Breathing heavily, his body aching with every step, the small child ran as fast as he could toward the station wagon. He clambered onto the top and scrambled in with the luggage, beneath the tarp. He held his breath fearfully as he heard the family emerge from the cabin and climb into the car. The doors slammed, the motor started, and they were off. The road was rocky and every bump caused a fresh ache in the battered child. Soon, he could take no more and blessed darkness consumed his mind.
When he came to, the car had stopped moving. Cautiously, he peered from beneath the tarp. They had stopped in front of a two-story house at the corner of two streets, both thickly lined with trees. Seeing no one, he wriggled out from beneath the tarp, intending to get off the car and slink away unnoticed, but his foot slipped, and with a yelp, he fell backward towards the pavement below.
From inside the house, a tall man in his early thirties had seen the child emerge from beneath the tarp, and had come running outside. He reached the car just as the child started to fall, and managed to catch him before he hit the ground.
The child looked up into rich brown, concerned eyes. His own blue eyes terror-filled, the little boy once again allowed darkness to overwhelm him.
The next time the child awoke, he was lying on something that felt like a cushioned table. He sat up and looked around. The man who had caught him stood over in a corner with his arm around a petite, blond woman who was crying. They were listening to a man with balding sandy brown hair, who wore a white lab coat.
"Are you okay?" asked a voice from his left. The blond-headed child turned to look, and saw a brown-haired, brown-eyed, boy who looked a little larger than he was, standing beside him. "Why were you hiding in our luggage?" the boy asked the child on the table. Not receiving an answer, he asked yet another question. "What's your name?"
"Easy, Frank," said the dark-haired man. He and the woman walked over to the boys. "He's been hurt." Fenton Hardy said, speaking gently so as not to make the blond child more anxious than he already was.
"Hi, sweetie," the woman said. "My name is Laura Hardy and this is my husband, Fenton, and our son, Frank." she introduced herself and her family. "What's your name?"
Instead of answering, the child started breathing heavily, his face still filled with fear.
"Fenton," said a voice from the doorway. Fenton turned around and saw Bayport's Chief of Police, Ezra Collig, standing there. "Have you found out who he is?" Ezra asked, coming into the room.
"Not yet." Fenton replied with a shake of his head.
"Easy baby, it's okay." Laura said to the child, who had begun struggling, trying to get off the table. His eyes had gone wide and he started whimpering at the sight of the uniformed Chief Collig.
Ezra realized his presence was upsetting the child. "I'll wait outside," he said, and left the room.
"He's gone." Fenton said soothingly to the frightened boy.
"I won't go back!" The child spoke for the first time. "Not again, I can't." he added, silent tears rolling down his cheeks as his body shook with unheard sobs. "Please don't make me!"
"The only place you're going is home with us." Laura told him gently. "No one is going to hurt you. I promise," she added, sitting beside him and taking him in her arms.
"Why were you afraid of Chief Collig?" Frank asked, wrinkling his forehead in curiosity.
"He...he'll take me back!" the child replied, still crying.
"No he won't," Fenton assured the boy. "The police are here to help."
"They took me back last time," the child protested. "They said I shouldn't lie on...." He quit speaking as if realizing he might have already said too much.
"Did you hitch a ride on our car from Burnsville?" Fenton asked softly. The child never spoke but shivered in Laura's arms.
"We're not taking you back there," Fenton promised the boy. "We're taking you home with us. We just need to know who hurt you so we can make sure they never do it again."
The doctor came over and looked at the boy. "I need to finish bandaging your ribs," he said gently. He looked at Fenton. "His leg needs a cast."
"It's not broke!" Frank piped up in protest.
"It was recently," the doctor explained. "It hasn't been healing right. It has to be corrected or he will have problems when he gets older," he added to Laura who was looking at him with terror in her eyes.
"No!" she argued, knowing she was going to lose. "He's been hurt enough."
"It won't hurt," he promised. He walked over to a cabinet and unlocked it. He removed a bottle and took a pill from it. He then replaced the bottle and relocked the cabinet.
