Frank and Joe had been listening apprehensively to the commotion outside the office where they were being held. When the man watching them left the room, they didn't know what to think - and then there came a crash of breaking glass!
Joe cried out in terror, and Frank, too was startled. He watched as a hand groped through the broken window, unlocking the casement - and then a tall man with dirty blond hair scrambled in through the open aperture. Frank blinked - and then launched himself across the intervening space!
"Dad! Dad!" He threw himself at Fenton and hugged him tightly around the waist, recognizing his father even through his disguise. "I knew it! See Joe, I told you Dad wouldn't leave us here!" He turned to Joe, who smiled a bit hesitantly at him. The fear was fading slowly from his eyes.
Fenton lifted Frank into his arms, enveloping him in a tight bear hug as he moved away from the window and toward Joe, who was ensconced in one chair with his cast propped on another. Sam Peterson climbed through the window as Fenton set Frank down, and Frank waved at his father's former partner happily. Fenton bent over Joe, embracing him with no less fervor than he had Frank, but more gently, because of the bruises evident on his fair skin.
"Thank God you two are all right." Fenton said, his voice muffled on Joe's shoulder as he held him. He leaned back and surveyed both boys, drinking in the sight of their faces, forgetting about Sam, who opened the office door and went to join his fellow officers in making the arrests.
"You two are okay, right?" Fenton asked then, searching Frank's face for any injury, and then gently examining the new bruise on Joe's face, where Jim Wood had hit him the night before.
"We're okay." Frank confirmed. "You look funny." he added, looking at Fenton critically, and taking in the new hair color and the moustache. "But - he shot Ginger." he added sadly.
"Who did?" his father asked, thinking that Billy Catherson would be the one to do hard time for this, but wishing Wood would get more than an accessory charge.
"My...my father." Joe choked out. He began to cry. "He killed her. It's all my fault...I'm sor...sorry...."
"Oh Joe, it isn't your fault. Not in any way is it your fault." He took Joe's tear-streaked face in his hands, and looked into his eyes. "None of this is." He could see that Joe didn't believe him. "Listen, baby, your father...he's into a lot of very bad things. He's - a bad man. None of that is your fault. What he did to you...that wasn't your fault, either. It's his fault...no one else's. And I am going to make sure that he never hurts anyone - especially you - ever again." Fenton promised him.
Joe desperately wanted to believe him - but everything about this man and his family seemed too good to be true. He had never had anyone care about him, and he wasn't sure how to respond to the things Mr. Hardy was telling him. Joe's eyes moved away from Fenton's face, seeking out Frank, the one person he felt he could trust implicitly.
Fenton released Joe, and stood up, as Frank came over and stood beside them. "We're going home now, right Dad?" Frank asked hopefully.
"Not just yet." Fenton admitted regretfully. "I need you to stay with your Aunt Patricia for a couple of hours." he told them. He would have preferred to take the two to the police station, but given Joe's reaction to the police, he felt this would be too traumatic for him after everything else he had been through.
Joe looked askance at Frank. Another new person? What if this Aunt Patricia was put in danger too...as Ginger had been?
"She's Uncle Sam's wife." Frank informed him. "Uncle Sam was the other guy who came in the window." he elaborated, gesturing toward the door where Sam had exited. "He's not really our uncle, but he told me to call him that."
"Sam and I used to work together." Fenton explained to Joe. "His wife will take good care of you two, while I work out some details with Sam."
"Daddy," Frank said, tugging on Fenton's pants to get his attention. "What about Joe's dad? Will he try and take Joe away again?"
"No." Fenton promised. "Never again. That's why I need you two to stay with your Aunt Pat. Sam and I are going to make sure he can't get near Joe - or you - ever again."
After Frank and Joe had been entrusted into Pat Peterson's care, Fenton called home to let Laura and Ezra know they were safe. He promised a tearful Laura that he would bring the boys home tonight, and he informed Ezra that he would fill him in on the interrogation, and the deal they intended to cut with Jonathan Drecker. Hanging up the phone, Fenton looked at Chief Smith.
