Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.
Thanks once again to Wendylouwho10 for reading over this for me!
Rating/Setting: Rating is T. Setting is kinda blue spine and AU. Joe and Iola are 16, Frank and Callie are 17.
Author's Notes: Most reviews for a chapter so far! Thank you! Only one chapter left after this one. :-)
Chapter Thirteen
"Cupid decided to pay a house call," the man in the black jacket said.
Joe grabbed Iola by one arm and swung her behind him as he lunged for the door he had just closed. His momentum was halted by Iola pulling on his arm and screaming, "No, Joe! He'll kill my parents!"
Her frantic pleas and the fear in her voice stopped him from opening the door but he did keep her behind him. Dropping his hand from the knob, he turned to face the intruder. Joe took some hope in the fact the man was wearing his ski mask which hopefully meant they would live. Joe didn't say anything but faced him.
The man backed up, his gun pointed in their direction. "Let's go in the living room and talk to pixie's parents for a minute." He continued to back up until he was in the next room and then he motioned for Joe and Iola to enter.
The first thing that Joe noticed was Mr. and Mrs. Morton tied up with their hands behind them and tape over their mouths. He could see the fear in the woman's face and the anger in her husband's. The next thing he saw was a bowl of water with three cell phones sitting on the coffee table and a glance to the landline saw that the phone had been ripped from the wall. He returned his gaze to the man in the mask. "What do you want?"
"I wanted a challenge and I had thought a private eye could give it to me, but I guess I was wrong." He paused a moment and then said, "Or maybe I didn't give him enough incentive." He reached into his pocket and pulled out two zip ties and tossed them onto the carpet in front of Joe. "Pick them up and tie her hands behind her back." He motioned toward Iola. "Now." He moved behind Mrs. Morton and placed the gun at the back of her head.
Joe didn't know if he was bluffing or not and he certainly wasn't about to call him on it. Quickly, he bent down and got the ties and turned Iola so he could complete his task. "There," he said and showed him that the ties would have to be cut off.
"Excellent. Now we head to the barn."
Iola's parent both began making sounds of protest in spite of the tape and the man hit Mr. Morton on the side of the head with the gun. Iola screamed but Joe held her by the arm to keep her from running over. It was obvious that Mr. Morton was dazed but not seriously hurt. At least not yet.
Moving so that he was in Mrs. Morton's line of sight, the intruder added, "If I see any movement up here, she's dead. Got it?" Iola's mother nodded frantically that she understood. "Move," the man said in a more menacing tone as he gestured toward the back door.
Joe angled himself so that he was between the man and Iola all the while keeping an eye on him while he assisted Iola onto the back porch.
"Barn," the man said.
Joe began walking very slowly toward the barn. Would anyone figure out what was going on before something terrible happened? He wasn't sure but no matter what, he knew he needed to delay as much as possible.
"Hurry it up there, lovebirds!"
Joe gritted his teeth together as he put an arm around a shaking Iola.
"What's he going to do in the barn?" Iola asked in an anguished whisper.
"I don't know but try not to draw attention to yourself," he whispered back. He saw her head nod and then he directed his attention to the barn where a light was on. Joe stopped at the door and waited.
"Go on in." The tone was brusque and held a hint of irritation.
Joe opened the wooden door of the barn, its hinges creaking as he did so. The area to the right was for storage of tools and supplies and that was where the light was. Obviously, the man had already been out here before he entered the house. What surprises were in store for them?
The man gestured to a bale of hay that had been brought into the area. "Pixie, sit over there."
"My name is Iola," the girl snapped at him.
"Sit," he said sternly. "I'll call you whatever I want."
"Just sit, Iola, please," Joe said quietly and breathed a sigh of relief when she did. When he looked back at the man, he saw that he'd moved to a table against the wall and leaned against it.
"Take off your coat and sweater," the man said.
Joe wasn't sure what reason the man had. However, it brought back unpleasant memories of the man dragging the knife across his belly the night he was abducted. Once again he complied but he did so as slowly as he could and tossed his clothing items to the side. "How did you know I'd be here tonight?"
The man laughed. "It's amazing what you can overhear at a pizza shop on a Friday night." The man reached behind him and picked up a pair of handcuffs and tossed them to Joe.
"Put one of them on and then move to stand with your back against the wooden column."
Joe didn't like this one bit, but there was no choice since the man was holding the gun. "Where's your buddy?" The last thing he needed was Adam's still unknown accomplice to show up. He slowly fastened one cuff around his left hand and then let his hands fall as he waited for his answer. The silver metal flashed in the light as the cuffs dangled from his wrist.
The man gestured toward the wooden column that supported a loft above them. "He's a robbery only kind of guy."
Joe pressed his back against the wood, he leaned his head back so that it thumped. The man's answer indicated that he was indeed upping his game and Joe needed to do something before he became a murder statistic. When the man grabbed his right wrist, Joe pulled forward in an effort to get the man off-balance. His plan failed as the man braced against the column. Joe fell as he was stunned by a blow to the head. He was roughly hauled to his feet and his arms yanked behind him and the other cuff fastened.
"Stop it! Stop it!" Iola shouted as she stood from her place on the bale of hay.
The man in the black jacket backhanded Joe across the mouth and then turned to Iola while holstering his gun. "And here I thought you might love him, pixie. The way you're acting is only going to get him hurt." With the gun holstered, he now held up the KA-BAR knife in front of him and turned back to Joe.
