Chapter 19: A Wild Time in Baton Rouge
"Where's your sister?" Frank asked as he entered the kitchen. A sandy haired youth was doing homework at the kitchen table and nibbling on some string cheese. He had the earbuds to his iPod in his ears and was oblivious to his father's presence. Frank walked up behind him and flicked on the cord to the one in the boy's right ear. The youth jumped in surprise, but smiled when he saw Frank standing there.
"Daaaad!"
"David, I asked you, where is Allison?"
"Moping on the back porch." David stuck the bud back in his ear and went back to flaying the piece of mozzarella in his hands.
Frank walked to the French doors that led to the back deck and saw Allison sitting on steps. Her wavy brown hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail and she was wearing the UNC sweatshirt her boyfriend had given her.
"Are you okay baby doll?" Frank asked as he sat down beside his daughter.
"Men are jerks." Allison declared as she wiped her nose with the wadded up tissue in her hands. Frank nudged her shoulder with his.
"Ah c'mon. Not all men."
"Okay, straight men are jerks."
"Um, that's not where I was going with this Allison. Do you want to tell me what happened?"
"Landon was supposed to call me Saturday night. We were going to have a web date..."
Frank did recall Allison bouncing around the house Saturday, all excited because Landon was supposed to call and they were going to set up their web cams and have a web date and eat popcorn and Dad and Tatty you can come in and say hi to Landon but knock first… Sunday morning Allison had come down to breakfast moody and snappish with David. She wasn't in the mood to talk and complained of a headache and that she was having her "girl time" and was going to curl up in her bed the rest of the day. All three men in the Hardy-Cohen household gladly gave Allison a wide berth when she was having her "girl time."
"… and then some girl picked up his phone and said he was down the hall in shower. What was a girl doing answering his cell phone in the first place? And who takes a shower at three in the afternoon? It's Monday, he didn't have football practice! I told her to have him call me back and she said "Sure" and hung up before she even got my name!" Allison dissolved into tears and Frank wrapped his arms around her.
Frank was torn. One part of him wanted to hold and coddle his hurting child. The other part wondered how long it would take to drive down to Chapel Hill, North Carolina and throttle the jock for hurting his little girl. But common sense prevailed and the detective in Frank told him not to jump to conclusions. There had to be an explanation. Maybe it was Landon's roommate's girlfriend who answered. And even though it was sweater weather in New York, it was still hot down in North Carolina, maybe the boy wanted to take a shower before beginning his homework for the night. That was certainly Frank's habit when he was in college. But what would explain Landon not calling Saturday night, or not thinking to call and apologize to Allison on Sunday?
"Did…Did anyone ever hurt you like that Dad?" Allison asked tearfully.
"Oh, I've had my feelings hurt plenty of times."
"But has someone you loved ever hurt you this deeply? Made you feel like they have just cut you to the core?" Frank sighed. He and Phil never really spoke about some of the hellish times they lived through in the years before the children came along in front of Allison and David. They didn't want to frighten them.
"Yes, long ago someone I had once loved very much hurt me in away no one should ever be hurt. This person didn't cheat on me, but yes, it was very bad."
"Did you ever forgive them?" Allison looked up at her father. Her blue eyes were reddened from crying.
"I…" They could hear the phone ring from inside the house. David stepped outside with the cordless phone in his hand.
"Allison, its Landon." Allison wiped her tears with the sleeve of her sweatshirt and hopped up to accept the phone from her brother as she skipped off for the den.
"So Dad, did you ever forgive him?" David asked.
"I di..."
"Frank? Frank, please open your eyes, please…" Frank felt his lids open, but he saw nothing.
"Ca…can't see…" Frank slurred.
"Emile turned out the lights again. Don't worry, I can see though." Eric said.
"Thas a shtupid thing ta say. Of course you can see… you're a vampire…" Eric laughed lightly.
"Well, at least your brain still works. Sit up a bit and drink this."
"Drin what?" Frank could feel Eric's hand come near his face and then cold and wet flesh touched his lips. He could smell the coppery odor of blood and he turned his head away in repulsion.
"C'mon Frank! I don't know what Emile and Mozelle have planned but you need your strength."
"Doesn't matter… shackles…made of iron."
"What's that got to do with anything?"
"Witch said I was sensitive to iron." The tad bit if blood that had Eric managed to get passed Frank's lips must have been helping to clear the fog, because Frank wasn't slurring as much, although he still wasn't making much sense to Eric.
"Frank please! If you won't do it for me, do it for Phil! Think about how hurt and alone he'll be if something happened to you!" Eric wanted to bite his own tongue off for using Phil as Frank's motivation, but sure enough it seemed to work and Frank weakly touched Eric's arm to draw it closer to his mouth.
In another time and place this would have been the hottest thing Eric had ever seen or felt, Frank's lips sucking on his skin, drinking in Eric's most vital essence. But he could not allow himself to become aroused now. The last thing Emile said to him still rung in his ears. What did the old wolf have planned? Was he going to separate them after all these months of searching? Unfortunately Emile was in a position to do whatever he wanted, even without the physical bonds Eric wore right now.
