Frank Hardy trotted downstairs looking for his parents.  He had a couple of questions he wanted to ask them about the coach.  He remembered that his father had gone to speak to the man later that night, after he and their mom got home.  Frank had gone with him and searched the park area for the dog while the grownups spoke. Joe had refused to leave his room…

“Hey, Mom,” the teen greeted as he found his mother in the kitchen, staring into a cold cup of tea.

“Oh!” she said, apparently startled, “hi sweetie, where’s your brother?”  Frank got the distinct impression that she had been lost in thought.

“Upstairs, sleeping,” he answered before asking, “Where’s Dad and Sam?  In the office?”

“No,” she shook her head, “They went by the precinct; apparently the autopsy results were in—”

“On Ramon?  He was shot,” Frank added, a bit surprised that his father would go across town for that, but his mother was shaking her head.

“Not the informant. The other one. Tex,” his mother corrected him and then smiled at how green he became. Not normally squeamish, the thoughts of an autopsy on an eight year old corpse…his mother’s next comment interrupted that thought, “although after such a long time, it wouldn’t really be an autopsy – I suppose – as much as an examination of the bones that had been left.”

“Thanks Mom,” he mumbled and then slumped down in the chair across from her.

“Anytime,” she smiled brightly and then frowned as she saw the perturbed look on Frank’s face. “ ‘Something vexes thee?’ ” she asked gently, quoting her favorite line from Kevin Costner’s Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves.

Frank gave her a wry smile and then shrugged.  “You looked a little ‘vexed’ yourself when I came in, is something wrong?”

“Not really,” his mother denied, “mostly lost in thought – and yourself?”

“I’ve been thinking about Joe,” Frank admitted, his brown eyes catching the flash of pain which crossed his mother’s face. ‘Aha’ he thought, ‘you’ve been thinking about it too’, “well more correctly, about Joe’s suicide attempt.”

“Oh yes…that.”  His mother glanced away briefly, furthering his suspicions. “Your father told me he’d spoken to you about it.”

“Yeah, he did.”  Frank paused and leaned back in the chair. “I don’t think I took it very well,” he admitted after a moment, “it was just a bit of a shock.”

His mother snorted softly as she regarded him fondly.  “Has anyone ever mentioned to you before about your penchant for understatement?”

“Oh maybe, once or twice.”  He managed a smile and then waited to see if she would offer anything, and after a moment she did.

“It was a bit of a shock for us all,” Laura confessed, “but I do hope you understand why we felt it best to not tell you at the time.”

“I think so,” Frank said slowly, “but I still don’t like it.  I just feel that I should have been told something.”

“Like what?” his mother asked, her pale blue eyes regarding him seriously.

“I don’t know,” he admitted as he ran a hand through his dark hair, “maybe that Joe had been sick and I should pay a bit more attention to him—”

“It wasn’t your lack of attention that was the problem!”  The harsh words were out of Laura’s mouth before she even realized she was going to say them, and was as shocked to hear them as Frank was. Paling, she quickly covered her mouth even as she apologized, “Oh Frank, I’m so sorry!  I never meant to say that.”

Frank looked at his mother in surprise.  “But you think it?”

“No!” she quickly refuted and then sighed, “not really.”

His look implored her to continue.  Frank was curious and a bit unsettled, knowing she had been referring to the shrink’s comment that the suicide was a cry for Fenton’s attention.  His parents always got along so well – were so in love – that it was embarrassing sometimes, and rather uncharacteristic of either one of them to make such an acrimonious remark about the other.

“Things were pretty complicated back then, “ his mother tried to explain, “both you and your brother were too young to realize it, but your father and I hit a rough patch, and unfortunately your brother’s suicide attempt punctuated it very clearly.”

Frank was shocked to hear this – even more shocked than hearing his mother’s outburst.  She continued, her voice sounding weary, “Your father was so busy…and it was just the three of us most times. I wanted him to be home more but he insisted he couldn’t and that he was doing all this for us…

“He thought the problem was that I wasn’t comfortable staying in this big house with just you boys, and thought he’d found the perfect solution,” she rolled her eyes in exasperation, “your Aunt Gertrude!”

Frank stifled a grin as he thought about his peppery aunt. Older than his father, Gertrude and Laura – though fond of each other – had a spectacular way of getting on each others’ nerves.  Laura found Gertrude to be too bossy and critical of ‘everything,’ while Gertrude found the younger woman to be too lenient and emotional.  Gertrude had actually lived with the family for a few years prior to this, but after an altercation between her and Laura after Joe’s kidnapping from a carnival fun house when he was five, Fenton had asked the older woman to leave.  And she did. Only to return four years later….

“So your aunt moved in with us, again.”  His mother’s words interrupted his musing and he returned his attention back to her.  “Of course it wasn’t a case of me or us being lonely for company, we were lonely for specific company…your father’s.

“So like I said, things were a bit strained – and then Hero disappeared.”

