Abruptly, Joe awoke from the nightmare, his heart racing. Staring up into the darkness, he could still see the images of Frank, the crowbar and the two thieves as the taunts and laughter echoed in his ears. It was the third time in less than a week Joe had that dream, or some variation of it. It always began with he and Frank confronting the thieves and while Frank quickly moved in on his suspect, Joe always hesitated – uncertain, unsure, afraid. And it always ended with Frank paying for Joe’s indecision.

The first time he’d had the dream, Joe simply dismissed it as a product of his wild imagination. The second time had left him a little unsettled. Tonight all he could hear were the taunts of the man he was too afraid to apprehend. His mocking words from each of the previous dreams rang in Joe’s ears and he wondered if they might indeed be true.

‘Am I?’ Joe thought, as the beginnings of self-doubt tried to take root. He was certain the recurring dream was trying to tell him something, and questioned if it might be a confirmation of the threat Keith Rashman had made – the one that had been haunting him every day.

Rolling on to his side, Joe gazed at the clock on the nightstand, entranced by the red glow of the numbers.

‘Maybe he did.’ Joe thought, the self-doubt feeding on this possibility. The line that clearly separated his dreams from reality was suddenly blurred. For the first time in his life, Joe began to doubt himself and question his abilities as an investigator.

*****

Vanessa stood at the counter in the kitchen, absently shoving things into her bag, her attention focused on Joe. Sitting on the couch, he was ostensibly watching the morning news while finishing his coffee, although he appeared to be staring out into space. He had woken up abruptly during the night, due to a nightmare she presumed.

‘Third time this week.’ She thought, her forehead creased with concern.

Although he hadn’t shared with her what he had dreamt about, she was sure it wasn’t about Keith Rashman. It was painfully obvious when he dreamt about that. Thankfully, those dreams had started to dwindle to maybe once every few weeks. Still, whatever had awakened him during the night had clearly stayed with him, as Joe had been quiet and withdrawn since he got up. Vanessa had attempted to engage him in conversation and gotten only one word replies. Picking up her bag, she walked out to the living room and sat on the couch next to Joe.

"I’m going to head off to work now." She said, hoping for more than a nod in reply.

"Ok, Babe. Have a good day." Joe managed a little smile and leaned in to kiss her goodbye.

"Thanks. You too." Vanessa started to get up, and then hesitating, changed her mind. "Joe?"

"Yeah?" He turned to look at her again.

"Would it help to talk about it?" She offered. "Whatever’s bothering you?"

Joe smiled at her as he considered the offer. ‘Yeah, right. Tell her you’ve suddenly morphed into the Cowardly Lion.’

"It’s just some work stuff." He replied, vaguely.

"Ok." She nodded, not really believing him. Standing up she walked to the door, but turned back to Joe before opening it. "Then maybe you could talk to Frank about it." She suggested, as she got the feeling that whatever was bothering Joe would continue to grow if he didn’t resolve it.

"Maybe." He replied, looking at her thoughtfully.

"See you tonight."

"Bye."

‘Talk to Frank. Sounds good in theory.’ Joe contemplated. ‘But how do I tell him his partner suddenly seems to have lost the courage to do something as routine as snapping handcuffs on a suspect?’

While he knew Frank would never ridicule him or brush his fears aside, Joe wasn’t sure he had what little courage it would take just to admit these doubts and fears to his brother. And if he did, how would Frank feel wondering if Joe would come through in the clutch, or freeze – leaving Frank vulnerable.

While a voice in his head told him to keep these new doubts to himself, another part of him wanted to talk to his brother. Somehow Frank could always make sense of things, putting it all in perspective and easing Joe’s worries; helping him find a solution to whatever problem he was having – big or small. Joe had lost count of the number of times in his life he had turned to Frank for help and advice in sorting out his thoughts, fears and confusing tangle of emotions.

Pushing himself up off the couch, Joe walked to the kitchen and put his coffee cup in the sink. Grabbing his keys off the counter, Joe left the apartment thinking about the one thing that would be required for him to confide in his brother – trust.

*****

Joe arrived at the office to find Fenton on the phone and Frank sitting in a chair in front of his father’s desk, listening intently. Hearing Joe come in, Frank jumped up and grabbed Joe’s arm, moving to the other side of the room so they could talk without disturbing Fenton.

"What? What’s going on?" Joe asked slightly alarmed at his brother’s reaction.

"You hit the jackpot, little brother!" Frank said excitedly. "Con ran the partial plate you gave him, hoping there wouldn’t be too many cars matching the description, so it would be a little easier to find the right one."

"And how many were there?" Joe asked, getting caught up in Frank’s enthusiasm. "Eight? Ten? Must be a lot in the state of New York."

"One!" Frank exclaimed.

"One? That can’t be right." Joe replied, stunned at their luck.

"It gets better. Dad called Sam Peterson with the name and address of the person who it’s registered to. Sam sent a couple of officers out to the house just to see if there was any damage to the car…"

"The broken tail light!"

"Right! And this car had a broken right rear tail light! Sam went before a judge this morning to request a search warrant. He should have it by the time we get there."

Joe stared at his brother for a moment, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. "Who’s the car registered to?" Joe finally found his voice.

"This is where it gets really weird. It’s registered to George Sansom." Frank replied, still shocked at that turn of events himself.

"George Sansom?" Joe repeated. "Is he related to…"

"Blake Sansom’s father." Frank confirmed.

"Wow. That can’t be just a coincidence. I mean Blake’s name was on that list. He was the first baby born on July 14, 1977." Joe said, continuing in a slightly more confused tone. "But what does it mean? Did this guy have some kind of vendetta against gifted people who were born on the same day as his son? But why? They never did anything to him."

"I don’t know, but I agree it’s definitely not just a coincidence. Hopefully, when his car is searched there will be enough evidence to bring him in for questioning and we can find out." Frank replied, stopping when he saw Fenton hang up the phone.

"Ok, let’s go." Fenton said, hurrying out from behind his desk. "It’ll take us an hour to get there and Sam should have the search warrant by then."