Fenton kept one hand firmly on his son’s shoulder as Joe sucked in a deep breath and nodded.  He was ready.

Frank and Laura were outside in the hall waiting for them.

As the body was pulled out of the morgue freezer and the plastic covering un-zippered, Fenton’s stomach lurched even as he felt his son tense under his hand.

“Oh Joey,” he whispered, gaining a horrifying understanding into just how traumatic this must have been for his young son.  Murder by itself was atrocious, but this one was particularly brutal.

The investigator, a veteran in his field, was no stranger to death; and he had seen Rosado’s ‘trophies’….But he still wasn’t prepared for this!

“T-that’s her,” Joe managed to get the words out before he turned around and buried his face in his father’s chest.  Fenton held his son as the dead woman on the cold slab was pushed back in the freezer.

“Thanks Joe,” Officer Riley said quietly as he recorded the ID – her true identity might not be known, but this Jane Doe could rest in peace.…Her murderer would do his time.

* * *

After a few minutes, Joe pulled away from his father, hastily wiped the tears from his face and asked, “Why Dad?  Why he’d do this to her?  To me?”

“He’s a very sick man,” Fenton said absently, not really knowing what else to say.  He was heartsick to know that this woman’s death would follow his son and always be a part of the man Joe became.

“But her eyes…” Joe looked at him in horror as his mind raced through the last few minutes of her life again.  “Why’d he take her eyes?”

Swallowing hard as the investigator realized his son hadn’t been spared as much as he’d hoped, he was forced to admit the truth.  “He’s a collector, Joe.  A human collector.”

* * *

Frank did not like the look on his brother’s face when he and their father finally did come out of the room.

“Joe?” he said tentatively as he took his brother’s arm and sat him down in one of the wooden benches outside the room, laying the crutches against the wall.  Joe looked ready to pass out.  “Are you okay?”

“No,” Joe admitted quietly, shaking his head as he did so.  “Frank, he collected eyes…human eyes.”

Stunned, the older boy sat down slowly on the seat next to his brother and looked up at his father, begging for some rational explanation for his brother’s statement.  But as his father just shook his head and looked away…he knew there wasn’t one.

“Fenton?” his mother’s horror-stricken voice filled the hallway, and the investigator sighed, leaned back against the wall across from his sons and rubbed his temples.

“Rosado is a monster,” was all he could say in explanation.

* * *

When the Hardys pulled up in their driveway, they were surprised to see Chet Morton waiting for them on their front porch.  His face broke into a wide smile as he said ‘hello’ and then followed them into the house.

“You’re never going to believe this,” he said as they stood in the living room, “But Rosado sent us a check to cover the cost of the couch.”

“No way!” Frank said, his eyes wide in disbelief as Joe scowled; neither could believe the nerve of the guy.  “How’d he manage that, he’s in jail?”

“Antoine’s lawyer was at the precinct before he was,” Fenton said grimly by way of explanation.

“Dad sent it back, though.  He doesn’t want anything from that nutcase,” Chet told them.

Propping the crutches to the side of it, Joe sat down heavily in an armchair.  “You should have taken the money.”  Everyone looked at him in surprise.

He shrugged.  “Why not?  Muir was his pet.”

No one said anything for a few moments, and then the phone rang and Laura excused herself to answer it.  Fenton followed her, anxious for a much-needed cup of coffee.

Frank sat down on the arm of the chair Joe was sitting in as Chet flumped down on the couch.  The boys sat in silence for a few more moments before Joe finally said, “I didn’t get a chance to say it before, Chet, but thanks.  You guys saved my life.”

Chet blushed; he wasn’t good at handling gratitude.  “It’s okay, Joe, you’d have done the same for me.”

Joe looked at his friend intently, his eyes vibrant with sincerity.  “Yes, I would have.”  And then he continued, “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever told you this before, but last night just reminded me of how lucky I am, to have you as one of my friends.  You’re irreplaceable, Chester Morton.”

Speechless, Chet turned to Frank, assuming that he’d told Joe about what Rosado had said, but the older brother just shrugged.  He hadn’t had a chance to tell Joe anything yet!

And then Joe stood up and grabbed his crutches.  “If you guys don’t mind, I think I’m going to lie down for a bit.”

Waiting until they heard Joe’s room door close upstairs, Frank looked at Chet and held up his hands.  “Honestly Chet, I never mentioned anything to Joe, yet!”  And then he grinned.  “But see?  It’s like I told you – Zen-Frank says,” he bowed and did his best impersonation of Confucius,” ‘you are good friend…because you are good friend.’”

Laughing at the look on Chet’s face, Frank barely managed to duck the pillow that was launched from the couch two seconds later!

* * *

Later that night Frank found his brother sitting up on his bed, staring blankly at the wall; his face cast in the shadows of the lamp next to the bed.

The eighteen-year-old was surprised, as it was late and he’d thought Joe had fallen asleep hours ago.  Frank, himself, had been asleep, when he just woke up with the strangest need to make sure Joe was still in his room.

And he was; however, the blond boy was far from being asleep.

“You okay?” Frank asked quietly, moving into Joe’s room.  The other teen started for a moment and then smiled.

“Do you know how many times I’ve been asked that since last night?”

“No,” Frank said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and watching his brother carefully.  Neither he nor his parents were expecting Joe to just go back to being the same kid he’d been only days earlier – they realized that there would probably be sleepless nights ahead, if his reactions so far were any indication.

But Frank had still hoped.

“Me neither,” Joe said, rubbing his eyes.  He really was tired, but every time he closed them he was terrified he would open them to see Muir standing over him…and that this was the dream.

“We’re just worried about you,” Frank said bluntly.

Joe looked at his brother for a long time and then he just said, “Mr. Rosado used to have a brother.”

…Does Frank like to scare you Joseph?  Does he like to dangle you above your fears and relish in your weakness?  My child…does your brother live to torment you?

“Yeah, so I heard—”  Frank’s words were cut off as suddenly his younger brother threw himself at him and grabbed him in a tight hug. 

When Frank was finally able to get his breath, he gasped, “What’s this for?”

“For being my brother…”

“Oh kiddo,” Frank soothed as he held his brother and rubbed his back, “you never have to thank me for that….”

Neither brother said anything else.  But in the morning, when their parents came to check on them, they found them asleep; Joe nestled against his brother with Frank’s arms wrapped protectively around him.

Laura smiled at Fenton, who gave her a peck on the cheek, and then backed them quietly out of the room before they woke the boys.

“See,” he whispered, “He’s going to be just fine.  How can he not be?” the detective continued, enjoying the feeling that had come over him seeing his sons like that.  He knew they were truly blessed that their children were so close.  “He’s got a Frank.”

And then Laura swatted at him playfully as he finished, referring to his somewhat stoic older sister, “I wish I could get me one of those…all I got is a Gert!”

* * *

The woman at the ASCPA looked at the old man.  “We were told you were coming.”

The old man didn’t say anything, but followed her down the long corridor and past all the dog cages, until they came to the one holding the mastiff.  The dog was on its feet immediately, recognizing the man.

“Well, he seems happy enough to see you,” the woman said as she opened the door.  The huge dog was wagging his tail enthusiastically.

“Indeed,” the old man said, giving the dog an affectionate pat on the head, before turning to leave, with the animal following faithfully at his heels.

“Just out of curiosity,” the woman asked, knowing the history of this dog, “how do you know his owner?”

The old man offered her a tired smile and shrugged before he left.  “I’m his big brother….”