The List
Chapter Fourteen
Joe spun around and saw a black clad figure holding a gun on him. "How are you planning on faking my death this time?" Joe asked with more bravado than he felt.
"No more faking," the person replied, his voice hauntingly familiar even though he was obviously trying to disguise it. "After all, there's no longer a need for it."
"What do you mean?" Jeo asked, his eyes narrowing.
"I'm not stupid," he spat at Joe. "I know when I'm losing."
"So, you're here to turn yourself in?" Joe inquired.
A harsh laugh erupted from behind the mask. "Oh no, my friend," he told Joe. "I'm here for insurance."
"Insurance?" Joe asked in confusion.
"You," stated Joe's uninvited guest.
"Who are you?" Joe demanded.
"Haven't figured it out yet, bright boy?" the intruder sneered. Joe didn't answer. "Turn around and flip the alarm back off," Joe was ordered with a wave of the gun.
Joe turned around, reached up, and turned the alarm off. "Where are you taking me?" Joe had time to ask before he felt the butt of the gun smash onto the back of his head. Joe fell to the floor unconscious.
When Joe came to, he couldn't move, see or speak. Something had been shoved into his mouth and then it had been taped. His eyes had tape around them and Joe dreaded taking it off because it had been wrapped firmly all around his head, clinging tightly to his hair covered scalp.
His legs were spread apart but his ankles had been secured to something, he couldn't decide what, that wouldn't allow him to budge. His back was resting against what felt like a pipe of some kind and his arms had been brought behind and his wrists taped together.
He could even feel layers of tape wrapping his chest and arms tightly to the pipe. He had no idea where he was but he did know one thing. If he wasn't rescued, he would never get free.
Trying to keep calm, he thought about the case. But, instead of trying to remember the eyes of the killer, he decided to replay the last few days in his mind--but in reverse. Beginning with the kitchen surprise, he began his trip back through time.
When Frank arrived home, Miller was sitting on the front steps. Frank frowned as he climbed out of the van. Miller jumped to his feet and came running over. "Do you people always leave when you're expecting someone?" he demanded angrily.
"Joe's here," Frank told him. "Why didn't you knock?"
"I..." Miller started, but broke off as a blue sedan pulled in beside the van and Mr. Hardy got out.
"I did knock," Miller said when Mr. Hardy reached them. "Both doors. Several times, but no...." he broke off again as Frank and Mr. Hardy took off at a run for the house.
"I've got the front," Mr. Hardy said, pulling out his keys. Frank took off for the back, removing his keys from his pocket as he went.
When Frank got inside, he could hear his dad running up the stairs. Frank left the kitchen and headed through the dining room toward the living room, but something on the dining room table caught his eye.
Frank walked over and picked it up. "Dad!" he yelled, racing from the dining room through the living room to the bottom of the stairs where Miller had come inside and waited, a curious look on his face.
Mr. Hardy came to the top of the stairs and looked down, his fear for Joe evident on his face. "He's kidnapped Joe," Frank said, looking up at his father with bright eyes.
Mr. Hardy raced down the steps and took the sheet of paper from Frank's hand and read the scribbled message.
If you want to see Joe again, stop all investigation on the high school murders and the
jewelry store robbery.
"Dad?" Frank asked.
Mr. Hardy shook his head at Frank, then turned to Miller. "Please call the police and ask to speak with Sergeant Con Riley. Tell him what you had planned to tell me."
"Okay," Miller agreed, looking at Mr. Hardy's face closely. "Don't you want to know about it?" he asked.
"I refuse to put my son's life in jeopardy," Mr. Hardy asserted. "Just see Sergeant Riley, please," he requested, ushering the man outside.
Mr Hardy turned and looked at Frank after Miller had gone. "Where are the other three boys?" he asked.
Frank shook his head. "I don't know," he replied. "Mr. Wissel said Aaron was in his room, but when I looked, he was gone. Tim hadn't gotten home or called. His mom called some of his friends, but they hadn't seen him since school. And no one was at Ralph's place," Frank concluded.
If possible, Mr. Hardy's face grew even darker. He leaned close to Frank's ear. "The hosue may be bugged," he said. "Go to Callie's and call everyone together. I'll be along soon and let everyone know what they can do to help."
Frank nodded and turned to leave but paused and turned back around. "Where did mom go?" he whispered.
"She went to the Perry's," Mr. Hardy informed him. "Sarah Perry is an old friend of your mother's."
"I bet they are really messed up about Fred's murder," Frank said quietly, thinking not only about Fred and the others who had died but also the ones who were missing, especially Joe.
Frank drove to Callie's and parked the van. By the time he reached the steps, Callie had opened the door and was waiting for him to ascend.
