Laura was sitting in the kitchen staring into a cold cup of tea when Frank came down an hour later. She looked up at her older son and smiled tiredly.  “How’s your brother?”

“Sleeping,” Frank said, stooping over to give his weary-looking mother a hug. “Finally.” He moved to get a cup of black coffee and then sat down in an empty chair and let out a heavy sigh. “Where’s Dad?”

“In the office,” his mother told him as her pale blue eyes appraised him. “How’d it go?” They both knew what she was really asking and Frank bit his lip, warring with what to tell her. He didn’t want to worry her, but –

The sound of someone knocking on the front door interrupted Frank before he could say anything, and he got up to answer it, not sure if his father had his office door open or closed. If closed, Fenton wouldn’t hear the knock.

It must have been open though, because Frank met his father in the living room.

“I’ve got it,” Fenton told him and proceeded to see who it was. He looked at the chief, surprised to see him there, but even more so to see Sam Radley standing next to him.  Sam had said he would call when he was on the way back…. Immediately the investigator knew something was wrong. “Ezra, Sam,” he greeted carefully, “What’s up?”

“Can we come in for a moment, Fenton?” Collig asked. The chief seemed a bit uncertain of his reception, and why Sam was standing outside was unfathomable – the sandy-haired detective had his own key to the Hardy house!

“Of course.”  Fenton stepped back and the other two men came inside and closed the door. “You want to explain to me what’s going on?”  He glanced from Ezra to Sam.

Collig didn’t mince words – he just passed Fenton the picture. “We found Hero…” his gaze flickered briefly to Frank, “he’s still alive.”

Frank’s knees went weak and he staggered; his father’s hand reached out, grabbed his arm and steadied him.

“Frank?”  Fenton looked at his son, his own face mirroring the shock Frank was feeling plus a growing concern.

“I – I’m okay,” the teen managed as a million questions scorched his mind but none made it to his lips. He looked at the picture his father was holding and then shook his head.  “It – it’s not possible!”

“That picture was taken a month ago,” Sam said gently, “it is Hero.”

“Are you sure?” Laura demanded, pushing past her husband and son, looking at the photo. And then her hand flew over her mouth as her gaze snapped up and locked onto that of her husband’s.  “Oh my God!”

Fenton slipped an arm around his wife as the hand holding the picture shook slightly. He was still stunned and at a loss for words; the impossibility of it…and the truth of it, warred for precedence!

“Joe!” Frank blurted out, his own feelings about this revelation as shaken as his father’s; he had loved that dog, too! The four adults looked at him, “How do we tell Joe?”

“How do you tell Joe what?” a quiet voice asked. Whirling around, they saw Joe slowly coming down the stairs.  

“You’re supposed to be sleeping!” Frank chastised lightly as he moved towards his brother.

Joe shrugged in a casualness belied by the exhausted look on his face.  “I had to pee and then I thought I heard the Chief’s voice.” He looked at the older man.  “I guess I was right. Now what’s going on?”  His vibrant gaze fixed warily on his brother as he repeated, “Tell me what?”

Fenton moved towards his sons.  “Joe, I think you need to sit down first.”

The blond boy cocked his head to the side and frowned.  “I don’t think I like the sound of this.”  His eyes narrowed as he saw the Chief move quietly into the kitchen to give them some privacy. Sam started to follow but a brief shake of Fenton’s head stopped him. His father wanted Sam here? Joe’s heart rate picked up.

“Well it’s nothing bad,” his mother rushed to assure him, “but still a bit of a shock, sweetie.” Her voice was soft but did nothing to remove the growing apprehension from Joe’s face as he moved towards the love seat and sat. It didn’t escape his notice that Frank sat down right next to him, close enough that his leg brushed Joe’s. His brother’s presence, normally so reassuring, increased his growing anxiety and he shifted agitatedly:

“O-kay,” he said slowly, “I’m sitting.”

* * *

Fenton and Laura exchanged a glance and then the man crouched down in front of his younger son, taking his hand in his own. He was shocked by how cold the hand felt and how it trembled. He forced himself to hold the piercing blue eyes that watched him with extreme apprehension. Clearing his throat, he prayed that telling Joe would not make things worse, as he really had no idea how his son was going to react!

Taking a deep breath, he just said as gently as he could, “Son—” he saw and felt Joe tense…. Frank’s arm slipped behind his brother’s shoulders.  “Hero’s alive.”