* * *

“You know sometimes I wonder why I even bother to leave,” Fenton quipped as he and Sam Radley walked into Chief Collig’s office and plunked down in the familiar seats across from the older man and his desk.  He looked around and breathed a big sigh of relief.  “No Smuff?”  He grinned, knowing the infuriating little man was stuck on a stake-out at Fenton’s own home.

Both Sam and Collig laughed and then the Chief became serious again and opened the small file on his desk.  “Well, as we expected, the Manning Park body, identified by you, Fenton, as ‘Tex,’ was most likely foul-play—”  He glanced up at twin scowls and shrugged, “Hey I’m just telling you what it says.” He continued, “because of the decomposition of the body, it is difficult to give an exact cause of death; however, deep grooves found in the skull and a number of other bones in the body, strongly indicate that he was cut – with a very sharp knife.”

“He was cut ‘with a very sharp knife’?” Fenton snorted, “Are you kidding? That’s all it says?”

Now it was Ezra’s turn to scowl.  “Is your name Smuff?  Do I look like I’m kidding?”

“Sorry,” Fenton mumbled, ignoring the amused look on Sam’s face.

The chief let the report fall on his desk.  “His bones were carved up like a turkey – that’s the bottom line.”

“Wonderful, so nothing to go on is what you’re saying,” Fenton summed up, and his partner patted his back reassuringly.

“Well, he’s confirmed that Tex was murdered…most likely,” Sam tried to keep a straight face, but couldn’t and laughed, “Ezra, who did this examination and report – it sounds pretty green—”

“And inconclusive,” Fenton put in.

“And inconclusive…” Sam grinned, “to me.”

“Actually that would have been me,” a woman’s voice from behind them made both Fenton and Sam whirl around. Neither had heard the door open. A pretty, black-haired woman with light brown eyes was standing there. The two detectives immediately stood up; Sam blushed, embarrassed to be overheard like that.

Chief Collig also stood, and hid his grin at Sam’s obvious discomfort.  “Fenton, Sam, this is Ethel Morris, our new assistant medical examiner.”

“Hello,” Fenton greeted her.

“Hi,” Sam mumbled and then offered a sheepish apology, “Sorry about that comment.”

“It’s okay – Sam, isn’t it?”  Ethel asked, her brown eyes appraising the man. She smiled, obviously liking what she didn’t see – a wedding ring.

“Yeah, Sam,” the sandy-haired detective confirmed, trying desperately to ignore the look Fenton was giving him.

The woman smiled warmly.  “I just wanted to make sure you had no questions about my report.  Although I do have to admit, I prefer to simplify whenever possible.”

“Hence it was a ‘very sharp knife,’ in your professional opinion,” Fenton quipped and Ethel laughed – Sam decided he liked her laugh.

“Exactly!  I can’t narrow it down any more than that, unfortunately – I suppose I could clutter up the report and try and sound bureaucratic…but I do prefer to speak as much ‘layman’ as possible.”

“It’s very refreshing,” Sam said, grinning like an idiot and wondering if he looked as idiotic as he sounded!

Ethel laughed again, her brown eyes twinkling at him.  “I’m glad you approve.  Anyway, Chief, I wanted to let you know I’ll have the autopsy report for the Bremmen Street case on your desk in about an hour.”

“Thank you,” Collig said and then added to the two men, “homeless man found in a back alley; no foul play suspected.”

“Ah,” Fenton nodded, but Sam just continued to stare at Ethel.

As Ethel turned to leave, she held out her hand to shake Sam’s, slipping something into his palm as she did so. She winked at the shock on his face, and said good-bye to Fenton and slipped out the door again.

“Got her number did you?” Fenton teased as he saw his partner looking down at the card she’d given him.

Sam shook his head in disbelief.  “You’re never going to believe this…but I did!”

Fenton slapped him on the back even as he quipped, “You haven’t lost your touch, Romeo!”

“Oh shut up,” Sam groused, but the grin on his face made it very difficult for anyone to think he was upset.

Collig just shook his head.  “A bleeding meat-market, that’s what my office has become – a pickup joint for the lonely crime-fighters of America!  Now will the two of you get the hell out of here and catch this guy?”

“We’re going, we’re going,” Fenton said, grinning as he left the office. Sam followed, still staring down at the card and shaking his head.

* * *

“It was pretty ironic, actually,” Laura said as she sat back down at the table across from her son after making a fresh pot of coffee; dumping her tea in exchange for the stronger brew, “they say that having a sick child puts an inordinate amount of stress on a family and can cause many a strong relationship to fray – but it worked the opposite for me and your father.”

Frank felt like he was being treated to a rare insight into his parents’ marriage, and although he felt awkward listening, he was interested enough not to interrupt her.  It might have been different if she wasn’t speaking of the past, and if he had any concerns about their relationship…but he didn’t.  His parents loved and respected each other, so he nodded for her continue.