"Let's get to it." he said.
Drecker was waiting in an interrogation room, his wrists still cuffed behind him as he sat in a chair at the conference table. A uniformed officer stood just inside the doorway, keeping watch.
"You!" Drecker shouted, when he saw Fenton. "You're a cop?!"
"No, I'm a private investigator." Fenton corrected him. "And before you ask, I took the diamond."
"But I..." Drecker began. His eyes went wide. "There never was anybody outside, was there? You switched drinks with me!"
"That's right." Fenton agreed pleasantly, taking a chair directly across from the man. Smith seated himself on one side of Drecker, and Agent Dalrymple sat on his other side. Sam Peterson stationed himself by the door, having relieved the officer who had been standing there.
"What do you want with me?" Drecker demanded, his eyes taking on a shrewd look.
"We don't want you, especially." Dalrymple informed him. "We want Wood."
"And you expect me to help?" Drecker gave a short, mirthless laugh. "Why should I?"
"Because you're being charged with grand theft auto, for starters." Smith stated.
"That's all you got on me," Drecker sneered. "I'll be out in no time."
"We have a bit more than that." Fenton assured him. "The diamond wasn't the only thing I found when I searched Wood's house." he asserted. "Wood kept records of his business dealings," he expanded the truth. "We have you on several charges. Including dealing in drugs." This last was a fib, but knowing Drecker was a junkie pretty much guaranteed he would have connections on that account.
Drecker blanched. "What do you want?" he muttered.
"You help us nail Wood and Billy Catherson, and we'll only bring you up on the grand theft charges." Dalrymple proposed, knowing that was all they really had on the man anyway. The papers Fenton had faxed to him did nothing more than connect Drecker to certain members of the underworld. It contained no evidence they could use to convict him.
Drecker pretended to think it over.
"Of course, we could let Wood know that it was your men who stole his car...and you who decided to hold his own son for ransom." Sam Peterson left his post by the door, and came over to stand behind Drecker as he spoke.
"Fine!" Drecker caved in, terrified at what Jim Wood might do to him if he knew about the car...and the ransom demand. "What do I have to do?"
Joe cried out in terror, and Frank, too was startled. He watched as a hand groped through the broken window, unlocking the casement - and then a tall man with dirty blond hair scrambled in through the open aperture. Frank blinked - and then launched himself across the intervening space!
"Dad! Dad!" He threw himself at Fenton and hugged him tightly around the waist, recognizing his father even through his disguise. "I knew it! See Joe, I told you Dad wouldn't leave us here!" He turned to Joe, who smiled a bit hesitantly at him. The fear was fading slowly from his eyes.
Fenton lifted Frank into his arms, enveloping him in a tight bear hug as he moved away from the window and toward Joe, who was ensconced in one chair with his cast propped on another. Sam Peterson climbed through the window as Fenton set Frank down, and Frank waved at his father's former partner happily. Fenton bent over Joe, embracing him with no less fervor than he had Frank, but more gently, because of the bruises evident on his fair skin.
"Thank God you two are all right." Fenton said, his voice muffled on Joe's shoulder as he held him. He leaned back and surveyed both boys, drinking in the sight of their faces, forgetting about Sam, who opened the office door and went to join his fellow officers in making the arrests.
"You two are okay, right?" Fenton asked then, searching Frank's face for any injury, and then gently examining the new bruise on Joe's face, where Jim Wood had hit him the night before.
"We're okay." Frank confirmed. "You look funny." he added, looking at Fenton critically, and taking in the new hair color and the moustache. "But - he shot Ginger." he added sadly.
"Who did?" his father asked, thinking that Billy Catherson would be the one to do hard time for this, but wishing Wood would get more than an accessory charge.
"My...my father." Joe choked out. He began to cry. "He killed her. It's all my fault...I'm sor...sorry...."
"Oh Joe, it isn't your fault. Not in any way is it your fault." He took Joe's tear-streaked face in his hands, and looked into his eyes. "None of this is." He could see that Joe didn't believe him. "Listen, baby, your father...he's into a lot of very bad things. He's - a bad man. None of that is your fault. What he did to you...that wasn't your fault, either. It's his fault...no one else's. And I am going to make sure that he never hurts anyone - especially you - ever again." Fenton promised him.
