Chapter 16

As his father stared dumbfounded at him, Frank turned on his heel and raced upstairs. Fenton made to go after him but Sam held him back. "Let him go, Fenton. He needs a little time to cool down." Fenton shook his head, shocked.

"That was stupid," the senior CSI mumbled to the younger one. "You shouldn't have said anything about the note."

"Well it's too late to worry about it now!" snapped Chief Collig. "Get that jacket back to the lab and see if you can get anything off it."

Carefully the two CSIs bagged the jacket and the paper it was delivered in, then left. Several police officers followed suit, leaving just Con and Chief Collig behind.

"We have something to go on now, Fenton," Con tried to reassure the man. "You said the package came by Courier? Well, maybe the Courier can ID this guy."

Fenton nodded, unable to speak. He was shaken by the note and by Frank's aggressive reaction to it. Laura appeared at his side and squeezed his arm comfortingly.

"We'll track the Courier down through the delivery docket," Chief Collig said. "I'll let you know the second we have news."

They left, leaving the Hardys, Biff and Sam standing silently in the hall. "I think I'd better take Biff home," said Sam after several minutes of painful silence. Fenton nodded.

"Come on, Biff," said Sam, as he ushered the shocked boy out of the house. "I'll drive you home."

XXX

Frank spent the remainder of the afternoon in Joe's room lying on the bed. A vague smell of Joe lingered there, and for the tiniest moment, none of this nightmare was happening.

Frank tried to swallow his pain as he curled up on the bed. The possibility that he might never see his brother again had become frighteningly real, and Frank felt suffocated by his own fear and panic.

I swear, I'll do anything…anything! Please bring him home safe, he prayed desperately. Please!

Frank had every intention of never pushing his brother away again.

But you're pushing Mom and Dad away right now, a voice reminded him.

Frank rubbed his eyes tiredly. He had scared himself with the sudden, violent anger he had exhibited towards his father that afternoon.

You know it's not Dad's fault, Frank told himself. The teenager realised he had been looking for an outlet for his fear and frustration, and had lashed out at his father. Frank groaned. Dammit! I'm supposed to stop doing that!

There was a gentle knock at the door, followed by his mother's soft voice. "Frank?"

"I'm not hungry, Mom," Frank answered, presuming that was what she wanted.

"It's not that, there's someone here to see you."

Frank sat up. "There is? Who?"

"I don't know who it is," his mother answered.

Frank got off the bed and opened the door. He looked enquiringly at his mother.

"He's in the living room," she told him. Silently, Frank followed his mother downstairs.

"I'll be in the kitchen if you want anything," she said softly. Frank nodded and pushed open the living room door, then stopped dead.

His visitor was Paul. Frank stared in shocked surprise at the teenager. "Paul! What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," said Paul awkwardly.

"You did?"

Paul nodded. "How's things?" he mumbled.

"Crap," said Frank shortly and Paul looked at him in surprise. "Sorry," said Frank. "It's been a long day."

"No word on your brother, huh?"

Frank shook his head and Paul stared at his feet, unsure how to respond.

"Do you want something to drink?" asked Frank tiredly. He wished Paul would say whatever he had come to say, instead of shuffling awkwardly. Suddenly, Frank found that he no longer found Paul to be quite so cool and impressive as he once did. Standing there in the Hardy living room, Paul was just another teenager like Frank.

Paul sighed. "Frank, you should know Mrs. Deagan died this morning."

Frank felt his heart thud painfully. "What?" he whispered.

Paul swallowed. "She had a brain haemorrhage. There was nothing the Doctors could do."

Frank's mind reeled. Oh God! he thought. And then something else struck him. Oh, no, Annie!

"Do Ryan and Keith know?" he asked. Paul nodded. Frank pressed his hands to his temples and closed his eyes.

"Ryan's going to be sent away," said Paul quietly and Frank's eyes snapped open.

"What! Why?"

"Because his Dad beats him. They're going to put him into care."

"But that's good, right?"

Paul shrugged. "Only if he's found not guilty of assault next week. If he's found guilty then he'll be sent to a Detention Centre for Young Offenders."

Frank sank onto the couch. "I'm sorry, Paul."

"Don't be, it's not your fault."

Frank looked up at him. "But I'm the one that went to the police."

"They would have found out anyway," said Paul. "Ryan is out of control. He needs help."

"That's why you went to Principle Wood yesterday," Frank guessed.

Paul nodded sadly. "I suppose I already knew, but it was only when I saw Ryan pull that knife on you that I really admitted it to myself. I guess I should have known that day with Mrs. Deagan, but I panicked. All I could think about was protecting Ryan."

"He's your best friend."

"It was still wrong. And it was even worse dragging you into it. You were right, we shouldn't have left her."

Frank didn't know how to respond.

Paul gave Frank a strangled sort of smile. "I'd better go. Dad's in the car outside, I'm grounded because of all this. But he agreed with me that you should know."

"Thanks, Paul."

Paul shrugged again. "Don't mention it." He turned to leave but stopped before he reached the door. "Frank?"

"Yeah?"

"You should know that Keith and I have agreed to tell the Judge that the only reason you ran away was because we forced you. I know you would have stayed with Mrs. Deagan until help arrived."