* * *

Hero’s alive…. Joe heard the words but didn’t understand them. Was this some cruel joke? He could hear his father saying something else but was unable to focus on it – Hero was alive? No, that was impossible!

His breathing quickened.

Hero was standing anxiously at the end of his tether and Joey moved towards him, but the coach stopped him.

“Leave the dog.”

The child looked at him, too badly shaken to formulate words. Coach Iago finished, “He stays with me. If you ever tell anyone about me or Oscar, I will kill him, slowly, painfully and because of you. Do you understand?”

Joey looked at his dog, his blue eyes filled with tears as they met the doleful brown ones watching him, so trustingly. Iago gave him a little shake.  “Do you understand?”

“I – I understand,” the child managed to whisper, “Don’t tell – forget everything—”

“Good boy,” the coach said, sounding relieved, “Now come on, we need to hurry, or else Frank will start to get worried…”

As the car pulled away from the shed, Joey twisted in his seat and stared out the back window, his heart breaking. “Hero,” he whispered and then started to sob, “oh my Hero…”

Hero stood, puzzled, watching him leave.

When he could no longer see his beloved friend, the child sat back down in his seat and cried broken heartedly…a part of him forever left behind in that secret place….

“No!” Joe whispered, pulling away from his brother and father as he abruptly stood up, “Hero’s dead!”

Fenton and Frank rose with him. Behind them Sam moved to put a comforting arm around Laura; this was going to get bad.

* * *

“He is alive,” Fenton continued his voice surprisingly steady, “he’s—”

Joe cut him off, frantically shoving at his father to get past him.  “NO! He’s gone! He’s dead!” This couldn’t be…Hero could NOT be alive! But Fenton grabbed his arms, not letting him go.

“Son, Joe, listen to me!” Fenton tried to calm the boy down but Joe struggled to break free, mindless of the pain shooting through his broken arm.

“Let. Me. Go!” the teen panicked and his father released him, afraid he’d inadvertently hurt him, but continued to block Joe’s way.

“Okay, son, okay!”

Frank tried to put a hand on his brother’s shoulder but Joe shook it off and then turned to him, his eyes desperate and pain-filled. He locked Frank’s arm in a painful grip.  “No, Frank please…it isn’t true! Don’t do this to me…Hero’s dead! He told me so!” he begged, his pleading heart-wrenching; and the distress on his face, there were no words…

“Who told you, little brother?  Who told you he was dead?”  The older boy’s voice was laced with compassion as his dark brown eyes were bright with unshed emotion.

“Iago,” Joe whispered, closing his eyes and swallowing painfully. Releasing Frank’s arm, he let his own drop heavily to his side. “He – he showed me…” he anguished. “Hero is dead.”  This time when Frank reached out to him, he wasn’t brushed off, and instead Joe leaned into the one-armed embrace, his shaking body pressed against Frank.

* * *

Fenton’s fingers brushed his son’s face, drawing the boy’s gaze back to meet his own. “He lied, Joe. He lied to you. Your dog is still alive.”  He held up the picture.

* * *

Joe stared at the picture for a few moments without really looking at it. And then finally, he reached out and took it from his father. At Frank’s gentle prompting, the boy sank down on the loveseat next to his brother and then leaned against him as he looked at the picture.

He looked at the people first. A middle-aged woman with mousey brown hair stared back at him. She was smiling but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes – there was a sadness about her that Joe couldn’t put his finger on. He sighed and then looked at the children. Three kids; two boys and a girl.

The girl was about twelve or thirteen, he guessed; a younger version of her mother, but with a big, brace-filled smile. Again, a sadness about her, too…

The two boys were younger; Joe figured the older one was eight or nine and the other one, maybe five. They had darker hair, and the older boy had a scar on his cheekbone very visible in the photo. His heart went out to this family, whoever they were. Even smiling, they all seemed just so sad!

And then he looked at the dog.

The younger boy was actually sitting on the beast’s back, and a fond smile twisted Joe’s lips as his own memories of riding that broad back whispered around him… Giddyup, Hero! Giddyup and go… The smile quivered as his vision began to blur, and he blinked hastily to clear it.

The dog was much older, its once black muzzle now completely white, but there was no mistaking it – Joe would know that dog anywhere.

It was his Hero.

Closing his eyes, he sighed tiredly and rested his cheek against his brother’s chest. He let the picture rest in his lap and felt his father touch his face again briefly.

