Settling back, Laura relaxed a little bit. While the details had never been openly discussed, she knew Frank had acted as a ‘surrogate’ therapist for Joe over the past several months, listening to his brother when Joe couldn’t bring himself to talk to anyone else. A sudden unexpected rush of pride almost overwhelmed her as she gazed at Frank, wondering how she had been lucky enough to be blessed with the two exceptional young men who were her sons. Fearing the weight of her stare might be distracting to Frank, she returned her attention to the front of the room and listened as Peter Handling continued his questioning.

"So while you were chained to the fence, unable to defend yourself in anyway, with first and second degree burns on your arm, the defendant struck you several times with his fists? To the point where you almost lost consciousness?" Handling paraphrased what Joe had just related.

"Yes," Joe replied, listening to the D.A. but never taking his eyes off his brother.

"He then searched your wallet until he found your driver’s license and private investigator’s license. He then realized you were the son of Fenton Hardy - the man who sent his brother to prison for life," Handling reiterated, wanting to make certain the jury understood the relevance. "Once he realized who you were and who your father was, what happened?"

"He got visibly angry and started choking me," Joe answered.

"Had he shown any kind of emotion prior to this? Any emotion at all?"

"No, none, " Joe said, taking a breath before he continued.

The urge to look at his father, to let him know what happened wasn’t his fault was almost overpowering but Joe fought it. He knew if he looked away from Frank, from the one person who could keep him calm and settled he’d unravel in seconds.

"He said my father was the reason his brother was rotting in prison. He said he could kill two birds with one stone – do his job and get even with my father at the same time."

"And he was choking you this whole time?" Handling asked.

"Yes."

"Why did he stop?"

"His partner. He said, "We have to find out what he did with the envelope. Once we get that information you can do whatever you want with him. Send him back to Daddy in little pieces for all I care…" That’s when he stopped." Having adapted to Handling’s style of questioning, Joe waited a beat to see if the D.A. was going to comment on any part of Joe’s statement. When several seconds of silence passed, Joe continued.

"He started to walk away but then came back to me. He said even though it was technically impossible for me to escape he wanted to make sure I couldn’t get very far if I did get out of the chains. He kneeled down in front of me and stabbed me in the foot."

"Stabbed you in the foot…and then walked away?" Handling asked, letting Joe know he wanted more details.

"No," Joe sighed feeling his concentration start to lapse. He watched as Frank leaned forward a little and pointed to his own eyes. Suddenly Frank’s voice was loud and clear.

"When you get back up on that stand you look at me – ME – and no one else." Forcing himself to focus on Frank, Joe continued.

"He drove the knife into my foot as far as he could. Then he started turning it. He didn’t stop until I screamed. He said that’s what he liked to hear," Joe finished in a subdued voice.

"Mr. Rashman said he liked to hear you screaming; crying out in pain?" Handling repeated feigning disbelief.

"Yes."

Handling shook his head as if it hurt to process that information. "Please continue."

"After that he went to the trunk of the car and pulled something out. When he started walking back towards me, I saw it was a chain. A heavy chain like the ones holding me to the fence." Joe drew in a deep breath, staring at his brother so hard his head started to hurt. "He didn’t even ask me about the envelope. He just started hitting me with the chain."

"Where?" Handling interrupted.

"In the chest. I wasn’t ready and I could really only stand on one foot. My knees gave out and when I fell forward, the chains stopped my momentum – and pulled my arm back. I tried to stand – to take the pressure off my arm – but that opened up the knife wound on my foot even more."

"Is that when he stopped hitting you with the chain?" Handling continued his questions as he distributed pictures of the beating to the jury, some of whom were openly disturbed by the graphic images.

"No, he kept hitting me for several minutes. When he finally stopped, he dumped a bucket of cold water on me. I choked on it and that’s when I knew I had broken ribs. Every time I took a breath, it hurt. I was shivering, disoriented, couldn’t stay focused…" Joe’s voice trailed off as he relived the moment in his mind.

"Joe, how much time had elapsed from the moment you had regained consciousness up to this point? How many hours had gone by?" Handling asked, already knowing the answer.

"Hours? It wasn’t hours it was minutes. Maybe forty or forty-five minutes." Joe answered, suddenly feeling very drained.

Handling stopped in his tracks and turned to stare at Joe as if in utter shock. "So you’re saying that you were burned with an open flame, beaten with fists, choked until you were barely conscious, stabbed with a knife, beaten with a chain and doused with a bucket of water all in less than an hour?"

"Yes," Joe said closing his eyes and sitting back in the chair. ‘I can’t do this, I need a break. Please, I need a break.’

