Joe’s eyes blazed in anger as he jumped up.  “You leave my brother alone!”

Muir pushed him back down in his seat and then put bacon on Joe’s plate.

“Protective are we?” Antoine asked, very much amused.

Joe was on his feet again.  “If you so much as touch a hair on his head—” and then broke off to glare up at Muir as the big man pushed him back down again and gave him two pieces of French toast.  “Stop doing that!”

“Now, now, Joseph,” Antoine cajoled, “No need to get like that.  I only said I wanted to talk about your brother, nothing else.”

Joe remained seated and Antoine smiled.  “I am just curious.  What’s he been like as a big brother?  See, my child, I too had an older brother and I am wondering if every sibling relationship is as…how shall I say it… ‘Malignant’ as ours was.  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?”

“NO!”  The forcefulness with which Joe said it amused the old man, and only Muir’s hands on his shoulders kept him in his seat this time.  “Frank is the best brother and friend anyone could even dream of!”

“Really?” Mr. Rosado asked, bewitched by the ferocity he saw in his young guest’s eyes.  “That is a quite a pronouncement, Joseph,” his voice dropped low as he finished, “because, dear boy, not all dreams are so nice.”

Muir poured tea for the old man and moved around towards Joe with the pot.

“So he is a good brother, then,” the old man restated as he sipped the hot liquid.  “Why?”

Joe put his hand over his cup to indicate that he didn’t want any tea, but then pulled it back quickly when Muir started to pour anyway.  He glowered up at the giant and could have sworn he saw a hint of amusement lurking behind his unblinking eyes.

“Why?” Joe picked up a piece of bacon and chewed it.  His stomach was telling him in no uncertain terms that he couldn’t deny he was hungry any longer.

“Yes, why is he so good?”  Antoine watched the teenager carefully – this was very important to him.

“I don’t know, he just is,” Joe said as he finished the first piece of bacon and started on another, “and he always has been.  Even when we were little, Frank was always there when I needed him to be…without me even asking.  He just always seems to know.”

Joe’s face grew sad as he thought about Frank – it had been less than 24 hours since Joe had seen him, but he missed his brother terribly.  He would never let Mr. Rosado or Muir see just how terrified he really was…so he concealed his fear behind his bravado and saucy comments.  But deep down, where the real Joe was hidden, he desperately wanted his brother to come and make everything all right – like Frank always knew how to do….

He forgot for a moment where he was or who he was talking to.  “When something bothers me, I go to Frank.  No matter what it is, he listens to me and offers advice…sometimes not the best advice, but still…advice.  And I know that no matter how busy he is or where he is, if I need him, he’ll be right there. “

Joe paused as he swallowed back the lump that was in his throat just thinking about his brother, and knowing he might never see him again.  And this time when he spoke, his voice was soft and heavy with emotion.  “He told me once that he was a watcher while I was a doer, and between the two of us, we had everything covered…” and then Joe’s voice trailed off as he looked at Mr. Rosado, and the soft melancholy expression on his face hardened.

He finished resolutely, “Frank will find me, Mr. Rosado.  He always does.  He’s too good of a big brother…not to.”

The old man sat back and pondered what he’d heard for a few long moments.  And then he glanced at Muir, who immediately moved to take Joe back to his room.

“Hey I’m not finished eating,” Joe protested, wondering why the meal was being cut short.  “We only just sat down!”

“Sorry, my child,” Antoine said, his face blank of all expression, “but I have something to do this morning, so reluctantly I must cut this short.”

“Can I at least have a doggy bag?” Joe called back, he was still hungry and he could hear the old man’s laughter reverberating through the house behind him.

“You are precious, my child, aren’t you?”

But Joe still didn’t get anything extra.

* * *

“Any luck?” Chet Morton asked as he came in through the kitchen door and opened the fridge to see if there was anything worth pilfering.

Years of being Frank’s best friend had afforded him a familiarity with the house that few other friends enjoyed – raiding the fridge was one of them.

Frank sat down at the table and shook his head, “No.  Everything has been a complete waste of time.”

“What do you mean?”  Chet grabbed an apple and sat down across from the dejected Hardy.

“The van being in the lake and Joe’s disappearance aren’t related.”  Frank then went on to recount everything they had found out from Chief Collig.  “Bottom line is, my little brother is missing and if the ground had just opened up and swallowed him whole, we’d have a better chance of finding him.”

Chet paused mid-bite and stared at his best friend before saying gently, “That doesn’t sound like the Frank Hardy I know.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Frank agreed before leveling with his oldest friend.  “Chet, it’s something Vanessa said to me yesterday while we were at the lake.  And it’s hit home a bit more than I want to admit.”

“What?”

“She said that she felt this time we wouldn’t find Joe in time…” Frank’s dark brown eyes were wide with fear as he whispered, “and I feel it too.”

