When Frank arrived home he found his mother had already gone to bed so he went upstairs to his father's office and rapped lightly on the door as he turned the knob and pushed it open.
Fenton looked up from the paper he was reading and gave his eldest son a fast smile. "Come on in and close the door," he welcomed Frank softly. "I don't want to awaken your mother."
"She's taking this hard," Frank said.
Fenton nodded. "She feels that she has let Joe down in some way," he said. "For that matter, so do I."
"That's ridiculous!" exclaimed Frank. "You and mom are the best parents ever!" he asserted forcefully.
Fenton gave Frank a sad smile. "That's not true," he denied. "But I am glad you feel that way. No, the truth of the matter is when Joe needs help or someone to talk with; he goes to you. Not us. You're more of a parental figure to him than your mother or I have ever been."
"Dad..." Frank began but was silenced by his father raising his hand.
"Don't get me wrong," Fenton begged. "I think it is wonderful that you two are so close but as your parents we should have taken a more active role. Do you know that Joe still hasn't discussed Iola's death with either Laura or me? I know he was hurt and needed to talk but I was afraid to push him. Now, if I even mention her Joe makes up some excuse and leaves."
"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Frank asked, his heart beating faster. "Joe lied? He really does have anorexia?"
"I don't know," Fenton quickly replied. "But even if he isn't anorexic, he acted recklessly and that's my fault for not being around as much as I should be."
"Dad, he made a mistake," Frank interrupted him at this point. "I admit, it was a doozie, but it was still only an error in judgment. You once told us that mistakes taught us a valuable lesson. Lessons that one day might save our lives."
"But he almost died!" Fenton retorted, his voice harsh. "He still might."
"You know Joe," Frank told him with a shake of his head. "Do you honestly believe he won't be faced with bigger challenges as he gets older? This could be the lesson that stops him from taking a risk that he would have no chance of surviving."
"I hope you're right," Fenton said, running a hand through his hair. "Sit down," he instructed. "I'll fill you in on what I found out."
"Was there a Crystal Lane?" Frank asked, taking a seat.
"There was," Fenton admitted. "And your brother even had a file with data he had collected on the case."
"What?" demanded Frank in shock.
"Your mother found it shortly after you left," explained Fenton. "She decided to clean his room and found it under his bed."
"Then why did you say you didn't think Joe was anorexic?" demanded Frank angrily. "You have proof he's not!"
"Frank, I read up on the disease while you and Joe were at the museum," Fenton explained calmly. "Sometimes the victim starts out losing weight for one reason but then can't stop. It's entirely plausible that although your brother did the wrong thing for the right reasons he could have become really ill."
Frank sank back into his chair, shaken. He hadn't even considered the fact that Joe could be telling the truth and sick at the same time. He swallowed. "If he is really sick and there is a murderer on the loose, then we need to be there to watch out for Joe," he said.
"And we will be," Fenton promised. "You are to don a disguise and apply for a job first thing Monday morning. I will..."
"Monday?" demanded Frank, leaping to his feet. "We can't leave him alone that long."
"We have too," Fenton said, looking as miserable as Frank felt. "No one looks for a job on Sunday." Frank bit his bottom lip in frustration and sat back down. "As I was saying," continued Fenton, "I will prepare your resume so you shouldn't have any trouble getting hired."
"What about you?" inquired Frank.
"I have to call in a few favors but I am going in as a state inspector," Fenton informed him. "That will give me access to almost everything."
"Almost?"
"The psychiatric files will still be off limits to me," Fenton answered.
"Right," said Frank. "Those will be my task."
"Only Crystal's and your brother's," Fenton cautioned him.
"Understood," acknowledged Frank.
"Crystal Lane was diagnosed as anorexic shortly after her sixteenth birthday," Fenton began. "She was admitted into the Wesley Lane Foundation in June of last year and she died on May first. There is nothing more about her that I could find but Joe's file held notes he had taken from talking to her aunt, although he doesn't have the aunt's name written down," he added, frowning.
"What did the aunt say?" Frank asked. His dad didn't know about Charity and he wanted to keep it that way if possible. It would only get Joe into more trouble even though Joe had no connection to her except when she chose to initiate one.
