Boosting - Chapter 19

Joe couldn't tell if the police were buying his story as to why Frank was unconscious, although 'Sandy Hair' was rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Eventually, he stepped forward, pulled Joe up by the elbow and took him into Frank's room, accompanied by one of the other officers. The remaining man, who'd called for an ambulance to be dispatched, had gone outside.

Joe was pushed down into a wicker chair in the corner of the room. He found that the cop who'd entered Frank's bedroom and had initially discovered his brother was now perched quietly on the side of the bed having abandoned trying to rouse him.

'Sandy Hair' left Joe and went across to Frank and bent closely to search for signs of strangulation. He gently took Frank's jaw and rocked his head to one side and then flicked his head the other way and ran a hand around his throat. "What are these marks on his face?"

Joe decided to be vague. "An old injury that's still healing."

"Did you cause them?"

"No – I told you, they're old injuries! Can't you tell the difference?"

'Sandy Hair' nodded and lifted the blankets just enough to confirm that Frank was still dressed. Obviously satisfied that Frank wasn't hurt in the way described to him by the hikers, 'Sandy' moved to the end of the bed and leaned up against the footboard and looked back at Joe, suspicion still playing on his features. "How do I know you haven't overdosed him?"

"Count out the tablets. It's marked on the label that there were twenty. I had two of them a couple of days ago and Frank had two, so that means there'll be sixteen left."

'Sandy Hair' held the bottle up to the one of the other officers. "Do it."

The cop exited the room leaving them sitting in silence watching one another. Joe could tell that 'Sandy' was fighting an internal struggle. Joe's story certainly seemed to stand up, all the evidence supporting the scenario he was presenting, rather than the witnesses'.

Presently, the officer returned and passed the vial back, nodding. "Sixteen."

"See." Joe muttered.

"How do I know you didn't give him the entire four? I know the strength of these, four could knock out a small horse, so I hate to think what they'd do to a man."

"I took the other two a couple of days ago," Joe repeated.

"Prove it—"

"I though the weight was on you to prove I didn't!" Joe shot back.

'Sandy' peaked a brow. "You're not helping yourself."

Joe groaned and slumped back in the chair. "Look, dude, what can I say? Whatever explanation I come up with, you…I know…I'll show you exactly why I need those tablets—" He stood up suddenly and the hovering officer moved at speed towards him, pulling forth his nightstick at the same time. Joe took an urgent step away. "Hey – be cool! What do you think I'm gonna do? I'm cuffed remember. Pull up my shirt and you'll see why I need that medication."

The officer lowered the nightstick, looking to his senior officer for guidance. 'Sandy' nodded, and the cop eased up Joe's shirt. All three men in the room gazed at the still fresh and angry scaring on his belly. One of them even cringed sympathetically as Joe turned and showed them his back.

"A bullet?" 'Sandy' asked.

"Yeah. Frank and me got involved in something and I got gifted with this. That's why I need the tablets occasionally.

"You realise it's illegal to slip someone a prescription drug without their consent?"

"Dude, it was a toss up between that, or allowing my brother to take control of that bike out there and killing himself or someone else. I took a measured risk. What else was I supposed to do? My brother is the most stubborn guy you'll ever meet. If he decides he's not goin' to do something, he won't, including sleeping. Like I said, the dude's a black belt, he's mentally exhausted, and he's not thinking straight. What other choice did I have?"

Silence.

"Take a look at my shoulder. Go on, the left one."

'Sandy' approached this time, undid the top couple of buttons and pulled it across. There was an expansive bruise forming where Joe had hit the corner of the bedside cabinet, the area a vivid, scorched red.

"Frank did that, and that was after he couldn't stand up properly. So do you see what I'm up against? And if you still don't believe me about my brother goin' over on his bike, check out the red one outside. You'll find a toolkit next to it. Frank was doing a patch up job because he damaged it."

"If you don't mind me saying so, it sounds like your brother is out of control. Does he often lay his hands on you and cause those kind of injuries?"

"No! Frank never lays his hands on me, ever!" Joe considered that the officer's remarks were extremely wide of the mark, on all counts. "As I keep saying, he's not well – and I DID drug him, remember? No one would take that calmly. Actually, he isn't out of control, he's very in control…very in control—" his speech wound down, something had clicked in his mind.

'Sandy' raised a surprised eyebrow. "You said earlier that you got 'involved' with something and that's what caused that scarring? What sort of thing? The vast majority of people who get shot are usually 'bad' people."