"I thought you would be working on the case," she commented, opening the screen door so he could enter.
"I am," Frank replied. "Joe's missing," he said, causing Callie to gasp. "And so are the other three boys on the list," he added. "Dad thinks our place may be bugged, so he wants us to call everyone and have them meet here, if that's all right?"
"Callie, get your cel phone and call the girls," Mr. Shaw ordered from the entryway to the living room. He had overheard Frank and intended to help. "Frank, you can use the living room phone and call the guys. I'll go help Karen fix some sandwiches," he added, leaving the room.
"My dad likes you and Joe," Callie told Frank, smiling.
"It's mutual," Frank replied as Callie ran up the stairs to get her phone.
In less than an hour, all the Hardy's closest friends were gathered in the living room of Callie's house. Mr. Hardy had just arrived and now everyone sat waiting expectantly.
Mr. Hardy and Frank brought everyone up to date on the case. Mr. Hardy concluded with some disturbing news even Frank hadn't heard. "Tim Wyman's body was found floating in the Bayport River less than fifteen minutes ago," he said solemly.
Mr. Hardy looked at Frank, his face apologetic. "I know what the note said," he told Frank. "But this person is leaving no witnesses. Whether we try and find him or not, he's going to kill Joe, if he hasn't already."
Frank swallowed the lump in his throat, nodding his head in agreement. Callie took his hand and squeezed it in silent support.
"I called Chief Collig," Mr. Hardy continued. "Since Aaron nor Ralph have turned up, and considering the circumstances, an APB has been put out on them without the nessecary twenty-four hour waiting period. Also, their homes are being searched on the off chance our killer dropped a clue at one of their houses."
"What do you want us to do?" Vanessa asked him.
"Vanessa, Callie, Liz, I would like you girls to meet with Principal Dylan, Patty, and Amy at the school. Go through lockers and files of all the students who are in the Creative Expression class. They are waiting on you," Mr. Hardy told them.
"Right," Vanessa said, standing up and wiping the tears from her eyes. "We'll go in my car," she told the others who agreed with the plan.
"Call here if you find out anything," Mr. Shaw said. "We'll be the base of operations," he added, glancing over at Mr. Hardy who smiled with gratitude.
"Phil, you and Biff, head down to the jewelry shop. Talk to Mr. Parrapet again. Maybe you can find something the police missed," Mr. Hardy ordered.
"Tony and Chet, I want you two to go to the Sommers and see what you can find out about Craig's death. Did he have any visitors or calls," Mr. Hardy ordered the two.
"Frank, go back home," he told his son. "We didn't look for clues to Joe's abduction. And check Joe's things," he added. "There may be something in his backpack or notebook about the class he may have missed."
"I'm on my way," Frank said, standing up. "What are you going to do?" Frank asked after the others had left.
"I'm going down to Kevin Miller's pawn shop," Mr. Hardy answered. "Con told me what Miller had told him. There's a strong possibility he can identify the killer. I borrowed your yearbook," he added, getting in his own car.
"Well, Big Man," sneered the killer in Joe's ear. "Know who I am yet?"
Knowing it didn't matter if he knew or not, Joe nodded. Joe felt the tape ripped from his mouth and he spat out the thing in his mouth.
"Okay, Big Man, who am I?" the voice demanded.
"R...Ralph," Joe whispered, his throat dry.
"Maybe you've got more brains than I gave you credit for," Ralph said, running the blunt part of a butcher's knife across Joe's cheek.
"Do you know why I singled you and those other kids out?" Ralph demanded.
"The ring," Joe relplied. "The stolen ring from the jewelry store. You put it on the desk in class that day. Then you knocked the chair behind me over so everyone would look away while you hid it," Joe said. "But that wasn't good enough. You weren't sure if any of us had seen it, so you decided to kill us."
"That's right," Ralph agreed.
"But why the suicide angle?" Joe asked, his head tilted to one side. "You didn't bother with Craig."
"That's because I didn't know what kind of class it was until I overheard your brother telling someone about it and how worried he was about you," Ralph said.
"But you screwed up when you tried it with me," Joe told him. "I would never kill myself."
Ralph smacked Joe hard across the face then shoved the wad of cloth back into Joe's mouth and covered it with tape again.
"You may have figured it all out," Ralph snarled. "But no one else will." He grabbed Joe's shirt and cut the top of it with the knife, then used his hands to rip it the rest of the way.
"Your dad and brother don't follow instructions very well," Ralph told Joe. "It's time to teach them a little lesson in the course I like to call Killing Blondie 101."
Ralph brought the knife to the base of Joe's throat and began a downward cut, ending at Joe's navel. When he had finished, the knife, Joe's chest and the ragged edges of Joe's shirt were covered in blood.
