David and Megan had eventually gotten the tapes. The manager, who had become extremely nervous with the appearance of the FBI, was oddly absent on the video. What kind of manager made sure he was always out of camera range? The man had also completely clammed up, after demanding they either arrest him or let him call an attorney. It rankled the agents that they had nothing concrete on him that would lead to his arrest. He could be held at least a few hours as a material witness, however. Before Megan and David left the crime scene for LAPD to clean up, they made sure that was going to happen. They both sensed this guy was in it up to his ears, and they didn't want him to bolt before they could prove it.
Back at the Bureau, they stuck the video in the machine and turned it on. Fast-forwarding through two hours of shoppers, Megan started to loose hope that it contained anything useful at all. After noon, though, the manager made one of his few appearances on camera, flipping the sign on the door to read "Closed". A few minutes later, Fenton Hardy entered.
Megan perked up. "This is interesting," she murmured, leaning forward toward the small television in the manager's office. "Can you zoom in closer?"
A forensics technician narrowed the field so that all they were looking at was Fenton talking to someone just out of camera range – that had to be the camera-shy manager. In the background, a plump redhead was piling items onto a self check-out conveyor belt.
Suddenly, the door opened again. There was movement at the edge of the screen near Fenton. "Pull back out," David ordered, and then whistled when he recognized Frank in the picture. "Is there any sound?"
"Sorry," the tech shrugged. Further explanation was avoided when Fenton Hardy's hand lashed out and he viciously backhanded his own son. Frank flew back a step but didn't buckle. The woman at the check-out had apparently seen, and she started shaking a loaf of bread in Fenton's direction, obviously shouting. Abruptly, she dropped it and began to fumble in her purse.
"What's she…", Megan started, but before the question was finished the woman had snatched a cell phone out of her bag.
Focusing on the enraged woman, the agents almost missed it when Fenton pulled a gun out of the waistband of his jeans. Blood blossomed from a third eye that suddenly appeared in the female's forehead, and the woman dropped like a ton of bricks.
"Oh, God," Megan said, watching Fenton drag Frank back out the door. "That poor kid… that poor lady…."
David grimaced. He had no idea that Fenton could be this cold-blooded. He hadn't been sure exactly how much of Frank's story to believe. Then he smiled, tightly, for Hardy had proven stupid as well; at least for one fatal moment. "It's on tape," he pointed out. "We can take him down, now. We better show this to Don. Fast."
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Colby rushed into the bullpen excitedly. "Don! Don, I got the warrants. Turned out I found a judge who served in Afghanistan the same time I did! Seems like he was in a good mood today, too. He said he's never trusted Fenton Hardy, himself… anyway, I got 'em!"
Don grinned. "Megan and David are reviewing the tapes right now. Let's see what they've got and go activate the search warrant," he said.
As if on cue, Megan and David burst out of a small conference room and stormed his desk. "Don!" Megan was breathing hard, and so beyond her usual unflappable persona that Don was a little shocked as he looked at her. "We've got him. Hardy offed the woman himself – it's clear as day on the tape."
David was nodding in agreement behind her, and Don smiled grimly. Finally. A break on the case, and a way to take Fenton Hardy down. More importantly, a way to find Charlie. "Let's go get this asshole," he growled, starting for the elevator. "We'll start by seeing what we can find at the house."
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Frank whimpered as Fenton moved closer. "You said you'd talk of we let them go," his father pointed out. "We let them go. TALK, DAMMIT!" He ended his sentence to a kick at Frank's leg.
Frank bit back a groan, and figured he didn't have anything to lose anymore, anyway. "No. N-no. I wanna see," he said, "I want to see that they're let go."
Fenton kicked him again. "I'm gonna get Jason down here if you won't talk," he said, "and I'm going to look the other way."
Frank cowered and placed his hands on his face, but refused to look anywhere but at the ground.
Fenton glared as he kicked Frank one last time. "Fine," he said, storming up the stairs and slamming the basement door.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Joe glanced at the agent's body on the kitchen floor. He couldn't bring himself to touch the man's cuffs. The thought repulsed him. He swallowed hard as he stared at the cell phone clipped on the man's belt. Before he could talk himself out of it, he leaned over and grabbed it, wondering if he could somehow reach Frank on it. Frank had a cell phone. But he had just gotten it before he left, at their mother's insistence after the kidnapping, and Joe was so frightened and confused, he could not, for the life of him, remember the number.
