My apologies. My connections just not functioning properly and I just could not load the chapter.
Thanks Polaris, Liz, Chromde and Ms Fenway for your gracious support.
I am moving on Fri - I hope to get the net connection up asap.
Thanks for the pms - I have reorg and updated chap 9 and 10. Will not do any more so-called 'extra-long' stuff and stick to pre-plan. I had to stop where I did at the old version of 10 because from this point on is 6 years into the future and should start as a new chapter rather than be lump in with the past. Thanks for your patience and given my current state of life, I beg for your continued patience.
This chapter is all Frank. Next one is all Joe. If all goes well, the brothers get to meet the chapter after next - assuming Kempton do not crash the party ;p
Pls enjoy this chapter.
WHEN IT RAINS IT POURS
Chapter Eleven
-o-
It was the evening of February 13th, 2002.
The cloud laden evening sky weighed heavily down on the general population below.
A tall man with silvery streaks running through his dark brown head leapt into an old weather-beaten Lincoln that was being driven by an older black man. The car sped off even before the passenger door slammed shut. The two men were on their way to join the others at a failed major real estate project on the southern end of Bayport Marina. Those neglected half completed buildings were the perfect playground for someone like the Kemptons.
"Found Frank yet?" Fenton asked as his eyes again scanned the tiny GPS screen on his lap, his only link to his son's location, and possibly the Kemptons' too.
"Frank will be fine. He's prepared and he knows what he's letting himself in for," Chief Collig who was driving assured him. "My men are already in place. They started discreetly sweeping the area the moment you gave the go ahead."
'Which was only fifteen minutes ago,' Fenton acknowledged with a grim nod.
The father returned his gaze to window, watching without seeing the familiar sights that flashed by him as the Lincoln cruised towards his target destination. His mind had more important matters to handle.
Six years, and William Kempton finally made good his threats. And so much changed over the last six years! Fenton thought. The population of Bayport has almost doubled. It was now a thriving city and no longer the safe suburbia that it was when he first moved in about a decade ago.
But what mattered most remained unchanged.
The family never gave up hope that somehow Joe survived. They believed that the youngest member of the family was out there somewhere slowly recovering from everything that the Kemptons did to him. They watched all the video recordings and read the journal that Andrew left behind. They all ended up spending months with their psychiatrist. They eventually rationalized that Joe would need time to recover, and when he was well again, he would remember. And when Joe finally remembers, he would come home.
Part of that steadfast hope, Fenton admitted, was due to Frank refusing to give up. Every school vacation, his elder son would return to some of the numerous towns around The Smokies, pasting up and distributing flyers on a missing person – Joe. Soon, he and Laura found themselves joining Frank on those trips. Every year, they would check with the national park rangers and the local sheriffs; did anyone left any replies? Then they would assure themselves that no body was found. Finally, they would return to their home on Elm Street and wait…
Before they knew it, six years flew by. William came, but he did not confront Frank directly. Instead, William Kempton kidnapped Callie, and left behind a note requesting that the father personally deliver his son in exchange for the return of an innocent victim.
He and Frank followed every instruction to the letter in an intricate route around Bayport that was designed to rout any tails they had. It was a game at which the Kemptons excelled in. At the end of the journey, he was given the unenviable task of rendering his own son helpless. The symbolism of that act was not lost on the father.
"Do it, Dad," Fenton recalled Frank whispering to him with a grim smile. "I still have some tricks up my sleeve… just find Callie and keep her safe…"
He could only pray back then that his son was honest with him as he emptied the unknown contents of syringe into Frank's arm under William's sharp scrutiny.
"Just hang on… I will come back for you," he whispered back.
"I know," Frank answered softly.
The faith and trust was unmistakable; and a tear landed on the back of his hand. He did not bother to hide that tear from William. It was something that young man would never understand. Let William believed him weak. That, he could use to his full advantage.
"Where is she?" Fenton demanded after checking again that the cuffs on Frank were secure, as instructed by William.
