Killing Joe
Chapter 3
Joe Hardy was wet, cold and exhausted, but definitely not dead.
"Plan…sounded…hellavua lot…b-better last…night!" the seventeen-year-old gasped as he hauled his drenched butt out of the river and then collapsed on the bank.
Lying on his back and looking up at the cloudy morning sky, the blond teen waited to catch his breath as he took stock of his owies. Other than being exhausted, cold and wet, his jaw ached something fierce.
'Big brother can certainly pack a punch,' he grinned as he thought about their 'fight,' and then shivered. Time to get back to the shack and into some warm clothes! The last thing he needed was to catch pneumonia!
Besides, he wasn't sure how far down the river bank the searchers would look and he couldn't afford to be found, yet.
The plan was simple enough, actually. Fenton had a new client whose daughter had been murdered in Sheila Flats, by her boyfriend. There were witnesses to the murder, yet the boy's family had been able to 'buy' his way out of jail, so the family had hired Hardy Investigations to get the goods on the corrupt sheriff and deputy.
Fenton had immediately enlisted his sons to help. It would be a perfect cover. The boys would go to Sheila Flats 'on holiday' as themselves, and then one of them would 'murder' the other and get arrested.
Their father would then fly to the town, as the doting dad, willing to do 'anything' to get his son out. Once the sheriff made his offer, the state police could be brought in.
It sounded simple enough...and it was.
Of course, deciding which brother got to 'murder' which had almost led to real fisticuffs until Fenton, siding with Frank, adamantly agreed with his older son, that Joe was not going to be the one put in jail.
The younger boy couldn't figure out why they were so against him being the 'murderer,' although he suspected his being the family 'baby' might have had something to do with it.
Frank had actually used his brother's blond hair, blue eyes and striking looks against him, insisting that the younger boy would a lockup's dream date.
Aghast, Joe had taken exception to that and reminded Frank, that 'tall, dark and handsome' had a way of wooing the inmates too! The older boy had turned an interesting shade of crimson before Fenton cut in and ended the debate.
His brother was older and held a black belt in karate. And while Joe was no slouch in the physical combat arena himself, the older Hardy was registered as 'lethal.' So the decision was made.
Of course Frank was excited. After threatening time and time again over the years, to 'kill his baby brother', he was now going to get the opportunity to do so – in front of a witness, nonetheless!
Joe was still convinced it was just his father and brother being overprotective, but Frank was going to jail – and that was that!
The fight on the bridge had been well staged. It hadn't taken the boys very long to find out that Walter Miller fished off the deck every morning, so they just had to get there before he did, wait until he was close and he would be their witness.
'Provided he doesn't have a heart attack,' Joe had gibed at his brother as they waited.
The clincher had been an almost knockout punch. And had it been delivered by anyone other than Frank, Joe would have been out like a light. But Frank had pulled the punch so it sounded a lot worse than it was. And while it had sent him reeling and his jaw still hurt, his brother had actually been very precise and Joe remained conscious.
Now when he hit the water…well that had been a bit close. The boys had done their research and knew about the powerful undertows, but still that, combined with the coldness, had given Joe – a normally powerful swimmer – more of a task than either had counted on.
However, that was all a moot point now. Joe had made it and Frank should right now be getting arrested for his murder, if he hadn't been already!
Shivering, Joe hurried away from the riverbank and up the path towards the gravel road where he and Frank had left the 4x4 truck they had rented. The brothers actually had two vehicles – a car, which was still in town at the motel they had spent the last couple of nights at, and a truck they had used to get up here and stock the shack with supplies in case Joe ended up spending more than a night or two in hiding.
Either way, Joe needed somewhere to veg until everything played out, and a vehicle in case of an emergency. Fenton was not going to allow him to be stranded…anything could happen, particularly since he was going to be taking a plunge. The boy knew his father would have preferred that Sam Radley, Fenton's friend and partner, could have been at the shack waiting for Joe, but Sam was tied up testifying at a court case in Washington, D.C., so the detective just took a few extra precautions.
The first was that he would drop by to check on Joe himself, after he got Frank's call. Horrid local cell phone reception had nixed the original idea of Fenton waiting at the shack…and then, of course, the second thing was the other vehicle for the boys.
Crossing in front of the truck, Joe glanced in the window and saw his warm fleece pullover lying on the passenger seat, next to his overnight bag of dry clothes. Shivering intensely, he stuck his hand in his pocket to get the keys to unlock the door but then screwed up his face, as his jeans were still soaked. The keys were safe inside the shack where Joe had left them. The blond teen did not want to take any chances about them falling out in the river.
"O-o-h m-m-man," he stammered, his teeth chattering, "j-j-just m-m-my l-l-luck!" Moving swiftly, he clambered up the trail towards the small building, rubbing his hands briskly as he did.
'Should have left warm stuff by a tree,' he mentally berated himself, heaving a sigh of relief when he finally saw the shack.
Bursting into the front door, he snatched the truck keys and then hurried back down the path, already planning on turning the truck on and putting the heat on full blast for at least an hour! Well, maybe not that long, but until his teeth stopped chattering, anyway!
He had just unlocked the doors when he heard the sound of scuffling on the gravel behind him! Whirling around, he stopped dead when he saw two guys – probably six or seven years older than himself – and their sawed-off shotgun!
'Oh crud,' he thought, 'this is so not good!'
"Ah, h-hi f-fellas," Joe said through chattering teeth as he tried to ignore the shotgun muzzle aimed directly at his chest.
One of the guys, shorter and stockier than the other with dirty blond hair and hazel-brown eyes, grinned at his friend, "Well ain't he a pretty boy?"
'Swell,' Joe mentally griped, 'and Frank thought he was doing me a favor by being the one going to jail.'
"Not as pretty as his truck though," the other guy, taller with jet-black hair held the shotgun steady as he looked at the Hardys' rented truck.
"That is a nice truck," the first guy agreed.
"W-well as luck would have i-it," Joe quipped working hard to keep his chattering teeth under control, "there's a special t-today. The truck is all y-yours, f-free!" He held up the keys, hoping they would take the vehicle and leave.
The darker-haired guy frowned as he looked at Joe, thoughtfully, "Why are you so wet?"
"F-fuse blew on the d-d-dryer," the sarcastic comment was out of his mouth before Joe even had a chance to restrain himself. But to his relief the two guys found that funny and started to laugh.
"He's pretty funny!" The blond-haired guy laughed, and then looked at his friend as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Gas is awfully expensive, isn't it Cletus?"
'Cletus?' Joe thought, 'You gotta be kidding!' He bit his tongue to keep from snorting that out loud.
"Awfully so, Norton," Cletus agreed and then smiled a cold smile at Joe. "Let's go, Pretty Boy."
'Norton?' And then the rest of what he said sunk in – they wanted him to go with them?
"W-what?" Joe stalled, rapidly trying to figure out some way out of this. It was too much to hope that his father would show up about now. Not enough time had passed.
"You heard me—" Cletus said, and then prodded Joe's chest with the muzzle, "move."
"Uh – I-I'd really r-r-rather not-t!" Joe said, gently pushing the muzzle away.
"Fine," Cletus said with a shrug; he cocked the hammer back.
"W-w-wait!" Joe said, "let's not b-b-be h-h-hasty h-h-ere!" He carefully turned around to get into the truck, but a sharp blow to the back of his head turned the world black!
The last thing he heard as he passed out was Norton snorting, "Time to have us some fun!"