"Crystal had been doing well and was scheduled to be released the first week in May. But sometime after the last visit from her parents, something happened to her and she became almost completely docile. Joe put down that the aunt said she acted like she had no will of her own. The morning her parents were to arrive for the last visit before she was allowed to leave, she committed suicide."
Fenton quit speaking and reread Joe's notes. "This sounds like the aunt managed to see her between visits."
"Maybe she works there," suggested Frank. "What else have you got?" he asked quickly.
"A list of employees," Fenton said and handed a sheet of paper over to Frank. "Dr. Holden is Joe's doctor and Dr. Turner is the resident psychiatrist. There are three other doctors who rotate shifts but Dr. Holden is the man in charge, although there is a chairman who runs the financial and legal aspects of the center."
Frank looked at the list of names. Four doctors total, one psychiatrist, eight orderlies, and two nurses "Eight orderlies?" asked Frank in dismay. "I'll never get hired."
"Each patient gets one on one treatment," Fenton informed Frank. "And each patient has to be monitored every minute the are out of their rooms. I daresay they could use at least two more."
"Phil?" Frank asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Not just yet," Fenton declined the suggestion. "If we try an overload, someone might get suspicious." He glanced at his watch. "It's been a long day. Why don't you head on to bed?"
"All right," agreed Frank, standing up. "Goodnight," he said, heading out the door.
Fenton watched Frank leave and knew he wouldn't get much rest. He knew Frank worried about Joe more than anyone, himself and Laura included, and that was saying a lot. How was Frank going to make it through another twenty-four hours without seeing or talking to Joe?
Fenton's frown turned into a look of puzzlement before finally breaking into a smile of enlightenment. He picked up the phone and dialed Callie's number, hoping she was still awake.
"Callie? This is Frank's father," he said when she picked up.
"Hello, Sir," Callie said, grinning into the phone. Mr. Hardy always introduced himself as Frank's dad when he called. 'Like I wouldn't know him anyway,' she thought with rueful amusement.
"I was hoping you could do me a favor?" Fenton asked.
"Name it," she replied, wondering what it could possibly be. She listened silently as he talked. "Of course," she replied at once. "I think that's a wonderful idea!"
Fenton thanked her and hung up the phone. Feeling slightly better, he closed the folder, put it in his file cabinet, and went to bed.
Fenton looked up from the paper he was reading and gave his eldest son a fast smile. "Come on in and close the door," he welcomed Frank softly. "I don't want to awaken your mother."
"She's taking this hard," Frank said.
Fenton nodded. "She feels that she has let Joe down in some way," he said. "For that matter, so do I."
"That's ridiculous!" exclaimed Frank. "You and mom are the best parents ever!" he asserted forcefully.
Fenton gave Frank a sad smile. "That's not true," he denied. "But I am glad you feel that way. No, the truth of the matter is when Joe needs help or someone to talk with; he goes to you. Not us. You're more of a parental figure to him than your mother or I have ever been."
"Dad..." Frank began but was silenced by his father raising his hand.
"Don't get me wrong," Fenton begged. "I think it is wonderful that you two are so close but as your parents we should have taken a more active role. Do you know that Joe still hasn't discussed Iola's death with either Laura or me? I know he was hurt and needed to talk but I was afraid to push him. Now, if I even mention her Joe makes up some excuse and leaves."
"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Frank asked, his heart beating faster. "Joe lied? He really does have anorexia?"
"I don't know," Fenton quickly replied. "But even if he isn't anorexic, he acted recklessly and that's my fault for not being around as much as I should be."
"Dad, he made a mistake," Frank interrupted him at this point. "I admit, it was a doozie, but it was still only an error in judgment. You once told us that mistakes taught us a valuable lesson. Lessons that one day might save our lives."
"But he almost died!" Fenton retorted, his voice harsh. "He still might."
"You know Joe," Frank told him with a shake of his head. "Do you honestly believe he won't be faced with bigger challenges as he gets older? This could be the lesson that stops him from taking a risk that he would have no chance of surviving."
"I hope you're right," Fenton said, running a hand through his hair. "Sit down," he instructed. "I'll fill you in on what I found out."
"Was there a Crystal Lane?" Frank asked, taking a seat.
"There was," Fenton admitted. "And your brother even had a file with data he had collected on the case."
"What?" demanded Frank in shock.