“We needed each other to pull through this.  I’ve never seen your father so scared of anything in his life as when he looked down at your brother, still deeply unconscious, and the doctor told us that it was up to Joe now…”  She leaned back in her chair and brushed an errant blond strand from her face.  “and I—” she sighed and looked at Frank wearily, “and I was afraid I’d lose them both.  Joe to his own hand and your father to his guilt…”  She shrugged.  “So I fought as hard as I could for both of them.  And for you.”

Frank swallowed hard and his mother reached out and touched his face with a gentle caress.  “Even if the doctors didn’t think it was a good idea to tell you; I knew it wasn’t. You loved – love – your brother too much to know.  It would have just hurt you and hurt how you saw him. That kind of fear and worry is hard enough for a parent; it would not have been fair of us to put it on you.  Yes, in hindsight, maybe we should have said something, but unfortunately I don’t think either of us – me or your Dad that is – handled things very well anyway.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Frank admitted after a moment, and his mother gave a small laugh.

“Oh honey, you don’t have to say anything!  I just wanted to help you realize why we made the decisions we did.  Once your brother regained consciousness and seemed to just bounce back, we just picked up and carried on. Things were different, of course, but that was mostly evident between me and your father.  It helped both of us refocus on what truly was important – our family, the four of us.”

“And Aunt Gertrude,” Frank smiled as he placed his hand over his mother’s and squeezed.

His mom rolled her eyes.  “Don’t get me started on that right now, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed and then his face grew serious again.  “Mom, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, sweetie, what is it?”  Laura took a sip of her coffee as she watched him.

“Do you think Joe remembers – what he did, I mean?”

A strange look filtered across his mother’s face as she seemed to regard that question seriously for a few moments.  “You know, I don’t know. It never really occurred to me like that, actually.  I mean, he certainly acted like he didn’t but I never—”  She stopped talking and frowned as she chewed the question over and then her eyes widened and her hand went over her mouth.  “Ohmygosh –that never even occurred to me!  We just assumed he didn’t want to talk about it, not that he couldn’t talk about it!”

“Well, it’s just that both you and Dad said that Joe kinda just snapped out of it and he never did mention anything to me – not even a peep. So I started to wonder if maybe there was some sort of damage from the overdose – like memory damage or something,” the dark-haired teen admitted, a bit surprised that this had not occurred to his mother before.  But then thinking about what she’d just confessed, he decided he really shouldn’t have been surprised.  She had been distracted – both his parents had been.

“That is quite possible. The doctors did say it would not be unusual if Joe did suffer lapses in memory but—”  her voice trailed off and she sighed heavily, “that certainly would explain some things.”

“Yeah it would,” Frank admitted, taking a large drink of his lukewarm coffee.  He leveled with his mother:  “Mom, I think that Joe might be starting to remember and that’s why he took off to New York.”

His mother nodded and said slowly, “It does make some sense…” she frowned, “But why now, after all this time?”

“I have a theory about that too, actually,” the teen offered, and then continued when his mother indicated for him to, “Coach Iago showed up here the night Joe left…and I think Joe took one look at the coach, and it’s opened the floodgates on all of this.”

Laura nodded.  “That does make very good sense. The dog’s disappearance was very difficult for your brother and he has never gotten over that.”

“No, he hasn’t,” Frank agreed, and then sighed, “I just wish I really knew what happened—”

“What do you mean?” his mother pressed.

“I mean when Joe and Hero stayed behind with the coach while I went to Chuck’s for the celebration. I just find it so strange that the dog didn’t come back for Joe – he always listened to him. Unless…” he stopped, not sure how to word his fear.

“Unless what?” his mother demanded.

“Well, unless he – Joe that is – was, ah, distracted or something,” Frank answered, and his mother scowled.

“I don’t think I like the sound of that.”

“Me neither,” Frank admitted, his voice grim even as he thought, ‘and I intend to find out what that distraction was…’

* * *

Gwynne Smart opened the door and stared in surprise at the two cops standing on her front porch.

“Well hello, officers,” she greeted affably, “What brings you here this fine summer day?”

“Official business, ma’am”, the female officer informed her and then passed her a sealed notice.

“This is a restraining order,” the man said as Gwynne opened the envelope and looked down at the legal writ, “prohibiting you from making any contact, verbal or otherwise, with the minor Joseph Hardy.”

“What?”  The brunette was shocked and looked from one officer to the other.  “What does that mean?”

“It means,” the female cop explained patiently, “you aren’t allowed to go anywhere near him, or attempt to contact him by phone or mail.”

The dark haired woman stared at them for a few moments and then slowly nodded, “I see.”

“Yes ma’am,” the female officer said and then after a brief nod- and assured that Gwynne understood the order- they turned and left.

The woman stood on the front porch and watched the police cruiser turn around and pull away from the house.  She scowled, snorted and then stomped back into the house.

“Fine,” she hissed, “for now.  But this isn’t over, Laura Scott – not by a long shot!  I will get what I want…and I want Paul!”  Crouching down in front of the unlit fireplace, she scrunched up the paper and tossed it onto the hearth.

She whispered, “But I’ll take Joe…”