Chapter 12
Fenton Hardy left home with a heavy feeling in his heart. Leaving Frank alone at home when his brother was in grave danger was a very unkind idea, he knew. Had he been in his son's place, he'd be starting the van now and leaving to search for Joe, but he relied on Frank's common sense. Fenton could only imagine how nerve-wracking and slow waiting would be for him, but keeping him safe was more important now.
Having one son kidnapped was intimidating, to put the other one in danger – and Fenton was positive Newman could abduct Frank – was a chance he didn't want to take. Halting the car at the red light signal, the man sighed heavily and rubbed his weary eyes. His aching body was screaming for rest, his head felt so drowsy that he was afraid he'd doze off behind the wheel. He was drained of energy, but as long as he had even little strengths left, he wasn't going to stop. Getting Joe home was much more significant than getting rest for himself.
He promised Frank he'd bring Joe home. Misery seized his soul at the thought. How could he knew he'd be able to keep his promise? Ten hours have passed, that was way too much to be sure Newman hadn't yet done anything to his son. He swallowed. If Newman hadn't yet done anything to his son, what about Chet?
Fenton shook his head, getting rid of the mist before his eyes, and started the car when the light switched to green. His sons and Chet Morton grew up together. He was calming himself with thinking that Joe might have still been alright, but...but could he be alright if Chet had been hurt? Chet, the brother of Iola?
Fenton remembered the first couple of months after the explosion that took the young girl's life away when Joe had become withdrawn, shutting out everyone and everything in his life. Sometimes it looked he had recovered from her death, sometimes an invisible trigger would snap him back to those old days of desolation. And it broke the father's heart.
Were the old days coming back to them? Fenton didn't know. He had a bad misgiving that even if his assumption about Chet was right it was too early to think about the future when the present was so vague.
The cell phone in his pocket rang, snapping him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the display and his heart gave a jump inside. He hit the reply button.
"Fent, I need you at the station immediately!" Collig's urgent voice boomed in his ear.
"I'm almost there," Fenton replied, taking the left turn. The building of the police headquarters was less than half a mile ahead. "What happened?"
"We think we know where he is!"
Fenton felt waves of hope gush over him, "Where? And how?"
"It's not a phone talk. I'm waiting at the entrance."
Before Fenton had a chance to say anything the line went dead.
~~ When the door to the basement flew open, Joe saw something glitter in the doorway and then a dark figure dashed into the room. Joe tensed up involuntarily, expecting anything from Newman, but to his utter terror it was Chet he ran to. "No! Don't touch him!" he shouted in despair, dreading that his worst fears were coming true. "Please, leave him alone!"
But the man didn't even turn to look or snap at him, he wordlessly raised a knife above the defenseless teen...
Eyes wide open in horror, Joe took his last chance to try and stop him, "Please, he's not to..." The knife in Newman's hands glittered once again as the holder lowered it. The rest of the sentence was deafened by a pain- filled scream from the other side of the room. And then there was silence....
Joe snapped his eyes shut, unable to see it. He could still hear the piercing scream in his throbbing head, the echo was so strident and realistic that he desperately wanted to cover his ears, as if it could stop him from hearing the heart-wrenching yell in his mind, but when he tried to raise his arms the sharp pain in wrists reminded him of his immobility. Quieter and quieter, the echo soon died down in his mind. In the eerie silence he heard his heart drumming inside like mad, threatening to rip a hole in his chest and jump out.
'No, Chet isn't...he isn't...he can't...he's not, is he?... No, don't look there!!' But the desire to check was too strong, his eyes opened despite of his inner voice's warning. The next second he felt an invisible hand grip his heart when he saw the limp form in the opposite corner in ever growing puddle of dark liquid. "Oh my.... No..." Joe shook his head, unable to take his eyes off Chet, desperate to notice a slightest sing on life. "Chet?..." he called weakly.
Suddenly the view was blocked by the tall dark figure and Joe's heart skipped a beat. His breath caught in his throat, he tensed up all over, paralyzed with panic. Was Newman going to stab him now, too? Or was he going to...to do the same thing he did to those seven people? Or...
Without a sound Newman leant down, the knife clutched in his hand, and Joe started to tremble involuntary. He squeezed his eyes shut, doing his utmost to control himself, but it was fright taking control of him. 'Stop, it Hardy! Stop your cowardly behavior! You must stay strong! You're not going to scream no matter how painful it will be, you won't give him the satisfaction to hear you cry', Joe's mind was shouting inside his head. 'You should...'
