Chapter 7
"Here they are," Frank announced, carrying a pile of folders from his father's study. "There are seven cases and the court order. Two files for everyone."
He gave each of his friends two folders and sat down on the sofa, scanning his own files, "I have a case and the court decision."
"What are we looking for in particular?" Phil asked, looking through the first few pages of his folder.
"Connection between the places where he kept them," Frank replied. "Well, just try to find what you think can be useful," he said, pushing the worst thoughts off his mind.
Everyone sat in complete silence for about 20 minutes, absorbed in reading. However, Biff found it hard to concentrate on what he was studying for he couldn't stop himself from thinking with dread how a human being could do all those terrible things.
His first file was about an 8-year-old girl from Delaware. One day her parents reported her missing after she had not come back home after school. Three days later the police was called by a man who refused to introduce himself and told them where to find the girl. The body was found in a small wooden hut in the forest. Angelina Brown's parents had to bury her in pieces.
The other victim Biff read about was William Scott, a 42-year-old businessman from Maryland. One morning he left home to go to work and it was the last time his wife saw him alive. His quartered body was found in a deserted house in the suburbs.
As much as he wanted to, but Biff saw no connection between the two cases, except for the way the two were murdered. Newman first cut off fingers and toes, then palms and feet, then went up to elbows and knees. If the victim still lived – like William Scott – Newman quartered them completely.
Biff had to swallow as the cold shiver ran up and down his spine. Why did he do all that? What had driven him into starting all those meaningless, merciless murders? What reasons did he have to choose those 2 particular people? Just then he remembered his two friends were missing now and his blood ran cold at the thought of what was to come. This time Newman did have a reason – revenge, and Biff dreaded to think what could be on his mind. He silently to every god above for neither of his friends to get hurt and go through that kind of hell, yet, he was ninety-nine percent sure his prayers, if heard, were belated...
He shot a glance at Frank who had his eyebrows knitted in one line as his eyes scanned the papers in his hands. Biff couldn't see his eyes, but he could tell by the paleness of his face he was terrified.
His eyes caught a movement o his right, Tony had finished reading. He swallowed and shook his head as he looked back at Biff. Moments later Frank and Phil finished, too.
"So...." Fran said, his voice noticeably quivering. "W-what do we have?"
Tony swallowed before replying, "Emma Fletcher, 26, a sales manager at a recruiting agency in New York. Was married and had a 5-year-old daughter. Found in hut in a forest outside New York after 3 days. And..." Tony took the other file, "Yakky Einkinnen, a 21-year-old student from Finland. He studied in Philadelphia, his friends reported him missing after he'd been absent for two days, the next day his body was found in one of the campus accommodations in the basement. What makes me wonder is what those people did to him? He couldn't just kidnap them and...and... I mean, there should have been a reason!" Everyone looked at him, silent. "What?"
"No, Tony, you're right, he should have had a reason," Frank said. "But it seems as he was doing it all to his heart's content...."
"People don't just start meaningless murders, do they?" Tony insisted.
"According to this," Frank showed one of his folders, "he had a psychological trauma of some kind that drove him into doing that, at least, his lawyer said so.... I'll have to ask Dad for clarification. Phil, what's in your files?"
"Erm, a 15-year-old teen from Maryland, Mike Tyler. He was quicker that time, it took him two days to- to do you know what, he was found in a garage outside the town he lived in. And the other one is Henry Adams, 52, a professor from Boston University. He was a widower, Newman killed him in his own apartment."
Frank sighed, "And I have Barbara Woods, a divorced housewife from Bridgeport, New York, found in her house. The other file is the court decision. Newman was found guilty of murdering 7 people and was sentenced to life imprisonment. There's nothing about his biography or whatever.... All we know is why he has Joe and Chet, however I have no idea why he wanted them both... What do we know about the places where he kept his victims?"
"Different from what I heard," Tony said glumly.
"Fabulous," Frank hissed and leaned back in the sofa.
"No, as far as I remember there were two huts somewhere in forests? And then a house and a garage somewhere in the suburbs. So, it must be a place outside Bayport," Phil said. "Besides, if he escaped just yesterday, he couldn't plan it out too well, it must be the first place he thought was...." He searched for the right word, "suitable for...for...."
"He may have a point," Biff nodded. "I mean, there are woods around Bayport, you could ask foresters if they saw anyone in the area.... Frank?"
Frank had a far away look on his face. When Phil snapped his fingers in front of his nose, he answered, "I'm listening... Yeah, you're right. I guess I better call Dad and tell him...."
