"But..."
"Now," Fenton commanded sternly. He watched as Frank slowly released the reporter. "If I find you anywhere near Joe again I will press charges," Fenton told Graves. "Do you understand?"
"I'll quote you on that," Graves replied, smiling as Tyler escorted him from the room and toward the elevator.
"How could you just let him go?" Frank demanded angrily. "Slime like that..."
"Will be out of a job soon enough," Fenton finished for him. "The Bayport Times doesn't allow sensationalism," he reminded Frank. "And the Weblings are friends of ours. They would never print an article about your brother without checking with me first"
"You're right," Frank admitted. "But I still would have liked to deck the guy."
"Me too," Fenton confessed. "But we have enough to worry about now without your being arrested for assault and battery."
Frank looked contrite. "You're right," he said. "I'm sorry."
"What was that about?" Laura asked as Fenton and Frank returned to the waiting group.
Fenton explained then hurriedly shushed the angry youths as they hissed their displeasure. Laura remained silent but her eyes turned to stone and her lips thinned showing her intense dislike of the reporter. "Go on down to the cafeteria," Fenton instructed them. "I'm going to wait here until Todd returns."
"I'll stay too," volunteered Frank.
"No, go ahead with the others," Fenton declined the offer.
Frowning, Frank fell in beside Callie as the group made their way to the elevator. Descending to the lobby they crossed the expanse, took a small set of stairs and entered the cafeteria.
"I think I'll call Liz and give her a heads up on Graves," Frank said sometime later as he laid his fork beside his plate.
"That's a good idea," Laura said, relieved. She had grown weary of watching Frank move his food about and lift the fork to his mouth only to lower it again untouched.
"I'll meet you guys upstairs," he excused himself. He carried his tray to the conveyor and set it down then took the nearest exit. Outside, Frank took a deep breath and looked up at the gloomy sky. No rays of sunshine filtered through the dismal mess of gray that his eyes encountered and the late summer's warmth was gone only to be replaced with a subtle chill that seeped into Frank's bones. Yes, the day fit his mood perfectly.
He shivered as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and flipped it open. He entered Liz's cell number and waited for her to answer, his eyes scanning the parking area for something he couldn't identify.
"Hello?" a sultry voice answered.
"Liz, it's Frank," he said, spinning around to face the hospital as he spoke.
"Hi, Frank," Liz said. "How's Joe?"
"Still waiting for his turn in surgery," Frank replied. "Listen, one of your reporters was here," he began.
"Lionel Graves," Liz said, her voice hardening. "He called Dad a few minutes ago to know he was doing the story," she continued. "What a creep."
"Then why is he working there?" asked Frank.
"Because he had great references," Liz answered. "But he will be gone soon," she promised Frank. "He wanted to put the story in this evening's paper but Dad convinced him it was better to wait until tomorrow so we would know what was wrong with Joe."
"You're not going to put that in the paper!" Frank demanded harshly.
"Of course not," Liz denied. "But this way he won't try and take the story elsewhere. Tomorrow's paper won't have his article and when he asks Dad why not, Dad has already prepared his speech about ethics to send him packing."
"Thanks, Liz," Frank said, relieved.
"No thanks are necessary," Liz said. "You guys are my friends. And besides," she added mischievously. "I get all the real scoops from you two."
"Well, thanks anyway," Frank said.
"Let us know how he's doing, okay?" Liz asked, turning serious. "And if there is anything we can do?"
"I'll call you when we find out," Frank promised before bidding her goodbye. He shut his cell phone and put it back in his pocket, turning to look around him one more time.
His eyes scanned the area between the buildings, taking in the various personnel who were in the area, some attending patients in wheelchairs as they were wheeled to waiting vehicles for their trip home. He couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched.
Giving up, he turned around and headed back into the hospital. He made his way up a small flight of steps to the area housing the nearest elevator and pushed the up button. As he waited, a man in a blue raincoat stepped up beside him. Frank looked to see the newcomer, his muscles tense as the feeling of foreboding refused to go away. He relaxed a bit when the elderly man smiled wearily in greeting.
"Nasty day," the man croaked.
"It's turning out to be one," Frank agreed, returning the man's smile.
"It's going to get much nastier," the man said as he and Frank entered the elevator.
"I hadn't heard," Frank said, making polite conversation as he leaned forward and punched the button for the floor he wanted.
"Just for you," the man said, his voice not nearly as feeble as it had first been.
Frank spun around but was too late. The man's cane came up and a sword popped out of the bottom, forcing Frank against the side of the elevator as the sword's tip made contact with Frank's flesh.
"You can't get at Joe," Frank declared bravely. "He's too well protected."
"Of course he is," Deerborne agreed. "But you aren't," he added, running the sharp sword through Frank's upper stomach stopping only as it came into contact with the wall of the elevator.