Chapter 10
Fenton stared forlornly at the cabin, not really seeing it.
Con Riley's friend had been waiting for them at the front of the airport in an old, weather-beaten station wagon. Tom Elling had been even more weather-beaten than the car. A huge hulk of a man with a shock of grey hair, he spoke with a lazy, small town drawl.
After Con had made the introductions, they had driven straight to the cabin. Tom had asked no questions and Fenton suspected that Con had told him everything when he had first called him. Not that Fenton cared, he was just grateful for the help.
"Where do we start?" asked Sam, breaking Fenton's thoughts.
"Inside," said Fenton decisively. "We know the kidnappers held them in there."
Sam nodded. "Okay." He glanced at Tom and Jack. They weren't police officers or detectives, and they had probably never done this before.
"Um, Tom? Jack?" Sam said. "If you see anything unusual or suspicious, would you mind…"
"Not touching it and calling you?" Jack interrupted.
Sam looked surprised and Jack chuckled. "Sam, I've watched enough TV to know that you never touch anything at a crime scene in case you disturb the evidence."
Fenton, Sam and Con laughed.
"Well, that's it then, guess our trade secrets are out!" Con joked.
All five men laughed this time.
"Come on," said Fenton, feeling better than he had all night. "Let's have a look around.
Methodically, all five men searched the cabin. They spent several hours searching carefully, peering into every nook and cranny, but they found nothing more than the remains of the kidnappers' meal and the ropes they had used to bind the Hardys to their chairs.
"Guess we're back to square one," said Sam unhappily as he looked around the living room.
"DAMMIT!" Fenton roared suddenly making them all jump. He thumped the wall in frustration as the hope he had felt coming up here was replaced by crushing disappointment.
"Think I'll go outside for a breath of air," said Tom discreetly, as he slipped from the room. Jack joined him, deciding it would be best to leave the agitated Fenton to the men who knew him best.
"This was a waste of time!" said Fenton bitterly. "These guys were professionals, they left nothing!"
"We haven't looked outside yet," Sam reminded him. "Maybe we'll find something there."
"I doubt it," said Fenton, despair threatening to overwhelm him once more. "If they left nothing in here, then we probably won't find anything outside."
"Even if we don't, we have other options," Con broke in. "This area is very…local. Strangers stand out. Maybe someone has seen something."
"How do you know so much about the area?" asked Sam curiously.
"I've been coming up here for years," answered Con. "I used to come fishing with my dad. Old Tom out there was Dad's best friend, and he used to come with us. After Dad died I continued to come up here and fish with Tom."
"How well do you know the area?" asked Sam, thinking that this journey might not have been wasted after all.
Before Con could answer they heard a shout from outside.
"Fenton? You need to come see this!" It was Jack.
The three men rushed outside to find Jack and Tom bent over something on the ground by the trees.
"What is it?" asked Fenton as he hurried over and knelt beside them.
"Glass," said Jack.
"Glass?" Con repeated as he came up behind them. "What use is that to us?"
"It's glass from a beer bottle, and it hasn't been here long," said Tom. "Now, unless your wife is a beer drinker, Fenton, I'd be wondering where this bottle came from."
The bottle was broken. Fenton peered at it intently before taking out his handkerchief and picking up a shard of glass with it.
"It's been out here all night, Fenton," Sam pointed out. "Any fingerprints would be gone by now."
"There's blood on it," Fenton informed him. "If it belongs to one of the kidnappers, maybe we can find out something through DNA."
Sam squinted at the blood that was crusted along the edge of the glass. He could feel excitement growing inside him.
"You're right, Fenton! This is great, now we really have something to go on!"
"Actually, you've more to go on than that," said Tom as he also picked up part of the glass bottle and held it up for their inspection. Fenton could see part of a beer label.
"I don't get it," he said in confusion.
"You wouldn't," Tom answered calmly. "You're not local."
Con, who had been studying the glass in Tom's hand, felt realisation dawn on him. "Tom, you're a genius. This is just what we need!"
"What?" asked Fenton, bewildered.
"Look at the label," said Con.
