Chapter 5

Frank sat in the back of the patrol car as Con Riley drove back to Bayport Police Station. His father sat in the front beside Con. Nobody spoke.

There had been nothing else of use found at the crime scene and so Fenton had decided to go with Con to the station in the hopes that the chloroformed rag or the blood might turn up something. He hadn't even tried to persuade Frank to go home knowing full well that he would refuse.

The car pulled up in front of the Police station and as Frank opened the car door, he felt his stomach growl. Hearing it, Fenton glanced at Frank. "Frank, are you hungry?"

Frank shook his head. "No, not really."

He hadn't eaten in hours but knew that if he did eat, he would be sick. Too much had happened in the last few hours and Frank felt weak from shock and stress.

Fenton frowned at Frank. "When did you last eat?"

"Dad, I'm not hungry, alright?" Frank snapped as they walked up the front steps to the station.

"Fine," said Fenton, resigned. He was too tired to argue with Frank, the evening had taken a lot out of him.

They entered into the main lobby of the station and Con turned to them. "I'm just going to drop this down to the lab," he said, holding up the case that contained the evidence from the crime scene. "Why don't you have a seat over the there by the desk and I'll get us all some tea and sandwiches from the canteen?"

"Thanks, Con," said Fenton gratefully while Frank made his way over to the chairs by the front desk and sank into one hidden by a large potted plant.

Fenton looked at Frank. "I need to call Laura and Sam, Frank. Will you be okay here while I step outside?"

Frank nodded and Fenton headed out the front door again.

Sighing, Frank started to listen to the two desk sergeant's conversation in the hope of distracting himself. They were talking about sport and Frank listened to them half-heartedly, reminding himself not to think about Joe.

Suddenly the phone rang. Frank heard one of the men pick it up and answer it.

"Hello?…..Nothing so far?.….That's right, Chief Collig thinks there's a chance.….I hope so…..No problem. Okay, thanks, bye."

The officer hung up.

"What's up?" asked his Colleague.

"That was one of the guys in the lab. Nothing turned up on that assault earlier today."

"The old woman?" asked the second officer and Frank froze, listening intently.

"Yeah," answered the first officer. "I think it's sick that someone would do that to an old lady."

"Me too," his companion agreed. "Any word on how she is?"

"Still out cold the last time I heard from the hospital. Doctors aren't sure yet if she'll wake up."

"I hope she'll be okay. A blow like that must have been brutal to such a frail old woman."

"Bayport's not what it was," snorted the first officer in disgust. "An old lady is assaulted and a little kid goes missing, all in one day."

"Who's missing?" asked the second officer in surprise.

"You haven't heard!" said the first officer incredulously. "Where have you been all evening? It's Fenton Hardy's kid, he was grabbed after school or something."

"That's rough," said the second officer. "Do they know who did it?"

"Not a clue. And with Fenton Hardy being who he is, it could be anyone!"

"Probably some psycho looking for revenge," said the second officer knowledgably.

"Haven't you two anything better to do than sit here and gossip?" Con Riley's voice sounded sharply from behind the officers.

"Uh, yes sir," said the first officer meekly, followed by the sound of paper shuffling.

Con appeared around the desk carrying a tray with three cups and a plate of sandwiches.

"Here you go," he said to Frank as he set the tray on the chair beside Frank and sat on the other side.

"Thanks, Con," Frank mumbled and took a cup of tea.

Con noticed his hands were shaking. "How are you holding up?" he asked kindly.

Frank shrugged.

"Just ignore them, Frank," said Con as he indicated the desk sergeants. "We'll find Joe."

Frank nodded and took a sip of his tea. His heart felt too heavy to answer Con.

Fenton Hardy reappeared beside them and sat in the chair beside Con. "Sam's getting the first plane back from Washington in the morning," he announced.

"Sam was in Washington?" asked Con.

"Yeah, he was working on a case. With me laid up, Sam's been pretty busy." Fenton grimaced and Con looked at him sympathetically.

"How's Laura?"

"Scared out of her mind," answered Fenton. "And so am I," he added softly.

