Fenton greeted Frank in the foyer when he arrived home. "What are those?" he asked as he led the way into the living room where Laura sat.
"Copies of the papers Mayhem left behind," Frank informed him. "But Chief Pennington wants them back."
"We need them photocopied," said Fenton.
"I'll take care of that," offered Laura, grateful to take an active part in finding her son. "There's a place two blocks from here with a copier that's open all night."
Frank waited until his mother had left before telling his dad about the blood in the basement and what else he had learned since leaving home earlier. "Did you find anything at the university?" asked Frank.
"Only that the man seems obsessed with werewolves," answered Fenton. "Since his arrival on campus he has checked out every book in the university library on the subject and even had the university bookstore order seven books on the subject for him. I did, however, get a copy of his personnel file and manage to obtain every previous address he had," Fenton added with a slightly preoccupied look.
"What?" asked Frank, watching his father's face closely.
"There's a gap in his history," Fenton informed Frank. "Several years ago he left the university he was teaching at with no forwarding address. His next address was in Scotland almost eight months later."
"Dad, you said Mayhem was obsessed with werewolves," Frank began a bit hesitantly.
"Your brother is not a werewolf," Fenton stated firmly, knowing what Frank was thinking and finding it a bit disconcerting that Frank could entertain such a notion. "Although, it is entirely possible Mayhem hypnotized him and made him believe he was one. There wasn't enough time to have brainwashed him."
"I should have listened when Joe said he didn't trust Mayhem," Frank berated himself. "I should never have left him alone with that creep."
"If anyone is to blame, it's me," Fenton told him, laying a comforting hand on Frank's shoulder. "Joe told me he didn't trust him too," he reminded Frank. "And I still gave my permission for you two to stay with him without more than a basic background search."
"What are going to do?" asked Frank, not feeling any better.
"Call up your friends," Fenton instructed. "Have each of them phone more friends and so on. That will start a chain reaction that should reach pretty far," he explained. "Give a description of Mayhem and the van and offer a hundred-dollar reward to anyone who can get us a location."
"Right," Frank agreed, liking the idea. "What are you going to do?"
"I am going to alert the authorities in each city where Mayhem has lived," replied Fenton. "He may try to return to familiar territory."
***
Joe opened his eyes and saw with despair that he was still a prisoner. He lifted his arms above his head and grabbed the metal cage he was in and shook it; but it didn't give. He reached to his side and tried shaking it there, but it would not budge either. He spotted the entrance just above his head and tried one last time.
Joe dropped his arms in defeat and looked around the room that held the cage he was confined it. The walls were made of wood so he was not in another basement. A cabin, perhaps? There was a couch against the far wall that looked like it could open up and make a bed and beside the sofa was a wooden end table with a kerosene lamp sitting on it.
Joe heard a noise but couldn't see above the built-in bar to tell what was going on. Unlike before, his current cell wasn't big enough for him to stand up in. The cage that imprisoned him now was only four inches above his head as he sat up and crossed his legs, waiting for Mayhem to show himself.
Mayhem came into view before long. "Where are we?" demanded Joe, his blue eyes fixed on the man with cold hatred.
"At a friend's cabin," Mayhem answered, a frown on his face as he heard Joe's stomach growling. "I suppose I had better feed you before we continue with our next experiment," he added as if talking to himself. "Why couldn't Jerry have had the place stocked?" he mumbled as he returned the way he had come.
A few minutes later, he returned with a syringe. "I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone," he told Joe, poking his hands through the cage and catching Joe's arm. He put a moist cotton ball on it and then injected him with the needle. "Unless you are asleep," he added as Joe's eyes began to droop. Mayhem stood up and tossed the used syringe into the wastebasket on his way out the front door.
***
Frank made his last phone call then went into the kitchen to scrounge up some dinner. He opened the fridge and smiled when he saw his mother had saved him a plate from the dinner she had obviously bought.
Frank nibbled a piece of the crust to figure out which chain she had purchased it from then popped it in the microwave. When the mike dinged, he removed the plate and poured himself a glass of milk. He had just finished his meal and returned to the living room when he heard a car door slam out front. He hurried to the door and opened it, cringing as he saw the face of the person coming to the door.