Chapter Fourteen
Joe spun around and saw a black clad figure holding a gun on him. "How are you planning on faking my death this time?" Joe asked with more bravado than he felt.
"No more faking," the person replied, his voice hauntingly familiar even though he was obviously trying to disguise it. "After all, there's no longer a need for it."
"What do you mean?" Jeo asked, his eyes narrowing.
"I'm not stupid," he spat at Joe. "I know when I'm losing."
"So, you're here to turn yourself in?" Joe inquired.
A harsh laugh erupted from behind the mask. "Oh no, my friend," he told Joe. "I'm here for insurance."
"Insurance?" Joe asked in confusion.
"You," stated Joe's uninvited guest.
"Who are you?" Joe demanded.
"Haven't figured it out yet, bright boy?" the intruder sneered. Joe didn't answer. "Turn around and flip the alarm back off," Joe was ordered with a wave of the gun.
Joe turned around, reached up, and turned the alarm off. "Where are you taking me?" Joe had time to ask before he felt the butt of the gun smash onto the back of his head. Joe fell to the floor unconscious.
When Joe came to, he couldn't move, see or speak. Something had been shoved into his mouth and then it had been taped. His eyes had tape around them and Joe dreaded taking it off because it had been wrapped firmly all around his head, clinging tightly to his hair covered scalp.
His legs were spread apart but his ankles had been secured to something, he couldn't decide what, that wouldn't allow him to budge. His back was resting against what felt like a pipe of some kind and his arms had been brought behind and his wrists taped together.
He could even feel layers of tape wrapping his chest and arms tightly to the pipe. He had no idea where he was but he did know one thing. If he wasn't rescued, he would never get free.
Trying to keep calm, he thought about the case. But, instead of trying to remember the eyes of the killer, he decided to replay the last few days in his mind--but in reverse. Beginning with the kitchen surprise, he began his trip back through time.
When Frank arrived home, Miller was sitting on the front steps. Frank frowned as he climbed out of the van. Miller jumped to his feet and came running over. "Do you people always leave when you're expecting someone?" he demanded angrily.
"Joe's here," Frank told him. "Why didn't you knock?"
"I..." Miller started, but broke off as a blue sedan pulled in beside the van and Mr. Hardy got out.
"I did knock," Miller said when Mr. Hardy reached them. "Both doors. Several times, but no...." he broke off again as Frank and Mr. Hardy took off at a run for the house.
"I've got the front," Mr. Hardy said, pulling out his keys. Frank took off for the back, removing his keys from his pocket as he went.
When Frank got inside, he could hear his dad running up the stairs. Frank left the kitchen and headed through the dining room toward the living room, but something on the dining room table caught his eye.
Frank walked over and picked it up. "Dad!" he yelled, racing from the dining room through the living room to the bottom of the stairs where Miller had come inside and waited, a curious look on his face.
Mr. Hardy came to the top of the stairs and looked down, his fear for Joe evident on his face. "He's kidnapped Joe," Frank said, looking up at his father with bright eyes.
Mr. Hardy raced down the steps and took the sheet of paper from Frank's hand and read the scribbled message.
If you want to see Joe again, stop all investigation on the high school murders and the
jewelry store robbery.
"Dad?" Frank asked.
Mr. Hardy shook his head at Frank, then turned to Miller. "Please call the police and ask to speak with Sergeant Con Riley. Tell him what you had planned to tell me."
"Okay," Miller agreed, looking at Mr. Hardy's face closely. "Don't you want to know about it?" he asked.
"I refuse to put my son's life in jeopardy," Mr. Hardy asserted. "Just see Sergeant Riley, please," he requested, ushering the man outside.
Mr Hardy turned and looked at Frank after Miller had gone. "Where are the other three boys?" he asked.
Frank shook his head. "I don't know," he replied. "Mr. Wissel said Aaron was in his room, but when I looked, he was gone. Tim hadn't gotten home or called. His mom called some of his friends, but they hadn't seen him since school. And no one was at Ralph's place," Frank concluded.
If possible, Mr. Hardy's face grew even darker. He leaned close to Frank's ear. "The hosue may be bugged," he said. "Go to Callie's and call everyone together. I'll be along soon and let everyone know what they can do to help."
Frank nodded and turned to leave but paused and turned back around. "Where did mom go?" he whispered.
"She went to the Perry's," Mr. Hardy informed him. "Sarah Perry is an old friend of your mother's."
"I bet they are really messed up about Fred's murder," Frank said quietly, thinking not only about Fred and the others who had died but also the ones who were missing, especially Joe.
Frank drove to Callie's and parked the van. By the time he reached the steps, Callie had opened the door and was waiting for him to ascend.