"We'll find him," Con repeated, handing him a cup of tea. "Joe will be fine."

Silence fell while the two men ate their sandwiches and drank their tea. Frank drank his tea but merely picked at his sandwich. He still couldn't eat.

More than an hour and a half went by, and the small party remained sitting quietly by the front desk. Frank wanted to scream to drive away the oppressive silence. "How much longer?" he asked irritably.

"They should have the results by now," said Con, frowning as he glanced at his watch. "I asked them to put a rush on it. I think I'll just phone the lab."

Con stood up and moved over to the front desk. Frank heard him pick up the phone and dial. He strained his ears to listen.

"Hi, this is Con Riley. I left evidence from a crime scene in there this evening to process and was wondering if it was ready?…..Uh-huh.….Uh-huh.….Because I asked him to put a rush on it. This case has precedence over everything!"

Frank heard Con groan in frustration. "Tell me you at least have…..Well, that's something I suppose…..Okay, fine…..Yes. Please let me know…..Thanks. Bye."

Con hung up the phone. Frank and Fenton were by his side in a flash.

"Have they found anything?" asked Fenton anxiously.

"DNA have," Con sighed. "I'm sorry, Fenton, but that was Joe's blood at the scene."

Fenton winced. He had expected that, but it still hurt to hear it. "Anything else?" he asked.

"Joe's epithelials were found on the rag, but no other DNA. And Trace identified the compound on the rag as chloroform and carbon tetrachloride."

"CTC?" said Fenton sharply.

Con nodded unhappily. "This guy meant business."

"What's CTC?" Frank demanded.

"It's a chemical," Con answered. "It's used in certain pesticides and fire extinguishers."

"But what does it do?" asked Frank.

"You know what Chloroform does?" said Con carefully, and Frank nodded. "Well, used with CTC, it would be very potent. It would probably knock Joe out for several hours and make him pretty sick."

"Oh." Frank looked at the ground.

"What about fingerprints?" Fenton asked Con weakly.

"Nothing yet. The fingerprint analysist on the night shift called in sick and his cover hasn't arrived yet. It could be the early hours of the morning before we get any results on that."

Fenton fell silent.

"I think you should go home, Fenton," said Con softly. "Get some rest. You'll need your strength for tomorrow."

Fenton nodded. He knew Con was right.

"WHAT!" Frank exploded. "How can you think about going home when Joe is still out there?"

"Because there's nothing more we can do tonight!" said Fenton sharply. "We need daylight to thoroughly examine the surrounding area of the crime scene for tire tracks or anything we might have missed tonight, and the lab won't have anything for us until morning. I don't know about you, Frank, but I think it would be a very good idea if we weren't exhausted when the investigation takes off tomorrow!"

Con shuffled uncomfortably as Frank glared at his father. He had witnessed way too many of these scenes this evening and wondered what was wrong with Frank.

It's the worry over Joe, Con decided.

"Come on," said Con. "I'll drive you home."

"Thanks, Con," said Fenton, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

The two men exited the station followed by a glowering Frank. The had just reached the bottom of the steps when Con gave a sharp intake of breath. "Uh-oh," he muttered. "Trouble."

Frank glanced in the direction Con was looking in, and felt his heart sink. Heading their way was about eight or nine reporters and camera men, and they all looked hungry for blood.

Fenton groaned. "How did they find out?" Turning back, he grabbed Frank's arm and pulled him in between himself and Con as the reporters closed in.

"Mr. Hardy, Mr. Hardy! Is it true your son was kidnapped?"

"Have you any idea who took him?"

"Some people are saying it's one of the men you put away out for revenge, how do you feel about that?"

"How does your wife feel?"

"Do the police have any leads?"

Fenton and Con fought their way to the patrol car gripping Frank tightly between them. Fenton had his arm around Frank's shoulder for which the boy was grateful. He felt suffocated by these incessant vultures.

They made it to the car. Con tried to keep the reporters back so Frank could get into the backseat of the car. But as Fenton opened the door for him, one of the reporters shouted, "Frank, aren't you worried you might never see your brother again?"

