"What's taking so long?" demanded Laura jumping from the sofa and starting to pace.
"Mrs. Hardy, please?" begged Vanessa, rushing to her side and leading her back to the sofa. "You have to take it easy," she reminded her. "At least until tomorrow."
"She's right," Callie concurred, moving in on Laura's other side. "We don't know what kind of drug they used on you. It might have side effects."
"Pshaw!" Laura poopooed the notion although she did sit back down with the girls. "If there had been any danger I would have been sent to the hospital."
"Mom!" Frank called out, entering the house with his dad at that moment.
"Thank goodness!" breathed Laura, leaping to her feet once again and hurrying to the front door with the girls right behind her.
"Joe?" Laura asked fearfully when she didn't see him.
"He hasn't turned up yet," Fenton said, taking her into his arms and holding her.
"Any leads?" asked Vanessa as the group returned to the living room.
"Not much," Frank replied, running a hand through his hair. "Turner's address and Holden's were fakes but two of the orderlies, who we think might be involved in the kidnapping, are missing. Chief Collig has their homes under surveillance."
"What about Lyman?" demanded Laura. "That horrid man has to know where my baby is."
"I don't think so," Fenton said, shaking his head. He told Laura and the girls about his conversation with Lyman. "While Frank was contacting Collig and Lyman was looking for Graves and Seagram, I did a little check. Lyman's son was one of the victims of the hypnotist the boys put away this past year."
"There has to be something you can do," Laura insisted.
"Right now, all we can do is wait for one of them to turn up."
***
"Hello, Joseph," said Holden, entering Joe's room later. "It's time for your physical."
Joe never moved. He remained curled up in the ball he had been in when Turner and Holden had left him almost two hours earlier.
Holden moved to Joe's bed and pulled the spread off of him. Joe began shivering as the added warmth was removed without warning. Holden took hold of Joe's arm and pulled him to a sitting position. "Come along, now," Holden said. "Jack's fixing dinner so we need to get you checked out before it's done."
"You..you're going to fe..feed me?" asked Joe, his words slow.
"Of course," Holden answered. "But we are no longer under the restraints of the foundation's regulations so you only have to eat what you want too."
Joe remained quiet while Holden gave him his physical. When it was over and he had been weighed and given his evening's medication, he accompanied Holden out of the room and back down the stairs through the living room and down a short hallway into the kitchen where three places had been set at a small table.
Joe's stomach churned as Turner set a plate laden with potato chips and a Dogwood style sandwich in front of Holden. A matching entree was set at Turner's seat and then a small salad made with lettuce, tomato and carrot strips was set in front of him. There was no salad dressing but it didn't matter...he wasn't really hungry.
Joe picked up his fork and moved the food around, separating the different items into little piles. He took a deep breath and took a bite of the lettuce. As expected, it had a twangy taste. His own saliva had tasted like metal for some time and he realized it was probably his medication causing the effect.
He chewed slowly and swallowed, his face contorting unintentionally as he imagined the bits floating down his throat only to land in the empty cavity of his stomach with a thud. He knew they didn't want him to eat. but he also knew that unless he did he would never get well enough to escape. He took another bite, chewing a little faster.
If only he could get to a phone! He could call home and have his dad trace the number. As he fought down another bite, he knew it was his only chance. But how was he going to get out of his room to get near a phone?
Joe ate a little more but put his fork down before even a third of the salad was gone. He had eaten all he could. He wanted to eat more. He just couldn't do it. He looked at the salad sadly, hoping it was the pills he had just been given that had sent his appetite away.
Turner and Holden finished their meal in silence. When they were done, Holden stood up. "I'll take care of the dishes," he volunteered.
"Excellent," Turner replied with a smile as he looked at Joe. "Joe and I will go ahead and begin our session now."
"Forget it," Joe told him with as much force as he could muster. "I'm not helping you."
"Of course not," Turner agreed. "It's my job to help you."
Joe snorted and shook his head. "You don't have a choice," Holden stated before moving away from the table.
Turner stood up, moved to Joe's side and pulled him to his feet. "Come along," he instructed. "We can do this in the living room."
Turner released Joe in front of the sofa then sat down in the armchair to Joe's right. "Sit down," he ordered Joe who was still standing.
Joe scanned the room, his eyes lingering for only a split second on the telephone near the window before turning back to Turner. With a scowl, Joe sat down. He might have to be there but there was no way he would talk. 'Let's see him turn my words against me when I don't give him any ammunition,' Joe thought smugly.
"Where shall we begin today?" Turner asked. Joe sat still, his gaze locked on his own reflection on the screen of the television.
Turner's lips twitched in silent amusement. Joe obviously thought silence would help him avoid the session. "Joe, I think we should start with the deteriorating relationship between you and your brother," Turner said, his eyes narrowing in contentment as he observed the agitated jerk in Joe's jaw.
"Obviously, you aren't as important to him as you once were," Turner continued. "I mean, where was he when your mother came to pick you up? Was he in the car waiting?" Turner paused. "No, he was at home or, perhaps, at school?"
