J.M.J.

Chapter XXII

Thursday, May 13

Day Thirteen

Joe had driven straight to Southport after leaving the house. It had been close to eight in the evening when he had arrived, and Joe had been able to tell right away that his father wasn't particularly glad to see him. Nevertheless, Fenton had let him come with him as he continued to investigate. During the afternoon, Durant had managed to get the name and address of a cousin of Rhett Gaint who lived in Southport. Unfortunately, he hadn't been home when Fenton and Joe had arrived and they couldn't get a phone number for him. Finally, they had gone back to the hotel, where they had met Frank, Callie, and Sam, and they spent a restless night in the suite that Fenton had rented.

At a little before six in the morning, Joe, who was supposedly sleeping on one of the sofas in the main room, propped himself up on his elbows. "Frank?"

His brother, who was asleep on the other sofa, responded in a much sleepier voice than Joe would have, "Huh?"

"Did anyone ever check with that professor about Rhett's classmates?" Joe asked. "That Dr. Pearson?"

"I don't think so."

"Well, there's no point in all of us running down the same leads today," Joe said. "I'm going to go talk to her today."

He got up and headed to the bathroom to comb his hair. He hadn't undressed the night before, so there was no need to get dressed again, even if he had brought extra clothes.

"She's not going to be on campus this early in the morning," Frank warned him.

"I'll see if I can find out her home address," Joe replied. "We can't afford to waste a second."

Fenton appeared in the doorway of one of the two bedrooms. "Where are you going, Joe?"

"I'm going to see if I can find Dr. Pearson," Joe said, a bit shortly.

"Okay. How about Sam goes with you?" Fenton said.

"Dad!" Joe protested. "Sam can follow some other lead. We can cover more ground if we split up."

"It will also be more dangerous for all of us if we do. I really didn't want either you or Frank here in the first place. That serial killer knows exactly who we are and doesn't seem to have any trouble keeping track of where we go."

Frank sat up. "What happened to us being adults now and having to make our own decisions on what cases we're going to work on?"

"Yeah," Joe seized upon that point eagerly. "It wasn't very fair of you to tell us that and then the first time there's a case you don't want us working on, you change your mind." He paused to run the comb through his hair a couple more times. "And now it's probably going to cost Iola her life."

Fenton felt as if cold water had been dashed over him. "Joe, you and Frank are my kids. It's my duty to try to keep you safe."

"Isn't it also your duty to keep the victims of criminals safe?" Joe set the comb down and stalked out of the suite into the hallway, exerting all his willpower not to stomp as he went.

By the time he had reached his car, he had cooled down a little. He felt a little guilty about the exchange with his dad and knew that his comments would cut deep. But there would be time for apologies later. His father knew that he was just tired and worried—no, frightened. As much as Joe hated to admit it, that was the word. Whenever he thought of what the day might bring, his throat would constrict until he could scarcely breathe.

So he had to focus. He just had to focus on finding Iola. He couldn't think about what might happen. He just needed to work on the task at hand.

It took a herculean effort to shake himself out of his fears and do exactly that. The first thing he needed to do was stop driving at random and figure out where he needed to go. He didn't know where Dr. Pearson lived, but maybe he could find out if he could find a phonebook somewhere. He spotted a twenty-four hour convenience store and pulled in. No one was there except a tired-looking young man, who was eagerly looking at the clock every few seconds. Joe guessed that his shift probably ended at six and he was waiting for someone to come and take over.

"Excuse me," Joe said. "Do you have a phonebook?"

"A phonebook?" The young man snorted. "What century are you living in?"

"It's important. I need to try to find an address."

"Well, there might be a phonebook around here somewhere." The man bent down to look under the counter. "This place is so cluttered. It would probably be faster to stop someone on the street and ask them. It's a small enough town, you'd probably find someone who knows."

"I'm looking for a Dr. Patricia Pearson. I know she works at the community college, but she probably won't be there for a couple of hours."

"She should be there now. One of my buddies is taking a six a.m. class from her. Can you believe it? Six o'clock in the morning to be in class. I think they offer those for all the old people trying to go back to school while they're holding down a regular job. I'd never do it. It's bad enough having this job at night, but at least I can go home and sleep and it's not like it really matters if I'm half-asleep here."