He winced, barely able to keep himself from crying out, as he felt the knife cut the skin on his right ankle. Feeling his heart beat madly against his ribs, Joe was breathing hard. Before he could compose himself for what he thought would come next, he felt another cut – this time on his left ankle. 'Please, somebody, I need somebody here right now so much....'
He recoiled in his chair when Newman half-rose and inserted the blade between the twine around Joe's right wrist and the skin. "Wh-what are you doing?" Joe managed weakly, watching him.
"Shut your mouth!" Newman hissed and sliced the rope, making the teen flinch. "Why are you..." Joe started, but stopped when he felt the sharp tip of the knife under his chin. "You say one more word and you regret it at once!" the man snapped at him. Joe daren't even breathe, so Newman went on, cutting the rope on Joe's left wrist.
Joe frowned, why was he being freed? And why was he obviously in such a hurry? 'As if he is...' Joe cried out when without warning Newman grabbed Joe's right hand and yanked him to his feet. A rampant twinge raged though his veins, leaving him breathless. The next second his knees gave way under him...
"Get up!" Newman unceremoniously caught Joe by left elbow and pulled him back to his shaky feet. "Move!"
Joe had sat motionlessly for many hours and his muscles had become too stiff to support his weight, so his knees gave way under him again and he fell to the hard floor. "I said get up!" Newman hissed at him. He grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back to his feet. "Get going!" he pushed Joe in the back toward the stairs.
Barely able to stand on his feet, Joe made two steps forward when he stumbled over a roughness on the floor and would have fell down again if Newman hadn't caught him by the shirt. "Damn you, move!" Newman growled at him and dragged the faltering teen up the stairs.
Joe did his best to move his legs to stop himself from stumbling and hitting the stairs with his knees, but Newman was in such a hurry that he simply couldn't catch up. Every time he fell, gasping in sharp pain in his battered knees, Newman would pull him back by the collar and drag him further upstairs. By the time they reached the top Joe barely felt any of his limbs that were throbbing with ache.
Once on the even surface, Newman yanked him towards the exit, cursing at Joe's staggering and uncooperative movements. They hobbled outside and Joe fell to his knees again when fresh morning air burst into his lungs, causing a bout of coughing that was leaving him weaker and weaker with each ragged breath.
"Stop it!!" Newman shrieked, tugging at his collar to pull him to his feet, and slapped him hard. "You're wasting my time!" Unable to keep his balance on his shaking legs, Joe fell to the muddy ground.
Newman growled and hauled at his clothes again. Still coughing like mad in the cold air and clutching his throbbing right hand in his left, Joe felt being dragged on the damp slippery surface. He desperately wanted to muster his strengths and make it difficult for Newman to lug him like that, but the spasms of coughing wouldn't stop, draining all the energy out of him. Helpless, he could only move his legs on the mud, yet he knew it wouldn't stop Newman.
He looked around to see a whirl of dark colors in front of his misty eyes. His breath caught in his throat as Newman dropped him to the ground, knocking the sense out of the battered teen. "We'll just make it simple," the blurry face with angered features in front of Joe's nose said.
Newman grabbed Joe by the hair and pulled his head up, forcefully sending it back down. He watched in satisfaction as the teen's body went limp and dragged Joe to the boot of the car. Picking the motionless body, he placed him inside and shut the lid, leaving a chink so he wouldn't suffocate during the ride. He then ran to the front of the car, climbed behind the wheel and sped the vehicle out of the place.
~~
The tires of the black sedan squealed as the driver hit the brakes. Fenton Hardy emerged from the car to the Chief who was hurrying from the building of the headquarters to the parking lot. "In there!" he pointed at the police car that stood nearby and rushed there.
"What's going on?" Fenton asked breathlessly, climbing onto the back seat with Collig.
"Willow road, hurry up!" the Chief ordered the driver, a young police officer behind the steering wheel who nodded and the next second the car tore along the parking lot and onto the main road. "A housebreaking attempt at a repair shop. Fortunately the signalling worked before he could do anything, but the guard discerned his car – a dark green sedan – and reported to the police."
"Newman?"
"Yes," Collig nodded. "There are two our cars following him now."
"He saw where he went?" Fenton asked, his mouth suddenly dry.
"Yes, Willow road. You know the area – desolated and the woods are dense there, but we figured out there can be only four places Newman could go to," the Chief put a hand on the detective's shoulder. "We'll catch him, Fenton."
Fenton nodded, his heart racing inside. He only prayed it wouldn't be too late for the boys when they'd catch him...
