Chapter 13: If I Hadn't Called You Back

A/N: For those of you who don't get the chapter title –there's a book called, "How Far Would You Have Gotten – If I Hadn't Called You Back?"
Check it out.

And what was that other thing?

Oh, yeah.

Review.

Thx,

Jason

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Alan didn't plan on breaking into the house. FBI Agents weren't accidents, after all – Don had such respect for the law because Alan and Margaret had raised him that way. He simply wanted to look around. He was disconcerted, though, when he recognized an old red car parked at the curb not far from the house. Alan remembered helping Fenton look at the car years ago. His old friend had said that he wanted something to drive on his trips to the area, and one of Alan's coworkers had been selling a vehicle. Fenton had snapped it up, rented a space in a long-term parking garage, and that was it, as far as Alan was concerned. He eased his own 'borrowed' car to the curb almost half a block away, his heart pounding. He had commented on the car just last night, mentioning how well it had held up over the years when Fenton had arrived in his driveway. What was Fenton Hardy doing down here at the old Henderson house?

Alan cut across the lawn, as silently as possible, and tried the front door first. Not that he was stupid enough to knock – he just twisted a strangely new doorknob on the supposedly abandoned house, and found it locked. His hand, slightly sweaty by now, slipped off the knob and he wiped it nervously on his jeans. He looked around, and from his vantage point on the stoop could just barely see a low-to-the-ground window peeking out from behind an overgrown shrub. He decided to check the basement for signs of life, and crept to the window. He shimmied carefully behind the bush and leaned over slightly, wiping as quietly as he could at the dirt and grime on the window.

His eyes widened in shock to see two people seated on the floor, two more people standing over them. One of the heads on the floor was decidedly curly, and he knew that it was Charlie.

It was all Alan could do to keep himself from breaking through the window. He knew noise would alert the men to his presence, and he also knew that he had to get into that house. Oblivious to the scratches of the overgrown shrub against his skin, Alan popped back out, cursing himself as he ran for the back for not thinking to steal the Agent's cell phone while he was at it. He could use some back-up about now – but he'd be damned if he would leave Charlie in that basement long enough to go summon Don.

Reaching the kitchen door, Alan made a decision. He didn't know if there was anyone else in the house besides the two men he had seen in the basement, but sometimes, a father had to take a risk. Thank God the top half of the door consisted of a design of small glass panes. After looking through one and determining the kitchen, at least, was empty, Alan leaned over slightly and took off his shoe. Grasping it firmly by the toe, he slammed the heel through the window closest to the lock. The glass was old, and weathered, and it shattered easily into the kitchen. Nearly panicked, now, he jammed his hand through the resulting gap, hissing a little as a shard of glass dug into his forearm, and fumbled for the lock on the knob.

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David looked at Don. "You're crazy, right? I mean, they're not going to put them in the same house… I mean come on, Fenton Hardy is the owner of record, why would he put them there?"

Don sighed, running his hand through his short-cropped hair. "Fenton Hardy is the one who is crazy. He's been so powerful for so long, getting away with so much, he's just stupid enough to do it – he thinks he's indestructible." He snorted. "Plus, he has this weird sense of karma, or something. I saw the way he looked at his kids this morning. He doesn't just want them dead. He wants them to suffer." Abruptly, Don changed the subject. "What did you get off the credit card receipts?"

"Nothing unusual that you wouldn't expect – except one from not long after you were arrested. He used his card to buy gas at an A&P near Highway 101. That in and of itself isn't all that hinky, but two minutes later 9-1-1 got a call from a passerby who heard gunshots. LAPD responded and is on the scene now – they found a murder vic, if the bullet hole in her forehead is any indication. No details yet on who she is."

Don glared at him incredulously. "And you're standing here talking to me? Take Megan and get to the scene."

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Jeff's tirade had been interrupted by the distinct shattering of glass. He and Fenton stared at each other, then looked toward the stairs.

Unknowingly, they drifted a little closer to each other as noises from a scuffle reached their ears. Jeff took a half-step, intending to investigate, but the door leading into the kitchen at the top of the stairs suddenly burst open and Alan Eppes hurtled down, head over heels, Jason standing behind him. "Look what the cat drug in," he taunted.

Charlie recognized his father, and even though he didn't know why he was there, he knew it was bad. He tried to crawl over to him where he lay at Fenton's feet. "Dad! Oh, God, Dad!" Charlie was still having trouble making his brain work right, and all he could focus on was his father's sock-clad foot. "My Dad needs a shoe…"

Not even looking behind him, Fenton kicked out backwards with one of his feet, like a startled horse. He connected solidly with Charlie's chest and slammed him back into the wall. The mathematician was unconscious again before he even hit.

Breathing ragged, Fenton ignored his son and the pain in the ass doctor and regarded the lump at his feet. "Hello, Alan," he said, chest heaving. "What a shame to see you here. I guess now you'll find out how I spend my spare time."

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Megan stared, unbelieving, at the belligerent LAPD detective. "Your vic took at .38 to the brain, her blood is spattered on the store manager, who claims he has no idea what happened, and you're trying to convince us you believe him?"

The police officer growled defensively and superiorly. "We believe she saw something she wasn't supposed to see. The sign on the door is turned to 'closed,' and yet, the store supposed to be opened. The poor guy is probably terrified. Maybe he saw the same thing and is afraid that he'll be next. He's in back with my partner, handing over the security tapes now."

"We'll need to see those," David said.

The detective crossed his arms over his chest. "Exactly why are you guys here, anyway? LAPD did not request FBI involvement in this case. If you have a suspect, don't give me the run-around just because of that little incident with that other agent this morning."

Megan actually lunged at him, and David reached out to grab her. "'Little incident'?", she yelled. "Are you referring to the false arrest of a federal agent?"

The detective's eyes narrowed and flickered back-and-forth between Megan and David. "This is related somehow, isn't it? Why the hell else would you show up at a random murder on the outskirts of L.A.? It's not like we don't have several hundred of those a year for you to choose from."

David looked at him steadily and did his best imitation of Don Eppes in the box with a suspect. "If you don't hand over the tapes now," he promised, "I'm going to let go of Agent Reeves and turn my back."

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Alan shook his head, stunned, and tried to push himself up. "What's going on?", he asked, stupidly, fighting his own bought with unconsciousness since his unceremonious trip down the stairs. "Frank? Why are you here? What happened to Charlie? Let me at my son, you crazy sunuvabitch!"

Fenton laughed at his consternation.

"One question at a time old friend," he started. "Although I guess it doesn't really count, since it all comes down to the same answer. These men have worked for me for years — and both of our sons know too much. Charlie had the misfortune of remembering how he got that broken arm 20 years ago, and Frank… well, Frank just never should have been born."

Jeff suddenly interrupted him. "Look, old man, you can make this easier on everybody. We can do it fast, and painless. Tell us what they've told you, and who else knows!"

Frank chose that moment to moan softly, as if he were just waking up. In reality, he had been watching through slits in his eyes, and listening, ever since Alan tumbled down the stairs. Now, he was trying to divert attention from Alan. Frank didn't know if Charlie or Don had told him anything, but he wasn't about to risk Joe's life on finding out now. "I'll talk," he whispered hoarsely, "but only if you let the two of them go." He even managed a glare at Jeff. "You should know by now that Charlie can keep a secret."

----------------------------------------------A/N: Will he let them go? Or will he not?

The suspense is building….

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Thanks to FraidyCat for betain'! This story wouldn't be possible without her.