Chapter 20

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Homecoming

The laughing moon mocked him at every bend; every sharp turning. He tried to escape away from him but it was omnipresent on that cloudless, suffocating night. God must have showered extra blessings on him as he recklessly drove through the traffic, heedless to his safety. He finally turned into the motel- he didn't even blink as the flashing neon "Vacant" sign lambasted his eyes.

"No time for that, Frank! How can you and Joe run into mobile phones trouble at this time!"

He let out a heavy breath, the tears that stung his heart refused to give him respite. Her sweet smile- the scent of her floral shampoo- he put her through this! If only he had stopped her from ever following them like a protective fiancé should have! Blood, her blood was found at the scene. The corpse, which the police had already identified to be Donald Summers' from his dental records, floated and merged into one gut twisting conclusion- this man was not only capable of murder; he was capable of torture.

He probably relished in it.

As he was on the phone with his father, the bricks that kept the children's bodies sunken crushed his heart. Strangely collected even after the call was disconnected and after the police called Robert Hayek to inform him of Donald Summers' dismiss, he bade Robert farewell and then made his way down to the Seven Eleven to pick up his phone. The first thing he noticed was the countless voicemail messages left for him. Callie's message was the most important- the story she told was gruesome even in its brevity. Joe would be more than interested to hear about it.

And then there was Simon Lee to call next. But first, he just wanted to get into the motel room and still his heart.

Callie hadn't said "I love you." He so wanted to say that to her again. What if he never had the chance?

"The blood type matches Callie's…"

He swung the car into an empty lot right in front of the room. The calmness was gone- his mind was in a mishmash of oatmeal and sludge as his soul was lost in a maze fraught with nightmares at every dead ends. His head was heavy- unbearable even. His throbbing forehead slammed down onto the car's horn.

"HEY! STOP THAT  RACKET!"

Gosh. I'm so sorry, darling. I'm so, so very sorry.

"YEAH! STOP THAT, YOU S.O.B!"

I'm so sorry… please… please be alive. I need you… I'll be nothing without you.

I love you.

***

"Frank?" Joe croaked huskily, his throat still a little dry. After some tossing and turning in those disjointed splotches of nightmares, his mind gave up trying to rest despite the drowsiness. Waking up screaming into an empty motel room when he thought he had unveiled a body bag to find Hallie's innocent, sleeping face done up garishly like a badly painted doll, he felt at once lost and even abandoned. He called out for Vanessa only to realize, with increasing lucidity of the mind, that she was already gone from his life for many years- yet, he still started every day with the same feeling of distress, perplexity and helplessness- the feelings that plagued him ever since the morning he woke up to find her wardrobe emptied and the baby's crib devoid of its adorable tenant.

She took with her everything that mattered to him in his life. It was rough, but he survived. It must have been tough for her too.

And they would get through this triumphant.

He tapped urgently on the windscreen- wondering if Frank had keeled over from carbon monoxide inhaling. Irate tenants were storming out of their rooms- their glaring eyes and furious cussing made them all clones of one another. Joe grinned at them, hoping the old Joe Hardy charm was still somewhere inside, while he pounded on the windscreen. Frank struggled up with bleary eyes staring into nowhere and Joe heaved a sigh of relief- his brother was probably just exhausted.

Doing the things I should be doing!

"It's ok! He got a little giddy! Thanks for your concern! You're all very kind-hearted people!" Joe waved goodbye to all them, desperately praying that they were not going to descend upon him with angry punches having lost sleep and other more interesting pursuits due to the noise. Muttering angry words under their breath, the tide of infuriated guests receded into the privacy of their own rooms.

Joe then indicated for Frank to roll down the car's window with a swirl of his right hand to which Frank complied.

"Hey, bro. Thanks for leaving me all alone in the motel… Frank? Hey, what's wrong with ya?"

Frank smiled wanly, flicking his hand at Joe, gesturing for him to step away. Joe jumped back and Frank climbed out of the car, listlessly locking it. "Nothing really. Don't worry your head over it. How's your fever?"

"It broke, I guessed. I'm not feeling that hot anymore… but my throat's still sore." As if to emphasize his point, Joe rubbed at his Adam's apple and cleared his throat, "I sound like a bullfrog."

Frank draped an arm across his shoulders and nodded emphatically as the two brothers made their way into the room. "I had heatstroke before… jogging under the hot sun for an hour. You should rest more."

"Don't worry, I will. I'm no longer a kid… I still feel oozy though. Maybe I should take my medication again."

"Not maybe. Now. It's time anyway." Frank chided him but there was a strange flatness in his tone. When they settled back into the motel room, Frank immediately laid back on his bed, something he never did before he showered after a long day's work.

"Bro… something's bothering you… any idiot can see…" Joe prompted his brother a little apprehensively- his heart stretched in two directions with fear of knowing and the desire to be informed. Frank simply stared up at the ceiling, looking like he had discovered some Universal Truth spelled out in the trailing cracks on the ghastly white plaster. Joe fumed- he was talking to a block of wood and it was not a good sign. His chest was constricted with frustration at his insipid brother. He felt helpless when he knew there was so much more to be done.