Fenton Hardy left home with a heavy feeling in his heart. Leaving Frank alone at home when his brother was in grave danger was a very unkind idea, he knew. Had he been in his son's place, he'd be starting the van now and leaving to search for Joe, but he relied on Frank's common sense. Fenton could only imagine how nerve-wracking and slow waiting would be for him, but keeping him safe was more important now.
Having one son kidnapped was intimidating, to put the other one in danger – and Fenton was positive Newman could abduct Frank – was a chance he didn't want to take. Halting the car at the red light signal, the man sighed heavily and rubbed his weary eyes. His aching body was screaming for rest, his head felt so drowsy that he was afraid he'd doze off behind the wheel. He was drained of energy, but as long as he had even little strengths left, he wasn't going to stop. Getting Joe home was much more significant than getting rest for himself.
He promised Frank he'd bring Joe home. Misery seized his soul at the thought. How could he knew he'd be able to keep his promise? Ten hours have passed, that was way too much to be sure Newman hadn't yet done anything to his son. He swallowed. If Newman hadn't yet done anything to his son, what about Chet?
Fenton shook his head, getting rid of the mist before his eyes, and started the car when the light switched to green. His sons and Chet Morton grew up together. He was calming himself with thinking that Joe might have still been alright, but...but could he be alright if Chet had been hurt? Chet, the brother of Iola?
Fenton remembered the first couple of months after the explosion that took the young girl's life away when Joe had become withdrawn, shutting out everyone and everything in his life. Sometimes it looked he had recovered from her death, sometimes an invisible trigger would snap him back to those old days of desolation. And it broke the father's heart.
Were the old days coming back to them? Fenton didn't know. He had a bad misgiving that even if his assumption about Chet was right it was too early to think about the future when the present was so vague.
The cell phone in his pocket rang, snapping him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the display and his heart gave a jump inside. He hit the reply button.
"Fent, I need you at the station immediately!" Collig's urgent voice boomed in his ear.
"I'm almost there," Fenton replied, taking the left turn. The building of the police headquarters was less than half a mile ahead. "What happened?"
"We think we know where he is!"
Fenton felt waves of hope gush over him, "Where? And how?"
"It's not a phone talk. I'm waiting at the entrance."
Before Fenton had a chance to say anything the line went dead.
~~ When the door to the basement flew open, Joe saw something glitter in the doorway and then a dark figure dashed into the room. Joe tensed up involuntarily, expecting anything from Newman, but to his utter terror it was Chet he ran to. "No! Don't touch him!" he shouted in despair, dreading that his worst fears were coming true. "Please, leave him alone!"
But the man didn't even turn to look or snap at him, he wordlessly raised a knife above the defenseless teen...
Eyes wide open in horror, Joe took his last chance to try and stop him, "Please, he's not to..." The knife in Newman's hands glittered once again as the holder lowered it. The rest of the sentence was deafened by a pain- filled scream from the other side of the room. And then there was silence....
Joe snapped his eyes shut, unable to see it. He could still hear the piercing scream in his throbbing head, the echo was so strident and realistic that he desperately wanted to cover his ears, as if it could stop him from hearing the heart-wrenching yell in his mind, but when he tried to raise his arms the sharp pain in wrists reminded him of his immobility. Quieter and quieter, the echo soon died down in his mind. In the eerie silence he heard his heart drumming inside like mad, threatening to rip a hole in his chest and jump out.
'No, Chet isn't...he isn't...he can't...he's not, is he?... No, don't look there!!' But the desire to check was too strong, his eyes opened despite of his inner voice's warning. The next second he felt an invisible hand grip his heart when he saw the limp form in the opposite corner in ever growing puddle of dark liquid. "Oh my.... No..." Joe shook his head, unable to take his eyes off Chet, desperate to notice a slightest sing on life. "Chet?..." he called weakly.
Suddenly the view was blocked by the tall dark figure and Joe's heart skipped a beat. His breath caught in his throat, he tensed up all over, paralyzed with panic. Was Newman going to stab him now, too? Or was he going to...to do the same thing he did to those seven people? Or...
Without a sound Newman leant down, the knife clutched in his hand, and Joe started to tremble involuntary. He squeezed his eyes shut, doing his utmost to control himself, but it was fright taking control of him. 'Stop, it Hardy! Stop your cowardly behavior! You must stay strong! You're not going to scream no matter how painful it will be, you won't give him the satisfaction to hear you cry', Joe's mind was shouting inside his head. 'You should...'
