Boosting - Chapter 22

Laura Hardy was loading the dishwasher, rinsing each item under the fast running faucet before stacking them with well practiced procedural hands into the machine. She was listening and humming to a CD, so the sound of that combined with the whooshing of running water ensured that she was unaware that anyone had entered the room until she stood up to look out of the window. Her breath was stolen away as she immediately saw the ghostly reflection of a tall, dark man standing stock-still at the back of the room.

She spun, almost knocking her tea over as she reached for the frying pan to use as a weapon, causing liquid to spill onto the shiny counter top. She came into contact with, not the stranger she was frightened of finding, but Frank. "God, you scared me!"

Her son's face was pale and drawn, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. Frank looked back at her with a hangdog expression, his pupils wide. He hadn't shaved, a fresh carpet of course hair across his chin, throat and upper lip. It was so unlike her usually impeccably turned out older child.

"What is it?" Laura moved to turn off the water and hit the stereo's stop button. Then she turned her full attention to Frank and reached out.

"Mom—" was all he said and half fell into her waiting arms.

Con had phoned ahead to warn her that Frank and Joe might be on their way to the house, but he didn't go into any details, just said that she needed to get the convertible out of the way so Frank wouldn't see it. So she'd locked the garage door, which was probably why Frank had entered the house via the utility room. She had no idea that anything else was wrong, she certainly wasn't expecting to be confronted by a son who was in worse shape than when he went off for a short break.

"What's happened – are you ill?" she asked, pushing him away to hold him at arms length, laying her hand against his forehead. "You feel hot."

Frank shook his head and leaned in again, so she pulled him close. Something awful must have happened because this was the first real physical contact he'd allowed her since he'd been released from hospital and entered his hermit-like existence with Nancy. "And where was Joe?"

"Did something happen with you and your brother?" she eventually asked.

Frank took an audible breath, fingers twitching against her back.

"Something did happen, didn't it?"

There was a pause until Frank finally said. "I can't tell you, Mom."

"Yes you can."

"I truly can't."

Whatever it was, Laura suspected it was Frank's loyalty to his brother that wouldn't allow him to 'tattle' and knew she'd have to do some nifty negotiating to prise it out. "Sweetheart, whatever it is, I won't be angry with either of you. I just need to know that you're both okay."

From the direction of the foyer, she heard the front door being opened and a heavy footstep landing on the wooden flooring. Frank's arms and shoulders immediately stiffening, having heard it too. Then came the sound of Joe's voice, drifting loudly through the house and becoming more strident as he headed towards the kitchen.

"Mom! You gotta hide Frank's car, he might be on his way here."

Frank began to unpeel from Laura's hold and curl upright again, his hands slipping away from her shoulder blades. She looked to find Joe had rounded the doorway and was frozen in his tracks, rear-footed by Frank's presence. She turned back to Frank and tried to stop his arms from leaving her hands by applying some gentle pressure. The intensity in the room was corporeal.

Frank stared down at her, his expression unreadable, his eyes shifting from her to Joe who muttered a curse. "My car?" Frank asked, backing out of her arms entirely, her grip in no way firm enough to even slow him down.

"It was stolen while you were gone," Laura said slowly.

"Stolen? Then how come you've got it, and why would it be so important that it be hidden because I'm comin' here?"

There was a drawn out silence as Laura carefully considered what to say, so long that it was obvious she was trying to hide something. Frank's eyes darkened as they narrowed, so eventually Laura said the only thing that felt right and fair – she told the truth: "Con…and Nancy got it back for you."

"Nancy? But she's in River Heights, how come—" his speech wound down.

Laura watched as Frank began to mentally sort through all the parts of the puzzle that had been presented to him. He frowned as he concentrated, turning each piece over, studying the colors, the texture, weighing them, his eyes jerking about as he processed. Frank was highly intelligent and Laura knew it wouldn't take long for her son to click together all the edge pieces of his virtual jigsaw and then start filling in the middle section.

Joe knew it as well and headed further into the room to stand next to his mother. "Frank, don't—"

Frank suddenly directed an accusatory finger at him. "You set me up. You didn't only take advantage of Nancy returning home; you planned it that way, so you could poke around in my head uninterrupted. You dragged Nancy into it, and even Con."

"Dude, I didn't…I mean I did, but—" In the midst of his struggling, Joe unwittingly looked to Laura for help, which provided those last few center pieces of Frank's conundrum.

"No!" Frank muttered, eyes widening at the implication of his parents being in on the whole thing. His finger was still up, and it moved unconsciously towards his mother before the hand went to his head and buried itself into his hair – a classic self-comforting gesture for Laura's eldest.

"Sweetie, we were worried about you. We hoped that the trip would do you some good." Laura could see he was trying to slide away, groping behind him to find the doorknob to the laundry room. She lurched forward, getting her palm to the door and slamming it shut just as Frank opened it.

