J.M.J.
Author's note: Thank you for reading! Special thanks to everyone who has left reviews! The next chapter will be up tomorrow. God bless!
July 11 – Tuesday
Iola dug her toes into the loose hay below the old swing in the Morton barn. Her parents had put it there when she and Chet were younger, and the siblings had spent a lot of hours playing on that swing. She felt a little closer to her brother while she sat here and thought.
At this point, everyone else had given up all hope. Iola was trying not to blame them. It was the most logical thing to think. They had a deathbed confession from the alleged murderer, which left little room for doubt, even if it wasn't absolutely clear. Even so, she couldn't bring herself to believe it. If either Chet or Joe was…dead, she would know it, wouldn't she?
She knew that Mr. Hardy was looking for the people who had allegedly hired the alleged killers, or that he would pick up the search again soon. The FBI were apparently not being very cooperative with him. From what Iola knew about Mr. Hardy, he wouldn't let a little thing like that stop him on an ordinary case, let alone this one. That was a good thing. If the boys were still alive, he would find that out during his investigation. And of course he wasn't going to wait around and give the villains a chance to get away with it. But he'd probably be in more of a hurry to catch them if he was as sure as Iola was that the boys were still alive. He wouldn't be doing…what Iola's parents were doing.
A car pulling up the driveway distracted Iola from her thoughts. She got out of the swing and went to see who it was. The car wasn't familiar and she could see from here that the license plates were from out of state. She watched it uncertainly for a moment or two until the young man driving it climbed out. She recognized him immediately.
"Jerry Gilroy! I thought you weren't coming until later."
Jerry had been in her grade in school, along with Joe and Biff, and he had been one of the boys' closest friends, but his family had moved out of town the summer before. She hadn't seen or heard much of him since then, but he had called as soon as he had heard the news. However, his plan then had been not to come until there were memorial services planned.
Jerry hurried forward and gave her a hug. "I know, but I decided I could come twice if need be. How are you doing?"
"Okay, I guess. Considering," Iola replied. "But do you have a place to stay here in town? Are you staying at all?"
"I've got a hotel," Jerry told her. "I can stay a few days, for sure, at least."
"Good, but not about the hotel. We've got several guest rooms here."
"I know, but I wouldn't want to impose on your parents at a time like this."
"Don't be silly," Iola insisted. "It would be the best thing for my mom to have somebody to make a fuss over. And my parents will say the same thing if you mention that hotel to them. Please?"
Jerry hesitated. "Well, maybe, if your parents really do insist. But seriously, I don't want to be in the way."
"You won't be. Besides…" Iola paused. "What I told you when you called? About the boys still being alive? I still believe that, and I really need someone who won't tell me I shouldn't."
"Okay," Jerry agreed, but he didn't sound convinced.
The two of them started walking toward the house. For having come all this way just to see Iola and his other old friends who were in shock over the tragedy, Jerry didn't say much. He absently grabbed a tall piece of grass as they walked through the barnyard and began pulling it apart as he thought.
"You don't believe me, do you?" Iola asked.
"I don't know," Jerry admitted. "I'd like to. You've got to believe that. I just want proof, one way or the other."
"That's what I want, too."
"That's the real reason I came," Jerry went on. "I want to try to get that proof, if I can. It's been a while since I helped the Hardys on a case, but I still remember a few things. I just need to know where to start."
"I know," Iola agreed, frowning thoughtfully. "That's the tough thing about this case. There aren't many leads, and no one will let me get anywhere close to them."
HBNDHBNDHB
Each of the boys was taking a turn sitting up with Frank and keeping an eye on him that first night. Most of them had thought that Joe should be excused after getting Frank back up the hillside and most of the way back to the cabin by himself, but Joe wouldn't hear of it. He had taken the first watch, and then Tony and then Chet. It was Biff's turn now, and he guessed it must be getting close to dawn, although it was hard to tell with no clocks available. In any case, Biff could still hear Joe tossing and turning, obviously unable to get to sleep.
