After a while, Joe calmed down and lay still in his mother’s arms, hesitant to leave the reassurance of her embrace. He could feel her hand on the back of his head, stroking his hair, and he sighed, closed his eyes and relished the quiet her comfort brought his burning mind.

For a few minutes everything was all right and the memories were held at bay, but he was terrified of what would happen when he moved – when they came back. But he had to move. He couldn’t stay this way forever. So slowly and reluctantly he pulled away and sat back in his own chair.

“Thanks Mom,” he whispered, as he glanced across at her, his eyes expressing more than his words ever could. Laura reached out and touched the side of his face with her hand, an unspoken ‘you’re welcome’.

“Are you feeling any better now?” she asked, her own gaze searching his face.

Joe placed his hand over hers – the one touching his face – the trembling of his fingers barely noticeable, and smiled a tentative smile.  “I am.”

Laura nodded, and then sighed as she sat back in her chair and appraised her son, looking for the distraction that she knew he’d welcome right now. “Did you have a shower?”

The teen nodded as he slowly picked up his fork and took a mouthful of pancakes; he was exhausted and just wanted to crawl back in his bed but the pancakes looked so good…. Maybe he was just a bit hungry after all. Hmmm, they were good!

“Did you cover your cast?” she asked, watching him chew and swallow the mouthful of food, very relieved to see him eating something.

Joe flushed and put his fork down.  “Uh, actually—”  he’d been too upset to even think about that, or his pajamas for that matter!

His mother shook her head slightly as she smiled at him fondly.  “Eat up sweetie – I’ll leave a note.”

“A note? Where are we going?” he asked; an uncomprehending look flittering across his face.  He bit his lip a moment later to stifle a groan when she told him.

“Back to the hospital.”  Laura gave him a sympathetic look.  “I’m not taking any chances with your arm or that cast.”

“Ah, man,” he grumbled, but finished a couple more mouthfuls of pancake and then got up to follow his mom out to her car anyway. “When I get home,” he muttered, squinting his eyes against the bright morning sunshine, “I’m going right to bed and staying there! For the rest of the day!”

“That sounds like a good idea, dear,” his mother placated as she opened the driver’s door and slid in. She glanced across at her forlorn-looking son as he struggled with his seatbelt for a moment before getting it on. “Ready?”

He opened his mouth to make some smart remark but changed his mind and gave a resigned sigh. “Ready.”

Flashing him a commiserating smile, Laura started the car, put it in reverse and carefully backed out of the driveway. She hoped their family doctor, Dr. Bates, was there today. The kindly older man always took Joe’s grumblings with good humor!

* * *

Frank sat up straight as his stomach growled; reminding him that it had passed breakfast time. He looked at his father and asked wearily, “Did you talk to Joe this morning?”

Fenton shook his head.  “No – but I think he’s spoken with your mother.”  Something in Fenton’s tone set him on edge and he pressed:

“And?”

“And…I think this is going to be pretty rough on your brother for a while.”  ‘On all of us,’ the sleuth amended as he looked at his older son and sighed, “He was upset. I don’t know what was said but—” his gaze faltered for a moment, “but we’ll give them a few more minutes… They’re in the kitchen,” he added.

“Oh.”  Frank felt the ‘edge’ twist into a knot of worry.  A knot that he knew would continue to tighten until he got a chance to talk to Joe himself.  “That bad?”

“I’m not sure if ‘bad’ is the right word,” his father commented thoughtfully, “but definitely ‘difficult’.” He paused and added, “I just don’t know what we’re dealing with yet. Until Joe tells us, we can only speculate.”

“I just hope he’s talking today,” Frank remarked tiredly, as he ran a hand through his still-damp dark hair. He was exhausted – between how little sleep he’d gotten and the talk with his father over the shooting, the boy was totally wiped.  “It scares me when he clams up.”

Fenton nodded, his hand patted Frank’s leg briefly.  “I know son; me too. The ER doctor did suggest that your brother might benefit from seeing a counselor—”

Frank blanched. ‘A counselor?’

Fenton continued before Frank could say anything.  His voice was soft but blunt. There was no way to put window dressings on this; the older boy needed to know what to expect, when – if – Joe confided.   Right now, the teen only had the barest facts and didn’t quite comprehend the cruelty of what had happened.  “Frank, if your brother did fully witness Tex’s death…” he paused, and took a breath, “then he watched one man savagely murder and brutalize another – Smuff wasn’t content to just have Tex dead.  He took him apart.”   Frank looked like he was going to be sick.  “Then again last night, Iago – your brother was right there, only a few feet away… And—” his voice faltered.

“And?” Frank’s mouth had gone dry making that one word difficult to get out. He was starting to understand the scope of what Joe had been trying to remember.  ‘No wonder the poor kid was so terrified!’ He gave an involuntary shiver.

“And… there is still the question about the dog. What really happened to Hero?”  Fenton swallowed back the lump in his throat even as he continued, “Was he killed too?  And if he was, did your brother witness that as well?  Or did the dog somehow get away?  A mixture of lies and truth in the tale of his disappearance?”

Frank closed his eyes and shook his head.  ‘Oh little brother,’ his heart agonized, burning with pain for his brother and wasted anger at the two men who did this to him. ‘Is there any end to this?’  He opened his eyes and looked at his father.  “How in the world can we ever ask Joe about that?”

The investigator just shook his head.  “I have no idea son, no idea at all.”

