“Hey baby, how you doing?” Laura asked as she knelt down beside her son. Her eyes appraised his pale face worriedly even as he managed a sick smile and said, his voice still a bit slurred:

“M’okay.”

Not convinced, the worried mother dabbed lightly at the gash on his forehead with a dampened paper towel, relieved that it had not reopened during the ride home. Hearing Gwynne coming down the stairs, she told her, “The phone is dead. Do you have a cell phone?”

Gwynne nodded, “It’s in the car.” As another crack of thunder vibrated through the house she handed Laura the first aid kit. “Why don’t we get Joe changed into something dry and then I’ll go get it.”  She handed Laura the change of clothing she had brought for both her and Joe.

Laura took the clothing and nodded, “Thanks, but why don’t you go get the phone right now.  I’d feel better knowing help was on its way.”

“I’ll help you with Joe first,” Gwynne insisted.  “That way he won’t have to move around so much.”

“Actually no,” Laura said firmly, knowing Joe would not want this woman helping him change, “I’ll take care of him – please, go get the phone.”

Gwynne scowled at Laura but then shrugged, “Whatever,” and grabbed an umbrella from beside the door.  “I won’t be long.”

Laura let out a sigh of relief as she heard the door close, before gently rousing her son.  “Come on baby,” she said softly, “we need to get you out of these wet clothes.”

Joe opened his eyes a crack and moaned slightly as he tried to sit up.  “’kay,” he whispered, and with her help, the teen was able to get out of the t-shirt and into Blair’s shirt.  Laura wondered how his lightweight shorts had actually managed to stay dry.  She was relieved they were though, as Gwynne had only given her a shirt for Joe.

Seeing a blanket folded up on the cushion of the loveseat, Laura pulled it over and wrapped it around her son. Joe thanked her and then closed his eyes again.

“You just rest, sweetie,” she said quietly, brushing the wet hair from his forehead.  Glancing over her shoulder towards the door, she frowned and wondered what was keeping Gwynne so long.

* * *

“Great game, son,” Fenton said as he strode towards Frank with a big smile on his face. The Diamonds had actually won the game by two runs and their new assistant coach was overjoyed.  Clapping the teen on his back proudly the detective added, “Nice way to start.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Frank beamed and then turned to Coach Iago.  “You remember my father, don’t you?”

The coach forced a smile and stuck his hand out.  “As a matter of fact I do.  Nice seeing you again, Mr. Hardy. You’ve got quite a son here.”

Fenton nodded, as he glanced at Frank, his eyes warmed with pride.  “That I do.” He turned his shrewd gaze on the other man and could have sworn he paled as the sleuth continued, “I was surprised to hear you were back in town. Memphis not work out for you?”

“Wow, you have a remarkable memory,” Iago complimented and then shrugged, “I missed Bayport.  Well, it was nice to see you again, Mr. Hardy – and Frank, wonderful game.” With that the coach headed over to talk to another parent.

Fenton watched him leave, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Is something wrong?” Frank asked, looking at his father.

Fenton shrugged.  “I was just thinking about coincidences.  Anyway son, if you’re still interested in giving me a hand on this case—”  his voice dropped off teasingly and Frank immediately jumped in.

“Yes!”

The detective had to grin at his son’s enthusiasm.  “All right then, let’s go dig up an eight year old ghost!”

* * *

“Hey,” Frank asked as he slipped into the passenger seat of his father’s sedan, “Did you talk to Sam?” He was still anxious to hear about his brother.

His father glanced across at him as he buckled up.  “Yes, he called about an hour ago.”

“Did he talk to Mom or Joe?” Frank asked, unable to keep the concern out of his voice. A concern that grew when his father paused before answering.

“No. Apparently your mom and brother left early this morning.”

“How’d he know that?” Frank pressed, feeling a tightening in his gut.

Fenton chuckled, “Apparently he ran into the world’s oldest nosey neighbor who saw them leaving with a tall, dark-haired woman.”

When Frank looked at him questioningly, the detective added, “Probably Gwynne Smart. I did ask Sam to follow up and he’ll call me as soon as he gets anything more.”

The teen frowned.  “I just wish one of them had a cell phone!”

“Me too,” admitted his father, “me too.”

* * *

Gwynne picked up her cell phone, popped off the back and removed the battery. Slipping the battery into her coat pocket she pantomimed, “Oh no! Look at that, Laura – such bad luck! The battery on my cell phone is dead too!”

Smirking, she slammed the car door shut and then hurried towards the barn. She wanted to make sure Blair had replaced Joe’s bridle, before going back in the house.