The judge eyed Joe critically and realized the distressed young man was nearing the end of his rope. "This court will recess for lunch and resume in one hour."

‘Thank you,’ Joe thought laying his head back against the hard wooden chair. ‘Thank you.’

Slowly, Joe rose from the chair and made his way back to the seating area, collapsing into the empty seat between Frank and Laura. While he welcomed their comforting touch and murmured words of encouragement, Joe knew there was only one thing he wanted at that moment, one thing he needed. The only thing that would get him through the rest of the day – he needed to hear the sound of Vanessa’s voice.

*****

Callie returned from the kitchen and set a tray laden with snacks and drinks on the coffee table. As she spread out the food on the table and tucked the tray on the floor underneath, she smothered a smile. Unable to stop herself, Vanessa glanced at the cell phone again, just as she had every minute or so since Joe and the others had left that morning. Pretending not to notice, Callie settled back on the couch and picked up the remote pressing "Play". No sooner had the movie started than Vanessa’s cell phone finally rang.

‘Thank goodness!’ Callie grinned to herself as Vanessa pounced on the phone.

"Joe!" Vanessa said breathlessly. "How are you? Is everything going okay? Are you almost done? When will you be back?" She blurted out the questions without stopping.

She listened for a moment before blushing slightly. Seeing Callie watching her, Vanessa shrugged and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, Babe, I’m just so glad to hear your voice."

Sensing Vanessa might want to talk to Joe privately, Callie got up and disappeared down the hall. Returning a few minutes later, she heard the tail end of the conversation and couldn’t help but be touched at the concern so clearly evident in Vanessa’s every word. She shook her head, amazed once again at the intensity of Joe and Vanessa’s relationship.

‘Soul mates,’ she thought. ‘They were definitely put on this earth to find each other.’

"I love you too, Baby," Vanessa said softly. "I miss you. I know. Okay, bye."

Callie watched, puzzled, as Vanessa made no move to end the call despite having bid Joe a heartfelt goodbye. Just as she was about to ask Vanessa what was going on, the younger girl spoke again.

"Frank? Is he really okay?" There was a pause as Vanessa listened to Frank’s reply. "You’re sure?" She pressed, her forehead creased in concern. "Well, okay…if you’re sure." She exhaled loudly. "We’ll see you when you get back. And Frank...tell him I love him. Thanks. Bye."

Callie sat down next to her friend and laid a hand on Vanessa’s arm. "Everything going okay?" She asked.

Vanessa turned to face her and Callie was struck by the worry that seemed to consume her blue-gray eyes. "I guess. Joe says he’s fine; Frank says he’s fine…"

"But you’re still not convinced," Callie finished her unspoken thought.

"He’s going through hell. How can he be fine, Cal?" Vanessa asked quietly.

"Because he’s got you…and a whole lot of other people who love him," Callie hugged her tightly. "Look, they’ll be back before you know it. And then you can see for yourself that Joe really is fine."

Vanessa eyed her friend dubiously but settled back to watch the rest of the movies they’d chosen to keep them occupied for the afternoon.

*****

Back on the witness stand once again, Joe watched Peter Handling walk towards him with more photographs in hand. His mind screamed at him to look at Frank but Joe couldn’t tear his eyes away from the pictures.

‘The scorpions,’ Joe thought, immediately clutching his left arm.

While being burned with an open flame had been physically excruciating, the scorpions had pushed Joe over the edge physically, mentally and emotionally. Not knowing if or when they would strike or whether any of them were indeed deadly had fed Joe’s prolific imagination. Those thoughts had quickly gotten the best of him, allowing the scorpions to do the same. The blistering pain had been unbearable and he’d been unable to keep silent. Even now, he could feel the terror building as if it were happening all over again. As the feeling was about to take over, Joe was snapped back to reality by someone coughing – very loudly.

Joe looked up and saw Frank staring at him intently. Almost imperceptibly, Frank pointed to himself.

Joe stared at his brother and nodded, promising both of them he would try to hold up his end of the deal. ‘Just me and Frank…in the park…there’s no one else here…’

Laura Hardy listened with a broken heart as her son described being doused with cold water in the middle of the night with temperatures hovering near freezing. His voice was softer than it had been all day as he told the jury of the terror of not knowing what was in the jar Rashman had place at his feet. When he announced Rashman had unceremoniously dumped the jar of scorpions over his head a few moments later, Peter Handling pounced

Flashing a picture of Joe with scorpions in his hair, on his arms and shoulder, Handling pressed for the minutest details. The courtroom was suddenly suffocating in horror and disbelief. Handling forced Joe to describe the feeling of tiny legs scampering over his body and the fear of not knowing if or when they would strike without warning. Ignoring Joe’s slow descent into hell from reliving the incident, the D.A. insisted Joe tell the jury what it felt like when he could no longer control his shivering body and the scorpions finally attacked.