Frank pulled Eric's arm away from his mouth and sat up. Despite the absolute darkness, Frank's eyes seemed more focused.
"Thank you Eric. I'm sorry I…" Frank began.
"Don't worry about it." Eric yawned and rubbed his eyes, it had to be well after sunrise by now. He had spent nearly all night watching after Frank, looking for any signs that he would wake up. Finally Frank started mumbling in is sleep, saying things that didn't make sense… Eric helped Frank to his feet and turned him toward his bed.
"About twelve paces straight ahead, careful now."
"Thanks." Frank dragged himself forward until his shin hit the side of the bed and he lay back down. He felt like he could go back to sleep for another night's worth. Frank heard Eric climb into his own bed, yawning again and settling down as the day claimed him.
Frank had been alone with his thoughts for about an hour when Mozelle came down the stairs. Her arms were laden with the wicker tray from last night and a bundle of something under her arm. She turned on the light and Frank had to close his eyes to protect them from the brightness.
"Mornin' sunshine! Got breakfast for you." She set the tray on the end of the bed and withdrew the bundle from under her arm.
"Gotcha some soap, a little bottle of shampoo and a towel. After you eat breakfast Emile wantso you to take a shower. He wants you shiny as a new penny, you're gonna have a visitor later today."
"Who?"
"Well now if I told you that'd take all the fun out of it, wouldn't it?" She glanced over at Eric who was fast asleep then back to Frank. "Lemme know if you need help gettin' your back." She winked and then started back up the stairs. Frank regarded the tray of food. If this was Saturday morning, then he hadn't eaten since Thursday night. If his stomach had been displeased with him before, it was making its presence known now.
"Alright, alright." Frank muttered. He opened the plastic containers one by one. Well, at least his captors didn't want him to go hungry. There was one container of grits with butter, another of scrambled eggs, link sausage, biscuits, a pint of milk and a cup of juice. Everything was still piping hot and the drinks were still chilled, but there was just one problem, no utensils.
"What is with these people?" Frank wondered out loud. He dug into his breakfast as neatly as he could with his fingers. Afterward he shuffled to the bathroom for the shower. He didn't know how they expected him to wash thoroughly with shackles on, it wasn't like he would be able to reach everywhere. But after some struggle he did feel a little cleaner. Back on his bed, he used his towel to drape over his torso as best he could to provide a little warmth. The basement was chilly despite the humid weather outside. The light above provided him some comfort in this dismal place.
…
"I would like to report a missing person. My son disappeared yesterday morning, and it's been twenty four hours since anyone as seen or heard from him..." Fenton Hardy and Biff Hooper went to the New Orleans Police station on Royal Street Saturday morning to put in for an official missing person report. The station in the heart of the French Quarter was packed full and busy with hung-over revelers and petty criminals. Fenton and Biff had been in line for almost an hour now and finally had their turn at the captain's desk. Biff had decided to go along with Fenton since he had the most information to provide the police with. They really had nothing else to go on.
The search from the night before had been a bust. The only thing of relevance that happened was that Amy could sense Eric was in the area for the first time since she had arrived in the CrescentCity, but even that was only a vague feeling. And that could only confirm their worst fear, that he was involved somehow. The four vampires she enlisted to sniff out Frank could only detect him in the areas he had already visited, like the convention center and the café. Joe and Phil searched on street level, showing people a picture of Frank. Still nothing.
Fenton had decided in the morning to go through with enlisting the help of the local police. He and his sons had been kidnapped or held hostage at one point or another in the past. It was an occupational hazard. But Fenton always felt like he knew his enemy, how they ticked, what their motives may be. But this was beyond him, and he could use all the help he could get, whether it was from regular boys in blue or pointy-teethed children of the night.
"Oh! I've seen him before! That's Cutie Pie!" A falsetto voice drew Fenton's attention away from filling out the paperwork the captain had given him. He turned to the left to see a tall, broad shouldered woman with narrow hips standing there at the counter, paying a fine for Lord knows what. She looked like she was still wearing heavy and garish makeup from the night before as it was smeared in some places and fading in others. Her hair looked a little… off kilter. And was that…stubble on her chin?
"I'm sorry?" Fenton asked hesitantly. Biff tried to step between Mr. Hardy and the… woman… to tell her to mind her own business, but she pointed to the photograph Fenton held in his hand.
"I've seen him before! Last night, up in Baton Rouge."
"I'm sorry ma'am. But this is my son, he went missing yesterday morning…" before Fenton could finish the woman pulled her cell phone out of her purse and scrolled through the photo gallery.
"See?" Fenton looked through several pictures of someone who looked just like Frank having a boisterous time at what looked like a bar with a wild party atmosphere.
"Those are the clothes Frank was wearing when he left yesterday morning." Biff said over Fenton's shoulder.
"Where were these taken Miss?" asked Frank's father as he scrolled through picture after picture of his son doing things like sitting in another man's lap, sitting in a group of other overly glamorized woman drinking a cocktail, dancing on the bar shirtless, or dancing with a pole on a stage in only his underwear. As much as Fenton wanted to "unsee" these images, the one of Frank pole dancing confirmed his identity because there were the surgical scars on the outside of his right thigh.
