J.M.J.

Author's note: I know I've been doing the author's note at the ends of chapters this time around, but this is one you need to read before reading the chapter. FF seems to be going through some issues with posting chapters. It took a couple days for chapter 17 to be available to read on the website (you could see it on the mobile app), so some of you may have missed it. Hopefully, they've resolved this issue now.

Chapter XVIII

Sunday, May 9

Day Nine

"Are you absolutely certain, Sam?" Fenton asked. He was talking on his phone in his home office early that morning before church.

"About the picture Osmund showed me, yes," Sam replied. "The rest of it, I have to take Osmund's word for. I know for a fact now that Durant thinks Osmund is dirty. He could be right and Osmund could be sending me on a wild-goose chase."

"But he couldn't have gotten a picture of Rudger without either what he says being true or Osmund being mixed up with Black Rose."

Rudger was the person who had thrown the grenade that had injured Iola over a year ago. He was a part of an organization that called themselves Black Rose and was the only member of that organization who had been captured alive, but he had promptly escaped. No one had heard or seen anything of him since then; they didn't even know whether Rudger was his first name, last name, or his real name at all.

"I don't think…" Sam began, but Fenton didn't hear the rest of the sentence over the banging on his office door.

"Hold on, Sam," Fenton said. "I think the boys want something."

He took two strides to the door and opened it to find Frank and Joe on the other side.

"Dad, look at the text I got last night." Joe held out his phone for Fenton to see. It was hardly surprising. It was from Iola's number and it simply said, "September 2, 1998."

"It came in at close to midnight, so we didn't see it until now," Frank explained.

Fenton rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Okay. Look, guys, I think you'd better hear what Sam has to say." He closed the door to the office behind the boys and turned the phone to speaker. Then he asked Sam to repeat the whole story.

Sam explained about how Angelo had been released from prison and about Osmund showing Sam a picture of Rudger and claiming that Rudger was influencing the mayor and was probably involved in Angelo's release. Sam also explained how he had been following Angelo since his release and that Angelo had promptly left Southport. He had checked into a motel in Gresham, and Sam was currently staking it out to see if he left. Several times during the story, Joe opened his mouth to interject some comment, but each time Fenton gave him a warning look to wait until Sam was finished.

"Dad, Sam," he said as soon as he could, "this fits perfectly with my theory."

"He's right," Frank agreed. "If there was any doubt that he was right before, there can't be now."

"What theory?" Sam asked. "I don't think I heard about this."

"I was thinking over everything that's happened," Joe began. "See, Mario basically got an anonymous tip about Angelo being in Southport. He's working on finding out where it came from, but he hasn't let me know yet. What if that anonymous tip was sent specifically to get Frank and me to Southport? Then Kelly Alston follows us around and misquotes us to make everybody think we're trying to catch the serial killer, with the full blessing of the Southport Police Department. Allison might even be involved, to try to get us to go to Angelo's apartment and get ourselves arrested, just to make us and the police look extra bad."

"I don't see how that would help anyone," Sam said slowly.

"It all comes back to Chief Osmund and Tara Michaels," Joe went on. "I think what happened was that Tara Michaels wrote an exposé on some illegal dealing of Mayor Hodgefield back he was on city council. It must have been something pretty big, because he either threatened or bought off the editor of the paper to kill the story. Then he had Tara killed to keep her quiet. Chief Osmund was just a detective back then and the lead investigator. His superiors might have been crooked or maybe he simply didn't have enough evidence to go to court, but he's been sure this whole time that the mayor is the murderer. Hodgefield might have not realized until recently or he might think that Osmund is getting close to finally getting the evidence—maybe he is—so he gets Frank and me to go to Southport and he gets Kelly Alston to make sure everyone thinks that Osmund has let a couple of teenagers take over this huge case while his officers sit around being incompetent. Of course, we all know that Frank and I are more than capable…"

"Never mind that right now," Fenton cut him off. "Anyway, Sam, the boys think that the whole scheme is meant to make Osmund look like an incompetent idiot so that Hodgefield can fire him without backlash from the community and so that if Osmund does come out with some evidence, no one will take him seriously."

"Rudger could have found out about the murder," Frank said. "That could be what he's using to blackmail Hodgefield, and it would explain how this whole plan has worked out so smoothly so far."