Fenton, Sam and Jack stared at the beer label. They could just make out the word Addingtons.
"I don't think I recognise the label," said Fenton finally.
"Exactly," said Con in excitement. "It's a local beer, brewed and sold in town. Nowhere else."
"Which means that any stranger who bought that beer would definitely be remembered," said Fenton, finally understanding what Tom and Con were getting at.
"Come on," said Sam enthusiastically. "Let's head into town."
"Okay," Fenton agreed. "Maybe the local sheriff can help us with this blood sample while we're there!"
Outside the basement, Joe waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark. It was a cloudy night but Joe could see that the stone house was surrounded by trees.
Moving quietly so that he wouldn't be heard, Joe made for the shelter of the trees. Once he was safely hidden from view by the trees, he stopped and looked back. He could see the eerie stone house rising menacingly against the darkness of the sky and he shivered.
He didn't know which was scarier, the house or the looming trees.
Staring at the large, dark shapes around him, Joe tried to think clearly and not panic. What should I do? Which way do I go?
Joe remained where he was for several minutes thinking hard.
Those men drove here so there must be a road, the child told himself finally.
Staying hidden in the trees, yet keeping the house in view, Joe moved quietly until he could see the front of the house. To his relief, he could see a road leading away from the house and into the woods.
I can follow that! he thought.
Joe crept through the trees towards the road, keeping alert for any sight or sound of the men. He reached the road and peered through the trees at it. It wasn't really a road at all, more of a dirt track and barely wide enough to accommodate a car of any kind.
Joe was surprised that the men had been able to get the van up here.
He tried to see down the path, but beyond a few feet all he could see was black. Joe swallowed. He would have to go into that black.
Hands shaking madly, Joe pulled out the pen and paper Frank had given him. He tried to draw his map but it hurt too much to hold a pen with his right hand, so he transferred the pen to his left hand and awkwardly managed to draw a line.
That's for the path! he told himself firmly.
Joe began to walk towards the enveloping darkness, once more remaining in the trees.
The trees were scary, but those men were scarier. Joe didn't want to be seen on the path. He tried to reassure himself that if he kept the path in his sight he should be okay, but with each step found himself clutching the food bag tightly against his chest. His heart hammering painfully, Joe turned to look back at the house but could no longer see it. All he could see was the dark, impassive trees leaning towards him. He really was all by himself now.
Joe allowed himself a frightened little whimper before he continued with his nightmare journey.
For a long time after Joe had left, Frank remained standing beneath the window. He was beginning to have second thoughts about his plan.
Would Joe be alright? What if something happened?
Frank shivered. He really hoped nothing would happen.
Suddenly, his mother moaned and Frank spun around and hurried towards her. He hoped she wasn't waking up. If she woke up and found Joe gone, she would panic and bring the men down here, and Frank didn't want them knowing Joe was gone.
At least not until morning.
In his haste to reach his mother, Frank bumped into the second bed and tripped, moving the bed as he did so.
Frozen, he remained on the floor watching his mother.
But Laura Hardy never woke. She mumbled incoherently and turned on her side. Frank heaved a sigh of relief.
Rubbing his throbbing knee from where he had bumped it on the bed, Frank turned to look at the bed. He noticed the bed had wheels on it. Another idea flashed through Frank's mind and he smiled.
Wonder if it squeaks? he thought.
Frank pulled himself up off the dusty floor and slowly pushed the bed. It slid silently across the floor. Excited, Frank pushed the bed further and once more it moved noiselessly.
Yes! he cheered inwardly.
Slowly, carefully, Frank pushed the bed to the window. Once there, he climbed onto the bed and proceeded to re-nail the window.
Let's see that confuse them! he smiled gleefully to himself.
When he was finished, he quietly moved the bed back to it's original position and trotted over to his mother. She still felt very hot.
Sighing, Frank climbed into the bed beside his mother and snuggled up to her. He didn't care if he got sick. Right now, he felt very scared and alone and he wanted to be comforted.
Frank thought of Joe. He really hoped nothing would happen to him out there. Frank was very fond of his little brother.