Joe didn't hear most of this. As soon as he heard that Dr. Pearson was at the campus after all, he rushed out of the store and back to his car. Unfortunately, the main offices of the college weren't open that early, so Joe couldn't ask anyone where Dr. Pearson's classroom was. The college website didn't offer that information, either. It did, however, tell where Dr. Pearson's office was, so Joe went and waited outside her door, hoping she would come straight to her office after class.

The wait was interminable, but it paid off. At right around seven o'clock, a woman came walking down the hallway and gave Joe a curious look. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"Dr. Pearson?" Joe replied.

The woman nodded. "That's right. Are you a student here?"

"No, I'm a detective, Joe Hardy. I wanted to ask you some questions about a case."

Dr. Pearson sized him up with a bemused smile. "You look a bit young to be a detective, but I'm intrigued. I don't think I've ever been involved in a mystery before. Are you consulting me as a biologist or as a suspect?"

"Neither, exactly. Would you mind if we sat down?"

Dr. Pearson led the way into the office and they both sat. It was small, barely twelve square feet, and an overflowing desk and bookshelves took up most of the space. A window encompassed most of the far wall, and Dr. Pearson's various diplomas hung on the wall above her desk.

"So, I must be a witness, then," Dr. Pearson said. She still seemed to be taking this whole thing as a joke. "What exactly did I witness?"

"You had a student in your human genetics class last semester named Rhett Gaint," Joe replied. "Do you remember him?"

"Rhett? Oh, certainly. So that's what you're investigating? His murder?"

"You heard about that, then?"

"It's a small campus. When something like that happens, everyone hears about. But I would have heard about it anyway. I was his advisor. I'm surprised you didn't know that if you're investigating the case. I suppose you want me to tell you something about him, like if he had any enemies I knew of? I certainly don't know of any."

"Actually, I was more interested in his friends. Was there anyone in particular he hit it off with in your class?"

"In my class? Hmm." Dr. Pearson paused to think. "If he did, I didn't particularly notice. He was kind of a misfit. I don't think he had many friends."

It would have hurt less if Dr. Pearson had suddenly punched Joe in the mouth. He had been counting so much on this idea, he had scarcely even considered the possibility it would lead nowhere.

Dr. Pearson seemed to notice because she added, "I'm sorry. If there was anyone, I'd tell you, but there just isn't."

Joe passed a hand over his face. "Yeah. It's not your fault. It's just…" He trailed off, not really paying attention to what he was saying. For a moment, he practically forgot where he was as he tried desperately to think of some lead, something, anything. His eyes drifted to the wall above Dr. Pearson's desk, as if he would find inspiration there. Her name stood out in big letters on her diplomas: two different Bachelors, a Masters, and a Doctorate. Those letters almost seemed to fill Joe's brain in his desperation. Then he saw it: the date on her Doctorate diploma, May 15, 1998.

As he stared at it, Dr. Pearson turned to look at what had caught his attention. Then she stood up abruptly. "Excuse me," she said as she walked out of the room.

Joe at once jumped to his feet. "Wait! There's something else we need to talk about!"

Dr. Pearson didn't stop to listen. Instead, she sprinted toward the stairs. She was a fast runner, but Joe would have easily outdistanced her, if a group of other professors hadn't gotten in his way on the stairs. One of them, no doubt thinking something was wrong with this situation, made a feeble attempt to stop Joe, but he was able to push past him.

The few seconds that that had taken were costly. Dr. Pearson had made it to the door and outside by this time. When he reached the door, Joe had to take another few precious seconds to see which way she had gone. Joe was afraid he had lost her when he spotted her getting into a car in the parking lot down below. She had pulled away by the time Joe reached the sidewalk, but fortunately he hadn't parked for away. He was able to reach his car before Dr. Pearson's was quite out of sight.

As soon as Joe was in his car, he tried placing a call to his dad. There was no answer. He was about to try Frank, but then Dr. Pearson ran a light that was just changing to red. Joe wasn't about to lose her, so he held down on the horn and followed her through the intersection, which fortunately wasn't busy. He dropped his phone in the process, and he didn't dare take his eyes off Dr. Pearson's car to look for it, as if letting her out of his sight for a millisecond would give her the chance to vanish.

