Thanks MissFenway, Polaris, Mebabs, Tifa, and Franknjoe. Thanks for your kindly words, I know this is not my usual type of writing, so well... Mebabs: you did not misread, and Franknjoe: that part will become apparent later... I must apologize that this story is a little well... convoluted. I would like to think my more recent stories are in better shape.
WHEN IT RAINS IT POURS
Chapter Four
-o-
I killed Mom.
My vision blurred. My eyes hurt. They were close to bursting. They already did. My cheeks were wet. I could not close my eyes.
Her eyes were still opened wide. I can see the dying light of desperation from those so familiar pale blue depths.
What am I going to tell Frank? How could I ever face Dad again?
Then the head lolled back. The lids closed.
That small red dot on her chest grew larger by the second.
I could still see those big and desperate pale blue eyes staring death in the face. I would never see them filled with love for me again.
Oh my god, I just killed my own mother…
I killed her.
-o-o-0-o-o-
Fenton Hardy stood frozen where he was. All around him, things were happening in slow motion. He watched all the action in total emotional detachment as if he was an unrelated and objective observer.
The sounds of the blaring sirens grew louder.
Sam Radley pushed past him and sprinted towards the dead victim who was slowly slipping from her seat and towards the floor. Sam caught her just on time.
There were voices coming from far away.
Sam eased the body to the floor and felt for a pulse. Why was Sam doing that? The victim was shot through the heart. She lost a lot of blood. She was clearly dead, if only for a few minutes.
Pitter patter footsteps growing louder and louder...
Sam's head turned towards him. It was not sympathy but relief and desperation that were reflected from those eyes. The mouth opened and moved. Words… impossible words poured out of that mouth…
"Fenton… Laura's not dead…still alive…Fenton…"
"Call the medics!" Someone yelled.
More people flooded into the room. Fenton's heart constricted painfully. He did not want to hope. His eyes flickered furiously.
"MOVE! DAMMIT!" Sam screamed at him. "Help me!"
He moved. In two giant leaps, he was there next to his wife. Yes, she was breathing if just barely. But how could that be?! He could still see Sam's hand pressing down heart on the spot where the heart should be… His mind a blank and his body was just carrying out whatever Sam told him to do.
But his heart started to hope. Laura's still alive. She's not dead yet. She's still breathing...
"You got to keep on fighting, Laura! You can beat this. I know you can. You're special, and you know it. You already beat Kempton. No one got away from the Kemptons alive, but you did. That's how I know you can beat this…" he told her fiercely.
His wife was special, Fenton remembered now. She has Situs Inversus, also known as Dextrocardia. Laura was one in every 8,500 humans who was born with her lungs and heart mirrored. Her heart was located on the right side of her body instead of the left. That was the only reason why she had this fighting chance. None of Andrew Kempton's victims survived. He survived only because Andrew wanted him to. Marianna and Jonathan were murdered almost two years ago. He had no idea how Andrew Kempton found them. There was no concrete proof linking Andrew to those two murders, but Fenton knew it was him. Fenton had no doubt now that Andrew would return for him and Laura. After Andrew finished with whatever he had in mind for Frank and Joe. That meant that Fenton had to find his sons first.
"Yours boys need you… I need you…" Fenton continued talking to his wife as if she could hear him.
The paramedics arrived and took over. He hovered over them, and followed them all the way to the ambulance.
"I have the same blood type with Laura," Sam was saying to the paramedics.
Fenton stood aside and watched the paramedics load his wife onto the ambulance. He took a deep breath. He wiped away his tears. There was nothing more he could do for his wife but to wait. He could not even give her his blood. But Sam could. Furthermore, his sons needed him. Both Frank and Joe were still in mortal danger. He looked at his pale wife again; he did not want her to be alone. Fenton took another deep breath, and make that painful but necessary decision. He had to get his sons back before it was too late. He turned to his best friend and partner.
"Can you stay with Laura? I don't want her to be alone," Fenton requested.
Sam hesitated for the briefest moment before nodding. He could ask his wife to bring his laptop to the hospital. There was other research he could do to help. Fenton on the other hand needed to be out there searching and burning off his fears. Sam understood that.
"I will keep you updated. Just find Frank and Joe," he said as the ambulance doors closed and raced off to Bayport Memorial Emergency Department.
Fenton watched till the ambulance disappeared round the corner. Then he approached Bayport Police Chief Ezra Collig, who was currently shouting orders and instructions over the police radio. The crime labs people had just arrived and were making their way into his home.
"Whoever did this have a twenty minute head-start," Ezra briefed him. "Mrs. Gardner who lived across the street said Frank drove pass and waved to her like he did every morning about twenty minutes ago."
Fenton fought to keep emotions under control. Twenty minutes was a long time.
