"Okay. See you later, Dad." Joe replied from the passenger seat.

Checking the rearview and side mirrors, Frank waited for a break in the traffic and smoothly rejoined the flow. "What’s Graham’s address again?" He asked Joe.

"322 East 22^nd Street. Not too far from here." Joe replied glancing out the window, craning his neck to get a better view of the towering office buildings. "So when are we going to do another long weekend here? Van and I had a blast. Callie would’ve made a great cruise director." Joe said absently, referring to the weekend the four of them had spent in New York City a few months earlier. Callie had made all the plans and arrangements and made sure to include all the things Joe and Vanessa loved to do whenever they visited the city.

"Maybe we can fit one in soon. I’ll check with Callie." Frank smiled, glad Joe still remembered that weekend fondly. Callie had planned the entire trip to keep Joe and Vanessa so busy that they wouldn’t have time to think about the fact that it was the one month anniversary of the day Joe had been found not guilty of murdering Vanessa’s rapist. Unfortunately, it was also the weekend that started a chain of events resulting in Callie being blackmailed and Vanessa being kidnapped. Frank was happy to see Joe focused on the positive aspect of those three days and was eager to do it again.

Glancing at his brother, Frank noted that while Joe seemed occupied with the scenery passing by, he was holding his left arm close to his chest and running his right hand up and down it every few seconds.

"How’s Vanessa’s job going?" Frank asked, hoping to get Joe’s mind off whatever disturbing thoughts were causing him to revert to this new, subconscious habit of his.

"Great." Joe turned and smiled at Frank, automatically releasing his arm. "Phil is so excited about what she’s accomplished in such a short period of time, that he’s already talking about giving her a raise. And she’s only been working for him less than five months!"

"I’m not surprised." Frank said, pulling into an empty parking space. "When it comes to computer graphics she’s one of the best." Turning off the car he unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car with Joe doing the same. "It should be up here on the right."

The two brothers walked past a few town homes, stopping in front of one of them. "322." Joe said, consulting the slip of paper in his hand. "This is the one." Climbing the steps to the front door, he reached out and rang the bell. A moment later the door opened to reveal a woman in her late forties, with reddish-brown hair and hazel eyes.

"May I help you?"

"Frank and Joe Hardy to see Kent Graham." Joe replied.

"Oh, right. He’s expecting you. Come in." She stepped aside and ushered them into the entryway. "I’m Sarah Graham, Kent’s mother." She extended a hand to Joe and then Frank. "He still needs quite a bit of help, so I’ve moved in temporarily." She said sadly. "I know the police are doing everything they can to catch whoever did this, but I have to say I’m glad you’re also working on it. The sooner this person is caught, the better." She motioned for them to follow her down the hall and led them to the living room. As they entered, a young man with the same shade of reddish-brown hair looked up from the papers he was reading.

"Kent, this is Joe Hardy," she said gesturing towards Joe "And his brother Frank. I’ll leave the three of you alone. Just yell if you need anything."

"Thanks, Mom." The young man replied standing up and facing the Hardys. "Please have a seat." He smiled, waiting for Frank and Joe to sit down before doing so himself. "I was a little surprised when I got your phone call yesterday. I’ll admit I’ve been in my own little world ever since this happened." He held up his bandaged hands. "I had no idea two other people had been attacked in the same manner. And Leona was one of them…" his voice trailed off.

"You know her?" Joe asked a little surprised.

"We’re acquainted." Kent nodded. "We move in the same circles, her being an opera singer and me a pianist." His smile faded as he amended his words. "Well, at least we were."

Joe exchanged a look with his brother, wondering if this new information would have any bearing on the case.

"So, you wanted to ask me some questions?" Kent asked, looking from Joe to Frank.

"If you don’t mind." Frank acknowledged. "I know you’ve already told the police, more than once, but it would be a big help if you could tell us exactly what happened the night you were attacked."

Kent frowned in concentration for a moment, trying to organize his thoughts before he began to speak.

"Unfortunately, there’s not much to tell. I was returning home after rehearsal. We couldn’t quite get it together that night so everything ran later than expected. The symphony complex isn’t too far from here. I usually walk unless the weather is really bad; never had any problems at all. Anyway, I had just gotten to the steps in front of my house when I felt something sharp hit me in the neck." He turned his head slightly and gestured to the spot where he had been shot with the dart.

"I blacked out almost immediately. The next thing I knew, I was in the emergency room." His voice dropped considerably as he looked at his bandaged hands. "They told me my hands were smashed with some kind of hammer. The doctors think that eventually, after a lot of surgery, I might be able to do learn how to do everyday things, so I won’t need around the clock help. But it’s obvious I’ll never play piano again." He said sadly. There was silence for a moment before Kent smiled. "Ah, well, I always intended to try my hand at conducting one day. I guess it’ll just happen a lot sooner than I had planned."

Realizing the young man wouldn’t be able to tell them any more than they already knew from the police report, Frank pulled a business card out and laid it on the table. "If you remember anything else, even if it seems insignificant, please give us a call."

"I will." Kent replied glancing at the card. "I sure hope you catch this guy. I mean walking along, just living your life one minute, and the next thing you know you wake up somewhere else and realize you have no idea what’s happened or how you got there, it’s very…" He stopped, searching for just the right word.

"Unnerving." Joe said quietly.

"Exactly." Kent agreed, looking at Joe curiously.

Glancing at his brother, Frank saw Joe was once again holding his left arm close to his body, rubbing it with his right hand. He quickly stood up, wanting to get Joe out of there, sensing the bad memories he was reliving.

"Thanks again, Kent." Frank said, nudging Joe towards the door.

*****

Fenton sat on the couch in Sam Peterson’s office listening intently as Sam brought him up to date on everything the police had uncovered.

"Whoever it is has some kind of medical background." Sam told him. "A surgical nurse, an EMT, resident, intern, physician…some kind of experience in the operating room. Especially with the last two victims – Leona Soris and Jason Linges – the assailant knew exactly what they were doing. The wounds were inflicted with almost surgical precision. They were very specific and permanent. No other surrounding tissues or organs were damaged. And the wounds were sutured."

"Both of them?" Fenton asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yes. Almost as if they were being operated on rather than assaulted."

Fenton looked over the three police reports again. "The first two were both very well known in the music industry. But how would a professional football player tie in with them?" He mused, thinking out loud. "Does Linges have some kind of musical background that we don’t know about?" Fenton asked.

"No. We asked his father, hoping that might be the connection but apparently he has no musical inclinations whatsoever. He’s been a classic ‘jock’ his whole life. Right now the only thing we can find that all three of them have in common is that they are all twenty-four years old.

Fenton sat back and sighed. "Maybe Frank and Joe will have better luck."

*****