Ezra Collig pulled up in front of the large house. Beside him Sam Radley stifled a yawn and apologized, “Sorry, long night.”

“Don’t I know it,” the chief said as he looked at the investigator though bloodshot eyes. Like many of his men, he’d been on shift since yesterday.

“Well, hopefully she’ll be able to give us some answers,” Collig said as he undid his seatbelt and opened his door.

“Or maybe some more cookies—”  Sam shrugged and grinned, in spite of the gravity of the situation.  “They were good and I’m hungry. Chief, you really do need to get that vending machine fixed. It’s the only thing doing any eating around that place!”

“Don’t knock it,” the grizzled older man commented, “That’s my early retirement plan.”  He shot the younger man a knowing look.  “So how much did you contribute?”

“Only $1.10,” Sam grinned, getting out and following the chief of police towards Mrs. Iago’s front door, “I wanted an apple – an overpriced one at that! Who sets those prices, anyway?”

“Management,” Collig replied and then pressed the buzzer.  “She should be expecting us. Riley called.”

As if on cue, the door was opened and Sam glanced at Ezra, waiting for his reaction when he saw Mrs. Miriam Iago, but to the chief’s credit, he never even so much as blinked an eye!

The old woman stood barely over five feet tall, with thinning silver hair pulled tightly back in a bun. Her old face had that softness about it prevalent in the most granny-type caricatures, with sharp blue eyes and a friendly smile; she looked just like just ‘Granny’ from the old Bugs Bunny cartoons, complete with a stooped walk, a sagging bosom and a floor length skirt! The only thing missing was a ‘Tweety’ bird! But then again, Sam had not been inside the big house, yet!

“Hello, Ma’am,” the chief tipped his head towards her in respect, “I really do hate to bother you during your time of—”

“Oh posh,” the old woman interrupted as she grabbed his arm and dragged him inside, “come inside. If there’s one thing I have plenty of, it’s time! And I’ve just made a fresh batch of cookies that are just begging to be eaten.”  She barely paused for a breath.  “Now, don’t mind your shoes…that’s what soap and water are for!” Sam stifled a chuckle and followed them inside. Mrs. Iago was a force unto herself!

“Now sit down, both of you,” she instructed brusquely as she led them into a large country-style kitchen, and the men obliged, albeit a bit hesitantly. This wasn’t a social call.

Immediately a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies and two glasses of milk were in front of them, and Sam couldn’t help but marvel at the efficiency with which she executed that maneuver!

“Please, Mrs. Iago—”  Collig started, but she cut him off with a steely-eyed glare that Sam decided would be of benefit to them in an interrogation room!

“Mrs. Iago was my mother-in-law. Call me Miriam…but I refuse to talk to anyone who won’t eat one of my cookies. Why, I’ve slaved—”  The chief sighed and grabbed one, biting into it. The old woman smiled, sat back in her chair and folded her thin arms.  “Well?”

“These are very good,” Ezra admitted; washing the cookie down with a mouthful of milk, he cast Sam an amused look and then pulled out Con’s picture.

“Thank you.”  Mrs. Iago’s face lit up with an even bigger smile as she took the picture and looked at it. The smile vanished; replaced by a look of confusion. “This is my daughter-in-law and my grandchildren,” she said slowly and then the blue eyes didn’t look so friendly anymore, as her voice took on a wary, protective tone.  “What is the meaning of this?”

Ezra didn’t answer her right away, instead he asked, “Do you know when this picture might have been taken?”

“It’s pretty recent,” the old woman said, looking at the picture more closely, “within the last month, I’d say. See—” she pointed to one of the children in the photo; a girl of about eleven or twelve with a huge smile. Both men leaned in to see what Mrs. Iago was pointing at. “Shannon’s got her braces. But she only got them at the beginning of June.”

Sam’s pulse quickened – this picture was taken within the last two months! That meant...

“What about the dog?” Collig’s direct question cut off his thoughts.

“What about Hero?” the old woman asked, her blue eyes going from Ezra to Sam and back to Ezra again. Upon hearing the name, Sam felt all the blood drain from his face.  “Is there some sort of trouble? Because I can assure you that animal – although beastly large and a horrendous shedder – is the kindest, most gentle creature that you could ever hope to meet. If there’s any trouble, then there’s definitely been a mistake!”

“Where did they get the dog?” the investigator needed to know. It could still be a coincidence…couldn’t it? But a moment later, he knew it was no coincidence. They had found Joe’s dog.

“From my son Damian – God have mercy on his soul!”

It was Hero.

* * *

Joe was tired. As he followed his mother into the house, he had one thing on his mind – sleep. Or, he hoped he’d be able to sleep, anyway.

He’d actually been lucky; when they got to the ER, his family doctor, Dr. Bates, was there and Joe was spared the lecture he knew he’d have gotten if it had been another doctor. But Dr. Bates just sighed at him sympathetically and then decided to replace the cast. Although it was fiberglass and more tolerant to the wetting than a plaster cast would have been, the kindly old man was worried about moisture remaining between the cast and the boy’s arm. So with Laura’s consent, he removed the old cast and put on a new one – this one was blue.

‘To match your eyes,’ the old man had teased and then winked, ‘actually we think the color compensates for the inability of your friends to sign the fiberglass.’

Joe hadn’t commented; not feeling light-hearted enough to do so. His reticence hadn’t gone unnoticed and Dr. Bates drew Laura aside for a few moments. The exhausted teen had no doubts she had confided in the older man about what was going on, because when he came back he prescribed a mild sedative to help if Joe had any trouble sleeping.