"Copies of the papers Mayhem left behind," Frank informed him. "But Chief Pennington wants them back."
"We need them photocopied," said Fenton.
"I'll take care of that," offered Laura, grateful to take an active part in finding her son. "There's a place two blocks from here with a copier that's open all night."
Frank waited until his mother had left before telling his dad about the blood in the basement and what else he had learned since leaving home earlier. "Did you find anything at the university?" asked Frank.
"Only that the man seems obsessed with werewolves," answered Fenton. "Since his arrival on campus he has checked out every book in the university library on the subject and even had the university bookstore order seven books on the subject for him. I did, however, get a copy of his personnel file and manage to obtain every previous address he had," Fenton added with a slightly preoccupied look.
"What?" asked Frank, watching his father's face closely.
"There's a gap in his history," Fenton informed Frank. "Several years ago he left the university he was teaching at with no forwarding address. His next address was in Scotland almost eight months later."
"Dad, you said Mayhem was obsessed with werewolves," Frank began a bit hesitantly.
"Your brother is not a werewolf," Fenton stated firmly, knowing what Frank was thinking and finding it a bit disconcerting that Frank could entertain such a notion. "Although, it is entirely possible Mayhem hypnotized him and made him believe he was one. There wasn't enough time to have brainwashed him."
"I should have listened when Joe said he didn't trust Mayhem," Frank berated himself. "I should never have left him alone with that creep."
"If anyone is to blame, it's me," Fenton told him, laying a comforting hand on Frank's shoulder. "Joe told me he didn't trust him too," he reminded Frank. "And I still gave my permission for you two to stay with him without more than a basic background search."
"What are going to do?" asked Frank, not feeling any better.
"Call up your friends," Fenton instructed. "Have each of them phone more friends and so on. That will start a chain reaction that should reach pretty far," he explained. "Give a description of Mayhem and the van and offer a hundred-dollar reward to anyone who can get us a location."
"Right," Frank agreed, liking the idea. "What are you going to do?"
"I am going to alert the authorities in each city where Mayhem has lived," replied Fenton. "He may try to return to familiar territory."
***
Joe opened his eyes and saw with despair that he was still a prisoner. He lifted his arms above his head and grabbed the metal cage he was in and shook it; but it didn't give. He reached to his side and tried shaking it there, but it would not budge either. He spotted the entrance just above his head and tried one last time.
Joe dropped his arms in defeat and looked around the room that held the cage he was confined it. The walls were made of wood so he was not in another basement. A cabin, perhaps? There was a couch against the far wall that looked like it could open up and make a bed and beside the sofa was a wooden end table with a kerosene lamp sitting on it.
Joe heard a noise but couldn't see above the built-in bar to tell what was going on. Unlike before, his current cell wasn't big enough for him to stand up in. The cage that imprisoned him now was only four inches above his head as he sat up and crossed his legs, waiting for Mayhem to show himself.
Mayhem came into view before long. "Where are we?" demanded Joe, his blue eyes fixed on the man with cold hatred.
"At a friend's cabin," Mayhem answered, a frown on his face as he heard Joe's stomach growling. "I suppose I had better feed you before we continue with our next experiment," he added as if talking to himself. "Why couldn't Jerry have had the place stocked?" he mumbled as he returned the way he had come.
A few minutes later, he returned with a syringe. "I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone," he told Joe, poking his hands through the cage and catching Joe's arm. He put a moist cotton ball on it and then injected him with the needle. "Unless you are asleep," he added as Joe's eyes began to droop. Mayhem stood up and tossed the used syringe into the wastebasket on his way out the front door.
***
Frank made his last phone call then went into the kitchen to scrounge up some dinner. He opened the fridge and smiled when he saw his mother had saved him a plate from the dinner she had obviously bought.
Frank nibbled a piece of the crust to figure out which chain she had purchased it from then popped it in the microwave. When the mike dinged, he removed the plate and poured himself a glass of milk. He had just finished his meal and returned to the living room when he heard a car door slam out front. He hurried to the door and opened it, cringing as he saw the face of the person coming to the door.