"I thought you would be working on the case," she commented, opening the screen door so he could enter.
"I am," Frank replied. "Joe's missing," he said, causing Callie to gasp. "And so are the other three boys on the list," he added. "Dad thinks our place may be bugged, so he wants us to call everyone and have them meet here, if that's all right?"
"Callie, get your cel phone and call the girls," Mr. Shaw ordered from the entryway to the living room. He had overheard Frank and intended to help. "Frank, you can use the living room phone and call the guys. I'll go help Karen fix some sandwiches," he added, leaving the room.
"My dad likes you and Joe," Callie told Frank, smiling.
"It's mutual," Frank replied as Callie ran up the stairs to get her phone.
In less than an hour, all the Hardy's closest friends were gathered in the living room of Callie's house. Mr. Hardy had just arrived and now everyone sat waiting expectantly.
Mr. Hardy and Frank brought everyone up to date on the case. Mr. Hardy concluded with some disturbing news even Frank hadn't heard. "Tim Wyman's body was found floating in the Bayport River less than fifteen minutes ago," he said solemly.
Mr. Hardy looked at Frank, his face apologetic. "I know what the note said," he told Frank. "But this person is leaving no witnesses. Whether we try and find him or not, he's going to kill Joe, if he hasn't already."
Frank swallowed the lump in his throat, nodding his head in agreement. Callie took his hand and squeezed it in silent support.
"I called Chief Collig," Mr. Hardy continued. "Since Aaron nor Ralph have turned up, and considering the circumstances, an APB has been put out on them without the nessecary twenty-four hour waiting period. Also, their homes are being searched on the off chance our killer dropped a clue at one of their houses."
"What do you want us to do?" Vanessa asked him.
"Vanessa, Callie, Liz, I would like you girls to meet with Principal Dylan, Patty, and Amy at the school. Go through lockers and files of all the students who are in the Creative Expression class. They are waiting on you," Mr. Hardy told them.
"Right," Vanessa said, standing up and wiping the tears from her eyes. "We'll go in my car," she told the others who agreed with the plan.
"Call here if you find out anything," Mr. Shaw said. "We'll be the base of operations," he added, glancing over at Mr. Hardy who smiled with gratitude.
"Phil, you and Biff, head down to the jewelry shop. Talk to Mr. Parrapet again. Maybe you can find something the police missed," Mr. Hardy ordered.
"Tony and Chet, I want you two to go to the Sommers and see what you can find out about Craig's death. Did he have any visitors or calls," Mr. Hardy ordered the two.
"Frank, go back home," he told his son. "We didn't look for clues to Joe's abduction. And check Joe's things," he added. "There may be something in his backpack or notebook about the class he may have missed."
"I'm on my way," Frank said, standing up. "What are you going to do?" Frank asked after the others had left.
"I'm going down to Kevin Miller's pawn shop," Mr. Hardy answered. "Con told me what Miller had told him. There's a strong possibility he can identify the killer. I borrowed your yearbook," he added, getting in his own car.
"Well, Big Man," sneered the killer in Joe's ear. "Know who I am yet?"
Knowing it didn't matter if he knew or not, Joe nodded. Joe felt the tape ripped from his mouth and he spat out the thing in his mouth.
"Okay, Big Man, who am I?" the voice demanded.
"R...Ralph," Joe whispered, his throat dry.
"Maybe you've got more brains than I gave you credit for," Ralph said, running the blunt part of a butcher's knife across Joe's cheek.
"Do you know why I singled you and those other kids out?" Ralph demanded.
"The ring," Joe relplied. "The stolen ring from the jewelry store. You put it on the desk in class that day. Then you knocked the chair behind me over so everyone would look away while you hid it," Joe said. "But that wasn't good enough. You weren't sure if any of us had seen it, so you decided to kill us."
"That's right," Ralph agreed.
"But why the suicide angle?" Joe asked, his head tilted to one side. "You didn't bother with Craig."
"That's because I didn't know what kind of class it was until I overheard your brother telling someone about it and how worried he was about you," Ralph said.
"But you screwed up when you tried it with me," Joe told him. "I would never kill myself."
Ralph smacked Joe hard across the face then shoved the wad of cloth back into Joe's mouth and covered it with tape again.
"You may have figured it all out," Ralph snarled. "But no one else will." He grabbed Joe's shirt and cut the top of it with the knife, then used his hands to rip it the rest of the way.
"Your dad and brother don't follow instructions very well," Ralph told Joe. "It's time to teach them a little lesson in the course I like to call Killing Blondie 101."
Ralph brought the knife to the base of Joe's throat and began a downward cut, ending at Joe's navel. When he had finished, the knife, Joe's chest and the ragged edges of Joe's shirt were covered in blood.