Dr. Pearson didn't seem particularly interested in shaking Joe off her tail otherwise. She didn't make any sudden turns or anything else. She just went straight on her way out of town. She followed the highway a few miles and then turned off it onto a narrow, poorly paved road. Joe followed her.

Maybe she hadn't realized Joe had followed her before now. At any rate, for the first time, she really gave her car some gas. Joe tried to do the same, but the road was full of potholes. Dr. Pearson managed to maneuver around them, but Joe hit several. As he hit the fourth one, he heard a loud boom and the steering wheel suddenly yanked to the right. Fortunately, Joe had been gripping it tightly so it didn't pull him off the road, but he knew right away that he wasn't much better off.

He stopped the car and got out. Sure enough, the front right tire had blown out. He kicked it in frustration, knowing that he had never gotten the spare replaced after last time that he had gotten a flat. Then he glared at the back end of Dr. Pearson's retreating car which was just barely still in sight.

There was only one thing to do. Joe looked in the driver door again and found his phone on the floor. He grabbed it and placed a call to his dad and then started walking. This time, his dad answered.

"Have you found anything, Joe?" Fenton asked tersely.

"I'll say. Dr. Pearson is the serial killer."

"What? Are you sure?"

"Positive. When I went to see her in her office, she had her diplomas on the wall. She got her Doctorate on May 15, 1998. That's one of those dates. And when she noticed me looking at those diplomas, she split. I'm chasing her now. At least, I'm trying to. My car got a flat and I don't have a spare. And there's one other thing. When she let me talk to Iola yesterday, Iola started saying something that started with 'Daw…" and then she got cut off. I'll bet she was going to say, 'Doctor Pearson.'"

"It sounds plausible. She knows you're onto her and you're on foot?"
"Yeah."

"Where exactly are you?"

Joe gave directions, but Fenton didn't reply. "Hello? Dad? Are you still there?" Joe said. When there was still no reply, he took the phone away from his ear. There was no reception here and the call had been cut off. Joe let out a long breath. He couldn't even be sure now that his dad had gotten the directions. He thought about turning back and trying to call again, but he decided against. Somehow, deep down, he knew that Dr. Pearson was heading straight for wherever she was holding Iola. Every second was precious now, and his dad wouldn't be able to get there in time even with the directions.

Joe was praying with every step he took that it wouldn't be far, that somehow he would still make it in time. He could have laughed with relief when he saw Dr. Pearson's car parked up ahead after only walking about half a mile.

Unfortunately, neither the professor nor Iola was there. The car was simply parked on the side of the road and there was no indication of where Dr. Pearson might have gone. There was, oddly enough, a round corral of some sort next to the parked car. There was a little barn as well, but it had an open side and Joe could see from here that there were no people inside it, although there was a small haystack and other paraphernalia that were necessary for taking care of a horse.

"She couldn't have gone somewhere on a horse, could she?" Joe muttered. "I hope I didn't waste all this time following her out while she takes a ride."

He didn't really think that was much of a likelihood. Even so, the situation was strange, to say the least. He walked all the way around the corral, searching the ground for any trace of footprints or hoofprints. The ground was soft, so he actually did spot a few of each. More than that, though, he spotted where the grass had been flattened by tires, as if an ATV had been taken through there recently. It made a decent trail, so Joe decided to follow it.

The trail led up into some trees, but it didn't last more than three quarters of a mile. It came out to a small clearing with a cabin sitting in the middle of it. A horse was tied up in front, but there were no people in sight. Off to one side was a cluster of what looked like four headstones. Joe shivered, but he reminded himself that there were only four. Iola was Dr. Pearson's fifth victim. Maybe he still wasn't too late.

Joe cautiously approached it and peered in the window. His heart leaped when he did. Iola was inside, lying on a bed with an old-fashioned metal frame. Dr. Pearson was nowhere in sight, but Joe didn't bother about that for the moment.

He rushed around to the door. It was unlocked, but even it hadn't been, he would have broken it down. Iola started when the door opened, as if she had just been woken up. Her eyes widened and she gasped.

"Joe! Oh, Joe! You found me! But she's still here. Somewhere."

