Boosting - Chapter 32

Fenton reached to press the bell, but the door swung wide before he got that far, a worried looking Hannah on the other side. She took in the sight of the three of them – Frank, Fenton and Bobbie. "Goodness me, what happened to you, and where's Joe?"

"At the hospital. He's okay, but they're keeping him in for observation."

"Hospital—?" Hannah opened her mouth to ask more, but Fenton interrupted. "Hannah, it's a long story, and we're all exhausted. Bobbie's been messed around enough. She's answered enough questions for one night."

Hannah focused fully on her. "Hello, Bobbie, remember me?"

Bobbie nodded and allowed Hannah to take her arm and take her inside, letting go of Fenton's hand.

"Would you like a shower? Freshen up a little?" Hannah asked and put a motherly arm about her shoulders. "Your clothes are in Nancy's room. Fenton fetched them from the hotel and they're laundered and pressed." As they reached the stairs, Hannah looked back. "Go on through, help yourselves to whatever you need. There's ice for that cheek, Frank. Bobbie and I are going to have some girlie time, aren't we?"

Bobbie smiled. "You're all very kind."

Fenton smiled back. That was probably twice as much as ­she'd said since leaving the precinct, sandwiched between the Hardys in the back of a police cruiser – engulfed by Frank's jacket and gripping Fenton's hand and arm.

Earlier, after two hours of heavy but gentle police questioning, Fenton had burst into the comfortable interview suite and insisted on taking Bobbie home to the Drew's residence, and that the police save their questions for the next day. Then he'd collected Frank from the hospital, having to get heavy before he would leave. Joe was so sleepy that all Frank was accomplishing was stopping him from being able to relax.

Fenton shrugged his jacket off and led Frank to the kitchen. He pulled out one of the breakfast bar chairs. "Sit," he ordered and switched the kettle on. He heard Frank slump down and his walking stick hit the table, presumably in its folded-up state.

"You can stop now Dad."

"Stop what?"

"The protective father thing. It's done. Bobbie's safe, Joe's…well…Joe, and I'm okay. You can relax, kick back."

"I'm still making you a drink – live with it!" Fenton tittered and placed two cups onto the counter. He turned around to face his son, his hand going to his neck. "Are you though?"

"Am I what?"

"Okay."

Frank mulled over his answer. "I've reached some conclusions."

And he wasn't lying this time, Fenton could just tell. He smiled and went back to making them a hot drink and rubbing at the back of his neck.

"What's up?" Frank eventually asked.

"Don't know. My neck's not been right since Carson hit me and when that guy put me in the strangle-hold, I think he wrenched it again."

"More likely when Pete shook you, maybe you got a whiplash?" Frank stood, and moved to the side. "Sit down."

"What?"

"Just…sit down, trust me." Frank pulled Fenton gently down into the chair before moving behind and rolling his sleeves up his forearms.

Fenton didn't understand Frank's intentions until he felt his son's hands slide over his shoulders to begin massaging, making initial long strokes with his palms, warming the area.

"I'm not surprised your neck's sore, you're pretty tense."

"Can you blame me?"

Frank snorted and stopped lightly sweeping to put one hand either side of his neck and begin kneading. "This would be so much easier with oils and not having to do it through your shirt."

Fenton's head sagged, his son's proficient hands relaxing and lulling him. "Where'd you learn to do this?" he heard himself ask, seemingly from the other side of the room, his voice echoing back.

Frank put one hand over the other, interwove his fingers and bore down, tracing circles with the heel of his hand. "Oh…sport massages when I was doing football and baseball. You pick up on stuff I guess."

Fenton's eyes closed. He was floating.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"Um…no, quite the opposite." Fenton assured.

Frank stopped and tentatively explored a particular area with his fingertips before Fenton felt his hand moved inside his collar to the bare skin.

"Ah, here's your problem, you've got a hard knot pressing up against your muscle, probably on the nerve. It's most likely a build up of scar tissue from when Carson clouted you." He pressed his thumbs in and started pushing against the area. "It just needs breaking up. For a small man, Carson did a real neat job."

"Um."

Frank quietened as he concentrated on working against the lump and Fenton could actually feel the uneven area his son's thumbs were traversing.

"Joe would probably find this helpful for his back and abs, if he wasn't so ticklish," Frank remarked. "Get rid of some of the more stubborn tissue from around his muscles. From…where he…got shot?"

Fenton grunted in agreement.

There was an extended silence while Frank kneaded away and Fenton could feel the tension in his neck slowly lifting, a comfortable heat rising.

