I own nothing

I woke up in a hospital bed with an IV dripping a red liquid into my arm. Dad was asleep in a chair next to the bed but woke up when I inhaled deeply. "How are you?" he asked, looking me over from head to toe.

I shrugged. I was better, of course. Nothing could be worse then being in that basement. I was dizzy as a dodo bird ― probably from losing so much blood ― and the cuts on my back and arms smarted. But Joe and I had gotten out of there alive.


"Where's Joe?" my voice was horse and I could feel a band-aid on my throat from where the knife had cut into it, but that didn't really matter.

Dad looked over me to the other bed, where a fit of coughing had suddenly broken out. I exhaled the breath I hadn't known I'd been holding. I blame the whole older-brother complex.

"Great, you finally joined the land of the living." Joe had managed to stop coughing to get out that simple sentence. He was improving after only a couple hours (was it only a couple hours? I had no idea what time it was. The sun was shining out the window) at the hospital.

I propped myself up on one elbow so that I could look at him, "Nice to see you too, sickie." Joe had a white cast on his arm, already signed by ― who else? ― Iola Morton. The cast went up past his elbow. Joe saw me looking at it and smiled a real smile.

"Broke four bones in just one arm. That's a new record, isn't it?" Joe had to stop in the middle of the sentence to catch his breath. He wasn't well yet. Not even close.

Mom was shaking her head. I guess she didn't like that Joe thought breaking his arm was something to brag about, but whatever. Compared to what could have happened, we got out okay.

I let myself sink back down into the pillows. My head was spinning so much I barely knew which way was up. But I still had a couple more questions. Before I even opened my mouth, though, dad was already talking.

"We caught them. The police even managed a confession. They're in jail, and are going to be for a long, long time."

Well, okay. I was going to ask that question, but I had another. "Who was the girl? And the dog?" I sensed Joe nodding. He wanted to know the answer too.

Dad smiled, "The girl was Amanda Louis, and the dog was Jude. They were the ones who found your sign. Good idea, by the way." Dad winked.

Great, everything was perfect. Kind of like happily-ever-after. I was alive. My brother was alive. The villains were behind bars, and they couldn't ever touch us again. So another lot of low-lifes are in prison.

And all we have to do now is find our next case.

The End. So review.