And then Joe moved to stop him too, restraining hands taking hold of his older brother's jacket lapels. Using his greater strength, Joe forcibly levered his brother away from the door and press him up against the microwave.

Frank's countenance became one of a cornered animal as he gripped Joe's forearms and they began grappling, Frank yelling for Joe to let him go.

"Joe, stop it!" Laura ordered, stepping to one side to avoid being trampled. "Leave him be!"

Joe reacted to his mother's command and was for an instant distracted enough as to glance around at her and loosen his grip.

Frank immediately broke Joe's hold, gripped onto one wrist with both hands and applied a quick elbow to Joe's chest. Frank then twisted his weight into him. Joe stumbled and went down, Frank dropping his arm once he was on the ground. He turned immediately to take a long, lame stride towards his intended exit.

Laura jumped back, her palms involuntarily raising themselves in front of her face protectively.

Frank's gaped in shock. "You think me capable of hitting you? What the hell, Mom?"

"I don't…no, honey, of course not I—"

Joe rose to his feet.

Frank turned a warning finger on him. "Don't touch me again, bro!" he shouted and turned back to Laura, his next speech delivered at machine gun speed. "Am I so scary? Is that why drugging me was necessary? Did you all think it would make me more compliant? Were you planning on slipping tablets to me regularly if the outcome was to your satisfaction? 'Sedate the mad brother, Joe, that'll do the trick'!"

"NO!" Joe exploded, appalled at the implication Frank was drowning in. "Frank, man, it wasn't about that. You've got it all wrong, badly wrong. It was me, all me!" he took a step forward.

Frank took a reactionary step of his own. "Don't even think about it, Joe – don't even!"

Bewilderment reigned supreme for Laura; her sons' floundering conversation was too confusing. "What? Drugging you? Honey, what are you—?"

Frank interrupted. "You must think me such a fool!" A sweeping hand went back to his hair. "Can't cope with this. Let me out, huh?" he stepped around her and opened the door again. This time neither she nor Joe tried to interfere and he left at speed, his weight crashing through the door on the other side to the outside world and freedom.

"What did your brother mean?" Laura asked testily, whirling to face her youngest, finding empty air where he'd once been standing. She quickly moved to look through the doorway and across the foyer to find Joe heading to the front door. "Joseph Hardy! Come back here and explain yourself!" she shouted, but he didn't hear…or at least pretended not to as he began to open the door.

She tore after him across the wooden flooring, caught onto his waistband and catapulted him back into the house, astounding herself with her own speed and strength.

And judging by the sound Joe made, she'd surprised him too!

"You stop right there, young man!" she commanded, turning her back to the door and heeling it shut. She stayed there, barring the way, her arms folded and listening to the sounds of a motorcycle starting up around the side of the house.

"Mom, please!" Joe begged. "I've got to sort this out, he's got it all so wrong!"

"What do you think is going to happen if you go after your brother right this second, hmm?" She tipped her head to one side and raised her eyebrows.

"I think—"

"—It was a rhetorical question, honey. I'll tell you what I think will happen. He'll disappear, but if you let him leave voluntarily he's likely to head home first to pack, and then at least you'll have the opportunity to talk to him again…calmly…persuade him against making any rash decisions." She glanced at her watch. "Give him fifteen minutes, and then go to the apartment."

The bike made its way towards the front of the house and seemed to lose speed before there was a loud clatter.

Laura turned to the window and moved the lace under drapes to one side, Joe's head joining hers. What had sounded like Frank taking a fall turned out to be him kicking or pushing the red bike over. Without looking back, Frank sped up and left the front drive.

"Well, it would seem he reallydoesn't want to be followed," Laura muttered. "He's not playing games."

"He definitely didn't want me following me earlier, tried to run me into a dumpster," Joe agreed. "And that bike he knocked over isn't even my bike, it's the Frankster's. It's gonna cost a fortune to get all the dings out of it,"

Laura turned from the window and angled Joe towards the stairs. "While you're giving him his head start, we can have a chat about what's been going on and why your brother's in the state he's in."

Joe sighed and rolled his eyes up. "Great…now I'm for it! Mom, can I say in my own defence that what I did was with the best of intentions." He turned and walked to the stairs to sprawl down. "But admittedly, it went slightly awry and the police got just a little bit involved…and, erm…Chief Collig too. And I might have slightly assaulted one of Bayport's finest on the way over here."

Laura raised an eyebrow. "You sound like your father trying to damage control: 'a little bit-slightly-may have' – could've, should've, would've! Explain…and don't lie to me, because I'm your mother, I'll know. And you're never too old for a boxed ear!"

*****

Con stood looking at the Ford Fairlane in his garage with his thumb tucked into his front pocket, his other hand resting on the garage shutters above.