"There's only one question it doesn't answer," Joe said. "The killer couldn't be mixed up in all this. It doesn't fit. He's probably working on his own, and that means that none of this gets us any closer to finding Iola."

"Right," Sam agreed, "and that does need to be one of our main focuses. I've been too busy following Angelo to investigate the boys' theory about Rhett Gaint's classmates."

"Does that mean it's back to Southport for us?" Joe asked hopefully. "Seeing as how the clue here has fizzled out anyway?"

"No," Fenton told him. "It's back to Southport for me. It's back to school for you and Frank."

Joe would have protested, but just then, his phone rang. "Dad, it's him," he said, seeing Iola's number come up on the screen.

"Answer it," Fenton said.

Joe swiped the screen to answer the call. "Hello?"

"Hello, Joe." It was the same mechanical and unidentifiable disguised voice as before. "I thought now would be a good time to call. You wouldn't be at church yet, unless you've got other things on your mind and aren't going."

"What do you want?"

"To give you the next clue, of course…and something else. You know, you're not a very good Sir Galahad. Are you abandoning your damsel in distress?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You left Southport. I thought you'd given up on her. That would spoil the game. We've still got four days left. So I thought I'd make one small concession to you."

"What?"

Instead of an answer, there was a pause and a click. For an instant, Joe thought the killer had hung up, but then he realized it was just the voice disguising equipment being turned off because the next thing he heard was a sound he'd been longing to hear for over a week now.

"Joe?"

"Iola? Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me." Iola sounded nervous, but she didn't sound weak like she had been mistreated. Still, Joe couldn't tell for sure just from talking to her.

"Are you okay? Has he hurt you?"

"Joe, don't you know that…" Iola was suddenly cut off. A second later, she came back, an angry edge to her voice that convinced Joe more than her words that she really was all right for the moment. "I have been ordered to tell you that I haven't been hurt and to tell you that the next clue is January 18, 1994. I…"

The phone call was abruptly cut off with a click. This time, it really was the phone being disconnected. Joe took several deep breaths to try to steady his nerves.

"He actually let you talk to Iola this time?" Frank asked.

Joe nodded. "She sounded okay." He related the brief conversation.

"What do you want us to do, Fenton?" asked Sam, who was still on speakerphone.

Fenton considered for a few moments. "You keep on Angelo, Sam. I'll get to work right away on the classmates idea. You boys need to try to focus on school for now. I know it's not easy, but there's really nothing for you to do right now. If anything comes up that you can work on, even if it means missing some school, then that's fine, but for now, there would be absolutely no point to you missing anymore."

That decision disappointed both Frank and Joe, but they had to admit, if only to themselves, that their father was right.

HBHBHBHBHB

"I think I've got everything I need." Callie slung her laptop bag over one shoulder and an overnight bag with a few different sets of clothes than what she had in her apartment over the other. Her father had offered to carry it out to the car for her, but Callie insisted on doing it herself.

"Are you sure you don't want to take any food along?" her mother asked as Callie prepared to head out the door for her last week of school.

"I've got food at my apartment, Mom," Callie told her. "It's not like I'm going to be gone a long time. I'll be back by Saturday, probably."

"Be careful," her father told her as he gave her a hug.

"I'll be fine, Dad," Callie assured him.

But as she threw her bags in the back seat of her car and turned on the engine, she was definitely not feeling fine. Frank had given her all the updates on the case since that morning. The fact that Iola was still definitely alive was good, but somehow it didn't cheer her up much. Perhaps it was because she was reminded that the worst was still ahead, and all she could do was take her final tests.

It felt like a long drive to Gresham. She tried turning on some music to break up the monotony, but that somehow only made her feel more anxious, so she turned it off again. By the time she reached the exit for Gresham, she made a sudden, impulsive decision. She kept going, straight for Southport. She wasn't sure what she expected to find there, but there had to be something.

When she arrived, she wasn't sure where to go, so she found herself driving toward the hotel where the Berettas were staying. Still without a plan, she went up to the second floor and knocked on the door of the room the girls were sharing. There was a short pause and then Belle answered.

"Hey, there," Belle said. "What brings you out here?"

Callie shrugged slightly. "I don't know. I guess I just wanted to do something. I thought maybe I could check on Allison."