"It was a government case."

'Sandy' started to laugh. "A government case? Come, Mr Hardy; let's be serious here. Anyone would think—" but the mirthless grin dropped and turned into a frown. He looked sharply at Joe's licence again. "Joseph Hardy?…Joe Hardy, and—" He took another look back at the sleeping brother. "—Frank Hardy? Frank and Joe Hardy?…Oh for the love of…are you related to—?"

Joe grinned and closed his eyes in relief, finally seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. "Yeah, Fenton Hardy is our dad. Call Collig, he'll vouch for me."

"Collig?"

The officer standing to Joe's right interrupted. "Chief of Police Ezra Collig?" he asked. "Of the Bayport Police Department?"

Joe nodded.

The officer made a surprised noise, impressed eyes flicking to 'Sandy Hair'. He re-holstered his nightstick and moved away.

"Take a seat, Joe." 'Sandy' said again, but this time it was a request and not an order. He left the room.

Joe settled down as two paramedics entered and went straight to examine his brother. They'd obviously encountered 'Sandy Hair' on the way through because they had the small pill bottle and one of them was reading the label.

Smirking, Joe considered how embarrassed Frank would be if he knew what was going on. Frank hated people fussing, and you couldn't get much more attention than this. One started attaching a blood pressure cuff to his arm while the other shone a light into his eyes before pulling up his t-shirt to listen intently to his heart through a stethoscope.

"Blood pressure's a little elevated, but not seriously."

"Heart beats up as well, but—"

They looked at each other and shrugged. "Sedated. Pretty comatose though."

"That's what I've been telling 'em," Joe piped up.

They ignored him, one of them turning to the cop in attendance as his colleague pulled down Frank's shirt and crossed his arms over his stomach. "I'm not sure it's worth taking him in as he'll sleep it off, but we'll take your lead. Do you want us to take him and run some further tests?"

'Sandy' walked in again. "Sorry boys, you've had a wasted journey, his story checks out." He turned to Joe, pulled him up and started removing the cuffs. "Why didn't you say you were both working with the FBI? Would have saved a lot of time."

Joe froze. "Huh? What's Collig been saying?"

"Erm…I didn't think it was important?" Joe responded. He couldn't help the inflection of his voice lifting it into a question, but 'Sandy Hair' didn't notice.

The paramedics packed up and left, and when Joe's hands came free, he immediately went to his brother to check him over himself. Frank didn't look as though he'd been in the slightest way disturbed by their mini adventure. Joe motioned for the policemen to leave and re-covered his brother properly with the sheet and blankets and left the room.

In the seating area, Joe found all the officers had gone, other than 'Sandy' who was loitering at the table where he'd laid down the pills and driver's licence.

"I assume you won't be trying to help your brother along by slipping him tablets again?" he asked, this time with a twinkle in his eye.

"Unlikely. The Frankster will never fall for that again. I know this wasn't pleasant, but I appreciate that you guys came out here. I know those eye witnesses will probably think they were interfering, but I'd rather they called these things in than not get involved."

'Sandy Hair' stuck his hand out. "I'm Officer Sandy Innis, by the way."

Joe's mouth dropped open and he grinned. "Hi Sandy." He took his hand, leading him towards the door. "If you don't mind, I'm tired and I'd like to finish up fixin' Frank's bike and then turn in."

"Of course. Goodnight Mr Hardy."

"Goodnight," Joe said and shut the door.

Shaking his head in amazement at the name coincidence, Joe went back into Frank's room. His protection instincts were in overdrive and he didn't want to leave Frank alone in his vulnerable state. He hadn't liked a bunch of strangers pulling and prodding at his brother, no matter how well intentioned, and he knew Frank would have hated it. The whole incident had badly shaken him.

He stood at the side of the bed and stared down at his brother's outwardly calm face, wondering what he was thinking and whether he'd been even the tiniest bit aware of what had happened. A sudden feeling of utter fatigue washed over him and he slumped down onto the bed and laid his hand on Frank's shoulder. He couldn't believe how close he'd come to causing his brother to be carted away again. How would Frank have reacted if he'd woken up in another clinical, white room? "Probably would have majorly flipped out."

Joe thought about Collig and what on earth he'd meant by the FBI comment. Whatever it was, it had gotten him and Frank out of a shaky situation. He made a mental note to ask him about it when they returned to Bayport – he at least owed The Chief a huge debt of gratitude.