His immediate neighbour came out into his yard to laugh at Con's choice of car. Con tried to explain that he only had temporarily custody of it, but his neighbour was having none of it, preferring to jeer away. Con finally caused the man to return to his house at speed when he shrugged resignedly…and then mock charged him like a bull.

Bizarre…that's how his life had become since he'd gotten involved with the Hardy clan!

Shaking his head, Con slapped his thigh and looked at his watch. "Ah! It's my favourite time of the day, coffee time!" He went through the inside door into the main house and put his kettle on to boil, heaping two large spoonfuls into his mug to make a really powerful cup. Then returned back to the garage to lower the shutter door and secured it from the inside.

Settling down in the living room at his favourite chair, he propped his heels up onto the coffee table and powered up the TV. He started channel surfing.

"What do you reckon?…Ah, Buffy! Can't beat a bit of slayin' and dustin'. Let's watch this, shall we?"

He sat up straighter, shoved a cushion into the corner of the chair and got himself more comfortable, dangling one arm over the side. The episode was about halfway though and he'd seen it numerous times already, but he was such a big fan that he didn't care. He could practically quote every episode – not that he'd ever admit to this secret passion, and certainly not to the likes of Joe Hardy!

His coffee cup made its way to his mouth and paused as his brain started to drift, despite Buffy Summers performing a particularly impressive broadsword fight on the top of a Winnebago!

He thought back to when he'd been picked up at the office by James Anderson, who'd been assigned to him by Ezra Collig. Now Con knew the chief had a sense of humour – and a cruel one. He and James had spent the entire journey bickering like a couple of kids. Con didn't like Anderson's driving and Anderson objected to his back seat advice. But eventually they'd reached their destination, which was a farmhouse, on the outskirts of Bayport.

Anderson turned to Con. "Oh, almost forgot, X-L—" Anderson started, his hand going to his inside pocket.

"—As God is my witness, if you call me 'X-L' or 'Ex-Lieutenant' one more time, I'll tattoo the word 'smart ass' into your body with my fists – and no one would blame me!"

"Calm down, I was only kiddin'," James said and pulled forth an envelope.

"What's that?" Con asked as he took possession and sliding his finger along the flap to open it.

"It's the cleaned up photograph that Mr Hardy asked for, of the guy that took Frank Hardy's car."

Con slipped it out to see. It was a good detailed close up, even though still slightly pixelated. Although wearing a cap, the perp's face was clearly visible and dark hair could be seen poking out the sides. Con was sure that if he saw this guy, he'd be able to finger him from that picture. The squint who'd worked on it had done a stand up job!

James had been looking at the photo at the same time. "Good, huh?"

"Yeah, impressive." Con slipped it back inside the envelope and shoved it into his pocket. "Right, c'mon." He opened the door, and then paused and looked back. "By the way, today James, for the purpose of what we are about to do, you're my son."

"Oh, great. Couldn't I be your nephew instead?" he asked, peering sideways at Con.

"No, you'll be my son, the fruit of my loins – and you'll consider it an honor, chump!"

Anderson shook his head. "I hope the guys back at the station don't find out about this." He put his cap on and began fiddling with the peak as he opened his door.

"Man but you're argumentative!" Con complained.

As they both stood, a man came out through the front door and gave a little wave. Con nodded and tried not to glare at James who'd stopped in his tracks and was gawping. This was clearly the guy from the photograph.

Con knew experience would fix Anderson in the long-term, but right now he needed him not to respond to everything like the wind was trying to blow him over. "Hey son, does he look like your pal, Joe, or what?" Con asked.

Luckily for James, he picked up on what Con was getting at. "Yeah, he does. I thought it was him for a second."

"Name's John," Con said, offering his hand to the man who'd stolen his best friend's son's car…a young man who'd been through enough crap this year…a man Con Riley thought of as family. He was mighty tempted to immediately arrest the guy, but knew he needed to play his part in order to catch the whole gang. They needed that car. They needed to get as much physical evidence from it as possible, and then they needed to round up the entire team. Most importantly, they needed to link Bobbie Shandley's disappearance to these guys, and find her. Hopefully alive!

"Nice to meet you John. I'm Benjamin. You're looking for a blue Ford Fairlane I understand?"

"You understood right. This is my son, James."

"I thought so, there's a definite family resemblance."

Anderson smirked and quickly clasped Benjamin's offered hand as Con narrowed his eyes warningly.

Benjamin continued: "Well, if it's a quality collectable car you're after, you've come to the right place!" he said cheerfully and motioned for them to follow him, drawing them towards a rickety shed to the right of the house. "I've been working hard on her, but I'm ready for my next challenge."

While his back was turned, Con took a scan of all the windows to see if anyone was watching them, and also to see if someone looking like Bobbie Shandley might be locked up inside one of the rooms trying to catch their attention. He couldn't see anyone or anything sinister.