Fenton realized what the doctor had in mind. He went to the sink and took a disposable cup, and filled it with water. Going over to the child, he gave him the cup of water as the doctor opened his hand, showing him the pill.
"If you'll swallow this, you won't feel anything," the doctor promised. "You'll go to sleep and when you wake up, you'll be feeling better."
The child looked at him suspiciously but deciding he really had nothing to lose, took the pill and put it in his mouth. He drank all the water and Fenton took the cup away. Less than twenty minutes later, the child was sound asleep.
Again, the child awoke in a strange place. He was on the bottom of a set of bunk beds, and the woman from earlier was sitting in a chair beside the bed, sound asleep. To his surprise, he discovered his leg was encased in a plaster cast.
"Hey," whispered Frank, hearing the child stirring, and poking his head down from the bunk above. "You never did tell me your name."
The child looked up at him and swallowed. He looked over at the woman who had been so nice to him. "I...I'm not sure." he said, finally.
"You have to know your own name." Frank insisted quietly. "What do your mom and dad call you?"
"I don't have a mom." the boy informed him, his soft voice sad.
"Well, what does your dad call you?" Frank persisted.
"Different things." the boy replied, after a moment.
"What?" Frank demanded impatiently.
"Stupid, brat, idiot...worthless...." the child mumbled, so softly Frank could barely hear.
Now it was Frank's turn to swallow. "How about Joe?" he asked, after a moment's thought. "You kinda look like my G.I. Joe action figure."
The child just shrugged, like he didn't really care.
"Okay, Joe it is!" Frank said. He stuck his right arm down. "Nice to meet you, Joe."
Joe looked at the proffered hand and slowly put his hand into it. Frank squeezed gently and let it go. "You want something to drink?"
Joe shook his head. "I do need to go to the bathroom though." he added, looking dubiously at the cast on his leg.
"I'll help!" Frank said. Forgetting to be quiet, he jumped down to the floor.
His mother jerked awake. "Frank, get back in bed." she said firmly.
"But Joe has to go to the bathroom." Frank argued, looking at her with his big dark eyes.
"Go get your father," she told him. "It will be easier if he carries...Joe?" she asked, looking down at him. "Is that your name?"
"I named him." Frank said, leaving the room. "He didn't have one."
"Joe...Joseph. I like that," Laura said, smiling at him. "It suits you. How are you feeling now, honey?" she asked.
"Okay." he said quietly.
"Hi," Fenton said, walking into the bedroom behind Frank. He came over and looked down at Joe. "I'm going to carry you into the bathroom." he told Joe. "If it hurts, let me know and I'll go slower. The doctor gave you a prescription for pain in case you need it." he added, leaning over and gently lifting Joe out of bed.
Five minutes later, Fenton lowered Joe back onto the bed. He reached over and ruffled Joe's hair. "You better take your medicine." he suggested when Joe winced. He realized Joe was still afraid of him, and wouldn't tell him even though he was hurting.
"I'll get it." Laura said and left the room.
"So, you want us to call you Joe?" Fenton asked. Frank had told him about naming Joe.
Joe gave a slight nod and Fenton smiled. "Are you comfortable?" he asked, noticing Joe trying to move in the bed.
Joe froze and looked up, fear showing in his eyes.
"It's okay," Fenton said, fighting back the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him as he took in the sight of the malnourished, abused child. "It's just that I'd like you to tell us if you're uncomfortable, so that we can do something about it. Casts are bothersome, but when it comes off you'll be good as new."
"Yeah, and they itch." Frank said, wrinkling his nose. "I broke my arm when I fell out of a tree last summer. It hurt for about a week and then it just itched a lot."
"Don't worry," Fenton quickly assured Joe, noting his forlorn expresssion. "We'll rig you up something so you can reach inside the cast and scratch."
"Here we go," Laura said, coming into the room with a tray. "You need something to eat before you take your medicine." she said. "We don't want you getting sick."