His resolve almost faltered as he heard Frank's increasingly labored breathing.
William laughed and threw him a big brown envelop. "Don't worry; I'm not killing your son just yet. You should however be more concerned about the girl. She has less than three hours left. Just remember: if she dies before you get to her, I will return your son to you alive…"
Fenton's brow lifted in surprise.
"After I have my fun with him, of course," William added almost as an afterthought. "If she lives, Frank's life is mine…"
At the sight of Fenton's disbelieving expression, William added: "I did say: 'one life'. But you, Mr. Hardy, gets to decide which life you want to save."
Then William disappeared with Frank hoist over his broad shoulders.
Fenton opened the envelope and cursed. It was as he expected. A macabre treasure hunt with the life of the woman his son loves as the prize. He ran for his car. Perhaps it was his fear of letting his son down again, but somehow he managed to get his old brains to function overtime to work out all the clues and got to Callie just before the axe falls.
Now that she was safe, he could focus on finding Frank and bringing his son home.
Fenton's eyes returned to the state-of-art gadget on his lap. Thanks to his connections to the Network, he knew roughly where Frank was. The almost microscopic-sized non-metallic tracking chip that was injected into Frank had escaped detection by the portable metal detector he thought the Kemptons might use.
"Almost there, Fenton," Chief Freeman announced.
Fenton tried to relax and keep his mind clear. He calmed himself by reminding himself that Frank was as well prepared as he could be.
With William's threat hanging over the household, his elder son took on one of the full scholarship offered by an Ivy League College. Two years ago, Frank graduated with a double degree in criminal psychology and IT security. Frank also made good use of his father's industry contacts to work as a part-time research assistant for a well-known criminal profiler specializing in serial killers, gaining valuable experience and insights along the way. Now, his twenty-five year old son was a full-time rookie homicide detective with the Bayport Police Department, and was also its unofficial criminal profiler.
Yes, Frank had prepared himself best he could. Yet who could truly be prepared for what the likes of the Kemptons had to offer?
"It's two buildings down from this one. My men have already cleared half of the lower floors and the basement. All potential exits are being watched. If the Kemptons are on the upper floors, they won't be getting away this time," Chief Collig announced as he slowed his car to a stop.
Fenton followed Chief Collig towards the target building, keeping to the shadows just in case the Kemptons should choose to take a look out of any of the windows from above. Soon, that tall grey structure loomed before him.
"Status?" he asked Officer Con Riley the moment he rounded a corner saw the man coordinating the search from a partially camouflaged makeshift workstation.
"Still no audio or visual," Officer Con Riley answered tersely. "Ten more floors to go…"
Suddenly, a gunshot reverberated through the empty buildings and alleyways. There was a shocked yet enraged scream. An infinitesimally long second later, there was a loud dull thud.
The body landed on the ground not more than forty feet away.
Fenton rushed towards the broken body. His heart told him that was not Frank. But he still wanted… no needed the visual confirmation. The relief was intense: It was William's Kempton's sightless eyes that stared back at him.
-o-
Frank Hardy sat on the medical stretcher that was partially loaded onto the back of a paramedic van, quietly observing the action all the around him.
The police officers were busy trying to keep the curious crowd that suddenly appeared out of nowhere to gather around this normally secluded spot. Down the road, Officer Con Riley was hard-pressed to fend off several hard-nose reporters trying to sneak through the police cordon. To his left, a crime scene investigator was taking notes and photographs before collecting all the pieces of broken glass he could find. And right in front of him, a paramedic was treating the mild cuts and gashes on his leg.
The night wind blew. Frank shivered and snuggled into the soft blanket provided by the medics. The medic handed him a mug of warm tea. He accepted gratefully.
William's dead.
One down and one more to go, Frank thought without remorse.
As far as Frank Hardy was concerned, the fact that Andrew and William Kempton was still alive and out there somewhere was one of the reasons why God deemed it still unsafe for Joe to come home. Buried deep in an unacknowledged part of his mind, Frank knew he was not being rational. But he needed something to hang on to and live with.
