Chapter 2

"Easy son, take it easy, no one's going to hurt you now…" Fenton assured Joe and then was distracted by his cell phone finally being answered by the emergency services: "…yes, hello, ambulance and police please and quickly…" Fenton explained to the dispatcher where they were and his son's condition, giving Joe a shake halfway through to keep him responsive before ending the call. "They're coming, just hang on in there." He replaced the phone with his handgun and positioned it within easy reach on the ground next to them. He then wound his arm about his son's chest and hugged him to share his own body warmth.

"How did you find me?"

"After I was told you'd disappeared, I started monitoring the police bandwidth. They put out a call a while ago for a cruiser to investigate the sighting of a man who was almost run down whose description matched yours: blond and heavy-set and handcuffed they said. On a hunch, I came straight out here."

Joe smiled slightly. "Blond and heavy-set? Can't people tell the difference between fat and pure unadulterated muscle? Good hunch, though slightly illegal – my Dad, the Lawbreaker!"

"Well, The Bayport police will understand in the circumstances, and if they don't, they'll just have to suck it up.

"What happened to Frank, did they get him too? They said they'd captured him. I refused to believe it."

Fenton paused, his mouth in a grim line. "Frank's fine, he's out searching for you as well."

There was a short silence until Joe laughed slightly. "Bet your glad I nagged you into doing that intensive Red Cross Training Course with me now, huh?"

"Yes, you could say that."

A twig broke behind them, making Fenton start. He snatched up his gun and swung it towards the sound. "Who's there?" he barked.

"It's me, Dad, be cool!"

Relaxing his gun arm, Fenton said, "Get under here Frank, and give Joe your coat."

His older son's face appeared, a younger version of his father, lean and dark with quick, intelligent brown eyes. He was taller than his father and Joe, but only by an inch.

He ducked under and observed what Fenton was seeing. An expression of shock etched his features. "Aw man!" he said, slowly. He quickly shrugged his coat off and tucked it around his brother. "What happened?"

"Shot. An ambulance is on the way."

"Shot? He's been shot?" Frank exclaimed.

"That's what I said."

Frank shook his head. "No…no…that's not right, this shouldn't be happening."

"What do you mean that's not right, not right how, son?"

"I…I don't know, I just…Joe, I'm so sorry, bro, so sorry!" But his younger brother wasn't listening any more. Frank quickly swept his brother's hair to the side so he could see his face and found that Joe's eyes were shut.

"Hey, Joe, HEY!" snapped Fenton forcefully, "come back, son!" but even with a vigorous shake, he didn't respond this time.

Frank laid his hand on his brother's chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. "It's okay Dad, he's still batting for our side and he's strong as an ox remember, he'll make it."

"And whose side are you batting for, boy?" Fenton snapped, "it certainly wasn't your brother's tonight. What happened? Why was Joe alone? You know the rules, you partner each other and catch each other's backs."

Frank's face paled. He opened his mouth to respond, but his father ploughed on regardless.

"You went AWOL for an hour and didn't have a clue your brother was being attacked. What did you do, just go off and leave him hanging, waiting for you? Is that how it happened?"

"Yes, but it wasn't like that…" clamming up, Frank held his father's intense gaze for a few seconds before dropping his eyes to Joe's inert face. "You don't understand."

"Try me."

Frank turned his head to one side. "We'll talk later. I can hear a siren. I'm going up to flag it down. Keep the pressure on." He quickly left to begin scrambling to the top of the slope.

"It's no good avoiding it, Frank," Fenton called after him, "you're going to have to explain to me how Joe has ended up in this state eventually."

Frank didn't offer any indication that he'd heard as he carried on up, slipping a couple of times before disappearing out of sight towards the blue emergency light that was flashing above.

Shortly, two paramedics descended carefully down the embankment and picked their way across to where Fenton was calling them. He pocketed his gun and helped them move Joe gently out into the open and then retreated a few steps to let them work. He picked up Frank's jacket and tied it around his hips and retrieved the rest of his belongings, concentrating on listening to what they were saying, occasionally gazing upwards to wait for Frank to reappear.