"Don't worry about that right now," Joe told her. He was a little surprised he could say anything coherent at all right now. To be honest, all he felt like doing was laughing for pure joy, but he knew that he couldn't waste time to do that right now. "Are you all right? Did she hurt you at all?"

"No. No, they…they drugged me at first and it took a few days for it to wear off, but other than that she hasn't hurt me."

"They?" Joe repeated. "She does have an accomplice?"

"She did." Iola shuddered. "He made some kind of mistake and she killed him. Joe, please get me out of here."

"Okay."

Joe picked her up and went to the door. He looked around, but he didn't see Dr. Pearson anywhere. He knew that carrying Iola all the way back to his car was out of the question, even if they weren't likely to be pursued. His attention went to the horse standing in front of the cabin.

"Iola, do you think you could stay on a horse if I helped you?" Joe asked.

"Of course, I could. I think I could stay on it by myself if I had to."

"We'll try it, then."

Joe carried her to the horse and lifted her onto its back, though not without a struggle since it meant trying to lift her almost higher than his head. He was about to get on himself when he heard someone come from around the side of the cabin. He turned to see Dr. Pearson with a gun in her hands.

"Well, well. So you win after all, and just when I was starting to think you wouldn't figure it out at all. Of course, when I saw you outside my office, I thought you probably were onto me, but I had to keep up the act to make sure. It wasn't until I saw you staring at that diploma that I knew for sure."

Joe kept a hand on Iola's knee, but to reassure himself that she was still there and to encourage her. "Yeah, at least one of those crazy dates meant something."

"They all did. Just because you aren't clever enough to figure them out doesn't mean that they didn't. Maybe that should be part of the rules of the game; that you have to figure out all the dates."

"The rules were that I had to find Iola before the end of the thirteenth," Joe said. "I did, so now you have to let us go."

"I have to let her go. I didn't say anything about you. Besides, you still didn't exactly follow the rules. Your brother was supposed to help you find Iola. I guess he really did have better things to do than rescue the fair maiden. So much for Sir Galahad."

"What's with that, anyway? The Sir Galahad thing?" Joe asked.

Dr. Pearson snorted in contempt. "I wanted to prove you weren't, even though you imagine you are. No one is. There's no such thing as purity of heart. No one does anything except for their own benefit. It's all a lie to control people and make them think that humans are something more than animals."

Iola leaned forward. "There's no point talking to her," she whispered. "We've got to get away."

Joe nodded, but he didn't have any plan to accomplish that just yet. "Then why are you doing all this? What are you getting out of it?"

"The knowledge that I'm working toward a better and kinder world. If all the generations before this and all of you living now hadn't been so selfish, I might have gotten to live in that world. You know, they scoff at my work in eugenics. They say it's immoral and whatever else. Don't they want a world where there's no suffering, no disabilities, no diseases?"

"I suppose everyone does, but it's impossible," Joe told her.

"Only because you're not willing to do what it takes. Trust me, it's better for a disabled person to die than to have to live in their poor quality of life."

"No, it isn't," Iola told her. "I think I'd know more about that than you, anyway."

Dr. Pearson shook her head. "Aw, love, no. It's just your base instincts talking. Two years ago, wouldn't you have said that you'd rather die than live in a wheelchair?"

"I don't know that I would have. It's not really something I ever thought about," Iola admitted, "but if I would have said that, it would have been because I had my priorities wrong. I know you think I'm a useless leech to society—you've told me as much—but I'm not. There's a lot I can do. There's a lot I want to do. But even if there wasn't, you don't get to decide who lives and who dies, whose life is worthwhile and whose isn't."

"It's sad that you want to prolong your suffering because of these lies." Dr. Pearson gestured toward the four headstones behind her. "You know, I held them here for thirteen days, just like you. I just didn't tell anyone where I had them. I came here and talked to them, explained to them, comforted them. It was the only two weeks of their lives that they were ever really loved, that anyone put their interests first. Now, not only are they at rest, free forever from all suffering, but they won't have more children like themselves to suffer as they did and lend to the suffering of others. Their families are happier, too, now that they're free from the burden of caring for them. Just as your family will be happier, love."