"You know?" Frank, continued, "I've learned lately that sometimes, you just have to trust other people when you need help. Sometimes some things are just too difficult to tackle. Sometimes problems are in an area just can't reach to rub the discomfort away…Just sometimes…I don't…I can't—" his hands stopped moving, although didn't lift away.

Fenton's eyes snapped open and he looked up into his son's face, realising he'd been standing there quietly weeping. For how long he didn't know, but it was of no consequence; it was the most honest emotion he'd seen his son demonstrate since the Pandora case. It was all very familiar.

He stood and reached out as Frank gripped the back of the seat: "I nearly got Joe killed! I did that to him, to my best friend, to my brother. And when he needed me – at that one time in his life when he really needed me – I wasn't there! I could've lost him and I wouldn't have even been there to say goodbye. What kind of a brother am I?"

Fenton wrapped him in a comforting hold. "The best kind of brother, and Joe wouldn't say anything different." He put his hand over the back of his son's bended head and pulled him in. "Everything is coming to the surface and conflicting with your logical mind making it all confusing and intense. The heart and the mind aren't separate; they're interwoven and sometimes they tangle. Struggling just alone will make the knots pull tighter so it's time you let someone help you untie them." Fenton paused; he knew now was the time to impart the information only known to him and Con – that one piece of knowledge that would help more than anything else. He said softly, slowly and succinctly so there could be no doubt: "I was…all the stronger for it."

And Frank was straightening to stare into his father's knowing, wise gaze, seeing something in his father's dark eyes that he'd never noticed before. The realisation dawning that the strongest, most trustworthy and admirable of all men – his own father – had been through something similar. "No…way?"

Fenton curtly nodded. "You, me and Joe…we're not so different."

*****

"Is it them?" Con shouted through from the living room. The doorbell had rung and James Anderson, his temporary housemate and nursemaid had gone to answer it.

"Give me a chance to open the door, Unc, I'm not bionic!"

Con grinned at being called 'Unc'. He was enjoying being someone's uncle, even if it was to a smart-mouth! Still, it was preferable to being called X-L – not that James had altogether dropped that nickname.

"Yeah, it's them and Mrs Hardy," his nephew confirmed.

"Call me Laura." She walked in with a large cooking dish in her hands, James following. "Casserole," she said, pushing the pot towards Con.

A look passed between Con and his nephew and James took the dish reverently, repressing a laugh. "Thank you, Laura."

Con knew James was thinking the same as him: another pot to add to the twenty or so that had already been delivered by various ex-police colleague's wives, girlfriends and neighbours. They were going to be eating casserole for the next month!

"Thanks Laura. That'll save me a…whoa – nice eye, Champ!" Con exclaimed as Joe rounded the doorway.

"Too old for 'Champ' now, but yeah, it is pretty impressive, isn't it?" Joe agreed, his hand touching the area. "Almost as nice as your forehead."

"Would have been far worse if Rebel hadn't been there." Con stroked the top of his dog's head and glanced down to find Rebel had deposited drool adoringly down his jeans. He rubbed one denim-clad leg against the other to blend the mark away. "How you doing?"

"Not bad, you?" Joe dropped down next to him on the sofa.

"Getting there. Where're the others?"

Over the last few days, everyone involved with the case had agreed to get together for a debriefing with the intention of pinning down all the facts. Making sure that when the case came to court, none of the gang would wriggle free of their collective responsibilities.

"Frank's locking up his car and Dad's pulling his leg. Dude's super-dooper careful with the Corvette now – crook lock, steering lock, the works." Joe turned to eye James curiously, as did Laura. Their close examination clearly making him uncomfortable.

"Um, I'm going to…do a bit of tidying up in the kitchen," James muttered and ducked quickly out. Con guessed he wasn't only leaving so he didn't have to answer questions; he was going to hide the other casserole dishes so Laura wouldn't be offended.

This was the first time Fenton was going to have seen Con since the case had been solved. Fenton had spent a further couple of days out of town travelling with Bobbie to ensure she got home safely and her parents had been extremely grateful for Fenton's attentiveness. So when he walked in with Frank and Nancy, the sight of Con's bruised body caused him to freeze, his face opening wide. "My God Con, what the hell?"

Con just grinned back. "Take a seat, partner. I'd stand up, but I can't…be bothered. Be quick, this window of opportunity won't be open for long. I'm like an old man; I could nod off any second. I love a good nap, but the public dribbling is embarrassing, and I'm not talking about Rebel!"