Frank was barely able to dial the right number with his shaking hands and closed his eyes, waiting for the reply. Seven people, killed bestially for no apparent reason. If Newman did that with innocent people, what will he do, seeking for revenge?..
"Hello?" a low voice of Fenton Hardy interrupted Frank's horrifying thoughts.
"Dad, it's me," Frank said, his voice composed. "We thought of something here," he told him what'd they thought about deserted places in suburbs.
"Yeah, we figured it out, too," Fenton agreed. "Collig is calling foresters now, checking if they had seen anyone in the dark sedan in the area."
"Any luck?" Frank asked hopefully.
There was a heavy sigh on the other end, "Not yet. But this is something to start with anyway.. If it weren't for the weather and the night, there would have been more officers, searching for them. Unfortunately, we can't comb the forests at night...."
Frank felt the knot in his stomach double. "Dad, can I ask you a couple of questions?" he asked, breaking the eerie silence. "Why did he start doing such things, what was the trigger and how did you catch him?"
"When a student, he was very much indulged in drugs and drinks. His parents pulled him through, though, and he returned to life. He got married to Barbara Woods, soon she got pregnant. But there must have been major changes to his system after all the stuff, so his kid was born deformed, the boy had no fingers or toes. He had a serious brain defect and lots of other problems. He lived only three months," Fenton said. "I guess that drove him over the edge, his first victim was his wife, he blamed her for the baby's illness and death."
"Barbara Woods?" Frank re-asked. "She was his wife?"
"Yeah, she didn't take his surname.... He killed six more people out of his own motives, but we never could understand how he chose them – I mean there was a little girl and a man in his years. He refused to explain it," Fenton sighed. "Newman's lawyer tried to get an insanity plea, but the committee of psychological experts found him quite sane and he was imprisoned. And that's all the story."
"I see," Frank felt sick. "How did you catch him?"
"I didn't," Fenton's voice became glum. "Newman is a careless driver. We caught him when he ended up in a car crash."
There was a long pause between them. Frank felt despair seize his heart, they couldn't wait for a crash, which could never happen, to catch him! They needed to get him now!
"Frank, we'll find them. Bayport is a small town, we have an idea where to look for him. The police will start to comb the town and the environs since early morning. Plus, Collig thought of showing his photo in the morning news, asking people to call the police if they had seen him. We'll find the guys!..."
"What state are they going to be in when you find them?" Frank suddenly shouted into the receiver.
Three pairs of surprised eyes stared at him. There was no sound coming for the other end of the line. Frank knew he was on the edge of nervous breakdown – his brother and friend were in grave danger and they talked about tomorrow morning. Tomorrow will come long hours later, the time was more than enough for Newman to maim them for life.
"Frank, calm down," there was a pleading note in Fenton's voice. "I understand you, but we have to hold on."
"Hold on? It's not some two unknown people we're talking about! Do you seriously think I can hold on, knowing we'll have to wait till morning – morning, mind you! – to just start to do something."
"Frank, I know it's not some two unknown people we're talking about," Fenton's voice betrayed sadness he was trying to hide. There was a long pause before he went on. "If there was something else we could do we would."
Frank swallowed bitter tears that rose in his throat. He opened his mouth to say something, but words failed him. He shook his head, "Impossible...This is impossible. We can't wait!"
"If you have a better idea what we can physically do in the dead of such a stormy night, I'm all ears," Fenton said glumly.
Frank opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. He racked his brains for an answer, there should have been something they could do, stormy night or not. But whatever it was, it remained unknown to the despaired 18-year-old. "Blast it..." he whispered into the receiver, blank hopelessness in his heavy heart. "This is so crazy."
"Sad, but true," Fenton had to agree. "Listen, I'll finish my business with the Chief in five minutes, I'll be home in fifteen minutes. Talk to you there, okay?"
"Okay," Frank said quietly. "And I'm sorry."
"It's okay, son, I understand. I'm almost on my way."
Frank put the receiver down and bowed his head into his hands.
"What did he say?" Tony asked quietly when Frank hadn't said a word.
Frank told them about their conversation. "He's coming home soon," he said, taking a deep breath in and leaning back in his chair.
The three looked helplessly at each other, knowing they couldn't say anything to make Frank feel better. The room fell into silence again.
"Do you want tea?" Biff asked meekly.
Everyone nodded silently and the teen disappeared into the kitchen.
"Frank, how are you?" Phil asked.
"I...I just can't stop thinking about what he may be doing to them at the very moment. We've lost so much time, he must have already....already...." Frank put his face into his hands, struggling with tears.
Without a word, Tony put a comforting hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently.