The teen stood up, glancing at the time. He knew his father had asked that they give his mother and brother a few more minutes, but – “Dad, I want to see Joe.” His dark eyes pleaded with the older man to understand: he needed to see his brother!

Fenton nodded, rising to his feet next to the boy.  “Okay, son. Let’s go downstairs.”

“Joe? Mom?” Frank called out as soon as he opened the kitchen door. He looked around, surprised, the kitchen was empty! Glancing over his shoulder at his father, a few steps behind, he tried to keep the surge of panic he was feeling out of his voice – the last time Joe had disappeared from the kitchen… “They’re not here!”

“That’s strange—”  Fenton started but then moved past the boy and plucked the note off the fridge. His face relaxed as he read the note. He gave his son a relieved smile.  “Joe got his cast wet so your Mom took him back to the hospital to get it checked.”

“Oh.”  Frank let out a sigh of relief – for one moment he had been terrified something else had happened!  And then a fleeting image of wet pajamas crossed his mind. He frowned, suddenly getting a very good idea of what had happened for them to be wet!  Shaking his head, he moved towards the kitchen counter, wishing he had stayed the night in his brother’s room, so he could have been there when the younger boy woke up. Frank had considered staying, but after Joe basically passed out when his head hit the pillow, he’d decided to return to his own room – exhausted himself – and left the doors open between them so he could hear if his brother had any trouble sleeping.

But if he had stayed, Frank would know what had upset Joe so much that apparently he’d jumped straight into the shower without getting undressed and with no regard for the cast!  He paled, his father’s words mixing with the events of the prior hours, warning him that there could be any number of good reasons!

Before he could comment any further, the kitchen door swung open behind them and Sam walked in. He smiled at Frank.  “Good morning, kid.”

“Morning, Sam,” Frank said as he reached for the plate of pancakes and put them in the microwave to reheat. His father was making some fresh coffee.

“Where is everyone?” the other investigator asked as he glanced around.

“Joe got his cast wet so Laura’s taken him to the ER,” Fenton said without turning around.  Reaching into the cupboard, he pulled down three mugs and passed them to Sam, who put them on the table and then sat down.

“How you doing, Frank?” the sandy-haired man asked as he plopped two cubes of sugar in his mug.

The teen shrugged, and took the newly heated food out of the microwave, laying the plate down on a placemat in the center of the table. “Okay, I guess. Still a bit – I dunno – in shock or something.” He paused and sighed, “I can’t believe everything that’s happened.”

“Understandable. It was a rather eventful night,” Sam understated and then grinned when Fenton shot him a look. He picked his mug up and moved towards the coffee pot.  “Mrs. Iago brought cookies.”

“What?” Frank and Fenton chorused.

“I’m serious.”  Sam poured his cup of coffee and sat back down.  “Seems she felt bad about all this and felt cookies would help.”  When Frank looked baffled, the investigator enlightened him, “The house belongs to Miriam Iago, Damian’s mother.  He grew up there.  She’s a bit of a character though, and spent the whole night ranting and raving to us about how much of a loser her son was, and how she knew he’d always end up this way.”

“So…she brought cookies?” Fenton shook his head in disbelief as he sat down at the end of the table and slid some of the pancakes onto a smaller plate.

“Yup, chocolate chip.”

“The ‘secret place’ was on his mother’s property?” Frank snorted, swallowing a mouthful of food down with a drink of orange juice.  “Not very smart, was it?”

“Nope. Talk about committing murder in your back yard. Damian recently moved back in with his mother after he returned to Bayport.” Sam took a drink of his coffee but passed up on the food. “But then again, I don’t think he was the brains of the operation….Collig is hoping that a search of the store might help track down some of the stolen jewelry. Who knows? Maybe some of it might be returned.”

“Maybe,” Fenton agreed, “or at least they might be able to solidify the connection between him and Smuff.”

“I still can’t believe it.”  Frank sat back in his seat and pushed his half eaten plate of pancakes away, suddenly losing his appetite.  “I trusted him – Coach Iago…I worshipped him when I was a kid! I never would have let Joe anywhere near that—”

His father cut him off gently as he put a calming hand on his agitated son’s shoulder.  “Frank, you were only a kid yourself! You had no way of knowing what this man might be capable of.”

“I know, but still,” the boy rubbed his face in tired frustration, “Joe was so upset afterwards!”

“I know, I know,” Fenton’s face paled as a familiar guilt knifed through his soul.  “I should have realized that there had to be something more – more than just Hero! Hell, I’m paid to be observant—”

“Look, guys – none of this is going to change what happened,” Sam spoke up, not willing to watch people he cared about tearing themselves up over things they could never change.  “What is important now is that you do know, and how you deal with it. Joe’s going to need your support, not your guilt.”

Fenton exhaled heavily.  “You’re right as usual, Sam. I think for now, we need to talk to Joe, first, and see exactly what he does remember. Hopefully he’ll feel like talking.”

“I hope so too,” Sam agreed. “I hate to cut out on you like this but I promised Collig I’d be by this morning after I’d woken up a bit; I’ll probably be at the station most of the day.” He paused and added, “I’ll call when I’m on my way back.”

“Thanks Sam,” Fenton said sincerely, recognizing that his partner was making the call to ensure his return wouldn’t interrupt anything. He also appreciated that Sam wasn’t expecting him to go to the station with him right now, as Fenton wanted to be home today with his family.