"I've send out APBs for both Andrew and William Kempton. I have alerted the staff at the airport, trains and bus terminals to be on the lookout. I have men checking out the marina. I have also ordered my men to set up road blocks on all known roads heading out of Bayport," Ezra continued in a brisk and business-like tone; he knew sympathy was the last thing Fenton needed at the moment. "All the conventional escape routes are covered. We just have to figure out the unconventional ones…"
"You have no proof yet that it was the Kemptons," Fenton told his friend.
Ordering road blocks without proper justification just before peak hour traffic was after all bureaucratic suicide.
Ezra simply looked back at him and shrugged casually. "I have three dead bodies, one critically injured victim and two missing teenagers. That is more than enough proof that a vicious killer is on a rampage. There is enough circumstantial evidence well beyond reasonable doubt to suspect Andrew Kempton."
Fenton nodded gratefully. He found it difficult to speak. Ezra was after all putting his career on the line for his sons.
"Sir!" Someone else was yelling.
A young officer was running towards them.
"What's up Officer Riley?" Chief Collig asked.
"We've found the boys' van, sir!" Con Riley panted out. "It's in the private parking lot behind Marcy's Arcade and Bobo's Burger Bar."
-o-
Twenty minutes away, in a little house at the end of a quiet lane, Andrew Kempton was busy working. He just finished padding up the inside of a washing machine which he dismantled yesterday. It was now roomy, comfy, and empty. But not for long, Andrew thought with more than a hint of excitement. The faint sounds of police sirens caught his attention, he laughed as those sirens faded away. They would never guess how close the man they were hunting actually was.
Andrew returned his attention to the two young men sleeping a drugged sleep on a large sheet of tarpaulin on the floor. For a moment, he was tempted to take them both. But he had survived long enough to know the value of discipline. He approached the blond. Andrew wiped the remnants of those tears off the pale face of the young man. Even in sleep, the lines of grief were etched onto that young face. He smiled at the memory of the raw terror and emotional pain in those blue eyes. It was a most pleasurable experience, much more pleasurable than he ever remembered. He looked forward to many more such pleasurable moments that he was certain this young lad here would provide.
Andrew sighed. His desires would have to wait. First, he needed to package Joe Hardy for transport out of Bayport. He could have all the fun he wanted later. He stripped off the blood splattered clothes, carefully putting them to one side. Then he inserted a Foley catheter into the young lad's bladder via his urethra. Next, he inserted a needle into the left wrist. The drip he prepared would keep the young man asleep yet hydrated over the next twenty-four hours. Andrew carefully lowered Joe into the well-padded interior of that old washing machine, slipping the limbs into its respective foothold and aligning the tubes before attaching it to the needle embedded in the wrist. He slipped a gas mask over the face, making sure it fitted snuggly before turning on the oxygen supply. He wanted the lad alive after all. He closed the cover with a satisfied smile.
"I'm here, Dad."
"Come, helped me secure the package and we'll load it onto your rig," Andrew ordered his son.
In less than two minutes, the washing machine was packed in it carton, and loaded onto the back of the truck. Soon, it would be just one package amongst many other well-packaged white-goods.
"You know what to do," Andrew stated.
The smile on his son's face was a nasty one. Yes, William was his son through and through, Andrew thought with much pride.
"Yes," William nodded as he climbed into the driver's seat. "I'll be picking up my load from the warehouse, deliver the goods, and then we'll meet at the cabin in the Smokies in three days' time."
And there, the real fun would begin, both father and son smiled at each other in anticipation.
As the son drove away with the precious cargo, Andrew walked back to the basement. It was time to put into action the game plan to Fenton and his friends on a little wild goose chase.
"I see you're awake, Frank," Andrew called out soon after entering the basement. Foolish young man, Andrew thought, someone with a medical expertise like him could easily tell the difference between real and feigned unconsciousness.
A pair of angry brown eyes snapped at him.
Andrew glanced at his watch and felt a sense of anticipation rising. The lad woke up earlier than he expected. Therefore he had time for a little enjoyment of his own. Something that does not leave behind too much physical damage but could have lasting psychological impact…
-o-
It was a long queue at the road block leading up to the Freeway heading towards NYC. One could tell from the tension in the air that a lot of drivers were getting very frustrated and angry at the delay. A number of them were already late for work.
"Hey Bob! Time for your next run already?"
William Kempton looked down and flashed a friendly and relieved smile at the young police officer who lived just several houses down the road from where he stayed over in Bayport over the last two years he had been driving long-haul rigs between cities. "Carl! What's happening here?"
He, as Bob Downe, had got to know Officer Carl and a number of his young friends rather well. He even joined some of the cops on the occasional Friday night out at the local bowl. It was amazing how much a set of cheek pads and a pair of contacts could do to one's appearance.
"Some serial went on a rampage this morning. Killed a number of people and kidnapped two kids," Officer Carl answered with an expression of mild distaste. "Hey, you don't mind opening up your truck for a quick check, do you? It's just an official procedure."