"Holy cow, Frank!" Joe said, even though he knew he was talking to himself. "I nearly got arrested for your attempted murder! Now do you see the effect you're having on everyone? You gotta get this thing beat. It's getting out of hand, dude – way out of hand!"

*****

Nancy climbed to her feet, hearing Con calling her name out urgently for the third time through the skylight from where he'd just dropped her through. She took her flashlight, placed it under her chin, and switched it on. "Boo!" She giggled.

"Don't ever do that again!" Con near enough shouted. "You petrified the living be-Jesus out of me."

"Sorry Con. I told you I'd be okay – you need to have more faith. Like I said, I know my limitations and strengths. Wait there, I won't be long."

She entered the back office and swung her flashlight around until she found the retractable ladder, leaning up against the four-drawer filing cabinet. Lifting it, she returned to the skylight and started opening it until the top rung was high enough to brace against the edge of the opening, Con helping to direct it the rest of the way. She then steadied the ladder as Con made his way down.

As soon as he hit ground zero, Con turned angry hazel eyes on her. "That's the last time you to talk me into letting you do something so crazy! If you were one of my cops, I'd be bouncing you out of here! Badly done, Drew, badly done. A partnership is about trust and give-n-take, and you're doing nothing in those areas. And it would serve you well to remember that's a good rule to follow in any relationship, not only working ones."

Nancy's face flushed as she finally appreciated the very real scare she'd dolled out to him. "I'm sorry Con, I guess I got carried away. I'm not used to working with other people."

"Well get used to it quick-smart, girl, because I sure don't have time to train you up. From now on, no more action-hero crap, agreed?"

Nancy pursed her lips and folded her arms, but she did stiffly nod her acceptance.

"Good. I don't want to be scraping you up off the floor any time soon – what were you thinking?"

"About that," Nancy admitted, pointing at the convertible that was silhouetted against the shutters that were down on all sides of the glass-sided building. It was still atop the low podium, although not now revolving. "And about Frank. He's down enough on life already, without losing that car as well. I know it sounds stupid, but—" she gave a shrug, unsure as to what else to say.

"Oh."

Con was silent for so long that Nancy eventually looked up to try and work out what he was thinking. He was surveying her, but his face had softened. His hand came out and rested gently onto her shoulder.

"C'mon, let's rescue his car and get out of here."

Nancy opened her backpack and pulled out two licence plates. She'd noticed at the show room earlier that Frank's plates had been replaced and she needed to restore the originals so if they got pulled over, everything would be legitimate. "Can you can take off the false plates and switch them back?"

"Sure. Give me your tool set and I'll get started while you work out how to lower the podium and get those back doors open." Con's voice was much gentler and Nancy wondered if he was feeling bad for having shouted at her, not that she hadn't deserved it.

"Thanks. You're brilliant, Con." Nancy said, handing over the ratchet set from her belt and squeezing his hand for a second. "If you wait, I'll turn the lights on low so you can see what you're doing. The shutters should block out the light, so we don't have to worry too much." She left and returned to the back office to turn up the dimmer switch.

Con was watching her through the glass and when it reached the right ambience, he gave an 'ok' sign and headed for the rear of the car.

Nancy went to a key cabinet that was attached to the wall and pulled her lock picking set from her pocket. She unfolded it and selected the most likely tools for the job and set about working on the lock. It was a simple mechanism and she had it opened in about thirty seconds flat.

Swinging the lid open, she shook her head in disbelief as to how easy it would be to steal every car on the lot. Sets of keys for each vehicle were hanging there with a hand written label attached with the cars' license numbers. "Fool!" she muttered about Martin and worked her way through the tags to find the convertible's keys. Finally identifying it, she shoved it into her pocket, and returned to Con.

The ex-lieutenant was crouched at the rear of the car, having already replaced the front plate, the old one lying abandoned on the shiny floor.

"Watch your fingers, Con, I'm going to lower the podium."

"I'm nearly done here, anyway, so lower away." Con replied, not looking up, concentrating hard on the job at hand.

Nancy returned to the office and went to a panel of switches on the other side from the doorway. Having made a point of watching Martin earlier when she'd asked him to stop the podium, so she'd already clocked where the control panel was. She depressed the one marked 'lower stage'.

There was a soft whirring noise and she looked through the glass to watch Con stepping back as the podium descended. As it reached ground level, he opened the passenger door and threw in the now redundant license plates and then turned to beckon for Nancy to come through to him.

"Did you find the car keys?" he asked, once she'd joined him.