She found the dark-haired man rubbing the horses down. He glanced up when he saw her come in.

“Power outage is a pain in the ass,” he grumbled, “I can’t see a damn thing in the tack room.”

“Stop whining, it could be worse,” she chastised, rubbing the nose of the bay stallion Blair was working on.  “At least it’s only the middle of the day!”

“True,” he conceded as he stopped working and looked at her.  “I got rid of that bridle.”

“Good,” Gwynne said, “I just wanted to make sure.” She started to leave but his voice stopped her.

“She looks as pretty today as she did twenty years ago,” Blair commented, his gaze shifting toward the back of the house.

Gwynne shook her head.  “That’s the past, Blair. She’s married now. You had your chance and lost it.”

“Pot calling the kettle black, isn’t it?” Blair scoffed and she whirled towards him.

“What are you talking about?” she snapped.

“That kid,” Blair said, his dark eyes hard, “he ain’t Paul.”

Gwynne snorted and started towards the door again.

“Paul’s dead, Gwynne!” his voice called after her but she ignored him and continued back to the house.

* * *

The heavy rain played havoc with his windshield wipers as Sam peered through the storm, his eyes straining for any sign of the turnoff.

It hadn’t taken too long to track down an address on Gwynne Smart once Fenton gave him a name, and he hoped that he was right about this, because it would really suck to have driven all this way only to be chasing a false lead.

He chuckled to himself as he could only imagine the chewing out Fenton was going to receive from Laura when she found out he’d asked Sam to track her down!

“Oh well,” he mused aloud, “better safe than sorry. Besides, Joe might appreciate being rescued from a day with two women! Boy toy, indeed!” he laughed thinking of the old woman. She had been a feisty ol’ gal!

* * *

“So where are we going first?” Frank asked as his father drove into the derelict part of Bayport, a disreputable area known as Buckmaster’s Circle; haven to crack houses and prostitutes.

“We’re going to have another chat with the guy who pointed me towards Tex, eight years ago,” Fenton said, his dark eyes scanning the sidewalk as he drove.

“Think he might remember something new when he finds out that Tex is dead?” Frank speculated.

“That’s what I’m hoping,” the detective admitted.

“So Dad, what happened? You told me there was a string of break and entries that led you to Tex. He disappeared and then what?” the teen wanted to know, and was surprised when he saw the muscle in his father’s jaw clench.  ‘What’s going on?’ he wondered, recognizing that he had somehow struck a nerve.

“I don’t know,” Fenton finally admitted and then sighed, “I dropped the case—” and then before he could say anything more, he slammed on the brakes and was flying out of the front seat.  “RAMON!” he yelled, pelting after a skinny dark-haired punk who took off running as soon as he saw the detective!

Frank hesitated only a moment before following his father.  ‘Guess he’s found the informant!’ the teen mused as he took off running after the pair.

* * *

Ramon weaved in and out around other people and obstacles in an attempt to outrun Fenton and Frank.

Frank overtook his father and then with a diving tackle – any football coach would have been proud of – brought the informant down, hard.

“Good…catch…” Fenton gasped, a bit winded from the pursuit, as Frank quickly got to his feet.  The detective grabbed Ramon and hauled him up.  “We…need to talk.”

“Man, I got nothing to say to you!” the punk whined, as he pulled his arm away from the sleuth and then scowled at Frank.  “Who the hell are you, anyway?”

“Leg breaker for the mob,” Fenton retorted, and Frank stifled a grin as the punk’s eyes bugged out and then he looked from father to son and snorted.

“Ha ha, funny as ever, Dick,” he scoffed.  “If he ain’t your son than I’m a donkey’s ass.”

“If you prefer,” Fenton said, and then, cutting to the chase, “A body was found in Manning Park yesterday—”

“Hey I know nothing about that—” Ramon cut in, but Fenton interrupted before the informant could get too wound up.

“It’s eight years old. Thief by the name of Tex – remember him?”

‘Oh yeah he does,’ Frank thought as he saw the skinny man’s face pale.

“Tex?” Ramon finally recovered enough to say, “You’re crazy. Tex is hiding.  He’s lying low – everyone knows that.”

“He’s low all right,” Fenton snorted, “about as low as anyone can get. He’s dead, Ramon.  And he’s been that way for a long time.”

“So what’cha want with me?” the punk demanded, “I didn’t kill him.”

“No,” Fenton agreed, “But you might know who did.”

