Francis Hardy actually surprised his son when Fenton told him about his plans to help the beautiful young girl find her missing brother. 

“All right, we can be dicks,” the older man said gruffly, and Fenton stared at him in shock for a moment before he clarified, “Private investigators, Fenton.  Son, sometimes I don’t think you get out enough.”

Laura smiled – taking an instant liking to the senior Hardy.

“So you’re going to help?” Fenton said, completely thrown for a loop. He had expected his father to point out the rashness of this, especially considering Fenton was still recovering from a gunshot wound, and Laura was a girl.

He knew that sounded chauvinistic, but so was his father, on many things. So he was stunned when his dad just nodded his head.

“Of course I will, son. Someone has to make sure you don’t go and get yourself killed.” And then he smiled at Laura, “plus, I’m a sucker for a pretty face.”

The girl blushed; inwardly pleased that Fenton’s father seemed to like her, anyway.

“Besides,” the retired cop admitted, “there are some things that freelancers can do and get accomplished that cops can’t.”

“I’m still a cop,” Fenton pointed out, although he was on medical leave right now.

“I know, son, but we’ll forgive you for that right now,” his father said with a straight face; and Laura couldn’t help but wonder if this man was as reserved as Fenton said he was.  “however, I’m retired, and this pretty young thing doesn’t have a badge. So I think we qualify as dicks.”  He grinned at the pained look that crossed his son’s face when Francis used that word.

“So come on Fenton, lighten up. We have a missing boy to find,” the senior Hardy added. Then he turned to Laura.  “Now missy, do you think you can get your father to give us a few minutes of his time?  I think we need to figure out who might want to do something like this to him.  Abductions are seldom random, no matter what the police say.”

He fixed his son with a look daring him to disagree, but Fenton was still in too much shock at his father’s attitude to say anything. Was this the man who had worked and lived by his badge for over 40 years? Who was this retiree and what had he done with Fenton’s real father??

* * *

Paul opened his eyes and groaned.  Man, his head hurt.

For a few moments he couldn’t remember what happened, but then it all came flying back to him, and as he tried to move, and discovered he couldn’t because his hands and ankles had been bound – he panicked.

“Settle down before you hurt yourself,” a gruff voice commanded, and Paul looked up and saw his kidnapper. It was the man he had tackled in the stable.

He wanted to ask this man what was going on, but the gag in his mouth prevented him from doing any more than glaring at his captor.

The man chuckled. “You’re probably wondering why you’re here, aren’t you?”

Paul nodded, and the man snorted, “Well tough titty, kid. I ain’t going to tell you. You can die not knowing why I hate your old man so much.”

And then he turned, and walked out of the room Paul was being kept in, leaving the boy in total darkness.

* * *

“That’s just it,” Dr. Scott said, frustration evident in his voice as he spoke to Fenton and his father, “I’m a surgeon. I don’t have enemies. I save lives – that’s my job.”

“Do you save everyone?” Fenton asked. Up until now, he had been quietly observing his father’s interrogation of Dr. Scott, and it was apparent from the way the surgeon jumped at the sound of his voice, that he had forgotten Fenton was still there.

“Actually, no,” the man said, taking off his glasses and rubbing his tired eyes, “No one can save everyone – no matter how hard they try.”

“Could this be someone pissed at you for being human?” Francis Hardy asked, catching on to his son’s train of thought.

“I suppose,” the doctor admitted, “but who?”

“That’s what I was just going to ask you,” the other father said, and then Fenton put in,

“What about recently?  Have you lost anyone who might have a disgruntled family member?”

Dr. Scott pursed his lips and sighed.  “Well there is one, but its very recent….” He then went on to tell them about the teenager and his run-in with the teen’s grieving father.

“Did you tell Officers Moore and Batten about this?” Fenton asked, his cop mind in overdrive.

The doctor shook his head. “No. They never asked, actually. They just asked if I had received any threats or weird phone calls lately. Which I haven’t.”

“Can you give us the name and address of Ryan’s parents?” Fenton’s father asked.  “It might be a long shot, but when you’re looking for someone you love – there’s no such thing.”

Nodding in agreement, Dr. Scott hastily phoned his receptionist, and within moments was passing Fenton a piece of paper with a scribbled address.  He caught and held the younger man’s gaze.  “Please find my son, Fenton. Please.”

“We’ll do our best,” Fenton said; he couldn’t promise any more than that, although he wanted to.  He’d become quite fond of Paul over the past little while, and he prayed that when they did find him – because Fenton had no doubts they would find him – that they wouldn’t be too late.

* * *

The Walters house was a big older house on a large corner lot, and as they pulled up out front, Laura couldn’t help but feel sympathetic to the family.

Their only child, not any older than Paul, had died during what should have been a very routine surgery. She felt bad for them, but not bad enough to forgive them if they were involved in any way with her brother’s disappearance.

Laura undid her seatbelt even as Fenton fixed her with a stern look.  “Stay in the car.”

“You got to be kidding,” Laura said, promptly ignoring him and getting out. “Paul is my brother.”

Fenton looked at his father for help, and was sure the senior Hardy was hiding a smirk behind his sudden cough.

“Fine,” Fenton sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to get any help from his father, “But at least stay behind me, okay?”

“Okay,” she smiled sweetly, and then marched right up to the door!