"Here they are," Frank announced, carrying a pile of folders from his father's study. "There are seven cases and the court order. Two files for everyone."
He gave each of his friends two folders and sat down on the sofa, scanning his own files, "I have a case and the court decision."
"What are we looking for in particular?" Phil asked, looking through the first few pages of his folder.
"Connection between the places where he kept them," Frank replied. "Well, just try to find what you think can be useful," he said, pushing the worst thoughts off his mind.
Everyone sat in complete silence for about 20 minutes, absorbed in reading. However, Biff found it hard to concentrate on what he was studying for he couldn't stop himself from thinking with dread how a human being could do all those terrible things.
His first file was about an 8-year-old girl from Delaware. One day her parents reported her missing after she had not come back home after school. Three days later the police was called by a man who refused to introduce himself and told them where to find the girl. The body was found in a small wooden hut in the forest. Angelina Brown's parents had to bury her in pieces.
The other victim Biff read about was William Scott, a 42-year-old businessman from Maryland. One morning he left home to go to work and it was the last time his wife saw him alive. His quartered body was found in a deserted house in the suburbs.
As much as he wanted to, but Biff saw no connection between the two cases, except for the way the two were murdered. Newman first cut off fingers and toes, then palms and feet, then went up to elbows and knees. If the victim still lived – like William Scott – Newman quartered them completely.
Biff had to swallow as the cold shiver ran up and down his spine. Why did he do all that? What had driven him into starting all those meaningless, merciless murders? What reasons did he have to choose those 2 particular people? Just then he remembered his two friends were missing now and his blood ran cold at the thought of what was to come. This time Newman did have a reason – revenge, and Biff dreaded to think what could be on his mind. He silently to every god above for neither of his friends to get hurt and go through that kind of hell, yet, he was ninety-nine percent sure his prayers, if heard, were belated...
He shot a glance at Frank who had his eyebrows knitted in one line as his eyes scanned the papers in his hands. Biff couldn't see his eyes, but he could tell by the paleness of his face he was terrified.
His eyes caught a movement o his right, Tony had finished reading. He swallowed and shook his head as he looked back at Biff. Moments later Frank and Phil finished, too.
"So...." Fran said, his voice noticeably quivering. "W-what do we have?"
Tony swallowed before replying, "Emma Fletcher, 26, a sales manager at a recruiting agency in New York. Was married and had a 5-year-old daughter. Found in hut in a forest outside New York after 3 days. And..." Tony took the other file, "Yakky Einkinnen, a 21-year-old student from Finland. He studied in Philadelphia, his friends reported him missing after he'd been absent for two days, the next day his body was found in one of the campus accommodations in the basement. What makes me wonder is what those people did to him? He couldn't just kidnap them and...and... I mean, there should have been a reason!" Everyone looked at him, silent. "What?"
"No, Tony, you're right, he should have had a reason," Frank said. "But it seems as he was doing it all to his heart's content...."
"People don't just start meaningless murders, do they?" Tony insisted.
"According to this," Frank showed one of his folders, "he had a psychological trauma of some kind that drove him into doing that, at least, his lawyer said so.... I'll have to ask Dad for clarification. Phil, what's in your files?"
"Erm, a 15-year-old teen from Maryland, Mike Tyler. He was quicker that time, it took him two days to- to do you know what, he was found in a garage outside the town he lived in. And the other one is Henry Adams, 52, a professor from Boston University. He was a widower, Newman killed him in his own apartment."
Frank sighed, "And I have Barbara Woods, a divorced housewife from Bridgeport, New York, found in her house. The other file is the court decision. Newman was found guilty of murdering 7 people and was sentenced to life imprisonment. There's nothing about his biography or whatever.... All we know is why he has Joe and Chet, however I have no idea why he wanted them both... What do we know about the places where he kept his victims?"
"Different from what I heard," Tony said glumly.
"Fabulous," Frank hissed and leaned back in the sofa.
"No, as far as I remember there were two huts somewhere in forests? And then a house and a garage somewhere in the suburbs. So, it must be a place outside Bayport," Phil said. "Besides, if he escaped just yesterday, he couldn't plan it out too well, it must be the first place he thought was...." He searched for the right word, "suitable for...for...."
"He may have a point," Biff nodded. "I mean, there are woods around Bayport, you could ask foresters if they saw anyone in the area.... Frank?"
Frank had a far away look on his face. When Phil snapped his fingers in front of his nose, he answered, "I'm listening... Yeah, you're right. I guess I better call Dad and tell him...."