Biff sat with his back against the wall and drew his knees up against him. He wasn't particularly comfortable, but he supposed that wasn't such a bad thing. At least he wouldn't accidentally fall asleep this way. Not that there was much danger of him falling asleep anyway. This business with the strange girl and Frank's accident had rattled him deeply, and some of his doubts that he had been having in the first few days that they were on the island were coming back to him.
They weren't going to get back home. He was beginning to feel appallingly certain of that. Eli had never gotten rescued from this island, and neither, apparently, had this girl. Frank and Joe both said they hadn't gotten a good look at her, but they thought she was probably in her teens. Their original guess had been that the girl on the island had been a younger girl. They could have been mistaken, but it could also be that the girl had been stranded here for years. In that case, there was no reason to assume that the rest of them would fare any better.
Yet, however much Biff had worried about none of them getting home, the horror of everything that would happen between now and whatever fate awaited them hadn't occurred to him until now. He hadn't thought of how horrible it would be if one-by-one, they all had some accident or got some disease. Up until then, he had only been thinking about how terrible it would be to be stuck here and never get home. Now he could see that not getting home was only the beginning of their problems.
While he was thinking these morbid things, Biff heard Frank moan slightly. At the same moment, he heard Joe sit up in alarm. Biff was at Frank's side first, but Joe wasn't far behind him. Biff touched Frank's shoulder to wake him up, and he found that his skin was hot and sweaty.
"Oh, wow, he's really got a fever," Biff reported.
Joe put a hand on his brother's forehead and was frightened by how warm he was. "Frank?" he asked in a quiet voice. "Are you all right?"
"Mmm," Frank replied, lacking his usual focus. "'M okay. Don't worry."
"Fat chance of that," Joe muttered.
"Is something wrong?" Phil asked from where he was sleeping.
From the general rustling, it sounded like Tony and Chet had also woken up.
"It looks like Frank has a high fever," Joe reported.
"Somebody get a candle," Phil requested as he came to investigate.
There was the sound of a match being struck and Chet's face appeared in the glow of a candle. He carried it over and stood over Frank, while they all looked down at him.
Phil was attempting to gauge how bad the fever was by putting a hand on Frank's forehead. "It's too bad we don't have a thermometer, among other things." He let out a long breath. "We'd probably better try to cool him down. We'll need some cool water."
"Don't. Please. Freezing," Frank protested, shivering.
"Sorry, Frank," Joe told him. "You only feel cold because of the fever. We've got to bring it down. We should also clean his cuts out again," he added, looking up at Phil. "Some of them must be getting infected."
"Right," Phil agreed. "We'd better boil some more water for that."
"I'll do it," Tony offered.
"And I'll get some cold water from the stream," Chet said.
"The rest of you might as well go back to bed," Phil said, although he didn't have any hope of Joe listening.
Exactly as Phil expected, Joe replied, "You've got to be kidding."
Biff didn't heed the advice either. For that matter, even after Frank's injuries had been cleaned again, no one got another moment of sleep the rest of the night.
By morning, Frank's fever had abated somewhat, although it hadn't actually broken. He was asleep, and the other boys were tired and groggy after the long day previously and the even longer night. Phil managed to fall asleep outside, and Joe refused to leave Frank, so none of the other three bothered them while they got breakfast ready. Chet tried to take a plate to Joe, but Joe only glanced at it askance.
"I'm not hungry," he said.
"Maybe not," Chet replied, "but you should eat something and get some sleep. We all know you didn't sleep at all last night."
"I'm fine."
Chet sat on the floor and glanced from Joe to Frank. He made a silent, fervent wish that Frank would be all right. At the same time, he wondered darkly what Joe would do if he wasn't. He wondered what he would do if he was in Joe's place. Of course, Iola didn't get into nearly as much trouble as either of the Hardys did. Although, Chet mused, at the moment, Iola was in a position not so very unlike Joe's: she had no idea whether Chet and the others were all right, and there was nothing she could do about it.
"I wonder what Iola's doing right now," Chet commented idly.
Joe glanced up, a little startled at the mention of Iola's name, but then he looked back at Frank. "I don't know, but I think I know how she must be feeling."