Anderson was doing the same thing, but looking the other way before revolving to view the grounds. He turned fully and they locked eyes, a silent message passing between them that all was quiet.

Con shrugged and they carried on following Benjamin to the shed where he was opening up the big door. Presently, he had the padlock opened and was drawing the heavy bolt across and pulling the doors open.

"Wow! That's gotta hurt!" Con shouted out, yanked out of his thoughts and back to 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer'. Giles-the-Watcher had taken a spear to the chest through the windshield of the Winnebago. "Didn't he see the crusader knight on horseback comin' right at him? He should put his driving glasses on." Con sat up and put the empty coffee cup to one side, settled back down again and checked his watch. "I think it's time for a walk in a little while."

His mind drifted off again.

Anderson gasped as the barn doors opened to reveal the car within. "One thing you can say for sure, Dad, you'd never go unnoticed driving one of those monsters. It's like something out of a horror movie!" They both entered the shed and orbited around the car.

The vehicle was gleaming. The chrome, the paintwork, the mirrors – everything was immaculate. Whoever had restored the car had done a bang up job. There didn't appear to be any dents, scratches or rust patches, not even on the wings, which Con assumed would be the most vulnerable part of the car's bodywork. It even had the white-wall tires.

Con made an appreciative noise as Benjamin invited him to sit in the car by opening the door. Sliding in, Con immediately sought out the CD stereo system, seeing the cover that the owner told him would be there. Not that he needed confirmation that this was the boosted car. Benjamin's CCTV image was all the confirmation Con needed.

Benjamin had been silent the entire time. He didn't have to point out the selling points, the car spoke for itself.

And so, a deal was struck and Con parted with a stack of money (he swore that it would never fail to amaze him how easy it had been to draw the cash needed from the government bank account, simply by flashing an FBI badge). Con signed some paperwork, accepted the keys to the Ford, and shook Benjamin's hand across the hood. And then he and Anderson left.

Con and Anderson stopped about a mile into Bayport outside a burger bar, as prearranged to share notes.

"Didn't see anyone other than Benjamin," Anderson confirmed and held his cap up. "But I got the footage of him. The camera seemed to work fine and I can let you have a copy once I've downloaded it."

"Great." Con took the hat from him and inspected the tiny lens imbedded into the side of the peak. "These are brilliant. I might recommend to Fenton that we get some of these."

"What are you goin' to do with the car?"

From a distance away, Con heard the sound of motorcycles. "The techies are picking it up from my place tomorrow, so it's comin' home with me."

James started to laugh and opened his mouth to say something, but then he was looking beyond Con's shoulder at something happening further up the road.

Con turned to see a bike shooting through the hedge into the field leaving tracks in the grass, some half a mile away. It seemed to lose momentum, but then picked up speed again and blasted forward until the rider found a gap further on and went back through and onto the road. "That was Joe."

"Joe Hardy? How can you tell?"

"Because I recognise that bike. I was with him when he picked it up."

"What was he doing?"

"I'm hanged if I know."

The two motorcycles passed the burger bar's entrance, the black bike in front of the red one, which was trying to pass.

"He must have been using the field as a way of cutting in front of Frank," Con suppositioned. "I need to catch up with them. C'mon, I know a short-cut, and I bet I know where they're heading. Follow my lead Anderson." He got back into the Ford Fairlane and prepared to follow.

What seemed like mere minutes later, Con was on Main Street and he and Anderson were forcing 'Frank Hardy' off the road and noting, with confusion, that 'Joe Hardy' wasn't stopping. 'Joe' had driven around them and was gone before Con realised his mistake at having stopped the wrong brother.

No matter how disastrous it had turned out, Con knew one thing for certain… he'd been wrong about James Anderson. Yeah, his base attitude was all out-of-whack, but when push had come to shove, the kid had been there at his shoulder and had instinctively supported Con without question – even fronting up to Joe when he thought he was going to use him as a punch-bag. A Joe Hardy who would have made mince meat of James Anderson. He'd not even suggested arresting Joe after he'd been shoved into the car, even though it was a clear case of assault, preferring to bow to Con's intuition through the whole incident. So although Con suspected Anderson didn't like him personally, he knew James, for whatever reason, trusted his judgment.

Con's attention snapped back to Buffy as she burst through the protective force field that had been created by Willow-the-Witch. She was going after Glory-the-God who had abducted Buffy's sister Dawn-the-Key, but Glory was long gone. Buffy stared about her at the carnage left in the God's path, and then slumped down, her mind having collapsed in her grief and horror.

Unable to help but draw parallels between what was happening on the screen, and what had happened with Frank and Joe, Con decided to delay the walk and watch the next episode, his curiosity getting the better of him. And besides, he felt so warm and relaxed.