By the time Muir came back and escorted the traumatized teenager to his room, Joe knew for certain he had to get out of here…now.

Swallowing back the bile in his throat, he still couldn’t repress a shudder as the memories of the woman’s death washed over him.  In his seventeen years he had seen many things; too many at times, but nothing like her death, and he knew it would haunt him for a long time.

Blinking back the tears, he tried to force himself past that.

He needed to get away.

Joe had no doubts in his father or brother’s capabilities – Frank would find him, he always did.  However, this time he couldn’t wait to be found.  He could not bear to witness something like that again!

His plan to escape was thwarted though, just after Muir cuffed him to the post again for the night. Joe was expecting him to leave like he had done after lunch, but this time, Muir pulled out a syringe from his pocket and uncapped it.

Eyes wide with fear, Joe fought, but it was useless, and as he drifted off into a drug induced sleep, he prayed that the face he woke up to would be his brother’s.

* * *

The sound of the phone ringing brought Frank stumbling out of his bed even as he glanced at the time.  It was 4:22 A.M.  His heart lurched with worry even as he heard his father’s voice from the kitchen.

Pushing open the kitchen door, Frank saw his grim-faced father on the phone while Sam Radley stood just behind him.  Sam turned when he heard Frank come into the kitchen.  Both men looked exhausted and Frank knew neither had been to bed yet.

He, himself, had only collapsed about three hours ago, and even then he had fought the need to sleep, tooth and nail.

“I understand,” Fenton was saying, as he leaned back against the refrigerator and sighed, “Thanks Ezra.”

Hanging up the phone, the detective looked at his partner and his son.  “That was Chief Collig,” he said unnecessarily before continuing, “They finally tracked down the Bradys.  It would seem that a couple of Liam’s buddies found the van abandoned alongside the road and took it for a joy ride.  They called him for a ride when they lost control and ended up in the lake.”

Frank scowled even as his father finished, his face taut with constrained emotion, “Collig got the names of the two kids and he’s following up on that right now.”

“So the lake isn’t the real crime scene,” Sam said as he poured himself another black coffee and offered one to Frank, who shook his head.  He’d had enough caffeine for a while.

“No,” Fenton agreed, “But we won’t know where for sure until the police have talked to the joyriders.”

“Damn,” Frank said forcibly, making both men look at him, “because of them, we’ve wasted all this time chasing our tails when there could be a real clue somewhere else!”

Fenton understood his son’s frustration, and put an arm around his shoulder.  “Why don’t you try and get some more sleep?  I’ll wake you if we find out anything.”

“What about you?” Frank asked, stifling a yawn, as he could see how tired his father was.

“I’ve still got a couple of things to check out and then I’m right behind you.” 

When Frank fixed his father with a look that told him he didn’t believe him, Sam piped in.

“Don’t worry Frank. I’ll knock him out if he isn’t in bed within the hour.”

“Thanks Sam,” Frank said as he started towards the door, but was stopped when Sam continued.

“We will find him Frank.  With the three of us working together, Joe has no choice but to be found.”

The dark-haired teen smiled at the resoluteness he heard in the man’s voice.  Nodding his head in appreciation, he trudged back upstairs, although he wasn’t so sure there was any sleep left there for him.

* * *

It was an exhausted-looking Chief Collig who was standing on the Hardys front step at 8 A.M the next morning when Frank opened the door.

“Chief?”  He stood back and let the older man in, taking in the drawn lines on his face and knowing this wasn’t going to be good.  He turned around and called out to his father and Sam, “DAD!  SAM! Chief Collig is here!”

Although both detectives had finally gone to bed only about three hours earlier, they were already up and showered.

“Ezra?” Fenton asked as he strode into the living room from the kitchen, closely followed by Sam.

Frank closed the door.

“I’m sorry Fenton,” Collig started, “we’ve interviewed the two kids who admitted to stealing the van, but they never saw anything. They said they saw the van on the side of the road.  It was unlocked and the keys were in the ignition.  No one was around so they took it for a ride…right into the lake.  They then used Joe’s cell, which was on the passenger seat, to call their friend for a lift.”

He paused and rubbed his face before continuing, “They did show us where they found the van.  It was pulled off the road about two miles from here.”

“Did you find anything?”  Sam asked, as both Fenton and Frank watched the police chief intently.  They knew him well enough to know his answer before he even said anything.