"Your mother found it shortly after you left," explained Fenton. "She decided to clean his room and found it under his bed."
"Then why did you say you didn't think Joe was anorexic?" demanded Frank angrily. "You have proof he's not!"
"Frank, I read up on the disease while you and Joe were at the museum," Fenton explained calmly. "Sometimes the victim starts out losing weight for one reason but then can't stop. It's entirely plausible that although your brother did the wrong thing for the right reasons he could have become really ill."
Frank sank back into his chair, shaken. He hadn't even considered the fact that Joe could be telling the truth and sick at the same time. He swallowed. "If he is really sick and there is a murderer on the loose, then we need to be there to watch out for Joe," he said.
"And we will be," Fenton promised. "You are to don a disguise and apply for a job first thing Monday morning. I will..."
"Monday?" demanded Frank, leaping to his feet. "We can't leave him alone that long."
"We have too," Fenton said, looking as miserable as Frank felt. "No one looks for a job on Sunday." Frank bit his bottom lip in frustration and sat back down. "As I was saying," continued Fenton, "I will prepare your resume so you shouldn't have any trouble getting hired."
"What about you?" inquired Frank.
"I have to call in a few favors but I am going in as a state inspector," Fenton informed him. "That will give me access to almost everything."
"Almost?"
"The psychiatric files will still be off limits to me," Fenton answered.
"Right," said Frank. "Those will be my task."
"Only Crystal's and your brother's," Fenton cautioned him.
"Understood," acknowledged Frank.
"Crystal Lane was diagnosed as anorexic shortly after her sixteenth birthday," Fenton began. "She was admitted into the Wesley Lane Foundation in June of last year and she died on May first. There is nothing more about her that I could find but Joe's file held notes he had taken from talking to her aunt, although he doesn't have the aunt's name written down," he added, frowning.
"What did the aunt say?" Frank asked. His dad didn't know about Charity and he wanted to keep it that way if possible. It would only get Joe into more trouble even though Joe had no connection to her except when she chose to initiate one.
"Crystal had been doing well and was scheduled to be released the first week in May. But sometime after the last visit from her parents, something happened to her and she became almost completely docile. Joe put down that the aunt said she acted like she had no will of her own. The morning her parents were to arrive for the last visit before she was allowed to leave, she committed suicide."
Fenton quit speaking and reread Joe's notes. "This sounds like the aunt managed to see her between visits."
"Maybe she works there," suggested Frank. "What else have you got?" he asked quickly.
"A list of employees," Fenton said and handed a sheet of paper over to Frank. "Dr. Holden is Joe's doctor and Dr. Turner is the resident psychiatrist. There are three other doctors who rotate shifts but Dr. Holden is the man in charge, although there is a chairman who runs the financial and legal aspects of the center."
Frank looked at the list of names. Four doctors total, one psychiatrist, eight orderlies, and two nurses "Eight orderlies?" asked Frank in dismay. "I'll never get hired."
"Each patient gets one on one treatment," Fenton informed Frank. "And each patient has to be monitored every minute the are out of their rooms. I daresay they could use at least two more."
"Phil?" Frank asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Not just yet," Fenton declined the suggestion. "If we try an overload, someone might get suspicious." He glanced at his watch. "It's been a long day. Why don't you head on to bed?"
"All right," agreed Frank, standing up. "Goodnight," he said, heading out the door.
Fenton watched Frank leave and knew he wouldn't get much rest. He knew Frank worried about Joe more than anyone, himself and Laura included, and that was saying a lot. How was Frank going to make it through another twenty-four hours without seeing or talking to Joe?
Fenton's frown turned into a look of puzzlement before finally breaking into a smile of enlightenment. He picked up the phone and dialed Callie's number, hoping she was still awake.
"Callie? This is Frank's father," he said when she picked up.
"Hello, Sir," Callie said, grinning into the phone. Mr. Hardy always introduced himself as Frank's dad when he called. 'Like I wouldn't know him anyway,' she thought with rueful amusement.
"I was hoping you could do me a favor?" Fenton asked.
"Name it," she replied, wondering what it could possibly be. She listened silently as he talked. "Of course," she replied at once. "I think that's a wonderful idea!"
Fenton thanked her and hung up the phone. Feeling slightly better, he closed the folder, put it in his file cabinet, and went to bed.