Frank stared speechless at Paul who mumbled, "see ya, Frank."

Before Frank could respond, Paul was gone. A minute later, his father entered the room.

"Was that Paul?" asked Fenton and Frank nodded, still stunned.

"What did he want?"

"Mrs. Deagan died today," said Frank blankly.

Fenton looked horrified. "Frank, I'm so sorry." When Frank didn't answer, he added, "it's not your fault. You do know that, don't you?"

Frank nodded. "Yeah, I know."

"You do?"

"Yeah," Frank answered. "It was something Paul said, about how I would have stayed if they hadn't made me leave. He's right, I would have." Frank felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Saying the words aloud made them sink in and Frank finally realised he wasn't a terrible person. He had been feeling responsible for the attack, but now he understood he wasn't. There was nothing he could have done to prevent it; it would have happened even if he wasn't there.

"Paul said that?" asked Fenton, surprised.

Frank nodded again. "They're going to tell the Judge next week that they forced me to leave the scene."

"They are?" Fenton was shocked now.

Frank snapped out of his trance. "Dad, I'm sorry about today," he said softly.

"Frank, you don't have…"

"No, I do!" Frank insisted as he stood up. "None of this is your fault. I was just looking for someone to blame and I lashed out. I'm sorry."

Fenton hugged his son. "It's okay," he said sadly. "I know the feeling."

XXX

The next afternoon, Con and Sam arrived with the news that they had tracked down the Courier.

"You have?!" Fenton exclaimed. "What did he say? Can he ID this guy?"

Sam shook his head uncomfortably. "No. The order was called in and when the Courier went to pick the package up, it was at an abandoned house. The package was there with the money, but no sign of the person who placed the call. The Police have already checked the house but they found nothing."

"So they Courier just picked up this package for delivery without even questioning how strange that was?" asked Fenton incredulously.

"The guy left him a big tip so he wouldn't question it," said Con in disgust. "Money talks and all that."

Disappointment threatened to overwhelm Fenton once more. "So we're right back where we started," he said hopelessly.

"Not quite," said Sam. "The lab found a print on Joe's jacket. They're running it through AFIS right now, trying to find a match."

Fenton's heart soared. A fingerprint? That was beyond what he had hoped for. "How long will it take?"

"Probably a couple of hours," Con replied. "The print was pretty smudged and it's going to take some time to narrow it down to the nearest matches."

Fenton nodded unhappily. The idea of more waiting unnerved him. "What about the blood?" he asked quietly. "Was it…?"

Sam and Con glanced at one another, then Sam nodded. "It was Joe's," he answered unhappily.

Laura and Gertrude had been sitting on the couch, listening to the conversation. At this, Laura spoke up. "Could the lab tell…did they say what happened?" she asked shakily. Neither Con nor Sam answered and Laura spoke again, her voice stronger. "I need to know."

"The tear in the jacket was caused by a knife," said Sam, not looking at her. "It looks like Joe was slashed."

"But it wasn't a life threatening wound!" Con hastened to add.

Laura snorted angrily. "Oh, well that makes me feel a whole lot better! Your son was stabbed with a knife but it wasn't life threatening!"

"Laura!" Fenton reproached her quietly. "You did ask."

Laura opened her mouth to argue but was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.

"I'll get it!" said Frank at once. He had been sitting unnoticed in the corner, but this was one conversation he didn't want to hear.

Opening the front door, Frank found a short, elderly man with glasses, standing on the front porch. He had a nervous, agitated manner and spoke with a high pitched voice. "Is Fenton Hardy here?" he asked. "It's urgent that I speak with him!"

Wordlessly, Frank led the man into the living room. "Dad, there's someone here to see you."

Fenton stared at the man, not recognising him.

"Mr. Hardy," the old man addressed him. "I'm so sorry to barge in unannounced like this, but it's very urgent!"

Fenton smiled apologetically at the man. "I'm afraid I'm not actually taking any cases at the moment, Mr…I'm sorry, what was your name?"

"Johnson. Hurd Johnson," answered the man. "And I'm not looking for you to take on a case."

Fenton blinked. "You're not?"

The old man shook his head. "No. I was on my way here to see you when I heard on the news that your son was missing."

Fenton swallowed. "That's right."

"You see, that's what I was coming to see you about. I wanted to warn you."

"Warn me?" Fenton was confused.

The old man nodded emphatically. "I know who has your son."

Stunned silence greeted this pronouncement.

"Now, look here," said Fenton angrily. "If this is some sort of joke…"

"It's not a joke," the man insisted. "The man who has your son is Miles Denton."

A/N: Thanks to all the fantastic wonderful people who reviewed the last chapter!! I'm sure most authors will agree with me when I say you can never get enough of readers feedback!

Pen and Paper71: Thank you, gald you like it!

Mel: Thanks, that's what I think too. I quite like Frank a little moody!

Shee1: You're addicted? Oh cool! Nobody's ever said that bout one of my stories before...thanks for making my day!

Chopstick legend: The Hardy's friends are there, it's just Callie and Iola who haven't made an appearance...yet! Thanks for reviewing!

Paperdaisies: You know something? You always give the best reviews! It gives me such a buzz to read your comments, thank you!