Frank was almost speechless as he listened to the details of the attack on Linges. After dropping off a date in the early morning hours of Sunday, Jason had driven back to his northern New Jersey estate. As he got out of his car in front of the house, he felt a sharp, stinging pain in his neck. He hadn’t passed out immediately and felt the area, shocked to find a dart lodged in his neck. Although he felt woozy, he began walking towards the area where he thought the shot could have originated from when he was struck with a second dart, this one bringing him to his knees. Seconds later he was unconscious. He was found late Sunday morning by a couple of joggers at the entrance to his driveway. When he awoke in the hospital, he was told his spinal cord had been severed with surgical precision – he would never walk again. The emergency room personnel had found an incision on Jason’s back where the attacker had obviously used medical instruments to gain access to and sever his spinal cord, and then stitched the incision closed.

As Gregory Linges finished telling them about his son, the Hardy’s sat quietly for a moment, trying to digest all the information. Joe was the first to speak.

"I’m so sorry, Mr. Linges. I was huge fan of Jason’s." He wanted desperately to find the person who had done this but knew he had to wait and see if Frank and his father would also want to take the case.

"Thank you. That’s nice to hear." Linges replied with a sad smile.

"How old is Jason?" Fenton asked.

"Twenty-four. He’ll be twenty-five in a few weeks." He looked at the floor and shook his head. "Some birthday that’ll be."

"If you don’t mind my asking, Mr. Linges, is there any particular reason you don’t feel the police can handle this matter?"

"I have the utmost faith in the police department, Mr. Hardy. I’m ex-military police myself. It’s just that to them Jason is one of thousands of cases they are working on. To you he would be the top priority." Linges responded.

"Do the police know you’re here?"

Linges smiled wryly before answering. "They’re the ones who recommended you. I told Sam Peterson I knew his department could find the person who did this – eventually. But I wanted them found immediately. I don’t want any other father to have to go through what I am right now." He stopped a moment, taking a deep breath. "I told Chief Peterson there was no question that I would be hiring a private investigator and he couldn’t talk me out of it. So I told him he might as well give me a recommendation. That way at least he would be working with someone he knew and respected. Plus, I wanted the best, and who would know that better than the police." He finished.

"Sam and I go way back." Fenton smiled. "But I’ll bet he still wasn’t happy about it."

"No," Linges admitted. "But when he realized I wouldn’t be talked out of it he went out of his way to help. And after he gave me your names, I did a little investigating myself. You’re the best and I only want the best for my son. So, will you take the case?"

Fenton knew he didn’t even have to ask Joe, knowing his youngest son would jump at the chance to catch the person who had cut short such a promising career. He was about to ask Gregory Linges to step into the reception area so he could get Franks thoughts on the case, but when he looked at his older son, Frank simply nodded in agreement.

"Yes." Fenton replied.

"Excellent." Almost immediately Linges began pulling papers, reports, forms and other items out of the briefcase he had brought with him. "I have copies of all the police reports and Jason’s medical records when he was brought to the hospital." He placed a pile of papers on the desk in front of Fenton.

Frank was slightly taken aback at the man’s foresight and looked at his brother. Joe’s eyebrows had shot up in surprise as he stared at the papers on the desk. Nudging Joe in an effort to bring him back to the task at hand, Frank was once again dumbfounded as Gregory Linges pulled more files out of the open briefcase he had balanced on his knees.

"I’m not trying to tell you how to do your jobs, but like I said, I’m ex-military police." He offered Fenton a much smaller stack of papers that appeared to be police reports. "There were two other attacks prior to Jason’s. Both of the victims were shot with a tranquilizer dart, taken somewhere else and…"

"Assaulted." Frank finished, his blood running cold. "A concert pianist whose hands were smashed. He’ll never play piano again. They’re not even sure he’ll regain the use of his hands for everyday use. And an opera singer whose vocal chords were cut. She’ll never even speak again." Frank said in a somewhat hushed voice.

"Yes." Linges concurred staring at Frank a little awed, before continuing. "I know you would have found out about the other two once you started your investigation, but I figured no sense in wasting time." He took in both Joe and Fenton with a sweeping gaze. "The fact that they were all essentially initially disabled with a tranquilizer dart is too much to be a coincidence."

"I agree." Fenton replied, already scrutinizing the reports.

