“Come on, move it!”

Fenton felt a hand in the middle of his back.  He anticipated the shove but his right leg buckled underneath him and he tumbled down the last few steps, landing in a painful heap at Vince Ellison’s feet.  Clutching at the back of his leg, Fenton could feel the blood seep through his pant leg and trickle between his fingers.  He heard a gasp and a muffled “Oh my God.”

Glancing up he saw Ellison standing a few feet away, Kevin slightly behind him, both of them looking at him with horrified expressions.  Wincing, Fenton attempted to move towards them, crawling several inches before he had to stop, unable to go any further.  The movement seemed to snap Ellison back to reality.  He rushed to Fenton’s side and bent down to help. 

Wrapping one of Fenton’s arms around his neck and placing his other arm around Fenton’s waist, Ellison helped Fenton to his feet, supporting most of his body weight.  They hobbled awkwardly to the closest wall, where Ellison gently lowered Fenton to the floor. Immediately he looked at Fenton’s leg, anger suffusing his face.  He turned to the three men with guns, who were standing over them.

“You shot him!”  he exclaimed accusingly.

The tallest of the three men, with sandy hair and cold, pale blue eyes spit out the toothpick he’d been chewing on and grinned.  “Gee, you don’t miss a thing.”

Ellison turned back to Fenton. “How are you?” he asked tensely.

“Been better,” Fenton replied grimly.  Beads of sweat had started to trickle down his forehead into his eyes, blurring his vision.  He’d felt a little light-headed when Ellison had pulled him to his feet, and the pain in his leg was growing by the minute.  He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, listening to Ellison try to bargain with their captors, and while he appreciated the effort, he knew it was futile.

“He’s bleeding! He needs a doctor!”  Vince cried out.

“Sorry, no can do,” the shortest man said dryly.

“I have a first aid kit upstairs.  Let me get it,” he pleaded with the men. “PLEASE!  At least let me try and stop the bleeding.”

Fenton listened to his own ragged breathing during the long, tense silence, opening his eyes when he heard the unexpected reply.

“Take him upstairs and let him get the kit.  Don’t take your eyes off him!”

The third man, who’d for the most part been silent, simply grunted in reply.  He waved his gun at Vince and then at the stairs.

“Be right back,” Vince said, patting Fenton on the shoulder. 

Fenton smiled gratefully and watched as Vince stood and preceded the gunman up the stairs, trying to keep a safe distance between himself and the gun.  Looking up at the tall man who’d shot him, Fenton stared at him.  “So who are you?” he asked.

The man pulled a fresh toothpick from his pocket, peeled away the plastic covering and stuck it in his mouth.  He smiled silently in response.

Knowing any further attempt with the two men would be futile, he turned his attention to Kevin.  “Are you all right?” he asked.

“F-fine,” Kevin stammered, obviously shaken.  He scooted a little closer to Fenton, all the while keeping one eye on the men watching them – and their guns.  “What about you?  I mean they – they shot you!”

“Yeah, they did,” Fenton almost chuckled.  He wondered exactly what it said about him that Kevin’s terrified reaction would be considered normal by most people, while his almost casual acceptance would be seen as bizarre.

“Can I do anything to help you?”

Before Fenton could respond, Vince and the man accompanying him came down the stairs.  Hurrying to Fenton’s side, Vince dropped to his knees, put the first aid kit on the floor and flipped it open.  Taking out some four by four pads and a roll of gauze he handed them to Kevin.  “Hold onto those,” he murmured, pulling out a pair of latex gloves and slipping them on.   Reaching into the kit once more, he held up a bottle of antiseptic and looked at Fenton apologetically.

Fenton grimaced as he slid down the wall until he was lying on his side on the floor, giving Ellison access to the bullet wound on the back of his leg.

“Ready?” Vince asked.

“Just do it,” Fenton replied, preparing himself.

“Okay… here we go…”

Fenton gasped inwardly as the liquid hit the open wound.  Gritting his teeth, he jerked involuntarily at the blinding pain, hearing vague snickers in the background.  ‘So glad you’re enjoying this,’ he thought bitterly.  When the pain finally began to subside to a more tolerable constant throbbing, he glanced at Ellison and nodded for him to continue.

Closing his eyes again, he listened as Vince instructed Kevin.  “Open those.”  A few seconds later, Fenton felt significant pressure against the wound and something being wrapped snugly around his thigh.

“All done,” Vince said as he leaned over and helped Fenton back to a sitting position.

“Thanks,” Fenton said gratefully.  It still hurt but at least the bleeding had stopped. Kevin settled against the wall next to him while Vince packed up the first aid kit.  “So who are they?” Fenton asked, jerking his chin towards their captors.

“Them?” Vince repeated with disgust.  “They’re the loan sharks who are extorting money from my son,” he said with a scornful look at the three men.

The one Fenton assumed was the leader pulled the toothpick from his mouth and laughed.  “Mr. Ellison, you’re forgetting that it was your son who approached us.  We simply took advantage of a fortuitous situation.”

“So what brought you here tonight?” Fenton asked, hoping to get the men talking.

“Why, Mr. Ellison did, of course.”

Fenton felt something twist in the pit of his stomach.  Had he walked into a trap?  Had he been so distracted by the emotions – and guilt – dredged up by learning about the Cutter family’s problems that he’d misjudged Vince Ellison?  ‘Could I have been that far off base?’ he wondered.  He glanced at Ellison who looked genuinely confused.

“I started to get a little suspicious, Mr. Ellison.  Why, if you’d already taken care of our little problem here,” he gestured towards Kevin with his gun, causing the young man to flinch, “were you suddenly making so many trips to your vacation house?  It was just coincidence that I decided to follow you tonight and saw you meet this gentleman at the hotel.  Since I wasn’t really sure how he figured into everything, I called in some reinforcements,” he finished, nodding at the two men next to him.

Fenton listened, mentally kicking himself for not realizing they’d been followed, despite the fact that he had no reason to at the time.

Vince glared at the man angrily.  “So you found out why I was coming out here so often.  What do you want now?”

“Two million dollars,” the man replied as easily as if he were asking for a stick of gum.

“What?!”

“Ah, come now, Mr. Ellison.  We know you can get your hands on that much money without too much trouble.  And isn’t it a small price to pay to be rid of your problems for good?” the man smiled.  “My business partners and I were getting a little tired of Phoenix anyway.  With the two million dollars you’re going to provide us with, and the profits from our business, we can set up again in another city.  I have friends in L.A., Vegas, Atlantic City...”

“What about your employees?” Fenton asked sardonically.  “Will you be taking them along with you?”

“Well, it’s nothing personal, but the Phoenix P.D. will be hounding us if we don’t leave someone to take the fall.  As long as there are people they can arrest and take to trial, they’ll be happy to have the brains of the operation gone.”  He stopped and smiled at Vince.  “I’m sure you’ll be even happier, hmm?”

Vince Ellison looked at Fenton, who was slightly pale, sweating and obviously in pain and Kevin, who looked world-weary and just plain tired.  Both of them were there because of him; he knew he had no other choice.

“Fine,” Ellison replied.  “I’ll get you the money as soon as Kevin is home and Fenton is in a hospital.”

The three men holding them at gunpoint exchanged an amused glance.  “No, Mr. Ellison,” the ring leader said with a smile.  “First you’ll get us the money, then your two friends will be released.”

“But… you can’t do that!  He’s seriously injured,” Vince cried out, gesturing towards Fenton.  “I can’t possibly get the money until tomorrow when the banks open.  You shot him, for God’s sake! You cannot hold him here all night.  He needs to get to a hospital immediately.”

“No.  I will go with you to make sure you collect the money and don’t try to alert the authorities.  My two associates will stay here and keep your friends company. Once I’ve notified them that you’ve kept your end of the deal, Mr. Hardy and Mr. Cutter will be released and we will be on our way. You’ll never hear from us again.”

“And if I say no?”  Ellison asked defiantly.

“Then we’ll kill you all right now and leave town,” the man replied matter-of-factly.  “Your choice, Mr. Ellison.  Which would you prefer?”

“I’ll stay,” Fenton suddenly spoke up, then nodded at Kevin. “But let him go.”

“Very noble of you, but I don’t think so.  What’s to prevent him from running straight to the police?  No, you both stay or all three of you die now.”

Vince Ellison closed his eyes in despair, wondering how everything got so completely out of control.

“Vince, you need to do it their way,” Fenton spoke up. “There’s really no other choice.  But, could you check this bandage before you go?  I think it’s starting to bleed again.”  Fenton motioned Vince towards him and rolled over onto his side so he was facing away from the other three men.  As Vince hovered over him, Fenton began to whisper.

“My sons and my business partner are already on their way to Phoenix—”

“But… how do you—” Vince asked, surprised, yet keeping his voice down.

“Trust me.  They know I’ve run into trouble.  I’m certain they’ll be at Myelin sometime tomorrow.  Get word to them somehow that Kevin and I are here.  Once you do, let them handle it.  Do whatever they tell you, no questions asked,” Fenton instructed.  “Please, just do it.  It’s the only way we’ll all get out of this alive.”

“But they said as soon as I get them the money—” Vince began.

“They lied.  They aren’t going to leave any witnesses behind.  Since you’re somewhat involved, they’re betting you won’t go to the police once they’ve killed Kevin and me and left town.”  Fenton reached up and grabbed Ellison’s shirt.  “Please, don’t ask questions.  Just do it.”

Vince stared at Fenton, confused and unsure of what to do.  What if he tried to get word to Sam, Frank or Joe and it backfired?  If the man who was essentially guarding him found out, wouldn’t he arrange for both Kevin and Fenton to be killed instantly? 

‘But he’s got a lot more experience at this sort of thing than you have,’ Vince thought as he made a show of checking the bandage on Fenton’s leg. ‘He must know what he’s doing.  He’s willing to risk his own life on it – and Kevin’s.’

“Okay,” Vince whispered.  “But are you sure they’ll be at Myelin tomorrow?”

“Positive,” Fenton winced as he leveraged himself to a semi-sitting position again. “Just let them know where we are.  They’ll take care of the rest.”

Vince nodded and stood up, turning to face the men.  “Guess I have no choice.  Let’s go.”

As he and Kevin watched Vince and his escort climb the stairs, Fenton shifted slightly. He hissed softly as a sharp searing pain ripped through his leg.  Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the hard cement wall, thinking of his sons.

‘Don’t let me down, boys..’

*****

By the time they’d finished looking at the tapes, it was almost the middle of the night.  Sam, Frank and Joe realized there was nothing more they could do right then.  The hotel shifts had changed at eleven p.m. so there was no one on duty now who might have been around and seen Fenton when he returned to the hotel.  They decided to try and get a few hours of sleep and start fresh in the morning. 

Surprisingly, Frank had fallen asleep fairly easily, but something had disturbed that sleep.  He rolled over in the uncomfortable bed, frowning as he did so.  Slowly, he realized he was in that place he hated – not really asleep, yet not quite awake.  A place where the subconscious took great delight in playing tricks on a still sleep-fogged mind, as it seemed to be doing right now.  Had he heard something?  Was that what had awakened him?

Listening intently for a moment, Frank heard nothing except Joe shifting in the other bed.  Deciding it was his psyche playing mind games with him, Frank had already started drifting back to sleep when he heard it again.  Soft, low, barely audible. He sat up, now fully awake and looked around the hotel room, giving special attention to the unfamiliar shadows.  Nothing struck him as out of the ordinary. Frank was debating whether or not to wake Joe when he heard it for the third time.  A soft whimper, this time followed by a muffled cry - and it was coming from Joe. 

Getting up, Frank took the half a step that covered the small distance between the two beds and looked down at his brother.  Abruptly, Joe rolled over, curling himself into a ball.  His breathing was harder now, and faster, as if something had scared him badly even though he was still asleep.  Suddenly he let out a sharp cry.  Alarmed, Frank snapped on the bedside light in time to see Joe tuck his head and raise his arms defensively as he choked back a sob.

“Joe, wake up!” Frank said sharply, shaking him hard.

Hoping to put an end to Joe’s nightmare, Frank was unprepared for his brother’s response.  Joe shot up in bed and lashed out with a fist. Instinct told Frank to move and he jumped back barely avoiding the blow.  Joe looked around the room frantically, his wide, terror-filled eyes apparently searching for some sign of the enemy that had haunted his dreams. 

Frank remained a safe distance from the bed, not yet sure if Joe realized who he was.  Joe looked at him and blinked several times, still clearly disoriented and more than a little distressed.

“Where…where are we?” he finally asked.

“We’re in a hotel in Arizona,” Frank answered.  Taking a few tentative steps forward, he stood near the edge of the bed, leaving a little space between him and his brother.  “Dad was working a missing persons case,” he continued, keeping his voice calm and soothing, not wanting to spook Joe again.  “He missed his last scheduled call to check in.  We came out here to find him.”

Frank watched nervously, as Joe stared at him, still slightly dazed.  He made another visual sweep of the room, before returning his gaze to Frank.

“Arizona…right,” Joe murmured.  Scooting backwards, Joe leaned against the headboard and closed his eyes.  Taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly, obviously trying to calm himself.

“You okay?”  Frank asked, now sitting on the bed and facing Joe.

“I dreamt about the park,” Joe replied, cryptically.

‘The park?’ Frank thought, puzzled.  ‘What park?’

Joe opened his eyes and focused on some random spot on the opposite wall.  Frank could see that Joe was much calmer now, and fully aware of his surroundings, although the terror in his eyes had been replaced with a haunting sadness.

“I can’t believe I never remembered it before now,” Joe continued.  “I thought I remembered everything.”

‘The park!  The day Tilghman’s men grabbed him!’ Frank suddenly realized what he was referring to, and wondered why Joe hadn’t remembered or dreamt about that day until now.  He’d remembered everything else… hadn’t he?

“We were playing tag with a bunch of other kids,” Joe continued.  “I was never ‘It’; none of them could catch me.” A smile lit his face for a fraction of a second, then disappeared.  “Kelly tripped and fell.  She screamed so loud I was almost afraid to look at her, thought I’d see blood gushing everywhere.  But she barely scraped her knee…and her chin.”  The smile returned as he glanced at Frank.  “You know what I was thinking?”

“No, what?”

“That I was soooooo glad I had you for a brother instead of some sissy, cry-baby girl for a sister,” he confessed with a grin.

Frank chuckled, but said nothing as Joe sought out that spot on the wall, his face clouding over again.

“Everyone stopped and stared at her.  Kevin took her back to Aunt Carole and Uncle Jeff.  Uncle Jeff had been watching me…he even gave me a thumbs up when Kevin missed tagging me by an inch,” Joe’s voice dropped slightly.  “But he looked away when Kelly screamed…everybody did.  They all looked at Kelly.”

Frank noticed the slight increase in Joe’s breathing and the way he suddenly clutched the blanket, pulling it to his chest, as if it could offer him some protection. 

“I was standing near the trees, right at the edge.  I remember thinking they couldn’t see me now, so I started to walk towards them.  Dad always told us to make sure the adults we were with could see us at all times,” Joe repeated the words Fenton Hardy had drilled into them as children. 

“He grabbed me,” Joe said abruptly, his voice catching for a second.  “I never heard him…never even knew he was there. He grabbed me around the waist and picked me up, put his hand over my mouth so I couldn’t yell.  I tried to bite him but he was wearing gloves…thick, leather gloves.  Then he ducked back into the trees and ran.”  Joe stopped and took a shaky breath. 

Frank watched as Joe slowly became that scared little boy again, and found he had to force himself not to beg Joe to stop.  While Joe obviously needed to talk about this new memory, it was killing Frank to listen.  He no longer had to imagine how terrified Joe must have been at the time, he could see it written all over his brother’s face as Joe relived every detail.

“I tried to get away.  I kicked him and tried to punch him…he just laughed at me.  When we came out on the other side of the trees, there was a van there.  The side door was open and the motor was running. It started to pull away before we even got in.  He threw me inside, and jumped in after me.  I landed against the other side – hard,” Joe winced at the memory.  “He sat in the back and held on to me, tight.  When we passed by the picnic area, he started laughing. He made me look out the window.  Uncle Jeff and some other people were walking around and around, looking everywhere.  He said they were looking for me, but they’d never find me…no one would ever find me…and he just kept laughing.”

An unfamiliar feeling weighed down on Frank.  Helplessness.  He couldn’t ‘fix’ this for Joe or just make it go away.   He could do nothing but sit and listen and feel helpless. 

“Thanks,” Joe said suddenly, startling him. 

“Thanks? For what?”  Frank asked, confused.  “I didn’t do anything.”

“Listening,” Joe responded gratefully.  “Not judging me, not trying to fix me, or convince me I’m overreacting,” he stopped for a moment, a look of disgust on his face.  “Not feeling sorry for me,” he spat out.  “Just…listening.”

Frank was a little taken aback.  Even though they were adults now, he still had an overprotective streak a mile wide where Joe was concerned.  Sometimes he still felt it was his responsibility to take care of Joe’s problems for him, to make everything right in his world.  And when he couldn’t do that, Frank felt as if he’d failed – both himself and his brother. 

Despite the fact that he’d been Joe’s ‘second therapist’ for almost eight months now, listening to Joe talk about things that he wasn’t comfortable discussing with anyone else, Frank sometimes felt that just listening wasn’t enough.  He always felt as if he should be doing more, although he was never quite sure what that something more was.  It was nice to be reminded that sometimes a friendly ear and a reassuring presence was all Joe needed from him.

Yawning, Joe snuggled down under the covers.  “’Night,” he mumbled.  Rolling over, he fell asleep almost immediately, the demons that had awakened him now banished, at least for the time being.

Frank stared at his brother for a moment before turning out the light.  “Night, bro,” he whispered.

“Night, bro.”

Joe had heard Frank’s soft good-night but didn’t acknowledge it, preferring to let Frank think he’d fallen asleep.  A few seconds later the light went out, and Joe was staring into the darkness.  Still, it wasn’t nearly as dark, or deep, as the hole that felt like a bottomless pit in his soul.  The question nagged at him, growing stronger every time he thought about it.  And it seemed the harder he tried not to think about it, the more persistent it became.  He’d been able to, so far, hold back the bleak hopelessness he knew wanted to overpower him.  But he was afraid that once he saw Jeff Cutter that hopelessness and despair would get a stranglehold on him, one he’d never be able to break.  To avoid that, he needed an answer to the question that had been haunting him, yet he knew it was a question that was impossible to answer. 

‘Why?’ 

Knowing no one could ever really answer that question, Joe closed his eyes, hoping for a dreamless sleep and an escape from the depression weighing down on him, at least until the morning.