The shorter of the two medical staff applied an oxygen mask to Joe's face and beckoned Fenton over while his colleague was preparing Joe's forearm for an IV – which was proving a challenge given the cuffs were causing an obstruction. More sirens were joining the sound of the first vehicle.

"How's he holding up?" Fenton asked.

"We need to move quickly. Can I ask you to go up top and show the rest of the emergency team where we are – we're going to need more hands to get him up to the ambulance. And could you also ask them to bring a set of bolt cutters with them so we can get the handcuffs off him."

Fenton was confused, "Frank, my other son is up there," he said, "he'll show anyone where we are, I'd rather not leave."

"Sir, there's no one up there."

"But, didn't he flag you down?"

"Yes, a young man did, but he left just after he spoke to us."

"He wouldn't…I'll be right back." Fenton said grimly and started climbing.

At the top, he took a quick appraisal of the scene. There was the ambulance in the road with its back doors open, a police cruiser parked up and another just pulling into the side of the road. One policeman was blocking the road off and the other waving a second ambulance forward. Fenton's car was where he had left it a quarter mile further up. There was no sign of Frank, or his scarlet convertible.

He stared up and down the highway, turning around, staggered and stunned that Frank had just driven away and left them. He knew they'd had words, and probably would do so again before the night was out, but for his eldest son, this was out of character, impulsive and hot-headed behaviour.

"Fenton? What are you doing here?" asked a plain clothed officer climbing out of the second police car.

The familiar voice snapped Fenton back. The lights from the first police vehicle were dazzling his eyes and preventing him from making out visually who it was other than a tall, wide shouldered man. But there was no real denying that this was Lieutenant Con Riley, his close friend and ally. Riley took one look and immediately strode over.

Fenton's façade fell away as Con stood toe-to-toe with him, the mental worry and helplessness leaking out of every pore – all rational strength leaving. He looked at his hands and down his clothing, saw the smeared blood that belonged to his terrorised and injured youngest child. Abruptly, he began to feel heavy and light-headed and staggered a little. Con quickly offered a supporting arm and helped him to the cruiser to sit sideways in the passenger seat.

Fenton took a few seconds to collect himself, to gulp in some fresh air and drink the water offered to him by a paramedic before addressing his friend. "It's Joe down there, he's been shot, they need more people to get him up. It's bad Con, real bad."

"What about Frank?"

"I don't know where Frank is, he was up here, but he's gone, took off in his car."

Con winced. "Was he hurt? Involved?

"No, just Joe, I think…"

Con interrupted, "…okay, wait here, don't move." and quickly moved away.

"Oh, Con!"

Con looked back.

"Bolt cutters…they need a pair of bolt cutters."

Con went straight into action, organising his subordinates into a regimented rescue crew, sending them straight down the embankment to help while directing the rest of the action from the road, only returning to Fenton when he was sure he had everything running smoothly.

"Fenton," he said gently, crouching down in front of his friend, "do you want me to put out an APB on Frank's car? See if we can pick him up?"

Fenton gave it some consideration. "No, I'm sure he'll turn up at the hospital, he won't abandon his brother."

"What about Laura?"

"I'm not sure where she is, she's on a cruise with Gertrude. They decided to jump ship and do a bit of exploring in Italy," he cocked an eyebrow. "She's going to kill me when she finds out. Standing on our doorstep with her suitcases, the last thing she said to me was don't let the boys get into any sort of trouble!"

"Maybe we won't contact Laura then, one injured Hardy is enough to cope with for one night," laughed Con. "Here comes Joe," he said, "Come on."

He led Fenton to the ambulance and they watched, as Joe was loaded up, the IV drip being held above him. His bruised wrists sporting a ghostly image of handcuffs that once shackled his arms. "You go with him, Fenton, I'll drive your car down and you see at the hospital".

"Thanks Con, I really appreciate it."