"Frank! C'mon. What's wrong? Can't find a phone charger?"

"Can't find a phone charger? Hah! How hiliarious!" Frank let out an odd, derisive laugh- he sounded disdainful in fact. Pressing his hands hard on his stomach, his body quivered with suppressed amusement.

Frank's incongruous reply startled him for a moment. With mouth gaping open, he wondered if his brother had suddenly snapped under the strain of having to work alone while he was sick. Worry hastily blasted through his veins when Frank suddenly covered his face with his hands and sobbed.

"Frank… hey… bro…" Joe stumbled out his bed to sit on the edge of Frank's. He laid a calming hand on Frank's shoulder, pressing his lips together in guilt at jumping on Frank when it was so obvious that his brother was under so much pressure.

"I'm sorry. What's wrong? We're partners right?"

"Boy… you're going to really hate this news! Guess what?" Frank uncovered his face- his voice pitched at a much higher, frivolous timbre. "While we were gone, Elle and Cal received a call from our friendly neighborhood kidnapper on your cell phone! Next, somehow, your girlfriend struck a deal with him and was supposed to meet him alone in some ramshackle warehouse. Callie's supposed to meet dad so they could go off separately to Porter's Bay to provide back-up for Elle. Wait, that's not all…here's the best part!" Frank threw his hands up in the air in the guise of an entertainer announcing the finale.

"They never showed! A cabby with piss-stained pants ran to the police station to report a case of mugging. His lady passengers were missing and it's the same cab that dad called for Elle and Callie…" His brother's voice plunged into a lowly ominous tone, "As fate would have it… blood found at the crime scene matched Callie's type."

Paralysis gripped Joe tightly as he sat extremely still on his bed. Elle and Callie-kidnapped. His brother- acting mad. Hallie- gone for too long.

His lower lip quavered with a dangerous hopelessness. There they were in Pennsylvania and those they cared about could be wiped off the face of the planet for all they knew! The shadow of bleakness was dispelled by the fire of rage. Frank! Frank shouldn't be acting crazy at this moment! He needed Frank more than ever. How dare Frank present him with a picture of poor faith now!

"Get up, you idiot! Stop wallowing!" Joe shook his brother's shoulders roughly. "You're always telling me stay calm and collected, to use my brains and not let my anger get the better of me. Now! You measure up to the same expectations you heap onto my shoulders, get that? Get up! Get up and wash that tired face! We have some rescuing to do and we will do it!"

Frank buried his face in his hands again as he groaned with the agony of self-inflicted guilt. "It's me, Joe. I placed her into this mess. I allowed her, without even a word of displeasure, to follow us. You don't understand… that woman! That woman will die for me! And I led her into the fiend's hands…"

"AND HOW DO YOU THINK I FEEL?" Joe railed at his brother, slapping him verbally with a sobering blow. "Hallie's still missing! Elle's my partner! Hell! Hallie's MY LIFE! I care for all them like you do so you have no right to give up on me now! You better tell me what you found out or I'll…I'll…" Joe's right fist, poised over Frank's stunned face, trembled with fury and shame.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Ten.

He unclenched his fist and abruptly jumped to his feet. Feeling feverish once again with the heady sense of confusion and blameworthiness, Joe sagged down onto the chair, folding his upper body onto the dressing table's top. The air was heavy with a familiar, weary silence- the only sounds to be heard were the ragged breathing of both brothers.

"The corpse's Summers. This is what I found out from his office. It seemed as if he was profiling a serial kidnapper…"

As he listened to his brother's monotonous recounting, Joe propped up his head and took in every word, his own mind racing for a glimmer of something. Looking away from his own sullen image in the mirror, he turned and faced Frank who was busily clicking away on his Palm with the same old determination and intellect radiating out from those deep brown eyes which never knew what the word, 'quit', meant.

Those same brown eyes he found the glimmer of hope from. Elle once sardonically told him that hope was the denial of reality and Joe had playfully countered her by saying that reality was but an illusion crafted by perception.

Frank's eyes which made contact with his for a fleeting moment was neither in denial nor delusional. They smoldered with everything his brother- the person he hero-worshipped since he was a baby most probably- was. And they glowed mutedly with the silent apology.

Joe could understand. Everyone could have their moments of vulnerability once in a while. Frank too was human, maybe more so than he was.

"I'm sorry, big bro." Joe spoke softly. Frank looked up from the Palm, irritated at being interrupted.

"Sh… listen carefully. I don't like to repeat myself. Maybe you'll like to sit nearer to me, so I don't have to raise my voice."

"Roger!" Joe sprung to his feet and scampered to his brother's side. Frank smiled at him resignedly, shaking his head.

"We're going to get him, right Frank?" Joe asked in a smaller voice, hoping Frank could inject him with the resolution he badly wanted to hear.

"Of course. Without question. We'll get him and he will taste justice. And we'll get our girls back alive, kiddo. They will come back to us alive and in one piece."