Laura thought she saw the son who was so often described as having no fear revert to a scared and vulnerable little boy right before her eyes. She noticed a few jurors dab at their eyes with tissues as Joe attempted to describe the fiery pain that raced through his body, and wondered if they saw it too. Laura was certain Peter Handling couldn’t get any lower with his callous attitude when he asked his final question about the incident.

"And did you scream in agony the way Mr. Rashman wanted you to?"

Laura hadn’t even realized she’d risen until strong hands pulled her back to her seat. All eyes were suddenly on her as Frank and Fenton each held one of her arms, preventing her from moving. With a start, Laura became aware that she had been so blinded by anger at Handling’s complete disregard for Joe’s feelings she had actually tried to get up and attack the man, her sole purpose being to inflict as much pain on him as he was on her son.

Flushing with embarrassment, Laura looked up meeting Joe’s eyes. The last thing he needed was for his mother to be arrested for assaulting the attorney who was trying to get justice for him. Much to her surprise, Joe’s eyes held that elusive mischievous sparkle and he was smiling with amusement.

‘Thanks,’ he mouthed the word to her.

‘You’re welcome,’ she replied in kind.

Frank watched the exchange between Laura and Joe with a bemused smile, grateful for Laura’s unintentional diversion. From the many heartbreaking and painful talks he and Joe had over the past several months, Frank knew this was Joe’s one big weak spot. While he had been able to accept everything else Rashman had done to him and come to terms with it on some level, the episode with the scorpions haunted Joe to this day. Frank had seen Joe quickly slipping away from him, losing all focus and control under Handling’s relentless questions. He’d had a feeling this was the one incident Handling would want Joe to relive down to the very last detail.

It had been not only physically painful in the extreme but had taken a mental and emotional toll on Joe that Frank wasn’t sure he’d ever completely recover from. He was certain Laura’s irrational moment of anger had saved Joe from emotional collapse and given him the time he needed to recover.

With a grimace, Frank did a mental tally of what still needed to be covered in Joe’s testimony. He’d listened to Joe talk about his ordeal so many times Frank thought he could probably testify to it just as well as Joe and right now, wished he could do just that. Frank tried to guess which of the three remaining incidents of abuse Handling might choose to exploit and hoped it wouldn’t be all of them. While Joe had regrouped somewhat, Frank could see he was still shaken. He hoped Handling might be able to find an ounce of compassion for Joe somewhere deep in his soul.

‘If he even has a soul,’ Frank thought sourly wondering if it wouldn’t have been better to let Laura have at the man.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the image that suddenly popped into his head – a giant of a man lying unconscious in the woods, bound, gagged and blindfolded with handcuffs, rope, ripped towels and duct tape. This was what had happened to the last man who’d tried to hurt Joe in Laura’s presence. Frank allowed himself a brief mental image of Peter Handling begging for mercy as Laura wrapped him in a cocoon of duct tape. Smiling at the picture in his mind’s eye, Frank turned his full attention back to Joe.

It was close to two and a half hours later when Joe finally neared the end of his testimony. As Frank had feared, Handling had insisted Joe go into as much detail as possible in telling the court of the remaining instances of cruelty he’d been subjected to. With the D.A. flashing picture after picture, Joe related the horror of not knowing whether the shrinking leather strap around his neck would eventually cut off his air supply, resulting in a slow and painful death by suffocation.

Joe told of the abrupt change in Rashman’s attitude when he still refused to reveal the location of the envelope he’d hidden, resulting in an entire box of salt being rubbed into his open wounds. Mercifully, Joe had passed out shortly after being drenched with a bottle of alcohol, resulting in a quick end to Handling’s attempted exploitation of that incident. With a final description of his version of events when Frank and Fenton had arrived on the scene, Joe sat back praying there would be no more questions.

"No further questions, Your Honor." Peter Handling answered Joe’s prayers as he turned and started back towards the prosecution table.

Resting his head against the back of the chair, Joe closed his eyes, visibly exhausted. ‘Finally! It’s over!’ he thought, flooded with relief.

Joe started to relax as he listened to the sounds of the courtroom – muted whispers; soft footsteps; a chair scraping on the floor; someone clearing their throat…and a voice that sent a chill down his spine.

"Your Honor, I’d like to cross-examine this witness," Matthew Barning announced.