a very tight deadline. Though they didn't hear the sickening thud of metal against flesh and bones, the person didn't stand up either. It was almost as if he or she had just vanished. The cab driver weaved his brows with dread as he urgently unbuckled his seatbelt with fumbling fingers. Elle and Callie had already undone theirs, worried too that a life would be lost before the other one was saved.
"I'm sorry, ladies. I have to stop and help the man… I think the both of you should call for another cab," He gushed apologetically- clearly frantic about hurting or maybe even killing someone unintentionally. Elle sighed impatiently and was about to climb out of the cab after the driver who was already kneeling down in front of the cab, out of their sight, when Callie tapped her shoulder.
"Elle, you go first. You need to be on time. I'll call for a cab and an ambulance… and see if the man needs…"
Elle froze at the scene before her eyes, her bewilderment halted Callie's speech abruptly. Slowly, Callie turned her head to look at what had stunned Elle so. Elle gulped, her stomach withered as she realized they were in an ambush.
Callie seized her wrist in fear. This time, none of them could provide the other with strength.
The cab driver was standing up shakily with the man rising behind him like the dark shadows of a crow's wings, wrapping the cabbie with the embrace of death. The man was wearing a hood, like an executioner warped into their dimension from the dark ages.
The barrel of a gun was pressed against the side of the cabby's skull.
