Fenton and Sam were just getting ready to leave the house when a green-faced officer raced past them and out the front door. Trading a look, they heard him being sick, moments later.

While anxious to get to the hospital and find out how Joe was doing, their curiosity was aroused.  What could have warranted such a strong reaction from one of the officers searching Deathe House?

Fenton had to know; especially if it could have any repercussions for his son.

The ASPCA had already been there to take care of the dog, which, while large, had presented them no problems.  The animal would be kept at the shelter until either Mr. Rosado, or the state, made alternate arrangements for him.

Collig’s grim face met them at the end of a hall, and he shook his head.  “You’re not going to believe it.”

“Humor us,” Sam said.

The older man looked from Fenton to Sam and back to Fenton again. He spoke slowly.  “We found his trophy case.”

* * *

Joe slowly opened his eyes, saw someone standing over him and bolted up out of bed.  Frank’s quick reflexes were the only thing that kept him from falling on the floor as his ankle buckled beneath him.

“Whoa, easy,” the older teen soothed, somewhat startled by Joe’s abrupt awakening.  “It’s okay.”

They had finally gotten home in the wee hours of the morning, and after a couple hours of sleep, Frank had just come in to check on his brother – mostly to confirm for himself that Joe was indeed safe and sound at home.

Joe had been very lucky.  Although his ankle was badly sprained, and his frantic race through the woods had done nothing to improve on it…it wasn’t broken.  Other than that, he’d been hungry and suffering from mild dehydration for which he was put on an IV for the duration of the assessment.

His right wrist, badly torn from the handcuffs, had been treated, bandaged and then he’d been given a shot of antibiotics as a precautionary measure against infection.

Dr. Mikes, the ER physician who had assessed Joe, assured the family that he’d be okay after a couple of good days of rest, and then he’d discharged the teen and sent them on their way.

Fenton had called to see how Joe was doing but, as far as Frank knew, he wasn’t home yet.

Frank kept a firm grip on his brother’s arm, although Joe made no move to get back into bed; instead, he remained standing by the side of it, with his injured leg bent slightly to keep the weight off his ankle.

The younger boy stared at him, his eyes wide, his chest heaving as he fought to get his racing heart under control.  For one moment, he had thought he was back in Deathe House and that Frank was Muir!

“Sorry,” Joe finally mumbled as he relaxed a bit, but didn’t try and move away from his brother, yet.  “Thought you were someone else.”

Squeezing his arm affectionately, Frank was just about to say something when there was a soft knock on the bedroom door, followed by their father’s voice.

“Joe?  Son, you awake?”

“Yeah,” Joe said as he sat back down on his bed and let Frank help him prop his foot up on a pillow.  The younger boy scooted up until he was sitting up with his back pressed against the wall.  After waking up like that, he wasn’t exactly too anxious to go back to sleep right now.

Fenton opened the door and came in, not at all surprised to see Frank standing by his brother’s bed.  He gave his sons a smile, but they could both see how forced it was.

Immediately Joe thought something had happened with Mr. Rosado.

“What’s wrong?  Did he get away?” he asked anxiously, and his father rushed to assure him.

“No, no.  We got him, and he’s been arrested.”

“Thank goodness,” Frank said genuinely relieved.  While he wasn’t sure yet what had happened to Joe during his captivity, just the idea that the man who had been responsible was behind bars, was very comforting.

Joe didn’t say anything.

After a moment, Fenton sat down next to his younger son, indicated that Frank should sit down too, and sighed.

“Joe,” he started, his voice gentle.  He could see how weary the teen was and hated to press him right now, but he needed to know what his child had seen…how much Joe knew.  “If you feel up to it, we really need to know what happened.”

Sighing, the blond youth leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.  He heard Frank lean forward from the desk chair he was sitting in, and then felt his comforting hand on his arm.

“I’m here little brother,” Frank reminded him softly, “every step of the way.”

Joe smiled at that and thought, yes, you are big brother.  And feeling strength through that simple touch and statement, the younger boy nodded his head, opened his eyes and looked at his father.  “Okay.”

Fenton let out a relieved sigh.  After what they’d found in Antoine’s house, the detective was terrified for his son.  But the fact that the teen wasn’t too hesitant to talk to them about it now, speared him with a hope that somehow Joe might have been spared from all the grisly details of what Rosado and Muir had been doing.

Unfortunately, for the detective, he, and the others who had been there during the search, were not….

* * *

Frank sat with his brother as Joe gave his statement, and as he listened to the bizarre tale of giants and silk shirts, he just shook his head; his relief fathomless that his brother had escaped.

Antoine Rosado was a madman.

Giving Joe’s shoulder a supportive squeeze as the younger boy faltered during the retelling of the murder he’d been forced to witness, Frank felt his anger simmering hotly, as he thought of how that smug little man had sat across the table from him…eating his mother’s banana bread!  All the while knowing he had Frank’s brother locked away in his house…for his own amusement!

A couple of times, Frank closed his eyes and had to force himself to swallow his feelings.

Antoine had taken him in…taken them all in!

But then, slipping his arm around his brother’s shoulder when he heard a barely restrained sob, Frank amended his statement.  They hadn’t been all been taken in…Joe hadn’t.

Oh little brother, he thought, you were so right…. Mr. Rosado was very creepy….

* * *

Fenton kept his arms wrapped tightly around his wife as they stood on the other side of the two-way mirror and listened to Joe talk.  They had wanted to be in there with him, but the blond teen had asked them not to.  He only wanted Frank there.

Joe knew his parents would be listening on the other side, and that was fine with him.  But he really didn’t want to see the look on their faces when they heard him talk about what had happened, and more especially about the woman….

“Ohmygod,” Laura whispered as she watched her son seeming to fall apart in the room, when he spoke of what he witnessed.  As much as she wanted to run into the room and comfort him, she saw Frank move to, and instead, looked up at her husband.

Fenton saw the horror on her face and squeezed her tightly as he whispered, “Joe’s a strong kid, Laura, he’ll be okay….We’ll make sure of that.”

Closing her eyes while she collected herself, the worried mother hoped her husband was right about Joe’s strength….She couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must have been like to be there.

* * *

After Joe finished giving his statement, Laura went into the room while Collig pulled Fenton to the side.  His eyes held an apology, but for what, the detective wasn’t sure yet.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded immediately, as out of the corner of his eye, he saw his wife move towards Joe.  The younger boy was white-faced and trembling, a testimony to how much talking about this had shaken him up.

“I think my Jane Doe is the woman Joe saw murdered,” he said glancing into the small room, “but I need him to make a positive ID.”

“Then you can charge Rosado with murder, as well,” Fenton stated bluntly, even as he rubbed a hand across his weary face.  “This just keeps getting better.”  He now knew why Collig was apologizing – he needed Fenton’s seventeen-year-old son to revisit something that was obviously very upsetting for him.  Joe needed to see the body.

Fenton muttered something under his breath and then nodded, curtly.  “Okay.  Let me talk to him.”

“If there was any other way…” the chief began, and the detective cut him off, wanting to get this over with so they could go home.

“I know, Ezra.  I know.”  Without another word he opened the door to the small room, walked in and smiled at his son.