He winced, barely able to keep himself from crying out, as he felt the knife cut the skin on his right ankle. Feeling his heart beat madly against his ribs, Joe was breathing hard. Before he could compose himself for what he thought would come next, he felt another cut – this time on his left ankle. 'Please, somebody, I need somebody here right now so much....'
He recoiled in his chair when Newman half-rose and inserted the blade between the twine around Joe's right wrist and the skin. "Wh-what are you doing?" Joe managed weakly, watching him.
"Shut your mouth!" Newman hissed and sliced the rope, making the teen flinch. "Why are you..." Joe started, but stopped when he felt the sharp tip of the knife under his chin. "You say one more word and you regret it at once!" the man snapped at him. Joe daren't even breathe, so Newman went on, cutting the rope on Joe's left wrist.
Joe frowned, why was he being freed? And why was he obviously in such a hurry? 'As if he is...' Joe cried out when without warning Newman grabbed Joe's right hand and yanked him to his feet. A rampant twinge raged though his veins, leaving him breathless. The next second his knees gave way under him...
"Get up!" Newman unceremoniously caught Joe by left elbow and pulled him back to his shaky feet. "Move!"
Joe had sat motionlessly for many hours and his muscles had become too stiff to support his weight, so his knees gave way under him again and he fell to the hard floor. "I said get up!" Newman hissed at him. He grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back to his feet. "Get going!" he pushed Joe in the back toward the stairs.
Barely able to stand on his feet, Joe made two steps forward when he stumbled over a roughness on the floor and would have fell down again if Newman hadn't caught him by the shirt. "Damn you, move!" Newman growled at him and dragged the faltering teen up the stairs.
Joe did his best to move his legs to stop himself from stumbling and hitting the stairs with his knees, but Newman was in such a hurry that he simply couldn't catch up. Every time he fell, gasping in sharp pain in his battered knees, Newman would pull him back by the collar and drag him further upstairs. By the time they reached the top Joe barely felt any of his limbs that were throbbing with ache.
Once on the even surface, Newman yanked him towards the exit, cursing at Joe's staggering and uncooperative movements. They hobbled outside and Joe fell to his knees again when fresh morning air burst into his lungs, causing a bout of coughing that was leaving him weaker and weaker with each ragged breath.
"Stop it!!" Newman shrieked, tugging at his collar to pull him to his feet, and slapped him hard. "You're wasting my time!" Unable to keep his balance on his shaking legs, Joe fell to the muddy ground.
Newman growled and hauled at his clothes again. Still coughing like mad in the cold air and clutching his throbbing right hand in his left, Joe felt being dragged on the damp slippery surface. He desperately wanted to muster his strengths and make it difficult for Newman to lug him like that, but the spasms of coughing wouldn't stop, draining all the energy out of him. Helpless, he could only move his legs on the mud, yet he knew it wouldn't stop Newman.
He looked around to see a whirl of dark colors in front of his misty eyes. His breath caught in his throat as Newman dropped him to the ground, knocking the sense out of the battered teen. "We'll just make it simple," the blurry face with angered features in front of Joe's nose said.
Newman grabbed Joe by the hair and pulled his head up, forcefully sending it back down. He watched in satisfaction as the teen's body went limp and dragged Joe to the boot of the car. Picking the motionless body, he placed him inside and shut the lid, leaving a chink so he wouldn't suffocate during the ride. He then ran to the front of the car, climbed behind the wheel and sped the vehicle out of the place.
~~
The tires of the black sedan squealed as the driver hit the brakes. Fenton Hardy emerged from the car to the Chief who was hurrying from the building of the headquarters to the parking lot. "In there!" he pointed at the police car that stood nearby and rushed there.
"What's going on?" Fenton asked breathlessly, climbing onto the back seat with Collig.
"Willow road, hurry up!" the Chief ordered the driver, a young police officer behind the steering wheel who nodded and the next second the car tore along the parking lot and onto the main road. "A housebreaking attempt at a repair shop. Fortunately the signalling worked before he could do anything, but the guard discerned his car – a dark green sedan – and reported to the police."
"Newman?"
"Yes," Collig nodded. "There are two our cars following him now."
"He saw where he went?" Fenton asked, his mouth suddenly dry.
"Yes, Willow road. You know the area – desolated and the woods are dense there, but we figured out there can be only four places Newman could go to," the Chief put a hand on the detective's shoulder. "We'll catch him, Fenton."
Fenton nodded, his heart racing inside. He only prayed it wouldn't be too late for the boys when they'd catch him...