Give it up for Dragonmaster65 for her logical and excellent suggestions that push me to work harder and improve
a/n: Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed or favourited my story. Special thanks to Paulina Ann, Evergreendreamweaver, sm2003495, Greywolf, Erin Jordan, Newtothis351, Max2013, Ritu, amblewat and Cherylann Rivers.
Chapter 5
The sun had already set, and it was dark out by the time Joe parked his car two blocks away from Vanessa's apartment.
"They could have someone watching your apartment still, so let's go in quietly. Leave the lights off; we can use flashlights to look around. Grab whatever you need and then help me comb your apartment to see if anything strikes out of the ordinary," Joe advised.
He and Vanessa made their way into the apartment from the neighbor's backyard. Joe had been on enough stakeouts with his brother to recognize one outside Vanessa's apartment. Satisfied that no one was watching they crept inside.
Vanessa hesitated a bit before going inside. Joe realized that she probably still felt squeamish about being in the same apartment where she had discovered James' body the previous night.
"Don't think about it, just concentrate on the task at hand," Joe whispered.
It was a modest one bedroom apartment. It had a small cozy living room with a bookshelf to the side. Joe eyed the liquor cabinet with an amused look.
"I didn't peg you for a whiskey drinker," he commented.
"Aaah, because it's a man's drink?" Vanessa said sarcastically.
Joe laughed. "No, nothing like that. I just don't know any girls who drink hard liquor. My mom, aunt, and Callie all prefer wines," he explained.
"What about your girlfriend?"
Joe was silent for a moment. The question still caught him off guard even after all this time. "Nope, no girlfriends." His voice came out flat.
Vanessa slipped into her bedroom, though she continued to talk loud enough that he could hear her. Her flashlight bobbed around with her every movement. She called out, "A dashing handsome man like yourself doesn't have a girlfriend?" Joe could hear her unzipping a bag to stuff her clothes into.
"I did. She passed."
He heard her pause and her voice got quiet. "Sorry," she said.
Joe shrugged. This was exactly why he didn't bring up Iola. He didn't want anybody's pity. "Me too. It was a long time ago."
He didn't blame Vanessa for changing the subject as she did now. "I do like my whiskey," Vanessa said lightly. Joe finished his first, quick look around the apartment. It helped to have a better idea of what places to search first. He leaned against the bedroom door frame, watching her pack.
"Yeah, whiskey and I had a terrible fall out this morning," Joe said as he grimaced, remembering his hangover. Then he chuckled. "So you think I'm dashing?'"
Vanessa's blush was obvious even in the beam of the flashlights. It was a relief to hear her laugh after all that had happened to her and especially after the uncomfortable conversation. They crossed each other as Vanessa packed some more stuff into her suitcase and Joe looked around her bedroom. Their eyes met briefly and Joe was surprised with the warmth that crept inside of him. He wondered momentarily what it would be like to date someone like Vanessa - someone who thought he was dashing and liked the same drinks he did - then shook his head. He could almost imagine Frank reminding him on the dangers of even thinking about dating a client.
For the next forty-five minutes they went over the whole apartment in detail. Joe was now searching Vanessa's bedroom. He pulled out a drawer in her dresser and Vanessa came running.
"I have already looked here. There's nothing," she insisted.
"You probably did but I like to do my due diligence. Let me have a go, two pair of eyes and such," he said.
"Where did you read that? Another fortune cookie?" Vanessa snickered. Joe reddened and smiled.
Vanessa reluctantly moved out of the way, and Joe peered into the drawer and blushed. It contained Vanessa's underclothes. He probably would have been okay going through her intimate things if she wasn't standing right there, but she refused to walk away. In the end they were both red-faced and had nothing to show for.
Joe cleared his throat. Being thorough shouldn't leave a professional like himself so hot under the collar. After he closed the drawer they split up once again, still red.
Two hours later, Joe was ready to give up. From looking into the vents to floorboards, Joe had covered all inches looking for any signs of a microchip or flash drive.
"Hopefully, Frank is having better luck than us," Joe said, feeling dejected.
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Frank could not breathe. His assailant had gripped him in a chokehold, and Frank was beginning to black out.