Joe felt sick. All the criminals that he had encountered had had some understanding on some level that what they were doing was wrong. They might have felt that they were justified in what they were doing, but at least they understood that it was something that needed to be justified before it could be done. Not only from her words but also the way she said them and her steady and even pitying expression, it was obvious she thought she was entirely in the right here. He wondered how Iola survived being in close proximity with such a person for so long.

"Did they agree with you?" Iola asked. "The other people that you killed: did they agree they were better off dead?"

"Unfortunately, no. They were too steeped in the poisonous ideology that life—any life—is sacred and should be protected. They didn't understand that some lives are better off ended. That's why a part of my theory of eugenics is not only that certain physical characteristics must be exterminated through genetic manipulation, but also certain ideologies must also be destroyed, even if it means putting everyone who holds them to sleep. Their ailments may not be physical, but they're often incurable, and they only add to the sum total of suffering in the world."

"You're sick," Joe said.

"Shut up!" Dr. Pearson shrieked. "You don't know anything! You'll destroy the world with your superstitious beliefs and childish fears! I'm trying to save it, even if it means destroying every trace of you and your kind!"

HBHBHBHBHB

If Joe and Iola had known that help was near at hand, they would have had more courage. Fenton had been on his way to police headquarters after a fruitless visit with Rhett Gaint's relative when he got Joe's call. He had heard enough of the directions that Joe had given him before the signal cut out to find Joe's disabled car. On the way to it, he had called Sam, Frank, and Durant, but to his frustration, none of them answered and he was forced to leave messages.

When Fenton reached Joe's car, he didn't hesitate about going on, and then when he saw Dr. Pearson's parked car, he figured the same as Joe had. He wished he could make another call and get some more back-up, but he wasn't going to wait while Joe walked into what was probably a trap.

Considering that Fenton hadn't had to walk as far as Joe, he wasn't so terribly far behind him. He reached the cabin in time to hear the last few exchanges of the confrontation between Joe and Iola and Dr. Pearson.

He was positioned so that professor was directly between him and the kids. He didn't like that. Even though he had a gun, he wouldn't be able to use it for fear of hitting Joe or Iola. He started to try to move around to get into a better position, but then Dr. Pearson let out her shriek. Fenton thought that sounded like a prelude to her doing something worse than talking, so even with his compromised position, he stepped forward.

"Drop that gun!" he shouted, keeping his voice even and authoritative.

Dr. Pearson looked over her shoulder, but she didn't drop her gun. "Oh, so you did bring help, Joe. Only that's not your brother, so it's still against the rules. I suppose in a way it's a step up for me, to get the famous Detective Hardy, himself. I hope you're ashamed of your idiot of a son you have here. He doesn't understand anything I was saying."

"From what I heard, I'd ashamed if he did. Put down that gun."

Dr. Pearson made a tsk noise with her tongue. "I see where Joe gets his lack of imagination. You won't fire that gun with him standing behind me. Even if you hit me, the bullet might go through. No, actually we have a stand-off here."

"One of us is going to have to give up, and it's not going to be me," Fenton told her.

"That's too bad. You have more to lose, you know. Oh well. Obviously, getting the 'bad guy' is more important to you than your son's life."

Dr. Pearson barely looked as if she aimed before she fired a shot. Fenton fired a shot himself, but he intentionally aimed at the ground several yards in front of the woman. The horse that Iola was sitting on spooked and she let out a cry as she tried to hold on. Dr. Pearson started running. Fenton might have tried firing another shot after her, but then his eyes met Joe's.

As for himself, Joe was staring ahead blankly, his face deadly pale. A red stain was spreading on his shirt. "Dad…" he managed to say before he collapsed.

Author's note: AHH! I know, I know, I shouldn't leave you with this cliffhanger, but what can I say? Cliffhangers are my favorite way to end a chapter and the bigger, the better. To be fair, I also like them as a reader, so it's not just a sadistic fascination with torturing you. I do have to admit, this was not an easy chapter to write. That was partially because I wanted to get it just right, partially because writing down Pearson's repulsive beliefs was very distasteful if necessary for understanding her motivations, and partially because I had to get everyone into exactly the right positions for this cliffhanger to work, which includes characters who didn't actually appear in this chapter. So thank you for reading and for reviewing, if you have or want to, and I will have the next chapter out as soon as possible.