"I think that’ll do it for now," the older man said. "I’ll call you if I need any more information," he concluded. Standing, he shook Frank’s hand and headed off down the hall in the direction of the sunroom.

Following his progress, Frank saw the door to the room open, and caught a glimpse of his younger brother, flanked by Vanessa and Laura as he gave his statement to another officer. Fenton, who had been nervously pacing behind Joe as his younger son related the evening’s chilling events, left the room closing the door behind him.

"How is he?" Frank asked anxiously as his father approached.

Callie watched the looks being exchanged between her husband and his father. She couldn’t help but smile as they both simultaneously ran a hand through their dark brown hair, seemingly oblivious to the other one’s actions.

"He seems to be fine…and that worries me," Fenton admitted. "Given what he’s been through in the last twenty-four hours he shouldn’t even be able to put together two coherent sentences. Yet he’s in there calmly telling a complete stranger how he survived an attempted murder by hanging from a twenty-story balcony." He exhaled loudly in frustration, wondering if Joe really was fine or if he was walking on the edge, about to slip into the overpowering depression that had consumed him earlier in the year.

"Joe’s a survivor," Callie reminded them quietly.

Fenton stopped his pacing and stared at her for a moment, smiling ruefully.

"That he is," Fenton murmured, suddenly overwhelmed with pride at the extraordinary young man his son had grown into. "I guess I need to give him a little more credit. Sometimes I forget he’s not my little boy anymore."

"Oh, I think he’ll always be your little boy," Callie winked at her father-in-law.

‘Yes…he will,’ Fenton thought with a smile as the door down the hall opened and Laura emerged, followed by Vanessa, Joe and several police officers.

"I think we’re about done here, Mr. Hardy. Let me just go make sure the evidence collection team is finished and we’ll be out of your way," the lead detective said as he headed for Joe and Vanessa’s bedroom.

"So how did he get in?" Joe asked his father as they waited for the all clear.

"Apparently in addition to working out in the prison gymnasium for the past five years, he also took advantage of their educational opportunities," Fenton replied sourly. "He turned himself into something of an electronics expert."

"He hotwired the elevator," Frank guessed.

"Right," Fenton replied, smothering a grin. When Joe returned to the living room, Frank had immediately risen and positioned himself next to his younger brother. As they spoke Frank’s eyes continually swept the room, for potential danger, Fenton suspected. ‘I wonder if he even knows he does that,’ Fenton pondered before continuing.

"It took less than a minute for him to remove the panel, strip the wires and call the elevator to the lobby. When he got to the penthouse, he replaced the wires and panel so as not to alert anyone who tried to use the elevator after him that something was wrong."

"He did the same thing to get in the door up here?" Vanessa asked huddling closer to Joe.

"Mm-hmm," Fenton responded as a small group of officers returned from the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

"All set," the detective announced. "Tableau has some of his people in there cleaning up now. He said they should be done in a few minutes." The man turned to Frank and Joe, "I’m sure I don’t have to say it but if you think of anything else…"

"We’ll give you a call," Frank replied for himself and his brother as the team of officers bid them goodnight.

*****

Despite how tired he was, Joe couldn’t seem to fall asleep. Something had been nagging at him all night and he had finally figured out what it was. He sighed quietly and opened his eyes glancing down at Vanessa who was sleeping soundly, her head resting on his chest. Hoping he wouldn’t wake her up, Joe unwrapped her arms from around him and gently laid her head on the pillow.

Getting out of bed, he quietly made his way out of the room and down the hall. He heard the muffled voices of his parents coming from the living room and hoped Frank was still awake, too. Stopping at a closed door, he listened intently. Hearing the low drone of a television, Joe gave a tentative knock on the door. A moment later, Frank opened the door, surprised to see Joe standing there.

"I thought you went to bed a while ago," Frank commented pulling the door open, allowing Joe to walk into the room.

"I did. Couldn’t sleep," Joe replied, throwing a quick glance at the closed bathroom door.

"Callie’s taking a shower," Frank tossed the book he’d been reading aside and sat on the edge of the bed. "Something on your mind?"

"Yeah, kind of," Joe replied nervously sitting down on the bed and facing his brother. Staring at Frank’s bruised face, Joe winced.

"Anything I can help you with?" Frank offered his eyes automatically drawn to the purple handprints on Joe’s neck.

Joe absently picked at the bedspread, wondering how in the world he was going to pose this question. He wished the thought had never crossed his mind but it had and now he couldn’t get rid of it. Exactly how did Craig Rashman end up going over the balcony railing and plunging to his death? Had he misjudged the distance at some point during his fight with Frank? Had he simply taken one too many swings at Frank and found his momentum carrying him over the railing with no way to stop it? Or had Frank finally found a way to get the revenge he’d been thirsting for, for the last six months?

There was no way Frank could get near Keith Rashman to exact retribution for what he had done to Joe, no matter how badly he wanted to. Craig Rashman, however, had practically offered himself up on a silver platter by willingly engaging Frank in a fight. Joe knew Frank hadn’t come to terms with not killing Keith Rashman when he had a chance and a justified reason. The fact that Joe, at times, seemed to be haunted by the man did nothing to ease Frank’s guilty conscience. Lying in bed, trying to sleep, it had occurred to Joe that Frank might have taken the opportunity fate had handed him tonight and decided to do the next best thing, and settle the score with Craig Rashman.

"Tonight…when Craig Rashman went over the railing…" Joe began, hoping Frank might take the bait and just tell him exactly what had happened while he had been swinging helplessly from the penthouse balcony, hanging on for dear life.

Frank remained frustratingly silent, staring at Joe, showing no emotion whatsoever. Before Joe realized what had happened, the question came tumbling out of his mouth seemingly without permission, taking him by complete surprise.

"Exactly what happened on the balcony tonight?"

Frank continued staring at Joe, hiding his own surprise at the unexpected query. He had no doubts that this was going to happen, he just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. He assumed Joe was still a little traumatized by the events of this evening and would push the whole horrible incident to the back of his mind, pretending he was fine until he was ready to deal with it.

Frank had honestly thought Joe wouldn’t start questioning the circumstances surrounding Craig Rashman’s death until after they’d returned to Bayport. Obviously, he had miscalculated. And he wasn’t prepared to share the ugly details with his brother just yet.

"What happened on the balcony?" Frank repeated his expression neutral.

Joe nodded and held his breath, suddenly no longer sure he really wanted to know.