Fenton laughed and sank down next to Joe as Nancy sat down in one of the easy chairs and set down the whole gamut of paperwork she'd been carrying onto the coffee table. Frank perched on the arm of her seat, leaving the final chair for his mother.

Con went to his shirt pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, which he offered to Nancy. "Here you go, Drew."

"What's that?" she asked, taking it.

"A voucher for a restaurant in town. I owe you and Frank a meal, remember?"

"Thanks Con! I wasn't going to hold you to that, you know." Nancy smiled and took her glasses out to read what the voucher said, angling the paper for Frank to be able to see.

"Well look at that—" Con began, "—She's a proper secretary now!"

Nancy narrowed her eyes, slowly removed her glasses and laid them down before moving towards him – Con grinning inanely the entire time. She bent, put her mouth about an inch from his ear and whispered. "Shut it…Emperor Constantine."

Con's grin immediately dropped and he turned to stare, dumfounded. "How did you find out? Never mind, you win! Dammit, I bet it was that pesky nephew of mine!"

Standing back with an angelic smile, Nancy second-guessed Con's assumption. "It wasn't James," she said and returned to her chair.

"What was that all about?" Joe asked, frowning at Frank, both of them realising they'd missed something big.

"Nothing!" Con snapped.

"Okayyyyyy…actually—" Frank spoke up. "—I've got some news that I wanted to tell you about before we get down to it."

"That's my cue to go and make drinks," Laura said and started to get out of her chair, only to turn startled as James made a panicked squeaking noise in the kitchen, followed by a tremendously loud clattering that sounded like pots toppling over.

Con cringed, the last thing his nephew needed was Laura walking into the room with him only having hidden half the casseroles.

Luckily, Frank interjected. "No Mom, this concerns you too."

"Thank God!" they heard James exclaim. "I'm okay, I'm cool!"

"Oh!" Laura sat back down and motioned for Frank to continue.

All eyes turned towards him and Con heard Joe actually swallow hard.

"Okay…I…erm…I turned that job offer down—"

"YES!" Joe shouted and pumped the air. Fenton and Con swatted him simultaneously.

Frank rolled his eyes. "Let me finish, huh, bro?"

"Sorry."

"So…I want to come back to work, BUT—" he said quickly before Joe could start another round of raising-the-roof with his fist. He groped for Nancy's hand and gripped on. "—It's not goin' to be as simple as me just 'getting back on the horse', it's still way too soon. So I'm going away."

"A vacation?" Fenton asked.

"Not exactly. Do you remember back at Carson's house when we—?" Frank made a movement with his finger, first pointing at his father and then himself.

"—Yes," Fenton said quickly.

"Well, it got me to thinking about my knee and a few other things. I'm putting the reward money I got to use. I've spoken to Dr Lindsey about the problems I've been having and he recommended someone – a sports injury specialist. Dr Lindsey sent my notes to her and she thinks she can help. And the clinic I'm goin' to is real close to this other place, a place that specialises in…other things. But they're in Seattle."

Silence.

"What's that mean?" Joe asked, breaking through the shock.

"It means I'm not just goin' away for a few days, it'll likely be weeks. I don't know how long it'll take, but it's something I need to do."

"But…this is…Dude!" Joe spluttered. "When are you goin'?"

"Not sure, I'm still to pin down the details, but soon."

"That's wonderful news." Laura said, smiling at Fenton.

"Yes – good for you, Son!"

"Yeah…awesome," Joe muttered.

Con wasn't actually so sure whether Joe thought it was all that 'awesome'. He looked like someone had just killed his cat.

"Actually, that works out quite nicely. I've got plans for my youngest," Fenton announced, caught Joe's eye and winked.

"Yeah…awesome," Joe said again and gave his father a very similar look to the one he'd just given his brother.

Con couldn't help it; Joe's face was so comical that he burst out laughing. It hurt his back.

*****

Joe was stretched out on top of his houseboat, one leg drawn up. Rufus, his ginger tomcat was lying across his belly and Joe's fingers were weaving through his fur, feeling (rather than hearing) his deep purring. Joe's iPod was turned up loud; rock music blaring all other distractions.

He tucked an arm behind his head and shut his eyes against the spring sun, moving his foot in rhythm to the music. His tapping ceased when something tentatively poked him in the shoulder and he lifted his head in surprise to find Frank standing on the causeway. What had touched him had been the walking stick. Joe took his speakers out. "Sorry, dude I didn't hear you."

Rufus got up, padded to the other side of the roof and turned his back in disgust at the interruption to his quality time.