"Well, I’ll leave you to find this…animal." Linges said with the first and only show of emotion he’d had since arriving. Standing he extended his hand first to Fenton, then Joe and Frank. "Thank you very much for taking this case. It won’t change what happened to Jason, but just knowing the person who did it is off the streets and paying for it… well, that will be a help in his recovery…and readjustment."

"We’ll do our best, Mr. Linges." Joe said as he shook the man’s hand.

"Then I have every confidence they’ll be caught very soon." After shaking hands with Frank, Linges turned back to Fenton and handed him a business card. "My office and cell phone numbers are on there. I’ve written my home number on the back."

"We’ll keep you informed." Fenton promised as he took the card and watched the man leave.

Looking at Frank, who was already perusing the police report of Jason’s attack, and Joe who was hunched over, reading over his brother’s shoulder, Fenton wasn’t sure how he would react if one of his son’s had been paralyzed in such a senseless attack. He watched as Joe straightened up a little bit and unconsciously began rubbing his left arm. According to his therapist, it was a sure sign he was thinking about his own abduction and senseless abuse.

For a split second, Fenton wondered if it might be better for Joe not to work on this case, if this was his response to simply reading a police report. Sam Radley, Fenton’s assistant was working on a few cases and would love to have Joe’s help. As quickly as the thought came, Fenton dismissed it. He knew there would be no tearing Joe away from this case, no matter how many bad memories it dredged up.

Feeling as if he were being watched, Fenton noticed that although Frank hadn’t moved an inch, his eyes were now squarely on his father. As soon as he knew he had Fenton’s attention, he shifted his gaze to Joe for a second, who was still rubbing his arm although he was totally engrossed in the report, and then back to his father in a silent question.

Fenton gave a very small shake of his head, not wanting Joe to see their silent exchange. He could tell by Frank’s raised eyebrows that he did not agree. Just then a low beeping sound began, startling both Frank and Fenton.

"Shoot." Joe complained looking at his watch and pressing a button to turn off the alarm he had obviously set to remind himself of something. He looked at his father and brother sheepishly. "I have an appointment with Linda." He told them referring to the therapist he had started seeing while in the Campbell Psychiatric Center when a flood of traumatic childhood memories had finally decided to make themselves known almost six months earlier. "I can reschedule it…" He began reaching for the phone on his father’s desk.

"Absolutely not." Fenton cut him off.

"But Dad…" Joe pleaded.

"No. You never cancel an appointment with Linda to work on a case. That was the agreement." Fenton was adamant.

Joe looked at his brother in a silent plea for support.

"Sorry, Joe." Frank shook his head. "I’m with Dad on this one. And that is what you agreed to."

Joe was about to object when he realized it would be futile. "Fine. I’ll be back in an hour. Just don’t solve the case before I get back." He said dejectedly as he walked out of the office, shoulders slumped in defeat.

Frank waited until he heard Joe’s car start up before voicing his concern. "Do you think it’s a good idea for him to work on this? I swear he grabbed his arm, before Linges was even out of the room. Didn’t Linda say that means he’s thinking about Rashman and everything that happened?" Frank demanded anxiously.

"She said that was the most likely explanation." Fenton confirmed. "Which makes sense since he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it."

"Then he needs to be working on something else." Frank said forcefully. "He doesn’t need to be reminded of that."

Fenton sighed inwardly seeing Frank’s over-protective instincts had suddenly gone into overdrive. "And how exactly are you going to convince him not to work on this? He didn’t even want to be left out of it for an hour, Frank."

"I can’t believe you! You don’t even care if it brings up all those memories for him!" Frank yelled, incredulous.

"Of course I do." Fenton replied calmly, knowing Frank needed an outlet for all the anger he still held inside for Keith Rashman, that he had yet to come to terms with. "But do you honestly think those memories are ever very far from the surface for Joe?"

Frank slumped in his seat, knowing his father was right and hating it.

"Work is the best thing for him. And there is nothing that will make him give up the chance to help one of his football hero’s."

"I guess." Frank replied, not at all convinced.

"This appointment with Linda was perfect timing. Let’s give him a little credit, huh? I’m sure he’ll be fine." Fenton smiled.

Frank nodded his reluctant agreement.

"Why don’t we grab some lunch? That way Joe won’t miss a thing." Fenton suggested.