She set the tray down on the nightstand and sat back down in the chair she had vacated earlier. "I hope you like chicken noodle soup." she said, picking up the bowl. She lifted the spoon to her lips and sipped. "Good," she said. "It's not too hot." She took another spoonful and brought it to Joe's lips. He sipped at it as she had done, and felt the warm broth slide down his throat. Laura set the bowl down on the tray and placed the tray over Joe's lap.
Ignoring the spoon, he picked up the bowl and drank the soup, chewing a stray piece of chicken every now and then. Within five minutes every noodle was gone. Laura gave him his medicine and soon he was asleep.
"Dad," Frank whispered as he was being tucked into bed. "Why would Joe's father hurt him like that?"
"We don't know it was his father who hurt him." Fenton said, pulling the covers up to Frank's chest.
"Joe said he called him stupid and stuff like that," Frank persisted, putting his arms on top of the covers. "That's why I named him. He didn't even know his own name."
"Did he say anything else?" Fenton asked, frowning.
"He doesn't talk much." Frank stated, shaking his head.
Laura kissed Frank's forehead. "Thanks, sweetie." she said.
"For what?" Frank asked, his forehead wrinkling as his father's had only a moment before.
"For being nice to him." Fenton answered for her.
"Someone needs to be." Frank replied sleepily, his eyes closing.
Frank opened his eyes. What was it that had awakened him? There it was again...a low moan. Frank leaned over and looked at the boy on the bunk beneath his.
Joe's eyes were shut, but he was whimpering, tears streaming down his face. "Please, don't Daddy," he begged. "Please stop...I'm sorry. I'm sorry." he repeated over and over. Each sentence was interlaced with a new moan.
Frank jumped out of bed and ran to his parents' room. "Joe needs you!" he shouted, waking them up, then running back to his own room with Fenton already behind him.
"Wake up," Fenton commanded Joe, reaching over to brush the hair from his face. Joe's eyes shot open, and he scooted back against the wall as fast as the cast would allow him. "Easy now, I'm not going to hurt you." Fenton reassured the terrified child.
Frank slipped in front of his father and sat down on the bed with Joe. "You're okay," he said, putting an arm around Joe's shoulders and hugging him. Frank looked at his parents standing nearby, unable to hide their tears. He looked down at the boy he held, and started crying too. "You're okay," Frank told Joe again. "We won't let anyone hurt you, ever again," he promised.
When he came to, the car had stopped moving. Cautiously, he peered from beneath the tarp. They had stopped in front of a two-story house at the corner of two streets, both thickly lined with trees. Seeing no one, he wriggled out from beneath the tarp, intending to get off the car and slink away unnoticed, but his foot slipped, and with a yelp, he fell backward towards the pavement below.
From inside the house, a tall man in his early thirties had seen the child emerge from beneath the tarp, and had come running outside. He reached the car just as the child started to fall, and managed to catch him before he hit the ground.
The child looked up into rich brown, concerned eyes. His own blue eyes terror-filled, the little boy once again allowed darkness to overwhelm him.
The next time the child awoke, he was lying on something that felt like a cushioned table. He sat up and looked around. The man who had caught him stood over in a corner with his arm around a petite, blond woman who was crying. They were listening to a man with balding sandy brown hair, who wore a white lab coat.
"Are you okay?" asked a voice from his left. The blond-headed child turned to look, and saw a brown-haired, brown-eyed, boy who looked a little larger than he was, standing beside him. "Why were you hiding in our luggage?" the boy asked the child on the table. Not receiving an answer, he asked yet another question. "What's your name?"
"Easy, Frank," said the dark-haired man. He and the woman walked over to the boys. "He's been hurt." Fenton Hardy said, speaking gently so as not to make the blond child more anxious than he already was.
"Hi, sweetie," the woman said. "My name is Laura Hardy and this is my husband, Fenton, and our son, Frank." she introduced herself and her family. "What's your name?"
Instead of answering, the child started breathing heavily, his face still filled with fear.
"Fenton," said a voice from the doorway. Fenton turned around and saw Bayport's Chief of Police, Ezra Collig, standing there. "Have you found out who he is?" Ezra asked, coming into the room.
"Not yet." Fenton replied with a shake of his head.
