"Oh, man. That’s terrible." He said aloud, scanning a front-page article.

"What’s terrible?" His wife, Callie, asked taking a seat opposite him. The petite blonde, with brown eyes looked at him curiously.

"You know that Sansom case in New York City?"

"Mm-hmm. You’ve been following it pretty closely. A young man about your age was beaten by some guy he accidentally bumped into on the street. The guy went into a drunken rage and beat him so badly he was left with severe brain damage, right?"

"Yeah, that’s the one. Blake Sansom. He was something of a child prodigy. An IQ so high he was almost off the charts. He was a medical researcher but could have done just about anything he wanted. The news reports said he was working on a vaccination against AIDS and he was getting close. The guy was brilliant." Frank shook his head sadly. "Now he has the IQ of a five-year-old. And he’s a quadriplegic."

"That is sad. But all that information was in a previous article, wasn’t it?" Callie asked puzzled.

"You’re right. I was referring to the outcome of the trial."

"The whole thing was caught on tape, wasn’t it? One of those downtown surveillance cameras took it if I remember correctly. It was pretty much an open and shut case."

"With the videotape, yes. But apparently the police evidence room was renovated and in the shuffle all the physical evidence for the case was accidentally thrown out with the trash. They had nothing to prosecute with. The guy kept insisting he didn’t do it, the victim can’t testify and there were no witnesses. The case had to be thrown out." Frank concluded, shaking his head.

"What?!" Callie cried out, horrified.

"That was his third arrest for a violent crime, too. He would’ve gotten heavy prison time under the three strikes law. Instead, he got off scot-free." Frank folded the paper and shook his head sadly. "I can’t even imagine what his family is going through."

"Oh, that’s awful! He was an only child wasn’t he?"

"Yes. His parents must be devastated." Frank checked his watch and stood up. "Gotta run. I’ll call if I won’t be home for dinner." He finished giving Callie a goodbye kiss and heading out the door.

*****

Frank arrived at work to find Joe and Fenton huddled over the conference table discussing something in earnest. Joe looked up when he heard Frank walk in. One look at his younger brother told Frank he was obviously annoyed at something.

"There was another burglary last night." Joe said, not bothering to greet his brother.

"Another one?" Frank asked in disbelief, taking a seat next to Joe.

"Mm-hmm." Fenton replied, pushing a paper across the table towards Frank. "Exact same M.O."

A recent flood of jewelry thefts had been sweeping the wealthiest section of Kirkland, a neighboring town of Bayport. Homes had been broken into while the owners were away for the evening or out of town. The only things stolen were large collections of very expensive jewelry. There was one thing all the victims had in common – they all insured their homes and possessions through a company called Liberty Insurance.

Many others who lived in the same area, some with much more valuable jewelry collections but who did not have insurance through Liberty, had not been victimized. Sensing one of their employees who had access to the policies might be committing the crimes, the insurance company had hired the Hardy’s to find the person responsible.

Frank, Joe and Fenton had all thought it appeared to be a pretty straightforward and simple case of catching the person on the "inside" who was planning and/or committing the crimes. Joe had even commented about how stupid the thief had to be as it was apparent someone working at Liberty Insurance had to be involved. However, as the burglaries began to mount, it became obvious that solving the crime wasn’t going to be as easy as they had initially thought.

Frank glanced at Fenton as he picked up the police report, noting the frustration in his father’s eyes. He suddenly realized how wrong they had all been when they first accepted this case. Initially, it appeared they would be able to apprehend the suspects fairly quickly and there seemed to be almost no element of danger involved – perfect for Joe’s first case back after almost two months off.

‘Then again that’s what we all thought about sending Joe to Chicago for one day.’ Frank shuddered at the disastrous turn of events that assignment had taken, before returning his attention to the report.

"Wow." Frank said, whistling when he saw the list of items that had been taken. "They must be raking in the money." He looked up, thoughtfully tapping his chin. "But how are they getting rid of the stuff? It hasn’t turned up in any of the pawn shops and we’ve checked all the neighboring towns."

"Black market?" Joe suggested.

"Possibly. I’ll have Sam check on that angle." Fenton replied, referring to his assistant Sam Radley. "In the meantime I’ll go to the Kirkland police department and talk to the officers who responded to the call. You two go talk to the victim. The insurance company told them we’d be contacting them so they’ll be expecting you."

*****

Joe got into the car, slamming the door in disgust. He and Frank had just finished interviewing the latest victim who told them the exact same story all the previous victims had – they’d gone out for the evening, no one else was home and when they returned home they found their house had been broken into, the safe opened and all the jewelry was gone. Nothing else had been stolen and virtually no evidence had been left behind.

"Hey, easy on the car there." Frank looked at him. "Try and leave the door on the hinges, okay?"

"Sorry." Joe apologized. "This is just getting really old, ya know? Whoever is doing this is making fools of us."

"It certainly does seem that way, although I doubt that’s their primary motive." Frank agreed, glancing at his brother who was staring out the window.

