"Mom, did anything out of the ordinary happen nine years ago?" Frank asked, looking over at her. "A specific case dad was working on, maybe?"
"Not that I can recall," Laura answered still looking at the photographs of Joe. There were even several of Joe playing in his bedroom when he had chicken pox at the age of eleven.
Laura laid the pictures down and cleared her throat gently. "If you'll excuse me, I think I will go upstairs and lay down awhile," she said, rising to her feet. "There...there are some sodas in the refrigerator," she added, realizing she had forgotten to bring them into the living room.
"Your mom's really upset," Biff observed.
"Can you blame her?" Vanessa asked, a worried look on her face. "She just found out someone has been watching her son since he was eight years old."
"But why just Joe?" Phil asked, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. "Why not Frank too?"
"Maybe they did but the pictures were kept elsewhere," suggested Tony.
"No," Frank disagreed, holding up one of the pictures of Joe when he was ten. "I remember this," he explained. "I was right beside him when this one was taken. Mom and Dad had taken us to the circus and were riding the ponies. They were tied to this thing that kept them side by side as they walked. It would have been way too much trouble to get individual pictures there. They were lucky they got this one with only Joe in it."
"What are we going to do now?" Vanessa inquired, her gray eyes staring into Frank's brown ones with a pleading expression.
"Reconnaissance," Frank answered without thinking about it. "Dad's going to find out what he can about the island and who really owns it but he won't be here until tomorrow morning. We can use the Sky Sleuth and fly out to scout out the island. Maybe we can spot a good way in."
"I hate to be the voice of reason," Vanessa said. "But it's almost dark now. You wouldn't be able to see a lot."
"She's right," agreed Biff. "We would never make it there before dusk and there's no way we would be able to see anything at night."
"And if they think someone is looking the place over, they may get scared and get Joe out of there before we can move in," Phil put in. "I'm sorry, Frank, but I don't think there is anything we can do tonight without maybe making it harder to find Joe."
The door to Joe's room opened and Laurel entered carrying a tray. "I thought you might want some time to yourself tonight," she said as Joe sat up. She set the tray on the desk. "But if you want anything in the morning, be back by ten. Brunch will be served in the breakfast room. It will be your choice if you wish to join us for meals with the exception of dinner which will be served at seven pm each evening. If you are not present in the house by six thirty you will be found and escorted back. After dinner, you may do as you please."
Joe scowled but never said anything although his stomach growled as the aroma from the tray reached his nostrils. "Goodnight, Son," Laurel said, moving to kiss Joe's cheek but stopping as she saw the hatred burning in his eyes.
After she left, Joe went to the desk and lifted the cover of the tray. Chicken fricassee served with mashed potatoes, gravy, homemade biscuits and corn on the cob with an extra large glass of milk with which to wash it down. Joe sat down and devoured the meal; surprised to find it tasted just as good as when his mom made it. Joe felt a pang on his chest when he thought of the woman who had raised him. He loved his family so much. He didn't think he could stand losing them. If only the little boy hadn't looked so much like Frank, thought Joe miserably. But he had and Joe had no doubts that what he had been told was the truth.
Joe finished his dinner then went into the bathroom. They even had his favorite brand of shampoo and toothpaste. Joe brushed his teeth then went to his bedroom door and opened it. Lance was sitting in a chair in the hallway reading a book. When Joe stepped into the hallway, Lance put the book down and stood up.
"Sorry, Joe," Lance said. "You can't leave the premises until daylight."
"I wasn't planning on it," returned Joe. "But I would like to see the rest of the house or must I wait until tomorrow for that as well?"
"Of course not," Lance replied, smiling. "I would be honored to show you around."
"Why are you being so nice to me?" Joe asked curiously.
"You're Laurel and Jeremy's son," Lance answered as if that explained everything.
"Not by choice," Joe answered with a scowl.
"You'll change your opinion," Lance stated with certainty. "And when your mother retires, you will assume leadership."
Joe's eyes flared but he kept his temper in check. "Can we begin the tour now?" he asked, his voice coming out strange as he gritted his teeth to hold back the outburst he so desperately wanted to make.
"Shall we begin with this floor?" Lance inquired, smothering a smile. Things were going well. Joe was reacting exactly as they had expected. Laurel had insisted Joe be told the truth about everything since he would take over eventually and until the drugs kicked in to make Joe more affable it was a sort of test to see how Joe reacted under pressure. The fact that he still wanted to see the grounds and was keeping a civil tongue in his head after Lance's revelation proved Joe did indeed have what it took to be a leader of men.
It was much later when Joe was escorted back to his room. He now knew the lay of the house from top to bottom, having insisted on seeing the attic and basement as well as every room and cupboard.
Joe lay down on the bed and tried to think of a way to escape. He had seen where there were two phones in the household but whom would he call? He couldn't call his dad. Fenton wasn't even his real father. He couldn't call Frank either. He couldn't be responsible for Frank getting into trouble by trying to help him. One of Fenton's sons was already dead. There was no way he could justify getting them involved. This was his problem! Maybe he should just stay. He had nowhere to go if he did get away. Even if the Hardys wanted him now, they wouldn't want to see him once they found out the truth.