Joe opened his eyes, and this time he spoke, in defeat. “The coach came to our house that day – the day Mom and Frank went to Gresham to look for Hero.  Dad was in his office – the door was closed so he never heard the knock.”  Joe felt his father’s fingers flinch as they covered his own and he offered a weak smile.  He hadn’t meant it as a recrimination – just the blunt truth. “He – he told me that he’d killed Hero and that it was my fault….”  Joe took a shuddering breath at the painful reawakened memory.  “He said that he knew I would never be able to keep the secret – that I would tell someone.”

Joe felt his brother’s grip tighten around his shoulders, and then the slight depression as his mother sat on the arm of the loveseat beside him and gently stroked his hair. “I didn’t believe him – I didn’t want to….But then—”  He paused and swallowed hard. His father gave his fingers a supportive squeeze.

“But?” the question was asked by someone.

“But he gave me something. Hero’s collar.”  Joe’s blue eyes fixed on his father.  “It has – had blood on it.”

“Son—”  Fenton was at a loss as to what to say. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He had failed his son so miserably, and for what? For a case that could have been solved eight years ago if he had paid enough attention. Iago and Smuff had made Joe and Hero their pawns and Fenton had let them. Inadvertently, yes, but still—

“I buried the collar in the backyard,” Joe finished and then didn’t say anything else for a few moments. He just closed his eyes and let himself be engulfed by his family’s comfort. He was safe…

And then he opened them and sought out Sam. The sandy-haired investigator was standing with his back to the family, his hands braced on the fireplace mantle. He seemed to sense he was being looked at because he turned and caught Joe’s gaze.

“I want to see Hero,” the boy said, and the man nodded.

“Of course, Joe.”

“I want to see Hero right now,” Joe clarified as a sudden burning desire coursed through his body – a daring excitement beginning to build as the truth sank in!  Hero was alive! His dog was alive!

“Joe—” Fenton started, not wanting to get his son’s hopes built up about seeing the dog very quickly. These things took time to work out. It could be a day or more, depending on where Hero was living. But Sam cut him off gently.

“It’s okay, Fenton.”  He looked back at the boy.  “Hero isn’t very far. Just give us a little time—” seeing the fervor on Joe’s face drop, he quickly added, “only a couple of hours, kiddo.” He smiled reassuringly.  “I promise.”

Joe let out a nervous breath and then nodded slowly, “Okay.”  A smile, hesitant at first, but tentatively growing, lit up his whole face. Hero was alive!

* * *

Two hours later a brown minivan pulled up in front of the Hardy house. A woman got out and glanced at the family standing expectantly on the front lawn. The heat beat down on them cruelly but no one noticed. All eyes were fixed on the side door that the woman was now opening.

Frank stood beside his brother, his own pulse quick with excitement, as their mother stood on Joe’s other side, her arm wrapped around his uninjured arm. Their father stood behind them, one hand on the shoulder of either son. If he noticed the trembling he never mentioned it. He just gave them a reassuring squeeze as the door slid open and then the breath caught in his throat.

Moving more stiffly than they remembered, the thirteen-year-old Newfoundland dog slowly pulled himself out of the van....

Laura let go of Joe’s arm as the boy crouched down in a squat. He held out his hand, and whispered, his voice broken by unrestrained emotion, “H-Hero…h-here, b-boy!”

* * *

The dog stopped, his large ears perked up and he stared at the family. Intelligent brown eyes gazed at the man and the woman. His nose sniffed the air.

He saw the dark-haired young man; a familiarity? The tip of his tail waved ever-so-slightly.

And then his gaze came to rest on the one who was calling him; a blond-haired young man with piercing blue eyes that were wet and bright with tears. The dog sniffed more deeply, inhaling the smell of the cast…. His ears quivered. The voice…. H-Hero…h-here, b-boy… that voice! He knew that voice – eight years misplaced…!

…Come on Hero, let’s go home…Tag, Hero! You’re it!...Hero, you’re my bestest friend…I love you, boy…good dog….

It was his boy!!

With a loud bark that startled the woman who had brought him, Hero moved with a spryness almost forgotten, and within seconds had crossed the distance between him and his boy! In an instant, transformed into a puppy again!

“Hero!” Joe sobbed, burying his face into the thick black fur as he wrapped his good arm around the muscular neck. The dog’s whole body wriggled as his tail furiously beat the air from the force of his enthusiasm. “Oh my Hero…”

Around them the rest of the world disappeared – narrowed down to just Joe and Hero.

A boy and his dog….