“I don’t know nothing,” Ramon refuted, “Now get out of my face. Being seen with you is bad for a guy’s health, you know?”

“No, I don’t,” Fenton said, grabbing the man by the arm again before he could take off.  “Why don’t you tell me about it?  Why’s it so dangerous, Ramon?”

“There’s – there’s talk…that’s all,” the punk stammered, looking around nervously.

“Old or new talk?” the detective growled. Frank watched closely, always fascinated to see this side of his father – the hardnosed detective.

“New talk—” and then before Ramon could say anything else, there was a sharp retort and he was jerked back out of Fenton’s grasp!

They were being shot at!

“DOWN!” Fenton screamed, even as he felt the searing pain in his hand. Ramon slumped down to the pavement as the detective dived towards his son, knocking Frank off his feet.

Around them, people screamed – and there were two more shots!!

* * *

“My battery is dead,” Gwynne said to Laura as she hurried back into the house and shook out the umbrella before laying it back outside the front door, to dry. “I’m so sorry, I thought I had it recharged—”

“Do you have a car adapter?” Laura asked, rising to her feet from where she had been kneeling by her son.  Joe was sleeping again, and she’d cleaned him up the best she could, including putting a large bandage over the gash on his temple. She sighed in frustration, wishing she had not forgotten her own phone in her haste to leave Bayport!

“I do but it’s in my other car – which is in the garage until tomorrow,” Gwynne lied.  “I am so sorry.  How is he?” She moved towards the teen.

“He’s sleeping again,” Laura said, her blue eyes clouded with worry.

“Blair said one of the reins snapped,” Gwynne said, looking down on the sleeping boy’s face. Laura looked at her.  “The bridle is still in the barn if you want to go and take a look.  I checked it out myself before coming back in here,” the dark haired woman continued.

Laura hesitated – torn between taking a look herself, and staying with Joe. In the end motherhood won out over curiosity.  “Actually, I think I’m going to stay right here with Joe.”

Gwynne nodded.  “Of course.  Well then, why don’t you use one of the upstairs rooms and change into those dry clothes.  I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“That would be nice,” Laura admitted, realizing just how uncomfortable she was feeling, now that she’d done what she could for Joe. Picking up the clothes Gwynne had gotten for her, she headed towards the stairs.  “I’ll be right back.”

* * *

Gwynne nodded and then watched the blond woman go up the stairs. ‘Take your time’, she thought as she sat down on the edge of the couch next to the boy.

‘So much like Paul…’  Tentatively, she reached out with her hand and stroked his cheek.  Pain burning inside, white hot, ‘too much like Paul.’  Her eyes appraised his fine young face, so handsome and familiar and she felt time slip backwards…

*Flashback*

“Gwynnie, baby, you are such a sight for sore eyes,” Paul’s soft voice cajoled from behind her, almost making her forget how upset she was with him.  Almost.  Steeling her resolve, she kept her back turned, in high pout posture. He purred in her ear. “Don’t be like this, beautiful…I got distracted – forgot the time. I am so sorry, baby….You know I’d never make you wait on purpose… ”

She felt his soft caress on the back of her neck, sending cold shivers thrilling through her body; her resolve was slipping…melting at his very touch. Damn, she needed to be stronger….

*End of Flashback*

Still wrapped in the residual intensity of the memory, Gwynne leaned over the sleeping youth and kissed him….

* * *

Laura had intended to use the upstairs bathroom to change but found it impossible to pass the first door on the left. Paul’s bedroom.

Of course it wasn’t his room anymore. But still…

She was surprised to find her hands shaking just a bit as she reached out to open the door – she had to see it just one more time.

Pushing open the door, she stepped inside and then gasped in shock!  Nothing had changed!

Putting her hand over her mouth to stifle an outcry, Laura Scott Hardy knew one thing, and one thing only – she had to get her son out of this house and away from Gwynne!  Now.

Nothing had changed….Paul’s room was as it was the morning he had died.

* * *

Joe felt the kiss, gentle at first.

With great difficulty he forced his eyes open, past the pain threatening to pound him back to darkness…and then they widened in blurry-eyed shock – Iola?

As he struggled to push away, his mind confused and uncomprehending, he heard his mother’s voice.

* * *

Without bothering to change, Laura hurried out of the room and back down the stairs, not wanting to leave Joe alone with Gwynne for even another moment! The woman was obviously obsessed with Paul!

She kicked herself for not realizing it before, and then as she hit the bottom of the stairs and saw Gwynne leaning over her son, kissing him – Laura lost it!