Frank was barely able to dial the right number with his shaking hands and closed his eyes, waiting for the reply. Seven people, killed bestially for no apparent reason. If Newman did that with innocent people, what will he do, seeking for revenge?..
"Hello?" a low voice of Fenton Hardy interrupted Frank's horrifying thoughts.
"Dad, it's me," Frank said, his voice composed. "We thought of something here," he told him what'd they thought about deserted places in suburbs.
"Yeah, we figured it out, too," Fenton agreed. "Collig is calling foresters now, checking if they had seen anyone in the dark sedan in the area."
"Any luck?" Frank asked hopefully.
There was a heavy sigh on the other end, "Not yet. But this is something to start with anyway.. If it weren't for the weather and the night, there would have been more officers, searching for them. Unfortunately, we can't comb the forests at night...."
Frank felt the knot in his stomach double. "Dad, can I ask you a couple of questions?" he asked, breaking the eerie silence. "Why did he start doing such things, what was the trigger and how did you catch him?"
"When a student, he was very much indulged in drugs and drinks. His parents pulled him through, though, and he returned to life. He got married to Barbara Woods, soon she got pregnant. But there must have been major changes to his system after all the stuff, so his kid was born deformed, the boy had no fingers or toes. He had a serious brain defect and lots of other problems. He lived only three months," Fenton said. "I guess that drove him over the edge, his first victim was his wife, he blamed her for the baby's illness and death."
"Barbara Woods?" Frank re-asked. "She was his wife?"
"Yeah, she didn't take his surname.... He killed six more people out of his own motives, but we never could understand how he chose them – I mean there was a little girl and a man in his years. He refused to explain it," Fenton sighed. "Newman's lawyer tried to get an insanity plea, but the committee of psychological experts found him quite sane and he was imprisoned. And that's all the story."
"I see," Frank felt sick. "How did you catch him?"
"I didn't," Fenton's voice became glum. "Newman is a careless driver. We caught him when he ended up in a car crash."
There was a long pause between them. Frank felt despair seize his heart, they couldn't wait for a crash, which could never happen, to catch him! They needed to get him now!
"Frank, we'll find them. Bayport is a small town, we have an idea where to look for him. The police will start to comb the town and the environs since early morning. Plus, Collig thought of showing his photo in the morning news, asking people to call the police if they had seen him. We'll find the guys!..."
"What state are they going to be in when you find them?" Frank suddenly shouted into the receiver.
Three pairs of surprised eyes stared at him. There was no sound coming for the other end of the line. Frank knew he was on the edge of nervous breakdown – his brother and friend were in grave danger and they talked about tomorrow morning. Tomorrow will come long hours later, the time was more than enough for Newman to maim them for life.
"Frank, calm down," there was a pleading note in Fenton's voice. "I understand you, but we have to hold on."
"Hold on? It's not some two unknown people we're talking about! Do you seriously think I can hold on, knowing we'll have to wait till morning – morning, mind you! – to just start to do something."
"Frank, I know it's not some two unknown people we're talking about," Fenton's voice betrayed sadness he was trying to hide. There was a long pause before he went on. "If there was something else we could do we would."
Frank swallowed bitter tears that rose in his throat. He opened his mouth to say something, but words failed him. He shook his head, "Impossible...This is impossible. We can't wait!"
"If you have a better idea what we can physically do in the dead of such a stormy night, I'm all ears," Fenton said glumly.
Frank opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. He racked his brains for an answer, there should have been something they could do, stormy night or not. But whatever it was, it remained unknown to the despaired 18-year-old. "Blast it..." he whispered into the receiver, blank hopelessness in his heavy heart. "This is so crazy."
"Sad, but true," Fenton had to agree. "Listen, I'll finish my business with the Chief in five minutes, I'll be home in fifteen minutes. Talk to you there, okay?"
"Okay," Frank said quietly. "And I'm sorry."
"It's okay, son, I understand. I'm almost on my way."
Frank put the receiver down and bowed his head into his hands.
"What did he say?" Tony asked quietly when Frank hadn't said a word.
Frank told them about their conversation. "He's coming home soon," he said, taking a deep breath in and leaning back in his chair.
The three looked helplessly at each other, knowing they couldn't say anything to make Frank feel better. The room fell into silence again.
"Do you want tea?" Biff asked meekly.
Everyone nodded silently and the teen disappeared into the kitchen.
"Frank, how are you?" Phil asked.
"I...I just can't stop thinking about what he may be doing to them at the very moment. We've lost so much time, he must have already....already...." Frank put his face into his hands, struggling with tears.
Without a word, Tony put a comforting hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently.