J.M.J.

Chapter XXIII

Wednesday, May 12

Sixteen Hours Earlier

A little less than sixteen hours earlier, Frank and Callie were walking into the office of the Southport Chronicle, just before the front desk was closing. Jen, the receptionist whom Fenton had talked to several days earlier, was straightening up her desk in preparation to leave for the night.

"Hello," she greeted them. "Can I help you?"

"I know it's late," Frank apologized, "but we would like to ask a favor. It's very important. You see, over a week ago, we put in a request to see some of your archived papers, but we never heard back about it."

A knowing look came over Jen's face. "You wouldn't happen to be associated with Fenton Hardy, would you?"

"Yes, we are," Frank replied.

Jen glanced around her as if to make sure no one else was around. "I'm sure you heard about what happened with the mayor then. Everyone's very busy here working on this big story and I'm afraid I can't let you see the archives just now."

"But…" Callie started to protest.

Jen held up a finger and repeated meaningfully. "Just now. If you meet me in the parking lot first thing tomorrow morning, it might be a different story. Which dates do you need to look at?"

Frank took a list of the dates from his pocket and handed it to Jen. "We may also need papers from the next few days after each of these. Are you certain you can get them to us tomorrow morning? Like I said, it's very important and we don't have a lot of time left."

"I'll be there," Jen promised.

HBHBHBHBHB

Thursday, May 13

Shortly after Joe left, Frank and Callie went to their rendezvous with Jen in the parking lot of the Southport Chronicle. There were already a few people in the parking lot, and Frank was worried that that might frighten Jen out of helping. However, after only a few minutes, a car pulled up next to theirs and Jen got out. Frank and Callie climbed out of their own car to talk to her.

"I slipped the papers out late last night," Jen explained. "We've got to make this fast, though. If anyone sees me, it could mean my job."

"Why?" Callie asked. "Isn't letting people look in the archives a normal part of business for a newspaper?"

"For an ordinary, honest newspaper, sure," Jen said. "I don't have any proof, so maybe I shouldn't say anything, but I think Mayor Hodgefield getting arrested is a lot more than just a story to some of our staff. Some of them have done quite a bit of campaigning for him over the years, and I don't think they did it for free. Besides that, I have a feeling your earlier request to look at the archives wasn't overlooked by accident."

"Are you saying that someone who works here is involved in illegal dealings?" Frank asked.

"I couldn't say for sure, but let's put it this way: I don't think it's an unfair guess."

Jen opened the trunk of her car. She had four stacks of a couple dozen papers each inside, which she quickly handed off to Frank and Callie. "I hope these are what you need. It's papers from each of the dates you had on that list plus all the papers for the next week."

"Thanks," Frank told her. "That should be enough. I hope you don't get in any trouble for this."

"Yeah, well, we'll see." Jen waved and headed inside the newspaper office.

Callie eyed the papers as she and Frank put them in their own trunk. "It's not a ton of papers," she said, trying to be optimistic, "but it's still going to take us a long time to go through all of them. What if we don't have that much time?"

"We'll get some help. Phil and Tony will give us a hand for sure, and if Mario and Belle are still in town, I'll bet they will, too. Then, of course, if Joe's lead fizzled out, he'll come."

All the calls were made, and Joe was the only one who didn't answer his phone. Frank didn't think much of it, as he assumed that Joe was simply busy with his own lead. The others agreed to meet at the campus library where they could spread the papers out on tables and look them over quietly. Despite the library's policy that cell phones had to be muted, Frank didn't want to turn his phone's ringer off entirely in case his dad or Joe needed to get hold of him. He compromised by turning it on vibrate.

Each of them took one of the papers and started studying them. After a little while of reading Callie said, "I think I found something."

"What?" Belle leaned over her shoulder to try to see.

"It says that there was a murder here in Southport on January 18, 1994." Callie looked up at Frank. "Isn't that one of the dates?"

Frank nodded. "What does it say about it?"

"It says that an eighteen-year-old girl was poisoned. The police suspected her parents because the girl was severely handicapped and would never have been able to take care of herself."

"If the parents did it, I don't see what that has to do with the Southport Slayer," Tony pointed out.

"What if the Southport Slayer is a copycat criminal?" Phil suggested. "Maybe this murder and Tara Michaels' were some sort of inspiration to him or something."

"Maybe," Frank agreed. "Does it say what the girl's name was? We don't have time to look into the case too thoroughly, but we can at least find out if anyone was arrested."

"Yeah," Callie said. "Her name was Angela Carthage."

"What?" Frank replied.

"Angela Carthage," Callie repeated. "Why? Does that name mean something to you?"

"Angela Carthage was the one person born in Southport on August 28, 1975."

"There's one other thing," Callie said. "The articles says that Angela had an older sister named Patricia."

"Hold on. Let me see some of those other papers." Frank first grabbed the stack of 1971 papers and quickly flipped through the birth announcements sections of them. "Here it is: Patricia Carthage was born on November 4, 1971. Now let me see some of those papers from the '90s." It only took a few minutes for him to find what he was looking for there. "Here's a wedding announcement for June 17, 1995 for Patricia Carthage and Shane Pearson."

"So…Dr. Pearson?" Callie asked.

Frank reached for his phone. "It looks like it. And Joe went to talk to her this morning." He noticed that he had a missed call from his dad, but he called Joe first. The phone started to ring, but then it cut out. "He must be out of cell reception," Frank muttered.

Next he listened to the message that his dad had left: "Frank, Joe found out that Dr. Pearson is the serial killer. He's following her right now by himself but he's out of cell reception. I'm headed out there right now. I left messages with Sam and Durant. Come out here as soon as you get this message." Fenton finished the message by giving directions.

Frank checked the time that the message had been sent. It was close to half an hour ago. "Come on, guys! It sounds like Dad and Joe are already onto Dr. Pearson and they might need help."

HBHBHBHBHB

"Joe!" Fenton shouted, forgetting for once about the criminal who was getting away. He ran forward, but he wasn't fast enough to catch Joe before he hit the ground. Fenton knelt next to his son and gently turned him over on his side, to which Joe groaned in protest. "I'm sorry," Fenton told him as he bent over to examine the wound.

It was in the upper left part of Joe's abdomen. Fenton took off his jacket and folded it over several times before pressing it against the wound. Then he took his phone out of his pocket and muttered under his breath when he saw that he was still out of cell reception.

"Dad?" Joe's voice sounded weak and desperate. "Is it very bad?"

"You'll be all right," Fenton told him, although he was trying to reassure himself as much as Joe.

"Mr. Hardy?" By this time, Iola had gotten the horse under control and she had amazingly managed to stay on it by gripping its mane with all her might. She was almost as pale as Joe was. "Is he…"

"He's going to be all right," Fenton told her almost a little sternly. "But we need to get help right away and there's no cell reception here. Hold on. She made phone calls from here. How did she do that?"

"She had a mobile WiFi hotspot or something. She'd set up an Internet connection and make the call over the Internet. She said it would make the location harder to trace."

"She was right about that." Fenton bit his lip. Then he looked up at the horse that Iola was sitting on. "I think it's over a mile to where there's reception. I'm going to need to ride that horse to get there fast enough."

"Mr. Hardy, maybe it would be better if I went." Iola patted the horse's neck. "I wouldn't know what to do if I stayed and…and anything happened with Joe. And then if she came back…"

Fenton nodded. Iola was right; he would be better able to handle anything that came up here. "Are you sure you could stay on? Then, too, you might meet Pearson on the way."

"I'd be able to get away from her if I was on horseback. As for staying on, I know I could if…if you tied me to the saddle. I've been around horses long enough to know what a horrible idea that is, but we really don't have a choice this time."

Fenton hesitated a few moments, but then he nodded again. "We'll have to try it, I guess, and if you know the risk…Is there any rope around here?"

As Fenton stood up, Joe reached for his arm and caught it. "Dad, don't…"

"I'll be right back, son," Fenton assured him.

"No, don't let her go alone," Joe tried again.

"I'll be okay, Joe," Iola told him. "Your dad said it's just a mile. I can make it that far. And, Mr. Hardy, there's some rope in the cabin."

Fenton made his trip inside fast. He didn't want to leave Joe without pressure on that wound for a moment longer than was necessary. Fortunately, the coil of rope was sitting out in plain view. Nevertheless, Fenton did notice the dreary interior of the prison, including the table that Iola had knocked over and which her captor had never bothered to pick up. Even the broken glass from the picture frame had never been swept up.

He hurried back outside and used the rope to gently but securely tie Iola to the saddle. "Be careful. Stay away from any trees. Just stay on the path all the way to the road and then turn left onto the road. Here's my phone. Tell them to take the highway all the way from Southport to West Grove Road. Got it?"

Iola nodded. "Got it. Um, your phone, Mr. Hardy?"

"Oh, right."

Fenton handed her the phone and she tucked it in her pocket. She cast one last glance at Joe, and then clicked her tongue to the horse, urging it into a canter.

Fenton only wasted a few seconds watching her go before he was back at Joe's side. Joe's eyes were closed and he seemed to have drifted out of consciousness. At least, that was what Fenton thought until he pressed his jacket against the wound again. Then Joe winced and let out a sort of groan that sounded vaguely like, "Mom?"

"Just stay with me, Joe," Fenton told him. He knew it was important to keep Joe from panicking, and talking was a distraction for himself, too. "It's going to be okay. Everything's going to be okay. Just hold on."

Fenton almost imagined that Joe nodded slightly, but it was probably unconscious on his part. Fenton concentrated on trying to breathe steadily. He knew that staying calm was important for keeping Joe calm, but he couldn't help feeling sick deep down in the pit of his stomach. He'd seen too many injuries like this bleed out before help could get there, and those had been in the city with emergency medical services only minutes away.

"Please, God," he prayed under his breath, unable to think of anything more original or poetic, "please don't take him."

HBHBHBHBHB

Iola was doing a good deal of praying herself as she cantered along the path to the road. Praying had been about her only recourse over the last two weeks, apart from her two attempted escapes, but now she was doing it so hard she felt she had never prayed before. Even so, she couldn't help feeling that as soon as she had left Joe out of sight, the worst must have happened. He'd been bleeding so much; surely he couldn't last long that way.

She furiously brushed the tears out of her eyes. When that woman had forced her to say good bye to Joe, she had already made peace with the idea that it might really be good bye, that she might not make it out of this alive. It hadn't occurred to her that it might be Joe who would die saving her. That thought felt like a dagger to the heart, and if it hadn't been for the fact that she knew she had to keep riding, she probably would have abandoned herself to weeping.

The three-quarters mile to the road went by quickly, but the horse had begun to pant by that time. She was probably out of shape from spending most of her time standing in her little paddock. Iola checked the reception on the phone. There still wasn't any. She and the horse would just have to make it a little longer.

She turned the horse onto the road and urged it into a canter again. It let out an annoyed sigh, but did as requested. Obviously, this horse didn't understand the urgency of her mission.

Iola had barely turned onto the road when she saw a car coming up it. For a moment, she hesitated, letting the horse slow down. She knew that Pearson had already done away with one accomplice, but what if she had more?

Then, with relief washing all over her, she recognized the car. It was Frank's.

It slowed down and stopped next to her, and the passengers began piling out. There were more than could legally ride in Frank's car, but for once he must have ignored that.

"Iola!" Callie fairly screeched, running to her friend's side. "What happened? You…You got away?"

Phil and Tony were also there, and they were chattering away excitedly, although Iola didn't have any attention to spare on what they were saying. Mario and Belle were there, too, but Iola had never met Belle before and she didn't waste any energy on trying to recognize Mario after all this time. Instead, her eyes met Frank's. Iola could tell right away that Frank hadn't abandoned himself to relief like the others had. Perhaps he could somehow tell that something had happened to Joe, or maybe he just guessed it on the basis of Iola being here alone and obviously distressed.

"Frank," she said, "Joe's been hurt…shot. Your dad's with him. He needs help right away and there's no cell service."

"I'll go back up the road until I can call out," Mario offered, already on the way to the car.

Frank nodded and tossed his keys to him. Then he took out his pocketknife and started cutting the ropes binding Iola to the saddle. "What about Pearson?"

"She got away. I don't know where she went."

"Her car's here," Callie pointed out. "She'll probably come back here."

Frank pulled Iola out of the saddle. "Right. The rest of you stay here and watch for her. But be careful, if she's armed. I'm going to see if I can help Joe."

He gently set Iola on the ground and then vaulted into the saddle. Iola told him which way to go, and he turned the horse and urged it to a gallop.

"Is there anything we can do?" Belle asked.

"I guess watch for this Pearson person." Phil looked around. "Let's wait inside that shed over there. No sense letting her see us first."

"Good thinking," Callie agreed.

"I've got another idea, too." Tony darted to the door of Dr. Pearson's car and opened it. Then he popped the hood open.

"What are you doing?" Phil asked.

Tony went around to the front of the car. "Making sure she doesn't get away." He pulled the spark plug out. "There. If she tries to walk back to town, she'll run right into the police when they come."

The others agreed that this was a good idea, and then they went to hide in the shed where Pearson had been keeping the horse's tack and feed. It was a bit crowded with five people, even after Tony and Belle volunteered to climb up on the stack of hay and sit there.

While they waited, everyone began plying Iola with questions about her captivity and escape and what had happened to Joe. Having to talk about it and now without the feeble comfort of having a mission to accomplish made it all feel closer and more real and more terrible and more hopeless. Her lip began to tremble and she found she couldn't go on.

Callie wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. We can talk about it later."

Iola wordlessly nodded.

There were a few moments of silence, and then Phil, who was watching through the door as he held it open a couple of inches, announced, "She's coming."

Author's note: Thank you so much for reading! Thanks especially to everyone who reviewed! BMSH, that's a good idea for justice for Pearson. We'll find out next chapter whether I use it or not. Angelicalkiss, very true. Candylou, don't worry about spell check. It can do strange things. As for the rest of you asking for a quick update, I'm sorry about how long it took to get this chapter out. Unfortunately, I don't think my boss would accept "I have to write another chapter because I left my readers off with a major cliffhanger" as a valid excuse to skip work. Fortunately, it is now the weekend and next week is Thanksgiving, which I get a couple days off for, so I think I will easily finish this story next week. I can hardly believe we're that close to the end! Until next time, God bless!