Frank whirled around, looking for the person who had thrown the question. "Leave me alone!" he yelled. "God, what's wrong with you people! Don't you have any feelings?"

"Get in the car, Frank," said Fenton urgently as cameras flashed around them. "These people don't care, they'll do anything for a story."

Frank slid into the back seat, fuming quietly. His father climbed into the passenger seat and Frank was nearly blinded by flashes as cameras were aimed at the car. He could see Con fighting his way to the driver's side. Another flash went off right outside Frank's window and he buried his face in his hands. He wanted to scream at these people to get the hell out of here!

"We'll be out of this soon, Frank," said his father soothingly as Con got into the car. "Are you okay?"

Frank didn't answer his father. He stayed as he was until he felt the car pull out and drive away from the relentless mob. Only then did he lift his head.

XXX

Joe awoke without opening his eyes. His head throbbed painfully and his stomach felt sick.

Where am I?

He opened his eyes and quickly closed them again as the room spun crazily around him. Nausea rose in his throat and Joe tried not to retch. His head felt thick and his memories were hazy. An image of a large man flashed through his mind.

Slowly, Joe cracked open his eyes. He was in a small room with grey walls illuminated by a single light bulb on the ceiling. The cot he was lying on was small and grubby. The boy shivered with cold, then realised his shoes and jacket were gone.

He tried to sit up but winced at the pain. Raising his hand to his forehead, Joe felt a swollen, sticky welt. His fingers were red as he lowered his hand.

Blood, he realised.

Nausea rose again in his throat and Joe realised he was about to be sick.

Carefully, he sat up and looked to his right. There was a toilet in the corner of the room. Joe slid off the bed quickly and his legs nearly buckled beneath him as the room swayed violently. Keeping his hand against the wall to steady himself, Joe made his way to the toilet. He lowered himself to the floor slowly, careful not to jar his aching head.

He was just in time. As he heaved miserably, Joe was forced to close his eyes against the pain in his head. Retching and choking, he vomited into the dirty toilet.

When he was finished, he reached up a shaking hand and flushed the toilet, then flopped, exhausted, back on to the floor. His body was beaded in a cold sweat and he was shaking so hard, it physically hurt.

As he lay on the floor, Joe studied his surroundings. A large, heavy oak door dominated one side of the room and he guessed it was the way in. There was no door handle and the boy knew it was probably locked. Looking to the left, he could see the outline of where a window had once been. Now it was bricked up.

The room was basically a prison cell.

Fear and panic finally kicked in and Joe felt tears well up in his eyes.

What's going on?

Joe whimpered a little as he tried to get up. Still shaking, he realised he didn't have the strength to stand, and so crawled back to the grubby little cot and pulled himself onto it.

Curling into a ball, the child hugged himself. He was freezing cold, his head ached and he felt very ill.

I want to go home, Joe thought as he sobbed noiselessly.

A/N: Yet again, thanks to everyone who reviewed! I'm glad you all seem to be enjoying the fic; I was a little worried there would be war when everyone first caught a glimpse of moody Frank! But he's slowly transforming into the Frank we know and love.

The Silent Rumble; Wow, you really thought that about chapter 4? I'm chuffed, thank you. I'm afraid I've no plans for betaing at the moment because I'm so busy but maybe in a couple of months when things die down a bit?

CA: Thanks, I'm glad you think so. I really didn't want to write Frank as a moody teenager without good reason and without showing some of the person he's to become.

astalder27; I think you can already see Frank's guilt over his words to Joe coming into play. And I always felt that Frank is such a protective big brother (well, in the digests and bluespines anyway) that there must have been someway that came about, and voila! Broken Threads was born!

beneaththesurface9: If you damage your nice laptop then you won't be able to read more fanfiction! ;-) Glad you like the story so far, thanks for the comments!

And to Tesub Callie who reviewed Family Values;

Thank you so much for your reviews and kind words. I'm glad I was able to entice you into a Hardy's only story! ;-)