Belle opened the door to let her in. "Well, last I heard, Allison was fine. She's not here anymore. When they released her brother from the hospital, he went back to his apartment and Allison decided. In case the Hardys told you about their suspicions, don't worry. Both Mario and Uncle John are with them. They're not making a break for South America."

Callie chuckled weakly. "Good. Do you really think that Allison could be in on this?"

Belle frowned. "Honestly, I'm not sure. I am sure that her brother, Marshall, can't be involved. He really did get knocked over the head and almost died. He'd have to be a pretty dedicated crook to go to those lengths just to get us to believe him. Allison, though…I don't know. She's a funny person. If I'd been through what she has—or what she says she has—I'd be a total mess, I think. But she's surprisingly okay."

"Some people can handle things better than others."

"Yeah, totally." Belle gave a hearty nod. "Absolutely. But if she's not part of this set-up the Hardys suspect, she's still taking Mario and me for suckers."

"What do you mean by that?"

Belle went over to her bed and flopped down on it. She stared the ceiling for a few moments before answering. "I don't like making accusations against people, especially when I'm not positive I'm right. But here goes anyway. Before she was attacked on the first, she didn't seem traumatized at all. She wanted to be by herself a lot and would even go for walks by herself. And okay, maybe that's just her way of coping. But then after the attack, she totally changed. Now she wants people around her all the time."

"So, you think the thing with Angelo and Marshall was an act on her part, but the attack later was real?" Callie concluded.

Belle nodded again. "It's not much, I know, but it seems suspicious to me."

"I think so." Callie folded her arms and looked around the room. She spotted several bags in a corner and guessed that it wasn't all Belle's things. "Did she leave her stuff here?"

Belle followed Callie's gaze over to the bags. "Yeah. You're not thinking of going through her stuff for a clue?"

"Well…it probably would be wrong," Callie admitted.

"A total violation of her privacy," Belle agreed.

"Especially if we're wrong about her." Callie bit her lip. "On the other hand, we do have some probable cause."

"I think that's only for cops." Belle grinned. "Pretty sure snoopy roommates don't have to go through as many legal hoops."

"There's still such a thing as conscience. What about Allison's brother? Has he said anything?"

"After that knock on the head, his memory's pretty fuzzy. He says he can't remember anything about what happened. He does say that he doesn't think Allison is really pregnant."

Callie wrinkled her forehead. "Does he have any particular reason for thinking that?"

Belle shrugged. "Maybe. He hasn't given one. Maybe he knew something before he got hit over the head and he can't really remember it now, but he still knows it's there. Say! Maybe the reason Allison wanted to go back to his apartment was to keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn't remember anything. If his memory starts coming back, she might do something more extreme to him."

"In that case, it's practically a matter of life and death," Callie said. "I think we could square it with our consciences to look through her stuff."

Belle nodded and the two girls went to work. It didn't take them long before Callie found a wallet amidst Allison's other belongings.

"That's funny," she commented. "I wonder why she didn't take her wallet with her."

Belle furrowed her brow. "She did, though. At least, she took her purse and I know she had a wallet in it. Go ahead. Look in it."

Callie opened the wallet and gasped. There was a good-sized roll of twenty-dollar bills inside.

"I thought she was practically destitute," Callie said.

"Me, too," Belle agreed. "Now I know for sure that she's taking us for suckers. How much money is in there?"

Callie counted it out. "A thousand dollars, exactly. I'm no detective, but that spells 'pay-off' to me."

"Yep." Belle frowned. "It looks pretty bad, but on its own, it's not really evidence."

"Hold on. There's something else in here." Callie took out a sticky note. A phone number had been written on it. "I wonder whose number this is."

"Maybe the person who paid her off. I'm going to call it and see." Belle took out her cell phone, turned the speaker on so that Callie could hear if anyone answered, and dialed the number. It rang several times and then went to voicemail. A recorded message said, "This is David Ferris. Leave a message."

"David Ferris," Callie repeated after Belle had hung up. "He's the kid that Frank and Joe were supposed to contact at the very beginning. The one who's supposed to be missing."

"I think we'd better turn all this over to the police," Belle said. "They're going to want to have another talk with Allison."

Author's note: Thanks for continuing to read! Thank you especially to everyone who has left reviews!