"At DyNasty's on highway ninety, just south of the city limits." With that Biff stepped away from the woman and Fenton to call Joe.
"If I give you my number, would you kindly call me if you or any of your friends see him or have any information on where he went?" Fenton handed the woman one of his business cards which she readily accepted.
"Ooo…a calling card. Fancy." She batted her eyes at Fenton and smiled coyly. "So, did the apple fall far from the tree?"
"Excuse me?" Fenton was confused to say the least. Biff walked back up to the two of them in time to hear the last bit of their conversation.
"He's married." Biff snapped. The woman sighed in disappointment.
"Too bad. The cute ones are always either married or straight." An officer handed her a receipt and she sashayed away.
"Well, she was interesting." Fenton said as he returned to his paperwork.
"She was a man Mr. Hardy."
…..
Joe and Phil entered the DyNasty night club shortly before lunchtime. The place had just opened for the arrival of its Saturday crowd, which so far consisted of a weather-worn elderly man smoking cigarettes and munching on peanuts while he nursed a beer. A balding, rotund man in a black T-shirt that was way too tight for him stood behind the bar cutting up fruit for cocktails. The word "DyNasty" was stretched out across his chest and stomach in gold letters and the name "Dickie" was embroidered over the left breast.
"'Afternoon boys. What ya'll have?" The bartender asked when they approached the bar.
"Yes, um, Dickie, we were wondering if you have seen this man." Joe handed the bartender his phone with a picture of Frank on the display. The bartender nodded when he saw the picture.
"Sho nuff*. He was in
here last night. Cute lil ole thang." Dickie smiled. The bartender saw the distressed look on Phil's face and his smile dropped.
"Why, what's wrong? He won't found dead was he?" Phil blanched but Joe recovered quicker.
"He's my brother and he has gone missing. Could you tell us anything about what time he came in, left, or who he was with?"
"Ah shit, I was busier than a one legged man in a ass kickin' contest last night. I ain't got no idea. But you can look at our camera tape." He turned to his sole customer. "Gabe, you good?"
"Jus leave da game on." said the withered man as he tamped out a spent cigarette in the ashtray.
"Ah ight, ya'll c'mon." Dickie led them to a room in the back where four small televisions were atop four different video recorders. It was not the most sophisticated set up, but it was better than nothing. Dickie was nice enough to bring them a couple of sodas, on the house, as they scanned through hours of video, and finally they spotted Frank.
"What the fuck?" Joe mumbled to himself as he watched his normally introverted brother work the crowd.
"This isn't happening…" Phil said, feeling his stomach flip as he watched his fiancée dance provocatively with other men, other women, other men dressed as women… "Joe, something's not right. I mean, that just can't be Frank." The next video tape Joe slipped in to the player showed Frank on the stage, giving a striptease and pole dancing. "My Frank can't move like that Joe! Even on the vampire blood he's not that… flexible!" Phil stood up and paced the room. "I'm going to get my laptop out of the rental and check his credit card and bank records. Surely they didn't let him in here for free. Maybe there's a paper trail to follow."
"Alright Phil." Joe said softly. It was hard enough for him to watch his big brother act so… trampy? He could only imagine how Phil was handling it. If that had been Vanessa on the video tape throwing herself at other people like that… Joe's head began to throb just thinking about it.
Joe hit the fast forward button and continued to go over the tapes until he saw Frank leave the club. The last tape was of the parking lot, as customers entered and exited. He saw a Volkswagon Bug pull up and Frank got out. Hours later Frank came back out to the parking lot with another man. Joe was thankful Phil was not in the room for that because the taller, more muscular man hoisted Frank up against the hood of the car and made out with him. Several minutes later the mystery man re-entered the club and Frank got in the Bug and drove off. Joe rewound the tape several times until he had the scene stopped just right to get a good look at the license plate. Joe wrote down the numbers from the plate and headed back out to the bar.
"Dickie, could I borrow those tapes?"
"I'm sorry but my boss is already pissed that I let ya'll back there. He said if you need them you need to go see the judge." Dickie looked sincerely apologetic about the situation, and Joe had figured a warrant would probably be needed to get the tapes.
"Fair enough. Thank you for your time and thanks for the drinks." Joe shook Dickie's hand and left the club.
Phil was in the rental car with the engine and the air conditioner running.
"I've got a plate. He arrived and left alone in a VW beetle." Joe decided to spare Phil the other details.
"Alright, I'll run them through in a bit. It looks like Frank stopped at a McDonald's on the way up here last night. It was the McDonald's just off of ninety, we passed that on the way up here. This doesn't make sense Joe. You saw all those fast food places when we turned off the highway. All those choices and Frank went to a McDonald's."
"Frank hates McDonald's! You're right. He'd never go there if he had a choice… I wonder if he was under the influence of something. That has to explain some of the choices he's made."
Joe buckled his seat belt and put the car in gear.
"Well I tell you what, you run those plates and maybe we'll be a little closer to finding Frank and finding out what the hell is going on with him."
…
Author's Note:
*Sho nuff: US Southern for "Sure enough."
Also, I have nothing against McDonald's, they make very tasty McNuggets.