"Sure," William answered as he got off the driver's seat and proceeded to the back of his rig. "Anything to get me through faster… You know how tough the bosses are with our schedules and how much they take off our pay for being late…"
"Yeah – heard that from a number of truckies were booked for speeding because they were trying to make up for lost time…" Officer Carl commented as he waited for 'Bob' to open the back of the truck for him.
"Here you go!" William announced, and Officer Carl climbed onto the rig, flashing his torchlight at collection of neatly stacked packaged boxes in the rig.
"What's that?" Officer Carl shined his torch at one extra large roughly packaged box.
"That's Mrs. Hendrik's old washing machine. The one you and the guys helped cart over to my place two nights ago, remember?" William reminded. "I bought it second-hand for me Ma…"
"Ah…"
"Do you want to check it?"
"Nah, it's about the right size, and I can see you did put in some effort to package it nicely," Officer Carl declined the offer. "
"If you say so…"
"Just remember to keep a batch of your mom's home baked cookies for me. We can continue that game when you come back, Bob…"
"I won't be coming back for a few months," William announced a little regretfully. "That game would have to wait. Me ma's sick and I'm taking a coupa months off to spend some quality time with her."
"Don't worry about the cookies then," Officer Carl replied. "Do send your mother my regards. Tell her to take care! And you take care too!"
William nodded and waved goodbye as he drove off.
As soon as he dropped out of sight of that road block, his lips curved into an evil smile. Gone was the non-descript friendly and easy going man who drank beer with his buddies on a quiet Friday evening.
That was just way too easy… William smirked.
-o-
Andrew kept his eye on the young man who was desperately gasping for breath and straining ineffectively against his restraints. At the same time, he was slowly and meticulously working on his little trap for Fenton Hardy.
Waterboarding is such an effective way to torture someone. It caused very real physical pain as the lungs burned for its next dose of oxygen. It induced real fear as the victim experienced a very real drowning experience through forced suffocation and inhalation of water. And when properly done, it leaves no physical marks and leaves little physical damage on its victim.
He just had to keep a close watch to make sure he did not accidentally drown his victim.
One hour later, Andrew stood up and surveyed his handiwork. He smiled happily. Everything was going to work out as he planned. He glanced at his watch. Ah, it was time to set the bait.
He walked over to the corner where the tap was and turned it off. It was just a second too slow for Frank. The last few drops of water overloaded the little bucket and another batch of cold water went splashing down onto his hooded head. This time, the body merely jerked spasmodically as it instinctively fought for air through its water clogged nostrils and throat. The teen, Andrew knew, was totally exhausted by his experience. He swiftly removed the restraints and the teen rolled onto the floor. He ripped off the wet gag with one hand, and a well-placed punch forced the water out of the teen's stomach.
"Don't worry, I want you to live still," Andrew muttered as he dragged the unresisting but still breathing body to the center of the windowless basement and propped him onto the chair. "More importantly, I need you to be in reasonable physical shape several hours from now… one that is capable of putting up a good fight…"
After making sure that his prisoner was properly secured and held immobile, Andrew replaced the gag.
"Can't have you alerting our good neighbors out there, can we?" Andrew taunted.
Frank was clearly too tired to react. His body was close to shutting down, to give it the rest it desperately needed to recover.
"I won't be seeing you again, Frank. But at least you have some idea of what I had in mind for your kid brother. If you can remember later what happened, that is," Andrew enjoyed that sudden flash of anger and fear that appeared in those brown eyes.
"But really, you should be more concerned about what I had in mind for you and your father…" Andrew rattled on excitedly. "So rest now, while you can, my little fighter… It will take your father at least five hours to find you…"
He ran a finger down those muscular biceps. "Yes… I am sure you will be up to the task I planned for you… so don't let me down, Frank…"
Sadly for Andrew, the young man in question was already knocked out, worn out by his stint on waterboarding. Andrew sighed and dismantled the little contraption that he hastily created. He made a final round of checks, making sure everything was in position before he carefully made his way out of the basement and locking the heavy metal door from the outside.
Once he was a good distance from that house, he took out a pre-paid phone and made his first call to Fenton Hardy.
"Good morning Fenton. It's Andrew here. If you want Frank back alive, I suggest you tell your friends to remove all the road blocks. Frank has exactly six hours left to live. I will call you back exactly one hour from now to tell you how to find your older son, if and only if I'm safely out of Bayport with the son that you owed me."
He hung up. Let Fenton stew; too bad he could not be there to witness the father's desperation in person, Andrew sighed regretfully. And Fenton had no way of knowing that William was already more than an hour away from Bayport with Joe...
Prank and Tukkie: There was a good reason why I never posted this story, you know. I was never quite happy with it and never quite knew how to fix it. That was why I never even kept the files. (sighs) Thanks for the birthday wishes. And thanks for that file, I skimmed through it and went: OMG I wrote that?? As for Heartland; I'm delaying posting next chapter until after the US elections, will email/pm notes to the few readers to explain. The Starwars saga... Jan 09 maybe? But I love the commentry, so I will definitely write it.