Chet didn't reply right away, unsure what to say. He had thought of it that his parents and Iola and everyone else would be worried and even that they would probably eventually come to the conclusion that he and his friends had been killed, but the reality of what that would be like for them hadn't sunk in until now. This situation with Frank was harder than Chet would have expected, not knowing whether he was going to make it or not. It wouldn't be any easier for the folks at home. In fact, it might be even worse for them, since they didn't even have the benefit of knowing what had happened.
"Well," he said finally, "if she's sitting around at home, thinking we're dead, she's wrong. So maybe you're worried about nothing, too."
Joe shook his head, but all he said was, "I hope so."
HBNDHBNDHB
There was no shortage of news coverage of the murder of Rogan Transol, as Fenton found when he looked through it. It was frustrating to be reduced to only this one lead. It was an old one and couldn't definitely be linked to the current case, but at least Fenton wouldn't have to tangle with the FBI in investigating it. Brock Garret was clearly a better lead, but there was someone in the FBI who didn't want Fenton looking into that. He didn't know whether it was the ordinary problems in a bureaucracy, or if there was something worse going on, but either way, he wasn't pleased with the situation.
There was one consolation in it all: there was at least one tangible link between Transol and Garret. Garret was from a small town in Montana that wasn't far from where Transol's body had been recovered. It could be a coincidence, but it wasn't at all unlikely that it wasn't.
His research was interrupted by the door to his home office opening. Through long-standing habit, Fenton never sat with his back to an unlocked door, so he only had to look up over his laptop to see that it was Laura entering.
"It's getting late," Laura said. "Are you going to be up much longer?"
"There's got to be something here," Fenton replied. "I've got to find it. I couldn't sleep anyway."
Laura sighed and sat in one of the armchairs. "Neither could I. You must know something."
"I don't know anything I haven't told you."
Laura watched Fenton as he continued to read through the news articles about Transol. "Fenton?"
He looked up again. "What is it?"
"Are you sure that there's organized crime involved in this?"
"I'm not sure of much, but that seems pretty obvious."
"So does the one thing that I wish there could be some doubt about." Laura bit her lip to try to keep the tears back that were beginning to sting her eyes. She cleared her throat and shook her head. "It just sounds so dangerous. If anything happens to you…"
Fenton closed his laptop and then went to kneel next to her chair as he held her hand. "I can't let these people get away with this."
"I know, and I wouldn't want you to," Laura replied. "But at the same time, I can't lose you, too."
Fenton stood up a bit more so that he could wrap his arms around her and hold her for a little while.
It was only a few seconds later that Fenton's phone rang to interrupt the moment. He was tempted to ignore it, but at this time of night, it was probably something relevant to the case, so he went back to his desk and picked it. "This is Fenton Hardy speaking."
"This is Mark Larson." The man sounded annoyed. "I know it's late, and I'm sorry to be calling you at this hour, but I'm using my one phone call to do it."
"Your one phone call?" Fenton repeated. "You mean you've been arrested?"
"I'll say. The FBI raided my house, scared my kids half to death."
"What? What for?"
Mark scoffed. "Some nonsense about impeding an investigation. I don't know. My lawyer will try to straighten that out, for as much good as that will do. I've got no idea why they singled me out for the honor. Anyway, I'm going to be stuck here, who knows how long, and in the meanwhile, something's cracking open with this case. I don't want my wife or kids getting caught in the middle of it, especially without me there. That's why I'm calling you."
"I don't understand," Fenton replied.
"I'm sending April and the girls to the mainland. They might be safer there. I'm hoping you'd be willing to find them a place they can stay."
"Don't you have any friends or relatives on the mainland who can help you?" Fenton asked, finding the request very strange.
"I do, but I don't want anyone else getting caught up in this circus," Mark replied. "I know it's a lot to ask, but I'm out of other options. If you would just meet them at the airport and find them somewhere to stay, I would be very grateful."
"I can't guarantee that they'll be safe anywhere I can find."
"I'm not asking for guarantees. I promise you I'll make this up to you."
"There's no need to worry about that," Fenton said distractedly. "All right. I guess I can do it."
"Thank you." Mark's voice softened a bit. "April will be in contact with you to tell you when they'll be in."