And then finally, over four hours later, they were able to go home.

“Hey, there you are,” Fenton’s voice from the hallway greeted them warmly as the detective came out of his office. He saw the blue cast and commented, “That’s pretty.”

Joe balked, “It’s pretty…blue.”  He started towards the stairs.  “Where’s Frank?”

“Right here,” the older boy’s voice came from behind him as the door to the kitchen opened, and Frank came out, brushing crumbs from a quickly eaten sandwich off his t-shirt. “How’s the—” his words cut off when he saw the cast.  “Oh, a new one.”

“Yeah.” Joe never elaborated, instead he started up the stairs.  “I’m going to lie down for a bit.”

“Actually, son,” his father’s voice stopped him but he didn’t turn around, “I’d like to talk to you first, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh.”  Joe felt his stomach flip.  He had no doubt about what his father wanted to talk about, but he wasn’t so sure he was ready. He swallowed nervously; his fingers trembled on the banister.

“We can talk in my office, the kitchen, your room, wherever you want, son. But I think it’s important that we don’t put this off,” his father continued.

Joe took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to force himself to relax as he turned around. His father, brother and mother were watching him carefully and he suddenly felt like a freak in a side-show.

“Please stop staring at me,” he finally asked quietly.

Mumbled ‘sorrys’ filtered to him, and he saw his brother and mother consciously look away.  And then Frank looked back.

“Joe?”  Fenton’s voice again, and the blond boy looked at him, his mind screaming ‘Nooo! I’m not ready yet!’  “Son?”

His breathing quickened as he fought back the wave of memories that threatened him. The blood…the screaming…. Slowly he started to back up the stairs, shaking his head. “No,” he whispered, his heart hammering painfully in his chest. His eyes were wide and terrified in his pale face. “Please D-Dad…n-not yet. I – I can’t!”  And then he turned quickly and fled up the remaining stairs, stumbling as he did so.

* * *

“Frank—”  Laura didn’t have to say anything else, as the older boy was already in pursuit of his distraught brother.  She moved towards her husband and wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him into a comforting hug. She said softly, “He’s not ready, yet, Fenton. It’s too much, too soon.”

She felt him sigh and then his arms wrapped around her as he laid his cheek on the top of her head.  “I just want so much to help him.”

“I know,” she smiled, closing her eyes and listening to the reassuring sound of his heartbeat, “and he knows that too.”

“Did he talk to you?” Fenton asked after a moment. Neither moved, reluctant to break this intimacy.

Laura sighed. “Not really. I don’t think he can, yet,” she admitted. She looked up at her husband drawing strength from him. “He – he’s terrified!  It had to be so horrible for him!”  Her eyes burned brightly as she blinked quickly, “and we never knew! Our son was put through hell and we never knew!”

Fenton pulled her back in close as he kissed the top of her head. He could feel her trembling, and his heart ached at its own helplessness to do anything to ease the pain that had engulfed his family.

“I – I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his words catching in his throat.  “I just don’t know what to do to make this better – if Joe won’t even talk about it—”  he paused as a new, even more horrifying thought gripped him, urgently punctuated by memories of a deathly still boy lying in a stark hospital room. “Laura!”  A sharpness in his tone made her look up at him, sniffling and wiping her eyes as she did.

“What?” she asked; her own voice husky sounding with hoarseness.

“You don’t think—” he broke off, hardly able to think this, let alone say it.

“I don’t think what?”  Her blue eyes searched his anguished brown ones.

“You don’t think Joe—” he forced the words out. This fear couldn’t remain unvoiced.  “that he’ll try again, do you?”

“Try…” her question dropped off as she realized exactly what her husband was asking her.  She opened her mouth to protest, ‘no, Joe wouldn’t try to kill himself again’, but the words wouldn’t come. She had no answer. She didn’t know – the brutal, honest truth was that she just didn’t know….

* * *

Joe raced into his room!  His mind was burning with images, searing him more intensely than any pain he had ever felt. He couldn’t do this – couldn’t keep this up!

He never even thought about it but just tore into the bathroom, dumped out his shaving kit and grabbed the razor. There was only one way out! One way to end this pain – to end this pain for all of them!

Joe wasn’t blind; he saw the anguish on his family’s face as they had stood in the living room, staring at him. The horror put there by their own imaginations as they now knew what had happened to him.

Red…cascading down the limp arm, dripping off the bloodless fingers…the smell - rancid and copper making him nauseous…the sound –  oh God that horrible sound…. ‘Say the magic word, Joey. You can stop me’…

“Please…” the boy whispered, a choked word blurred by tears, “Please, I want it all to stop!” He couldn’t tell them what happened. He couldn’t do that to them – they loved him too much to know!

Closing his eyes, he held the razor in his good hand, took one final shuddering breath and—

And then Frank was right there…

Joe didn’t even remember dropping the razor as he just turned and buried himself in his brother’s arms, the two of them sinking down to the floor.

“It hurts, Frank,” he sobbed, clutching desperately at his brother’s strength, “it hurts so much…”

“Oh Joey…I know, kiddo, I know,” Frank soothed as he crouched down on the bathroom floor and held his brother fiercely to him; afraid if he let go, he’d lose Joe once and for all – to himself. “Its okay now, baby.  It’s all okay. They can’t hurt you anymore.  It’s over.  Finally, all over…”

“He t-took H-Hero,” Joe stammered, his words muffled against his brother’s shoulder.  “I-Iago took my dog!”

Frank closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against the top of his brother’s blond head. What could he say to that? There was nothing he could say….

So instead, he did the only thing he could do – he took care of his brother.