"It's okay. Can I—" Frank stopped mid-sentence as the boathouse door opened. Vanessa's face appeared just above the roof as she stepped up onto the patio area.

"Oh!" she exclaimed in surprise. She glanced at Joe and then at Frank, weighing up the situation. "Here, have my drink, Frank. I'll go and do myself another." She set two steaming cups down.

"No Vanessa, I—"

"—It's okay, it won't take me long." And she was gone, the door shutting quickly.

Joe knew Vanessa was being tactful; she'd seen the same thing as he had. Frank had something to say and she'd gone so they could talk openly. Joe turned his attention back. "What is it?" He wrapped the headphones loosely around his neck and sat up, hanging his legs down the side.

Frank ran his fingers through his hair before shoving his hand in his pocket. He leaned against his stick and looked past Joe and out to sea. "I'm leaving for Seattle...now."

Joe's eyebrows shot up. "Now? Right now? Right now this minute?" His stomach dropped. He knew this was coming, had tried to ready himself, but his psyche was doing an Irish jig regardless.

"They got a cancellation and were able to move my appointment up." Guilty eyes swivelled back. "I couldn't turn it down. The sooner things are seen to, the sooner I'll be back."

Joe wasn't sure whether Frank meant he'd be physically or psychologically 'back' – probably both. Either way, he wasn't about to make this any more difficult for Frank than he was finding it already. Joe slid from the roof onto the main deck and then jumped down onto the wharf to land next to his brother. "Do you need me to come with you? Cause I will, you know."

Frank dropped his gaze. "It's not a case of need. I'd love you to come with me, but as I said, this is a bit of a one-man show."

"I'm comin' to the airport with you though, see you off."

"No. I hate all that goodbye stuff, and, well, I'm barely holding myself together at the best of times, so it wouldn't be a good idea. Nan's comin' with me. She's leaving for River Heights too."

Joe looked towards the car lot, but couldn't spot the convertible.

Frank turned to try and work out what Joe was looking at, eventually realising what he was searching for. "It's parked out on the main road."

Joe touched his brother's arm, bringing Frank's face back around. "I can't believe you're actually goin'!"

"It won't be forever, I'll be back before you know it."

"I think we both know that's wishful thinking!" Joe said with a half grin.

They stepped forward and embraced. Gripping each other for a little longer and firmer than would have felt natural to most other people before finally stepping back but not dropping their hands.

Frank tipped his head towards the marina entranceway. "I oughta—"

"—No, wait there for just a second, yeah?" Joe pleaded and raised a finger. "Just one second. I got something for you."

"Okay."

Joe pulled himself up onto the bow and opened the front door. "Babe – Frank's leaving for Seattle, come and say goodbye."

Vanessa was hovering by the door, so they passed on the steps. She gave Joe's hand a squeeze as he inched past and he returned a watery smile.

Joe ran to his bedroom, to the wooden box on his bedside cabinet and lifted the lid to tip its contents out onto the bed. Sifting through, he found what he wanted and snatched it up before returning to the walkway.

He stepped up to find Vanessa hugging his brother, Frank's free arm about her waist. "Hey, no need to take advantage of the situation!"

Frank came up for air laughing. "I kinda assumed that when you said you had something for me that it was Vanessa! You did send her up here."

Vanessa swatted Frank with the back of her hand. "Brat!" she said. "I'm gonna miss you, big brother."

Frank regarded her with a goofy grin. It was the first time Vanessa had ever called him that and he obviously liked it. "Me too."

"Here," Joe said and slipped a gold chained pendant about Frank's neck.

Frank latched onto the small disk, and looked down to see that it was a Saint Christopher. "Isn't this the one Iola gave you?" he asked, perplexed. He turned it over to find Iola 4 Joe etched on the back. "You can't give me this, I won't accept it."

"I'm not givin' it to you, not permanently, anyways. Just for the trip, so you'll be safe, since I can't be there to keep my eye on you." Joe slipped his arm around Vanessa's shoulders and she curled her arms around his torso.

Frank slowly grinned and took another look at the pendant before tucking it inside his shirt. "Joe, you're really something, do you know that, bro?"

"Aw man! Are you gonna try grabbing my butt again."

Frank glanced back at the marina's entrance and Joe jumped in before his brother could say anything. "I know, you've gotta go. Get gone, bro."

Smiling, Frank leaned forward and offered his hand out. Joe grasped it for a second, and then Frank limped away. When he reached the entrance, he turned and circled a wave, before moving out of sight around the corner.

STAY TUNED FOR THE EPILOGUE IN A FEW DAYS