"I'll track down Andrew down, Joe. Then it will be safe for you to come home… and you better come home bro, you better…" Or else? That was something Frank refused to consider for now.
An officer came over to take his statement. He kept quiet, as advised by his father and Chief Collig. He was not worried. The forensic evidence would reconstruct most of what happened up there on the top floor more effectively and objectively than his words.
It was an accident.
He had a witness on his side. Actually, she saved his life. That gutsy girl gave away her hiding place when she yelled out that William was behind him. But he would rather not use her if he could help it: She was young, barely twelve, and was taken to insure his 'good behavior'.
He closed his eyes and relived those last few tensed moments when he thought he misjudged William; that William was not going to play with him but kill him outright. He thought that he would not be able to keep his promise to his father, his mother, and most importantly, to Joe. William was enjoying himself with his scalpel making random jabs in the darkness. Frank could remember vividly the feel of every prick, nick, and cut. Then miraculously, he managed to break free. They fought. William tripped and fell over twenty floors onto the pavement below.
"Frank!"
His mom was running towards him with tears in her eyes. She looked so much frailer than her age; in part because of her missing Joe and hoping to see her little boy again on a daily basis, and in part because she never really fully recovered from being shot pointblank in the chest over six years back.
"I'm fine, Mom," he assured her, and let her hang on tightly to him.
To think he was that close to not seeing his mom, his family, again ever… that unwelcome thought suddenly intrude without warning. An image: the flash of the blade racing down in a silvery arc which he barely managed to block…
"I'm really fine…" he repeated, for his mom's benefit as much as for his own.
He lived.
He would live to see his brother back home again. He would live to see his mom and his dad happy again. He would…
Then he saw her standing there, just short distance away arms wrapped protectively around her, and tears shimmering in her eyes.
"Callie…" he murmured.
And he recalled that shocking revelation from William:
"Let the girl go, William… you said a life for a life…"
William laughed wickedly shaking his head in mock sympathy. "If Callie lives, it will be two lives for two lives… or didn't you know your girl is pregnant?"
Frank realized then that he should have known. Given Callie's strange behavior in the last two weeks, he should have suspected. After that fateful night, he really should have at least asked. But he was distracted, and he had made the one mistake any experienced investigator should never have made. He assumed.
"Do the right thing," his mom admonished him quietly before discreetly moving away, murmuring something about needing to have a word with his father.
Did everyone know except him? Frank's guilty conscience wondered as his face flushed warm. He was glad for the cover of the night. And then Callie was there and in his arms.
"I'm so glad you're okay… I wouldn't know what to do if… if…" she sniffled. "I'd never forgive myself if anything was to happen to you…"
He let himself hold on to Callie for a moment before she disengaged herself, after being assured that he was really none worse for wear. For a moment, they simply stood close to each other, and yet awkwardly apart. Frank acknowledged a little sadly, it was his doing. First, he was first obsessed by the need to find Joe. Later he was consumed by his need to prepare himself for the confrontation with the Kemptons that he knew would come.
All those years, Callie waited patiently.
He reached out and touched her lightly on her cheek. Callie: the first girl he had a crush on, and the only girl he ever dated. Yet in the last six years, he tried his best to let her go. The Kemptons would use the lives of those he held dear as bargaining chips, he knew. But he never really could walk away from her. As a result, they sort of grew apart. Yet they grew closer through the years; Callie seemed to understand his needs, his fears, and the demons dogging his every step.
"I'm sorry…" he said even though he was not exactly certain what he was apologizing for, but he knew he owed her.
He eyes fell on his mom and dad, who were standing close some distance away, drawing strength and comfort from each other.
He was suddenly envious. It just occurred to him how lonely he was in the last six years despite being surrounded by family, friends, and Callie. He was alone because he chose to be. He was a marked man. He did not want to risk the lives of those he cared for.
'I know what I was getting into when I married your father…' His mother's words echoed in his mind.
