‘This is as good as it’s going to get,’ his eyes seemed to say.

A depressing air had settled over the table almost immediately after they were seated in the hotel dining room. Despite the fact that the maitre d’ had made sure they were seated in a secluded corner, no one had spoken much, although they had all taken turns throwing furtive glances at Joe.

Watching her younger son push the food around on his plate, taking pains to make it appear he had actually consumed some of it, Laura smiled sadly. It was the same thing Joe used to do as a child, when he didn’t want to eat the vegetables Laura served but also didn’t want to hurt his mother’s feelings. It was also the same thing he’d done shortly after being released from the Campbell Center…

‘He’s depressed, Mom. Who wouldn’t be?’ Frank’s voice haunted her as she recalled the conversation they’d had less than an hour ago.

The words had sent a chill through her. While the doctors had been impressed with Joe’s recovery from the severe depression he’d suffered earlier in the year, Laura was never convinced he had really fully recovered. She had read up on the disease as soon as he’d been diagnosed and knew deep in her heart his turnaround was much too fast given the cause. Watching him now, she feared he was spiraling right back into the darkness and she felt powerless to stop the descent.

Joe stared at his plate, appearing to be fascinated by the food remaining there. Turning his wrist slightly, he glanced at his watch and wondered if it was too soon to make a graceful exit and return to the suite – alone. Joe had no doubt about the depth of his family’s love and concern for him, but tonight, he felt as if he were suffocating. Deciding that dragging it out wouldn’t make it any easier he put down the fork and looked up.

"I think I’m gonna head back up," he announced, preparing for the onslaught of protests.

"I’ll come with you," Frank and Vanessa chorused simultaneously.

Another tense moment of silence followed and then Joe started to chuckle. Slowly at first but soon the contagious laughter he was so well known for took over and infected his entire family.

"Have you guys been rehearsing that all afternoon?" Joe asked a momentary twinkle lighting his blue eyes as his brother and fiancée blushed in embarrassment. "Listen, I’m okay. Just tired. Those aspirin were pretty potent," he winked at Laura. "Honestly, I’m fine. One more good night’s sleep and I’ll be good as new," Joe entreated.

While it wasn’t completely true, he did feel as though he could see a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel now. And he really did want nothing more than to go back to the suite and crawl into bed, not necessarily to wallow in depression but simply to sleep.

Leaning over, Joe kissed Vanessa on the cheek. "Have some dessert before you come up," he ordered as he stood to leave. "I saw strawberry shortcake on the menu – your favorite."

With a wave and a final admonishment not to worry about him, Joe left his family and headed for the elevator.

*****

Joe unlocked the door to the suite and slowly made his way to the bedroom, not even bothering to turn on the lights. He walked into the room, tossed his keycard on the dresser and flopped facedown on the bed. Burying his head in the pillow, he felt completely and utterly exhausted.

Having to face Keith Rashman every day had taken its toll. At times, the nightmares were worse than the reality had been and he’d gotten very little sleep since arriving in Chicago. Joe reminded himself that the hardest part was over. Once the verdict was in, he could go home and start putting the whole mess behind him for good. With the help of his family, he knew he could do just that – eventually.

Lying on the bed, Joe thought he should at least take his shoes off but he just didn’t have the energy. He was already starting to drift off, grateful for the chance to shut out the world again. Tomorrow, he decided, would be different. Tomorrow he’d turn to his brother. Tomorrow he’d ask for help…tomorrow…

Just as sleep was about to overtake him completely, Joe felt a heavy weight press down on his back. Immediately, Joe tried to push himself up but his arms were pulled out from under him and he fell back down onto the bed. His arms were roughly yanked above his head as an incredibly strong hand held his wrists together, pushing them firmly into the bed, effectively immobilizing him. Joe lifted his head to yell for help but it was slammed back down into the pillow and held firmly in place.

Panic quickly took over as Joe struggled to breathe, unable to take in any air at all. Whoever had attacked him was much bigger and stronger, and try as he might, Joe couldn’t find any way to escape. Just as he was about to pass out, the pressure eased up. Turning his head to the side, Joe coughed and gasped, taking in huge lungfuls of air. The weight on his back shifted slightly and his wrists were released.

Joe felt a hand on his arm and he was roughly rolled over on to his back. The giant was still straddling him, hovering just above him. As Joe drew in ragged breaths he felt the weight settle onto him again, pinning him to the bed once more. Hands encircled his throat and slowly began to squeeze tighter and tighter.

Frantically, Joe clawed at the fingers around his neck, scratching and pulling and having no effect at all. Reaching up, he raked his fingernails across soft flesh, heard a yelp of pain and was rewarded with a solid punch to the jaw and even more pressure on his throat. Joe attempted a few feeble punches that his attacker didn’t even notice. As he was enveloped by the darkness, Joe wondered who exactly was trying to kill him. It wasn’t Keith Rashman, Joe was certain. This person was much stronger than Rashman could ever hope to be.