No. He couldn't stay. They would find a way to make him one of them and he would NEVER be one of them. He would escape and he would do it on his own.
Laura laid the pictures down and cleared her throat gently. "If you'll excuse me, I think I will go upstairs and lay down awhile," she said, rising to her feet. "There...there are some sodas in the refrigerator," she added, realizing she had forgotten to bring them into the living room.
"Your mom's really upset," Biff observed.
"Can you blame her?" Vanessa asked, a worried look on her face. "She just found out someone has been watching her son since he was eight years old."
"But why just Joe?" Phil asked, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. "Why not Frank too?"
"Maybe they did but the pictures were kept elsewhere," suggested Tony.
"No," Frank disagreed, holding up one of the pictures of Joe when he was ten. "I remember this," he explained. "I was right beside him when this one was taken. Mom and Dad had taken us to the circus and were riding the ponies. They were tied to this thing that kept them side by side as they walked. It would have been way too much trouble to get individual pictures there. They were lucky they got this one with only Joe in it."
"What are we going to do now?" Vanessa inquired, her gray eyes staring into Frank's brown ones with a pleading expression.
"Reconnaissance," Frank answered without thinking about it. "Dad's going to find out what he can about the island and who really owns it but he won't be here until tomorrow morning. We can use the Sky Sleuth and fly out to scout out the island. Maybe we can spot a good way in."
"I hate to be the voice of reason," Vanessa said. "But it's almost dark now. You wouldn't be able to see a lot."
"She's right," agreed Biff. "We would never make it there before dusk and there's no way we would be able to see anything at night."
"And if they think someone is looking the place over, they may get scared and get Joe out of there before we can move in," Phil put in. "I'm sorry, Frank, but I don't think there is anything we can do tonight without maybe making it harder to find Joe."
The door to Joe's room opened and Laurel entered carrying a tray. "I thought you might want some time to yourself tonight," she said as Joe sat up. She set the tray on the desk. "But if you want anything in the morning, be back by ten. Brunch will be served in the breakfast room. It will be your choice if you wish to join us for meals with the exception of dinner which will be served at seven pm each evening. If you are not present in the house by six thirty you will be found and escorted back. After dinner, you may do as you please."
Joe scowled but never said anything although his stomach growled as the aroma from the tray reached his nostrils. "Goodnight, Son," Laurel said, moving to kiss Joe's cheek but stopping as she saw the hatred burning in his eyes.
After she left, Joe went to the desk and lifted the cover of the tray. Chicken fricassee served with mashed potatoes, gravy, homemade biscuits and corn on the cob with an extra large glass of milk with which to wash it down. Joe sat down and devoured the meal; surprised to find it tasted just as good as when his mom made it. Joe felt a pang on his chest when he thought of the woman who had raised him. He loved his family so much. He didn't think he could stand losing them. If only the little boy hadn't looked so much like Frank, thought Joe miserably. But he had and Joe had no doubts that what he had been told was the truth.
Joe finished his dinner then went into the bathroom. They even had his favorite brand of shampoo and toothpaste. Joe brushed his teeth then went to his bedroom door and opened it. Lance was sitting in a chair in the hallway reading a book. When Joe stepped into the hallway, Lance put the book down and stood up.
"Sorry, Joe," Lance said. "You can't leave the premises until daylight."
"I wasn't planning on it," returned Joe. "But I would like to see the rest of the house or must I wait until tomorrow for that as well?"
"Of course not," Lance replied, smiling. "I would be honored to show you around."
"Why are you being so nice to me?" Joe asked curiously.
"You're Laurel and Jeremy's son," Lance answered as if that explained everything.
"Not by choice," Joe answered with a scowl.
"You'll change your opinion," Lance stated with certainty. "And when your mother retires, you will assume leadership."
Joe's eyes flared but he kept his temper in check. "Can we begin the tour now?" he asked, his voice coming out strange as he gritted his teeth to hold back the outburst he so desperately wanted to make.
"Shall we begin with this floor?" Lance inquired, smothering a smile. Things were going well. Joe was reacting exactly as they had expected. Laurel had insisted Joe be told the truth about everything since he would take over eventually and until the drugs kicked in to make Joe more affable it was a sort of test to see how Joe reacted under pressure. The fact that he still wanted to see the grounds and was keeping a civil tongue in his head after Lance's revelation proved Joe did indeed have what it took to be a leader of men.
It was much later when Joe was escorted back to his room. He now knew the lay of the house from top to bottom, having insisted on seeing the attic and basement as well as every room and cupboard.
Joe lay down on the bed and tried to think of a way to escape. He had seen where there were two phones in the household but whom would he call? He couldn't call his dad. Fenton wasn't even his real father. He couldn't call Frank either. He couldn't be responsible for Frank getting into trouble by trying to help him. One of Fenton's sons was already dead. There was no way he could justify getting them involved. This was his problem! Maybe he should just stay. He had nowhere to go if he did get away. Even if the Hardys wanted him now, they wouldn't want to see him once they found out the truth.
No. He couldn't stay. They would find a way to make him one of them and he would NEVER be one of them. He would escape and he would do it on his own.