'I know what I am getting into, Frank. And I am telling you: you're worth it…' Callie told him many times over.
That sudden desire to have what his parents had took him by surprise. Frank realized he did not really want to die never experiencing what his parents had.
He tightened his hold on the women he loved since he was seventeen. He loved her. There and then, he decided he would never let her go. Yes, he was being selfish. Andrew was still out there somewhere and would certainly want revenge for William's death. But he still wants Callie with him, for the rest of his life if she was willing.
"Cal… don't go…"
Callie did tell him just a week ago she was considering accepting a job offer from Santa Teresa where her cousins were. At that time, he had encouraged her to take on that job offer.
He stared down at Callie's still blond head, wondering what she was thinking. Why should she stay? Frank asked himself. His enemy would come for her, and he might not be able to keep her safe the next time. Then there was the baby to think of… no, not just a baby but his child…
His… he knew without a doubt.
Should he?
No… Dare he?
"Cal… Marry me?"
Those words were out of his mouth before he knew it. He could see that incongruous expression on her face, and wanted to bite his tongue. He felt like a bumbling buffoon. But it was too late to take those words back. Frank sighed inwardly. The only way now was to move forward. The last thing he wanted Callie to think was that he was making a frivolous statement.
He recalled Callie's long-ago teenage declarations on the 'perfect and romantic proposal'. He had no diamond ring and no roses at the moment. But the clouds were gone, blown away by the wind, and the stars were merrily winking down at him, as if enjoying his predicament. And he could still propose the gentlemanly way by getting down on his knees. Last but not least, he was always an eloquent speaker, if somewhat a little lacking in romantic talents.
He got down on his knees ignoring the people around them, placed a light kiss on the back of her palm, and simply… proposed.
"Callie, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
To say that she was stunned was an understatement. Callie had been waiting for a long time for Frank to say that he was ready to take their relationship to the next level. Marriage was not exactly what she was angling for at that point in time, but she hoped. Then her patience ran out and she decided to try seduction. She had no regrets. Who would have thought that such a disciplined logical mind could conceal such wild unbridled passion? It was then she thought she could wait forever for Frank.
Then she missed her period.
When she confirmed her fears with two take home pregnancy test kits, it took her a while to figure out what to do next. She did not want to force Frank into a decision that was clearly her fault to start with. In the end, she decided to join her cousins in Santa Teresa.
Now, Frank proposed. Behind a paramedic van in the middle of a dusty alleyway, surrounded by tall shadowy half completed skyscrapers… It was somehow just very… appropriately Frank Hardy, Callie decided.
"Cal… please…"
That soft tone barely concealed the underlying urgency. The fear and worry in those familiar brown eyes were unmistakable.
Callie recalled when she met Frank for the first time, when he literally knocked her off her feet. When he helped her up, all she could see were those intelligent chocolate brown eyes. That was also her first day in Bayport High.
Did he know? Callie suddenly wondered. The last thing she wanted from Frank was for him to 'do the right thing'. She stared into his eyes, wanting to see if he knew. The maelstrom of emotions in those brown depths took her by surprise. For the first time, those familiar brown eyes were truly the windows into Frank's soul. His love for her was undeniable.
She opened her mouth to answer but Frank's finger to her lips silenced her.
"You don't have to answer me now… take some time to think about it… as a matter of fact, it is only logical that you should think seriously about…" he said.
"Frank, I…"
"No, you don't have to tell me now… tomorrow. Think about it tonight. Tell me tomorrow. It's Valentine's Day. I'll pick you up at six. I'll make sure everything is properly done tomorrow. The rose, the ring… everything… It will be perfect…" Frank promised fervently.
Her poor man was really nervous. Just like what her mother told her about the moment her father proposed so many years ago. If Frank wanted to do the works, she would not spoil it, even though she now felt that all the frills were totally unnecessary.
She returned a shy smile, and nodded.
Frank's eyes darkened and again she glimpsed that raw passion she tasted only once, but already had her addicted.
"Tomorrow…" she agreed most reluctantly.