"No," Joe denied, unable to stop himself from defending his brother. "He was there."
"You don't know," Turner reminded him. "You can't remember. But," he stressed the word. "But Graves and Seagram were there. They took you from the passenger seat of your mother's car. They only had to drug one person to do it: your mother. No one else was there. Not your brother. Not your friends. Not even your father."
"They were...were busy," Joe stuttered, starting to get upset.
Turner pushed on, aware the depressants were helping to make Joe more insecure than he already was. "Too busy for you," he said. "Just like they were too busy this summer to notice how sick you were getting."
Joe paled. "I...I feel sick," he said. "Can...can I go...go to the bathroom, please?" he asked, a single tear trickling down his cheek.
"Of course," Turner agreed. "Come along," he added standing up. He led Joe out of the living room and down the hallway to a large bathroom. Joe went inside and opened the toilet. As Joe began retching Turner closed the door to give him some privacy and hurried down the hall to the kitchen.
"Are you sure we can separate the presence of the depressants when we dissect his genes?" Turner asked Holden.
"Of course," Holden answered. "The process is very precise. Are you done already?" he asked, surprised to see Turner so soon.
"Joe got sick," Turner answered. "But I suppose I had better get back to him."
***
"I'm going to call the station," Fenton said as dinnertime rolled around. "Maybe we can at least get a warrant to search Graves' and Seagram's residences."
"Without cause?" Frank asked. "Just because they're gone doesn't mean they had anything to do with the crime," he added, mimicking Chief Collig's voice perfectly. "You know they will say that. Let's just go and sneak in," he suggested instead.
Before Fenton could respond, the phone rang. Laura reached it first. "Hello," she answered, gripping the receiver tight , her eyes widening as the voice came through on the other end.
***
Turner left the kitchen and returned to the bathroom. He rapped on the door but got no response. Frowning, he pushed it open, expecting to see Joe lying on the floor but was shocked to see it empty. "Dean!" he shouted for Holden, racing toward the living room. He was certain Joe had to of left that way and he was equally certain Joe couldn't get far in his current condition.
Turner reached the living room and crashed into Joe who fell to the floor, the phone's receiver leaving his hand to lie in the floor beside him. "What did you think you were doing?" Turner thundered, glaring at the youth that hadn't the energy to get up.
Turner snatched the phone and put it to his ear. Smiling, he hung up. "Sorry, kid," he said. "Whoever you were trying to call should consider call waiting."
"Mrs. Hardy, please?" begged Vanessa, rushing to her side and leading her back to the sofa. "You have to take it easy," she reminded her. "At least until tomorrow."
"She's right," Callie concurred, moving in on Laura's other side. "We don't know what kind of drug they used on you. It might have side effects."
"Pshaw!" Laura poopooed the notion although she did sit back down with the girls. "If there had been any danger I would have been sent to the hospital."
"Mom!" Frank called out, entering the house with his dad at that moment.
"Thank goodness!" breathed Laura, leaping to her feet once again and hurrying to the front door with the girls right behind her.
"Joe?" Laura asked fearfully when she didn't see him.
"He hasn't turned up yet," Fenton said, taking her into his arms and holding her.
"Any leads?" asked Vanessa as the group returned to the living room.
"Not much," Frank replied, running a hand through his hair. "Turner's address and Holden's were fakes but two of the orderlies, who we think might be involved in the kidnapping, are missing. Chief Collig has their homes under surveillance."
"What about Lyman?" demanded Laura. "That horrid man has to know where my baby is."
"I don't think so," Fenton said, shaking his head. He told Laura and the girls about his conversation with Lyman. "While Frank was contacting Collig and Lyman was looking for Graves and Seagram, I did a little check. Lyman's son was one of the victims of the hypnotist the boys put away this past year."
"There has to be something you can do," Laura insisted.
"Right now, all we can do is wait for one of them to turn up."
***
"Hello, Joseph," said Holden, entering Joe's room later. "It's time for your physical."
Joe never moved. He remained curled up in the ball he had been in when Turner and Holden had left him almost two hours earlier.
Holden moved to Joe's bed and pulled the spread off of him. Joe began shivering as the added warmth was removed without warning. Holden took hold of Joe's arm and pulled him to a sitting position. "Come along, now," Holden said. "Jack's fixing dinner so we need to get you checked out before it's done."
"You..you're going to fe..feed me?" asked Joe, his words slow.
"Of course," Holden answered. "But we are no longer under the restraints of the foundation's regulations so you only have to eat what you want too."
Joe remained quiet while Holden gave him his physical. When it was over and he had been weighed and given his evening's medication, he accompanied Holden out of the room and back down the stairs through the living room and down a short hallway into the kitchen where three places had been set at a small table.