Joe desperately wanted to believe him - but everything about this man and his family seemed too good to be true. He had never had anyone care about him, and he wasn't sure how to respond to the things Mr. Hardy was telling him. Joe's eyes moved away from Fenton's face, seeking out Frank, the one person he felt he could trust implicitly.
Fenton released Joe, and stood up, as Frank came over and stood beside them. "We're going home now, right Dad?" Frank asked hopefully.
"Not just yet." Fenton admitted regretfully. "I need you to stay with your Aunt Patricia for a couple of hours." he told them. He would have preferred to take the two to the police station, but given Joe's reaction to the police, he felt this would be too traumatic for him after everything else he had been through.
Joe looked askance at Frank. Another new person? What if this Aunt Patricia was put in danger too...as Ginger had been?
"She's Uncle Sam's wife." Frank informed him. "Uncle Sam was the other guy who came in the window." he elaborated, gesturing toward the door where Sam had exited. "He's not really our uncle, but he told me to call him that."
"Sam and I used to work together." Fenton explained to Joe. "His wife will take good care of you two, while I work out some details with Sam."
"Daddy," Frank said, tugging on Fenton's pants to get his attention. "What about Joe's dad? Will he try and take Joe away again?"
"No." Fenton promised. "Never again. That's why I need you two to stay with your Aunt Pat. Sam and I are going to make sure he can't get near Joe - or you - ever again."
After Frank and Joe had been entrusted into Pat Peterson's care, Fenton called home to let Laura and Ezra know they were safe. He promised a tearful Laura that he would bring the boys home tonight, and he informed Ezra that he would fill him in on the interrogation, and the deal they intended to cut with Jonathan Drecker. Hanging up the phone, Fenton looked at Chief Smith.
"Let's get to it." he said.
Drecker was waiting in an interrogation room, his wrists still cuffed behind him as he sat in a chair at the conference table. A uniformed officer stood just inside the doorway, keeping watch.
"You!" Drecker shouted, when he saw Fenton. "You're a cop?!"
"No, I'm a private investigator." Fenton corrected him. "And before you ask, I took the diamond."
"But I..." Drecker began. His eyes went wide. "There never was anybody outside, was there? You switched drinks with me!"
"That's right." Fenton agreed pleasantly, taking a chair directly across from the man. Smith seated himself on one side of Drecker, and Agent Dalrymple sat on his other side. Sam Peterson stationed himself by the door, having relieved the officer who had been standing there.
"What do you want with me?" Drecker demanded, his eyes taking on a shrewd look.
"We don't want you, especially." Dalrymple informed him. "We want Wood."
"And you expect me to help?" Drecker gave a short, mirthless laugh. "Why should I?"
"Because you're being charged with grand theft auto, for starters." Smith stated.
"That's all you got on me," Drecker sneered. "I'll be out in no time."
"We have a bit more than that." Fenton assured him. "The diamond wasn't the only thing I found when I searched Wood's house." he asserted. "Wood kept records of his business dealings," he expanded the truth. "We have you on several charges. Including dealing in drugs." This last was a fib, but knowing Drecker was a junkie pretty much guaranteed he would have connections on that account.
Drecker blanched. "What do you want?" he muttered.
"You help us nail Wood and Billy Catherson, and we'll only bring you up on the grand theft charges." Dalrymple proposed, knowing that was all they really had on the man anyway. The papers Fenton had faxed to him did nothing more than connect Drecker to certain members of the underworld. It contained no evidence they could use to convict him.
Drecker pretended to think it over.
"Of course, we could let Wood know that it was your men who stole his car...and you who decided to hold his own son for ransom." Sam Peterson left his post by the door, and came over to stand behind Drecker as he spoke.
"Fine!" Drecker caved in, terrified at what Jim Wood might do to him if he knew about the car...and the ransom demand. "What do I have to do?"