Nancy pulled them from her pocket. "Here you go." She tossed them in his direction and he caught them to his chest and travelled around the car to get into the driver's seat.

Gunning the engine, Con cranked the convertible into gear, backed it up, and then drove it towards the rear of the show room to the still closed double doors. He didn't turn off the engine, allowing it to rumble gently as Nancy went to the door and hit the large red knob. The large arrow next to it denoted that it would open the doors and after a heart-stopping, ear-splitting grinding noise, the metal shutter rolled up and the doors whooshed aside. As soon as they'd opened enough, Con drove the car out and into the fresh air.

Nancy's face split into a huge smile as he drove the convertible a distance away from the building and parked it up next to his own car. He climbed out and jogged back.

"What now?" Con asked once she was within hearing distance.

"We're going to put everything back as it was, other than the car and keys. It'll look as if the car wasn't here at all, and if Martin phones the police, it'll look odd to them too and will cause them to start asking awkward questions."

Con looked over Nancy's head, thoughtfully. "I'm willing to bet Martin won't call the boys in."

"Exactly! And as we visited earlier, it's hardly surprising our fingerprints are everywhere, so we're in the clear. I'll rub mine off the key cabinet, control panel and the other suspicious areas. Can you fold up the ladder again?"

Con went away and returned a short while later with it in his hands. Nancy put it in exactly the same place she'd found it and gave it a brisk rub down with an old cloth she'd bought with her. She quickly did the same with the control panel, raised the podium and then locked up the key cabinet. They both took a quick walk around and did a visual scan to confirm they'd left nothing behind before killing the lights and reconvening at the still open back doors.

"Let's vamoose!" Con said and indicated for her to leave. He pressed the button and ducked out himself before the doors and shutters closed fully.

Once they were shut, Nancy said, "I need you to lift me again so I can fix the alarm."

It took her a couple of minutes of fiddling, but the wire was eventually reconnected and the red light came on again to denote that it was rearmed. She reattached the cover and then Con lifted her back to ground level.

"Get the car out of here," he said. "I left the key in the ignition."

"No – you're forgetting that we still have to shut the skylight."

"I'll do that, just go."

"But—" she opened her mouth to argue, not wanting Con to do something that made him uncomfortable, but his determined face changed her mind. It was obviously an order, not a request. So she turned and started away, leaving him behind.

Nancy ran up to the car and gave it a firm pat on the behind as she headed for the driver's door. She couldn't help but feel a swell of satisfaction as she slid into the front seat and turned the engine over, running her fingers over the leather-covered, racing steering wheel. The tiniest fear that this wasn't Frank's car fled as soon as she was sat inside – it felt right; it felt like her boyfriend's aura, his spirit, was in that convertible with her. It vibrated with his presence, she could even smell him – this WAS his car.

She adjusted the seat and twisted to look back at Con, who was disappearing over the parapet of the roof, having made a much more controlled job of climbing this time.

Turning back, she drove away at speed, initially hugging the back streets behind the industrial and office buildings until she had no choice but to emerge on to the main highway. There, she cut her speed so as not to attract attention to herself and drove across Bayport towards the corner of Elm and High Streets. As soon as she was driving up to the Hardys house, she leaned on the horn and the garage doors were raised. Laura and Vanessa were there, smiling and waving.

Nancy shot straight into the garage, jammed on the brakes, and Laura lowered the garage doors again.

Climbing from the car, Nancy immediately walked into a tight hug administered by Laura Hardy. "Nancy, you are a wonder! What would my oldest do without you?" she asked, those bright, sapphire blue eyes, so similar to Joe's, flashing at her and turning up at the corners.

Nancy smiled and returned the embrace. "I'm sure he'd do just fine," she said modestly and turned to high five with Vanessa. "Thank you for earlier you two, you were great! You should have seen Martin's face when you walked in to save Vanessa, he was so disappointed! He thought all his Christmases had come at once when he got a look at Van in that dress – and poor Con's jaw nearly hit the floor!"

"Speaking of Con, where is he?" Vanessa asked.

"I left him finishing up. He'll be here soon," Nancy answered. "At least I hope so, if he hasn't fallen off the roof and broken his neck!"

But then there was a firm tap on the garage door and Laura raised it enough for Con to duck underneath. "Have you got the coffee on, Laura? I need one and I need one now…a strong one preferably." He tipped a thumb in Nancy's direction. "She's scary and bossy, and she made me climb!"