Sighing deeply, Chet put the apple down and sat back in the chair. He regarded the dark-haired teenager sitting in front of him for a few moments before he said, “Yeah, but Frank, it’s just a feeling, and sometimes feelings can be wrong.”

Seeing that his friend wasn’t convinced, Chet continued, “You remember that day when we were little kids and Joe almost drowned in the creek saving that puppy?”

Frank’s eyes glazed over for a moment and he nodded; yeah, he remembered that day very well.

“Well I never told you this before, but when you dived in the water looking for Joey I just had this horrible feeling that we were too late.  It was bad…I felt like I wanted to throw up.”  Frank looked at Chet and the stout boy continued, “And then when you did find him and he wasn’t breathing, I knew I was right.”

“But Chet,” Frank said after waiting for his friend to finish the story, and Chet didn’t, “Joe didn’t die.  Dad performed CPR on him.”  He couldn’t understand where his friend was going with this.
Chet nodded.  “Yeah, he did.  But that’s my point - feelings can be wrong.  I would have bet my life that we were too late, if anyone had asked me to…but I was wrong.  Isn’t it possible that you’re wrong this time?  I mean, let’s not go making any pronouncements before we give Joe a chance.”

Frank stared at Chet strangely and then he smiled his first genuine smile of the day.  “Thanks, Chet.  I needed that.”  And then he couldn’t help but add, “Since when did you get so smart?”

“It must be all those chemicals I’m breathing in at work these days,” Chet grinned, picking up the apple and taking another bite.

“Oh geez,” Frank said, “I’m sorry buddy.  With everything that happened I forgot you started your part time job yesterday.  How’d it go?”

Chet beamed.  “Did I ever mention to you that I love photography? Frank, this is my dream job – behind the counter at a film processing store.  Me, Chet Morton!  Who would have guessed?”

“I’m happy for you,” Frank said, and he meant it, knowing how much Chet did enjoy his photographic hobby, but then his smile faded as he thought of someone else who enjoyed taking pictures…albeit, they were usually of one pretty girl, Vanessa Bender.

“Don’t give up hope just yet, Frank,” Chet said softly, as he recognized the change in his friend and knew that Frank was thinking about Joe.  “That kid has been beating the odds since the day he was born.”

“Yeah,” Frank said as he got up to get his first cup of coffee of the day, “but what if this is the day when the odds catch up?”

Chet didn’t say anything. There was nothing he could say.

* * *

“What happened to Mr. Rosado’s brother?” Joe demanded, just out of curiosity, as Muir secured his wrist to the bed post again.

The big man stopped, stared him straight in the face and said in his deadpan voice, “He ate him.”

And the worst of it was that Joe had no idea if Muir was kidding.

* * *

The fisherman cursed his luck as he stared at the object entrapped by his net – although he wasn’t 100% sure of what it was, he had a very good suspicion.

“Damn,” he muttered as he finished hauling it in and watched it fall onto the boat’s deck. Taking out a boning knife, he deftly slit open the blue tarpaulin and then swore as his worst suspicions were confirmed.

“Radio the coast guard – we’ve got a floater,” he shouted out to his first mate, whose face turned a sickly shade of gray as he looked out onto the deck.

The fisherman crossed himself before taking off his jacket, kneeling down and placing it over the body.  He felt a tear slip down his weather-beaten face as he saw the damage done to her….Who could have done this to another human being?

* * *

Chet was just leaving when the doorbell rang, and he stuck around to see who it was, just in case it was someone with news about Joe.

* * *

Frank opened the door and then smiled in surprise.  “Mr. Rosado?”

The short man smiled up at the teenager.  “Ah Frank, so nice to see you again.  Is by any chance, your father home?”

“Actually, he and Sam are out right now,” Frank answered, even as he ushered the old man in.

“Sam Radley is here too?” Mr. Rosado said, surprise clearly evident in his voice.

“Yeah, with Joe missing, Dad pulls out all the stops,” Frank admitted.

“Then your brother is still missing?” Mr. Rosado asked as he took off his coat and hat and passed it to the teenager.  “That is too bad.  Do you mind if I wait around for your father and Mr. Radley?  It has been a long time since I have seen young Sam.”

Frank chuckled, hearing the other detective being called ‘young Sam,’ even as he nodded.  “Sure, I’ve got phone duty until Dad gets back anyway. “

“Good,” smiled the old man, “then you and I can get to know each other better.”

“I think I’d like that,” Frank admitted, before quickly introducing Mr. Rosado to Chet, who said a quick hello and then left – he had to get to work. 

The older Hardy boy led the old man to the kitchen and put on a cup of tea for him. He figured two things: First, Mr. Rosado could keep him company until his Dad got back; and secondly, that the old man would probably be very interesting to talk to.

He certainly seemed like a character….

Of course, Frank had no way of knowing just how right he was….