Joe's stomach churned as Turner set a plate laden with potato chips and a Dogwood style sandwich in front of Holden. A matching entree was set at Turner's seat and then a small salad made with lettuce, tomato and carrot strips was set in front of him. There was no salad dressing but it didn't matter...he wasn't really hungry.
Joe picked up his fork and moved the food around, separating the different items into little piles. He took a deep breath and took a bite of the lettuce. As expected, it had a twangy taste. His own saliva had tasted like metal for some time and he realized it was probably his medication causing the effect.
He chewed slowly and swallowed, his face contorting unintentionally as he imagined the bits floating down his throat only to land in the empty cavity of his stomach with a thud. He knew they didn't want him to eat. but he also knew that unless he did he would never get well enough to escape. He took another bite, chewing a little faster.
If only he could get to a phone! He could call home and have his dad trace the number. As he fought down another bite, he knew it was his only chance. But how was he going to get out of his room to get near a phone?
Joe ate a little more but put his fork down before even a third of the salad was gone. He had eaten all he could. He wanted to eat more. He just couldn't do it. He looked at the salad sadly, hoping it was the pills he had just been given that had sent his appetite away.
Turner and Holden finished their meal in silence. When they were done, Holden stood up. "I'll take care of the dishes," he volunteered.
"Excellent," Turner replied with a smile as he looked at Joe. "Joe and I will go ahead and begin our session now."
"Forget it," Joe told him with as much force as he could muster. "I'm not helping you."
"Of course not," Turner agreed. "It's my job to help you."
Joe snorted and shook his head. "You don't have a choice," Holden stated before moving away from the table.
Turner stood up, moved to Joe's side and pulled him to his feet. "Come along," he instructed. "We can do this in the living room."
Turner released Joe in front of the sofa then sat down in the armchair to Joe's right. "Sit down," he ordered Joe who was still standing.
Joe scanned the room, his eyes lingering for only a split second on the telephone near the window before turning back to Turner. With a scowl, Joe sat down. He might have to be there but there was no way he would talk. 'Let's see him turn my words against me when I don't give him any ammunition,' Joe thought smugly.
"Where shall we begin today?" Turner asked. Joe sat still, his gaze locked on his own reflection on the screen of the television.
Turner's lips twitched in silent amusement. Joe obviously thought silence would help him avoid the session. "Joe, I think we should start with the deteriorating relationship between you and your brother," Turner said, his eyes narrowing in contentment as he observed the agitated jerk in Joe's jaw.
"Obviously, you aren't as important to him as you once were," Turner continued. "I mean, where was he when your mother came to pick you up? Was he in the car waiting?" Turner paused. "No, he was at home or, perhaps, at school?"
"No," Joe denied, unable to stop himself from defending his brother. "He was there."
"You don't know," Turner reminded him. "You can't remember. But," he stressed the word. "But Graves and Seagram were there. They took you from the passenger seat of your mother's car. They only had to drug one person to do it: your mother. No one else was there. Not your brother. Not your friends. Not even your father."
"They were...were busy," Joe stuttered, starting to get upset.
Turner pushed on, aware the depressants were helping to make Joe more insecure than he already was. "Too busy for you," he said. "Just like they were too busy this summer to notice how sick you were getting."
Joe paled. "I...I feel sick," he said. "Can...can I go...go to the bathroom, please?" he asked, a single tear trickling down his cheek.
"Of course," Turner agreed. "Come along," he added standing up. He led Joe out of the living room and down the hallway to a large bathroom. Joe went inside and opened the toilet. As Joe began retching Turner closed the door to give him some privacy and hurried down the hall to the kitchen.
"Are you sure we can separate the presence of the depressants when we dissect his genes?" Turner asked Holden.
"Of course," Holden answered. "The process is very precise. Are you done already?" he asked, surprised to see Turner so soon.
"Joe got sick," Turner answered. "But I suppose I had better get back to him."
***
"I'm going to call the station," Fenton said as dinnertime rolled around. "Maybe we can at least get a warrant to search Graves' and Seagram's residences."
"Without cause?" Frank asked. "Just because they're gone doesn't mean they had anything to do with the crime," he added, mimicking Chief Collig's voice perfectly. "You know they will say that. Let's just go and sneak in," he suggested instead.
Before Fenton could respond, the phone rang. Laura reached it first. "Hello," she answered, gripping the receiver tight , her eyes widening as the voice came through on the other end.
***
Turner left the kitchen and returned to the bathroom. He rapped on the door but got no response. Frowning, he pushed it open, expecting to see Joe lying on the floor but was shocked to see it empty. "Dean!" he shouted for Holden, racing toward the living room. He was certain Joe had to of left that way and he was equally certain Joe couldn't get far in his current condition.
Turner reached the living room and crashed into Joe who fell to the floor, the phone's receiver leaving his hand to lie in the floor beside him. "What did you think you were doing?" Turner thundered, glaring at the youth that hadn't the energy to get up.
Turner snatched the phone and put it to his ear. Smiling, he hung up. "Sorry, kid," he said. "Whoever you were trying to call should consider call waiting."