“The scene’s been contaminated.  Too much time’s passed…there are tire tracks but even as we were pulling up a large transport truck pulled right onto the spot.”  Ezra ran a hand across his weary face. Like the Hardys, sleep had not been a recent luxury.  “The FBI is still trying to process it, but it doesn’t look good.”

“No,” Frank said hoarsely; he couldn’t believe that his brother was missing and they had nothing…not even a crime scene anymore! “What do we do now?”

The three men exchanged an uncomfortable look but no one said anything as Frank already knew the answer. They would keep looking; but now instead of looking for a needle in a haystack…they were looking for an invisible needle in a field of hay.

* * *

Joe opened his eyes and groaned.  It wasn’t Frank standing there.  It was Muir.  And try as he might, he could detect no trace of concern in those deadpan brown eyes!

His head felt thick as he closed his eyes and wished he could just go back to sleep.  For one moment he had thought the whole thing was a bizarre dream, but the 6’5” man waiting somberly beside his bed was anything but a dream.

“Breakfast is in twenty minutes,” the monotone voice informed him.

“Oh great,” Joe muttered sarcastically, still not moving.  His right arm was numb and his shoulder was aching from the position he was lying in, and he knew it was going to be painful once he did get up.  “Twenty minutes to get ready?  I think I’m terrified to see what the get-up is this time.”

Muir gave no indication of hearing Joe.  He just released the handcuff from the bed and then waited, as the teen hissed in pain when the motion caused exquisite pain, like shards of glass, to go shooting up from his wrist, as his shoulder added its own protest.

When Joe was finally sitting up and trying to rub some feeling back into his numb right arm, Muir passed him a towel.  “You will need to shower first.”

Joe took the towel and stood up.  He already knew there was a shower in the small bathroom just outside the bedroom door, as he’d become acquainted with the facilities already.

When they got there, Muir started to go in with him, but Joe turned around and held up his hand.  “Whoa.  Wait a second, little buddy; there ain’t no way you’re coming in here with me!”

Muir looked at him and Joe persisted, “You let me use the bathroom by myself last night!  What do you think I’m going to do this morning, escape down the drain?”

“Fine,” the big man finally conceded, probably more from realizing they were wasting time than from Joe’s argument.  “You have seven minutes to shower and ten to get dressed.  If you are not out in seven minutes, then I will come in.”

“No problem,” Joe said, pushing Muir across the threshold and then closing the door.  Seven minutes?  He was intending to be out of the shower in less than six, just in case Muir’s counting wasn’t too good!

And exactly six minutes later a mostly dry and shivering Joe was let back into his room.  Deathe House was old and most of the heating came from fireplaces and old radiators in each room, which left the hallway unheated, save for whatever it got from open doorways.

While Joe’s room did have a fireplace, it was not lit for obvious reasons, and so the only heat he had came from the radiator, which was sufficient…unless you were wet!

Shivering, he stood by the side of the bed and groaned – another outfit, definitely gypsy this time.

“What is it with this nut and silk?” he grumbled as he hurriedly dressed, ignoring Muir as he did so.  “I myself would love to see something in denim right now…preferably jeans!”

He heard Muir sigh behind him and grinned.  He could tell he was getting on the giant’s nerves.

Good, he thought, if you’re irritated with me, then you’re bound to make a mistake.  And when you do…bam, I’m outta here!

Turning around, he smiled pleasantly, walking towards the door.  “Come, Bluto.  I have a whole new day to try and figure out how to get out of here.”
Behind him, Joe never saw the scowl that hardened Muir’s face before he hid it behind the controlled mask he usually wore; if he had, Joe would have been delighted.

* * *

Once again Mr. Rosado was sitting at his end of the table, and he smiled when he saw his young guest.

“Ah Joseph, I trust you slept well!”

Joe sat down and Muir affixed the handcuff to the chair again. He picked up the napkin and put it in his lap as he quipped, “My bed is lumpy, the room service sucks and I got a test tomorrow.  What say we call this an ‘experience’ and you have Lurch there drop me off at home?  I’ll tell Dad I got delayed by a mad costume outfitter and he’ll never be the wiser.”

Antoine laughed, his eyes twinkling merrily as he did so, “Oh child, you warm my heart.  Now come, let’s eat the good food Muir has prepared for us and talk about something I know you’ll be interested in…” his voice trailed off and he made sure he had 100% of Joe’s attention.  “Let’s talk about Frank.”