Understanding on some level that it was a ridiculous notion, he scrolled through the cell's address book as if Frank would be listed there. Joe paused when he recognized Don's name. He pondered. Maybe he should call Don and tell him what Alan had done – but could he really trust him? If he was dirty, he wouldn't be the only law enforcement officer in Fenton's pocket.
Then he remembered that Frank had gone willingly to Don's apartment the night before, and decided that had to mean something. He was sure he could trust his brother. Nervously, he pushed the button to send the call.
The phone rang once, then twice, then three times before Don picked it up. "Eppes," he barked. "This better be good, Martinez. Is my Dad giving you a hard time?"
"I-it's Joe," Joe said nervously. Frank trusted Don, Joe told himself. Frank trusted him. "I th-thi…"
"Joe! Why are you calling me?" Don asked, hanging on to the passenger panic strap as David careened around a corner en route to the house. "Where's Martinez?" His voice escalated in fear. "Is something wrong?"
"M- Mr. Martinez… oh my god, Don… the agent's not waking up and he h-asn't for like, like, two hours," Joe wailed, not really sure how long it had been.
"What happened?" Don asked. Had Fenton come back? No, that wouldn't make any sense, because then Joe… "Joe, where's my dad?"
"He knocked the agent out," Joe said, crying now into the phone. "I think he's a part of Fenton's organization. He said he was going to go to the house and rescue Charlie. He must be part of it if he knows why my Dad keeps that house…."
"What the hell?", sputtered Don. "You're talking crazy, Joe. If my father was in on it, why would Charlie be missing in the first place? He must have had some other reason for going to the house. Father's intuition or something."
"No," Joe sobbed, "that's how they talk. If he's going to 'rescue' Charlie, that means he's going to kill him. That's what my dad said about Frank!" He sniffed. "What is father's intuition?", he asked, belatedly.
Don sighed and tried to put everything together. Knowing what he did about Fenton Hardy now, it was no wonder the poor kid didn't know. "Fathers are supposed to love you, Joe. Now calm down, and explain to me what you just said. You heard your father threaten to 'rescue' Frank?"
Joe sniffed again, considering the revelation about love. "Y- yes. Yeah. I overheard him on the phone in the car, on our way here. He thought I was sleeping. He was talking to that Uncle Jeff. He told him to grab Frank and take him to the house, and that he would meet him there later. He laughed, and said it was only right that Frank be 'rescued' from his sorry life by dying in the same place Jessica had. Who's Jessica?", he added, genuinely confused.
Don snapped. "Why the hell didn't you tell someone this? Me? Or at least warn your brother!"
"I…I th-thought I was dreaming," Joe whined. "Besides, no-one ever believes us…but when I heard Mr. Eppes say 'rescue', it all flashed back. God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Joe was crying in earnest now, and his next words couldn't even be understood, although Don thought he recognized a "Frank" in there somewhere.
Don leaned back against the seat and groaned. "Dammit, Joe," he muttered. "Look, my dad's not a part of this organization, okay? Don't worry about that. And we're on our way to the Henderson house now." He had a sudden idea. "You remember Oswald, right? Frank's new friend? I'll call him and send him to the house to stay with you. I'm sending another agent, and an ambulance for Martinez, too. If Oswald gets there first, you guys just wait until I contact you again. All right?"
Joe nodded, then remembering Don couldn't see him nodding in the telephone, he whispered miserably. "Yeah."
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
When Don flipped the cell shut he looked over at David, who had been sneaking him glances during the conversation. "Something's going on at the Henderson house, and my Dad just put himself in the middle of it. Joe says Hardy and Henderson are there, with Frank. Maybe Charlie, too."
David looked back at the road while reaching for the vehicle's police radio. "Dispatch," he yelled into it as he pressed the accelerator closer to the floor, "we need a SWAT unit."
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
End, Chapter 15
A/N:
I'm seriously thinking of moving this story to "co-authored"
with FraidyCat. You guys would not believe the amount of time she
puts into helping me. So review and say "thank you…", or
something, because this story would not
exist without her help.
Thnx for reading
Jason