His heart tightened for a moment when he noticed Joe was gently rubbing his left arm, something Frank had noticed he’d been doing with increasing frequency lately, and wondered if maybe it wasn’t healing as well as Joe wanted everyone to believe. Recalling the way Joe had flinched the few times Chicago had been mentioned since they’d arrived back home, he decided not to say anything.

"Did you see that article in the paper this morning about the Sansom case in New York City?" Frank asked.

"No. But Vanessa read it and told me about it. Can you believe it?! They threw out the evidence!" Joe exclaimed. "Threw it out!" He repeated for emphasis. "That Sansom guy has to spend the rest of his life in what amounts to an adult day care center and the jerk who did it gets to walk. Sometimes I wonder about our criminal justice system."

"It was human error, Joe. Nobody’s perfect. And while our system may leave something to be desired, it’s still the best in the world." Frank replied.

"Yeah, I guess. But his parents must be beside themselves. Van said he was an only child and a real genius. Every parent’s dream. Sort of like you." Joe cracked.

"I’m not an only child, although there have been times I wished I was." Frank smiled teasingly. "And I’m far from a genius."

"Yeah, right, Mr. Valedictorian of both your high school and college graduating classes." Joe snorted. "And then there’s me…"

"Every parents worst nightmare?" Frank joked.

"I was thinking more along the lines of comic relief." Joe threw his brother a dirty look.

"That’s for sure." Frank laughed, pulling into the parking lot of one of his favorite restaurants.

"What are we doing here?" Joe asked.

"Getting lunch. I told Dad we’d pick something up on the way back. We can compare notes while we’re eating."

They went into the restaurant and placed their orders. Frank took a seat on one of the benches to wait while Joe restlessly paced the take-out lobby area. As Frank watched his brother walking around absently reading the notices posted on the walls, Joe once again began to rub his left arm, almost as if he didn’t even realize he was doing it. Frank remained silent, but made a mental note to ask his father if he had noticed it too. A few moments later, their order was ready and the brothers made their way back to the office, where they found Fenton waiting for them.

Frank and Fenton began taking the food out of the bags while Joe retreated to the kitchen to get drinks for them. Seizing the opportunity, Frank posed his question to Fenton.

"Dad, have you noticed Joe seems to be favoring his left arm lately?" Frank asked evidently concerned about it.

"You mean the way he rubs it all the time?" Fenton replied.

"So you have noticed it."

"It’s a little hard to miss." Fenton admitted. "I didn’t tell Joe, but I called his therapist – both of them." He emphasized, indicating he thought there could be a psychological reason for Joe’s strange new habit.

"Legally, they couldn’t tell you anything, could they? Especially Linda." Frank asked referring to the therapist Joe had been seeing to help him deal with the mental and emotional repercussions of a childhood kidnapping, Vanessa’s rape and, Frank hoped, what he had endured during his hellish ordeal in Chicago.

"Technically, no. Linda did say it could just be a new subconscious habit he picked up that manifests itself whenever he thinks about what happened with Rashman and Malick."

"So at least he’s talking to her about it." Frank said, relieved. He’d been afraid Joe would keep it all inside and try to deal with everything on his own.

"Apparently. And Liza said the therapy for his arm is coming along just as they had hoped." Fenton finished, referring to the therapist Joe saw a few times a week for his arm. "She said it’s painful, but unfortunately that’s to be expected."

"So, I’m probably worrying for nothing."

"Probably." Fenton smiled. "But it can’t hurt to keep an eye on him."

"Speaking of which, I’ll go see if he needs any help with those drinks." Frank replied and headed off to the kitchen.

*****

Joe eyed the pill in his hand with disgust, hating what had led to his dependence on them. Popping it into his mouth, he downed it with a few gulps of water. Placing the glass in the sink, he stared out the window and wondered how long he would be a slave to them.

Standing in the doorway of the kitchen, Frank watched in silence, unable to believe what he had just seen. Quickly moving back into the hall, he leaned heavily against the wall feeling as if he’d been punched in the stomach.

‘Drugs!’ Frank immediately recalled the day in Chicago when Joe had turned to prescription painkillers to dull the mental and emotional pain he was in. He had sworn to Frank it was one isolated incident and he would never do it again…

‘I guess it wasn’t just once.’ Frank thought, absolutely devastated.

With a sinking feeling, Frank realized he couldn’t possibly confront Joe about what he had just seen. The one thing Frank wanted more than anything was to regain Joe’s complete, total and unconditional trust. He knew he was making progress. The open and honest talks they’d had while Joe was hospitalized in Chicago had been proof of that… hadn’t they?

Joe had promised him, emphatically, no more drugs – ever. If he were to question Joe now about what he had just witnessed, asking Joe point blank if he were taking drugs, there would be no turning back. No second chances. Joe would never trust him again.

‘He promised he’d come to me before he turned to drugs.’ Frank reminded himself. ‘He promised. There’s got to be another explanation.’

Still one thought ate away at Frank…what if Joe didn’t trust Frank enough just yet to confide in him, regardless of what he had promised in Chicago?