"Easy baby, it's okay." Laura said to the child, who had begun struggling, trying to get off the table. His eyes had gone wide and he started whimpering at the sight of the uniformed Chief Collig.
Ezra realized his presence was upsetting the child. "I'll wait outside," he said, and left the room.
"He's gone." Fenton said soothingly to the frightened boy.
"I won't go back!" The child spoke for the first time. "Not again, I can't." he added, silent tears rolling down his cheeks as his body shook with unheard sobs. "Please don't make me!"
"The only place you're going is home with us." Laura told him gently. "No one is going to hurt you. I promise," she added, sitting beside him and taking him in her arms.
"Why were you afraid of Chief Collig?" Frank asked, wrinkling his forehead in curiosity.
"He...he'll take me back!" the child replied, still crying.
"No he won't," Fenton assured the boy. "The police are here to help."
"They took me back last time," the child protested. "They said I shouldn't lie on...." He quit speaking as if realizing he might have already said too much.
"Did you hitch a ride on our car from Burnsville?" Fenton asked softly. The child never spoke but shivered in Laura's arms.
"We're not taking you back there," Fenton promised the boy. "We're taking you home with us. We just need to know who hurt you so we can make sure they never do it again."
The doctor came over and looked at the boy. "I need to finish bandaging your ribs," he said gently. He looked at Fenton. "His leg needs a cast."
"It's not broke!" Frank piped up in protest.
"It was recently," the doctor explained. "It hasn't been healing right. It has to be corrected or he will have problems when he gets older," he added to Laura who was looking at him with terror in her eyes.
"No!" she argued, knowing she was going to lose. "He's been hurt enough."
"It won't hurt," he promised. He walked over to a cabinet and unlocked it. He removed a bottle and took a pill from it. He then replaced the bottle and relocked the cabinet.
Fenton realized what the doctor had in mind. He went to the sink and took a disposable cup, and filled it with water. Going over to the child, he gave him the cup of water as the doctor opened his hand, showing him the pill.
"If you'll swallow this, you won't feel anything," the doctor promised. "You'll go to sleep and when you wake up, you'll be feeling better."
The child looked at him suspiciously but deciding he really had nothing to lose, took the pill and put it in his mouth. He drank all the water and Fenton took the cup away. Less than twenty minutes later, the child was sound asleep.
Again, the child awoke in a strange place. He was on the bottom of a set of bunk beds, and the woman from earlier was sitting in a chair beside the bed, sound asleep. To his surprise, he discovered his leg was encased in a plaster cast.
"Hey," whispered Frank, hearing the child stirring, and poking his head down from the bunk above. "You never did tell me your name."
The child looked up at him and swallowed. He looked over at the woman who had been so nice to him. "I...I'm not sure." he said, finally.
"You have to know your own name." Frank insisted quietly. "What do your mom and dad call you?"
"I don't have a mom." the boy informed him, his soft voice sad.
"Well, what does your dad call you?" Frank persisted.
"Different things." the boy replied, after a moment.
"What?" Frank demanded impatiently.
"Stupid, brat, idiot...worthless...." the child mumbled, so softly Frank could barely hear.
Now it was Frank's turn to swallow. "How about Joe?" he asked, after a moment's thought. "You kinda look like my G.I. Joe action figure."
The child just shrugged, like he didn't really care.
"Okay, Joe it is!" Frank said. He stuck his right arm down. "Nice to meet you, Joe."
Joe looked at the proffered hand and slowly put his hand into it. Frank squeezed gently and let it go. "You want something to drink?"
Joe shook his head. "I do need to go to the bathroom though." he added, looking dubiously at the cast on his leg.
"I'll help!" Frank said. Forgetting to be quiet, he jumped down to the floor.
His mother jerked awake. "Frank, get back in bed." she said firmly.
"But Joe has to go to the bathroom." Frank argued, looking at her with his big dark eyes.
"Go get your father," she told him. "It will be easier if he carries...Joe?" she asked, looking down at him. "Is that your name?"
"I named him." Frank said, leaving the room. "He didn't have one."