Half an hour ago, Frank Hardy parked his car and turned off his engine. He had been circling the block of Obler's house to check if anybody was watching over the house. He had carefully weighed his surroundings before entering the apartment. It had been a quiet and uneventful street. Soon after he was standing at the center of a studio apartment, which had been ransacked and then investigated and finally cleared by the cops.
His phone had chimed and he discovered that his good friend Biff had sent him a video of Chet doing - of all things - the sensational floss dance. It was too alluring to not watch it and Frank took a minute to chuckle at Chet before he got started here – big mistake. In his peripheral vision, he saw a movement and then the lights went out. When Frank pivoted, he saw two dark figures advancing towards him.
"Crap!"
"Yeah, that sort of sums up what's left of your life," said the larger of the two before attacking with an overhand punch. Frank stepped out of range, but before he could bring his hands up to defend, the man drove his shoulder into Frank's chest, slamming him into the wall. There he started pummelling Frank's gut.
Adrenaline surging through him, Frank brought his knee forward. It connected with enough force to let him slip out of the man's grasp. His partner stepped in now, lunging at Frank. This time Frank was ready and he grabbed the stapler from the table to slam it into the man's head.
Barely steps away from his attackers, he was being grabbed once again by the larger of the two. The assailant had him by the throat, one beefy arm blocking Frank's airflow and the other restraining his hands behind his back. With each passing second, Frank felt his vision blurring. This would not be his end. Summoning all his strength, Frank heaved himself forward enough to wriggle one arm free.
It took three slams with his elbow to release himself fully from the hold, but Frank was determined. He surged forward to find a new weapon. Gritting his teeth, Frank ripped out the rod from the closet and brandished it as a quarterstaff bringing down the larger assailant.
The other man kicked Frank across the face. Momentarily dazed, he waited for a follow up strike. Instead, Frank could hear them talking about getting away. He watched through blurry vision as they ran out the door. Frank was half tempted to run after them but decided otherwise. Instead, he phoned his and Joe's old friend from the police. This wasn't something to just leave to their agency alone.
"So there were two guys that attacked you?" Con asked incredulously when he got to the scene.
There was a smoldering fire behind Frank's dark eyes. He was furious that he had let two men get the jump on him. "Yeah! I suppose they were keeping watch over the house or maybe wanted to look in for sure," he said.
Con wasn't about to let that go without further digging. He asked, "Why? What do they want? About time you came clean with us son."
Frank told Con everything from Vanessa to the audio clip. "So you see we have nothing. This whole case is dependent on that recording, and we don't know what is on it," he explained.
"Provided such a recording actually exists. I'll be honest with you son, it's not looking good for the Bender girl. All evidence points towards her: her kitchen knife, his blood on her, her apartment. And their colleagues suggest James harbored feelings for her. Feelings she might not have returned. It's only a matter of time before I have to make an arrest. You be careful," Con explained.
Burrowing his brows Frank said, "I was afraid it might come to that."
"Another angle could be that her and James were stealing information to sell to rival companies and an argument ensued leading to murder. She could be sending you on a wild goose chase," Con surmised.
Still reeling in pain after the beatings, Frank touched his abdomen lightly and sighed. "All that makes sense Con, but why did I get attacked? How do you answer that? That is one of the reasons I think Vanessa might be telling the truth, that and too much evidence against her. I don't buy it," he said.
Con whistled. "That girl is lucky she had the sense to come to you boys. Tell you what," he said, "I'll have my team come in tomorrow morning and tear this place apart again. If the recording, clip and what have you is here, we will find it. Go home, you need rest."
Scowling, Frank Hardy made his way to his car.
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Once back at the Hardy's home, Vanessa decided to start unpacking her stuff. Joe had been kind enough to offer her his room, and he had encouraged her to do whatever would make her comfortable while she was staying there. Her suitcase went against the wall, flipped open as a makeshift dresser. There wasn't much else that she could do with it.
Her purse had turned into a catch-all for everything small that she didn't want getting lost in the suitcase. Rather that searching through, it was easier to dump out the contents onto the side table next to the bed. Among her toothbrush and other valuables, something jumped out to her. While all other other jewelry had been put back away in boxes, here was a loose pendant necklace.
She recognized the pendant as belonging to James. She had seen it around his neck many times. Vanessa carefully opened it and gasped. There was a miniature flashdrive inside.
James had probably slipped it into her bag when they met for coffee.
Bingo!