Joe held very still as he felt the knife against his throat and winced as it cut into his skin. When Iola screamed he became worried as to how deep a cut it was and his mind quickly went to health and biology classes. The cut didn't feel deep but it was possible that he had cut his jugular vein. When the man pulled the knife away, Joe glanced down to his chest and saw a small rivulet of blood slowly making its way down.
"There, now I have something to work with," the man said as he rubbed his finger in the trail of blood. He held the bloody finger up in front of him. "Do you know where I marked the last victim?" he asked quietly.
"The heart," Joe replied equally quiet.
The man drew what Joe could only imagine was a heart in the center of his chest as Iola continued to sob. Joe's breathing increased and the rapid rise and fall of his chest was a dead giveaway to his fear. "Listen, right now the charges against you don't include murder. If you kill me, things will go much worse for you. You've had your fun. You've terrorized both of us and her parents. Take that and leave." Joe was speaking quickly as the man was staring at the knife intently.
"Why should I? No one knows who I am. I can kill you and vanish into the night to another part of the country."
"But that's not a reason to kill me!" Joe pleaded.
"No, but proving a point to the police is. I'm going to prove that I can get away with murder." His eyes lifted from the knife to look directly into Joe's.
"But you're not." Joe paused only a moment. "Adam Eriksen."
The man's hand flew up to grasp Joe around the neck causing him to gag at the effort to breathe. "WHAT did you call me?"
"Adam." Joe choked the word out. "Your father… is Claude Eriksen."
.**********.
Fenton ran up to the small apartment complex office, "Hey! Hold on a minute, please!" The man locking the door looked over at him expectantly as he stood at the entry and waited. "Thank you!" Fenton said as he stood beside the man. "I didn't expect to see anyone at the office this late on a Saturday." Fenton glanced at his watch and saw it was after 6:00 p.m.
The man smiled. "Well," the man drawled out. "When it's your building, you put in extra hours when things go wrong." He stuck his hand out. "Bakerman. Henry Bakerman." Fenton returned the handshake. "Now how can I help you, Fenton? Are you looking to rent?"
"No, sir," Fenton said as he pulled out a color photo of Adam Eriksen. "I'm looking for this man; have you seen him?"
"Josh? Why certainly. He rents a one bedroom studio apartment from me. Tiny place really, but he says it's fine," Bakerman rambled as he looked at the photo.
Fenton was temporarily stunned. After close to twelve hours this day alone of hitting the pavement, he had come close to giving up locating a lead. But he recovered quickly and after making sure that Bakerman was certain, he asked, "Can you tell me which apartment? I'd like to talk to him."
"He's in 4B bottom floor." Bakerman paused. "Can you tell me why you need to speak to him?"
Fenton pulled out his phone. "Actually, it's police business." As he pressed the button to dial Collins, he said, "I need you to stay here to speak to the detectives when they get here."
"Detectives?" Bakerman was going to say more but stopped as Fenton spoke into his phone.
"It's Fenton and I have a positive ID at Palmer Meadows Apartments." Fenton glanced at the man waiting patiently. "I'm here with the owner, Mr. Bakerman, who IDed Eriksen. I'm going to keep an eye on the place and will wait for you to arrive." Fenton paused and got the information needed for a warrant from Bakerman. "See you in twenty." Putting his phone in his pocket, he asked, "Can we step back inside your office? I think it will be a better spot to observe than out here in the open."
"Certainly," Bakerman said pulling out his keys and unlocking the door he had just locked.
Fenton glanced over at 4B. He desperately wanted to go knock on that door and kick it in if needed. However, his better judgment ruled the day and he stepped inside the office.
.**********.
Knock. Knock. Knock. "Josh Heaton?" Knock. Knock. Knock. "Mr. Heaton, this is the police. Please open the door." Pause. "Mr. Heaton we have a search warrant." Pause. "Collins turned to Mr. Bakerman. "If you would open the door please."
Bakerman stepped up and used his master key to open the door. The police moved quickly and carefully inside. Since the place was so small, it took less than a minute to know that Eriksen wasn't there. Fenton stepped inside as soon as he was allowed.
"Fenton, you need to see this," Collins called from the opposite side of the room where a table was pushed up against a wall. On it sat a laptop and what looked like a stack of papers.
When Fenton got to the desk, the color drained from his face. He was staring at several pictures of Joe taken at various times over the last two weeks. He used a pencil to move things around on the table but then he just reached out and grabbed a photo from Collins' gloved hands.
"What is it, Fenton? Do you recognize the place?"
Fenton dropped the photo and moved quickly for the door. "It's the barn at the Morton farm and Joe's at their house right now."
Collins was right behind him barking out a few orders to the police on the scene.
Fenton called Joe's number: VM. He called the James Morton's cell: VM. He called their landline: no answer, not even the answering machine. Dialing one last time, Fenton heard Sam's familiar voice on the line. "Sam! Did you drop Joe off tonight?"
"Yes, Fenton, just as we planned. What's wrong?"
"Eriksen had pictures of the Morton barn in his apartment."
"Everything seemed fine," Sam responded. "Iola opened the door and Joe went in. I didn't see anything out of place."
Fenton snatched the door open on his sedan and barely noticed Collins getting in on the passenger side. "What time did you drop him off?"
"Must have been about 6:00. I'm going to meet you there now."
"No!" Fenton said loudly as he put the phone to speaker and started the car. "Go to Frank. Make sure he's okay. I'll get Joe."
"Will do." The line went dead.
Fenton focused on the road in front of him as Collins made calls to have a cruiser meet them at the Mortons. Joe had been there for almost half an hour. He prayed that nothing had happened in that time and now he cursed at himself for not having gone into the apartment on his own.