"Joe...Joseph. I like that," Laura said, smiling at him. "It suits you. How are you feeling now, honey?" she asked.
"Okay." he said quietly.
"Hi," Fenton said, walking into the bedroom behind Frank. He came over and looked down at Joe. "I'm going to carry you into the bathroom." he told Joe. "If it hurts, let me know and I'll go slower. The doctor gave you a prescription for pain in case you need it." he added, leaning over and gently lifting Joe out of bed.
Five minutes later, Fenton lowered Joe back onto the bed. He reached over and ruffled Joe's hair. "You better take your medicine." he suggested when Joe winced. He realized Joe was still afraid of him, and wouldn't tell him even though he was hurting.
"I'll get it." Laura said and left the room.
"So, you want us to call you Joe?" Fenton asked. Frank had told him about naming Joe.
Joe gave a slight nod and Fenton smiled. "Are you comfortable?" he asked, noticing Joe trying to move in the bed.
Joe froze and looked up, fear showing in his eyes.
"It's okay," Fenton said, fighting back the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him as he took in the sight of the malnourished, abused child. "It's just that I'd like you to tell us if you're uncomfortable, so that we can do something about it. Casts are bothersome, but when it comes off you'll be good as new."
"Yeah, and they itch." Frank said, wrinkling his nose. "I broke my arm when I fell out of a tree last summer. It hurt for about a week and then it just itched a lot."
"Don't worry," Fenton quickly assured Joe, noting his forlorn expresssion. "We'll rig you up something so you can reach inside the cast and scratch."
"Here we go," Laura said, coming into the room with a tray. "You need something to eat before you take your medicine." she said. "We don't want you getting sick."
She set the tray down on the nightstand and sat back down in the chair she had vacated earlier. "I hope you like chicken noodle soup." she said, picking up the bowl. She lifted the spoon to her lips and sipped. "Good," she said. "It's not too hot." She took another spoonful and brought it to Joe's lips. He sipped at it as she had done, and felt the warm broth slide down his throat. Laura set the bowl down on the tray and placed the tray over Joe's lap.
Ignoring the spoon, he picked up the bowl and drank the soup, chewing a stray piece of chicken every now and then. Within five minutes every noodle was gone. Laura gave him his medicine and soon he was asleep.
"Dad," Frank whispered as he was being tucked into bed. "Why would Joe's father hurt him like that?"
"We don't know it was his father who hurt him." Fenton said, pulling the covers up to Frank's chest.
"Joe said he called him stupid and stuff like that," Frank persisted, putting his arms on top of the covers. "That's why I named him. He didn't even know his own name."
"Did he say anything else?" Fenton asked, frowning.
"He doesn't talk much." Frank stated, shaking his head.
Laura kissed Frank's forehead. "Thanks, sweetie." she said.
"For what?" Frank asked, his forehead wrinkling as his father's had only a moment before.
"For being nice to him." Fenton answered for her.
"Someone needs to be." Frank replied sleepily, his eyes closing.
Frank opened his eyes. What was it that had awakened him? There it was again...a low moan. Frank leaned over and looked at the boy on the bunk beneath his.
Joe's eyes were shut, but he was whimpering, tears streaming down his face. "Please, don't Daddy," he begged. "Please stop...I'm sorry. I'm sorry." he repeated over and over. Each sentence was interlaced with a new moan.
Frank jumped out of bed and ran to his parents' room. "Joe needs you!" he shouted, waking them up, then running back to his own room with Fenton already behind him.
"Wake up," Fenton commanded Joe, reaching over to brush the hair from his face. Joe's eyes shot open, and he scooted back against the wall as fast as the cast would allow him. "Easy now, I'm not going to hurt you." Fenton reassured the terrified child.
Frank slipped in front of his father and sat down on the bed with Joe. "You're okay," he said, putting an arm around Joe's shoulders and hugging him. Frank looked at his parents standing nearby, unable to hide their tears. He looked down at the boy he held, and started crying too. "You're okay," Frank told Joe again. "We won't let anyone hurt you, ever again," he promised.