"She’s still in danger." Joe said worriedly. "He’ll try again."

"Probably." Fenton concurred. "I asked Collig about a police guard but he’s still got so many officers out with the flu he can’t spare anyone." As Joe began to protest, Fenton held up a hand to stop him. "But he had no opposition to my privately hiring off-duty police officers from another jurisdiction. I called my contact at the Southport police department and got a list of officers who do private security work on their own time. Vanessa will have a twenty-four hour guard until she’s released or this guy is caught."

Joe stared at his father in amazement. Mentally calculating what it must have cost, he was a little overwhelmed and momentarily lost for words.

Watching the exchange, Frank gave a nod of thanks to a discreetly departing Biff and then slipped into the office leaving Joe and Fenton alone.

"Dad…thank you." Joe finally spoke. "I don’t know what to say."

Fenton smiled and reached out squeezing Joe’s shoulder. "You and Vanessa have been together so long she’s like a daughter to me. And it’s what I would have done if it were you or Frank lying in that hospital. No thanks are necessary. Now let’s get to work and catch this guy, huh?" Fenton said, nudging Joe towards the office.

Nodding in agreement, Joe accompanied his father into Fenton’s private office where Frank was seated at the conference table talking to lean, sandy-haired Sam Radley, who had arrived just moments earlier. As Joe and Fenton took seats at the table, Sam pulled out his notes and laid them out in front of him. Looking down at the papers, Sam began to recite what he’d learned.

"Ryan Bender. Twenty-six years old, currently living in Miami, Florida. Only child of Gregory and Sarah Bender. They went through a pretty nasty divorce when he was six years old and Sarah got full custody. As soon as the divorce was final, she took him and moved to Fort Lauderdale, Florida to be closer to her family. Gregory Bender was killed a few years later by a jealous husband.

"Right now Ryan manages a nightclub called The Vault in downtown Miami. It’s an old bank that’s been renovated into a club but still has a lot of the bank’s original furnishings and architecture. He’s been arrested twice on drug charges. The first time for possession. He got probation. The second time, possession with intent to sell. Got six months jail time. As soon as he got out, he started working at the nightclub, first as a bartender, then bar manager, assistant manager and eventually he took over running the place." Sam looked up from his notes to see Fenton frowning in concentration.

"It’s pretty unusual for an ex-con to land a job like that right out of prison without some kind of connection." Fenton said thoughtfully.

"He’s got one." Sam said ominously. "The club is owned by Juan Mendoza."

Fenton’s eyebrows shot up at the name.

"Yup, that Mendoza." Sam confirmed.

"Who’s Juan Mendoza?" Joe asked at his father’s reaction to the name.

"He’s the head of Miami’s most notorious crime syndicate. They make most of their money in illegal drugs but they’ve got a hand in just about everything – prostitution, money laundering, extortion, protection, gambling."

"You name it, they’ve got a piece of it." Sam concurred. "Apparently when Ryan was in prison, his cellmate was Mendoza’s grandson. One of the other inmates tried to kill him one night and Ryan saved his life. Mendoza was so grateful, he set him up at the club as soon as he was released from prison."

"So Ryan works for organized crime." Frank said absently thinking out loud. "Whose main source of income is drugs. Which would give him easy access to large quantities of LSD." He let the implication hang in the air.

"I checked out the club, but other than being owned by Mendoza, it comes up clean." Sam concluded.

Fenton nodded, but remained silent for a moment, digesting all the information. Leaning forward, he looked from Sam to Frank. "I want you to fly down to Miami and see what else you can dig up. Sam, you talk to the local police. We’ve worked with them a few times in the past, I’m sure they’ll give you any information they have. Frank, you go to the club, talk to the employees and see what you can find out. Also, talk to Ryan’s landlord and his neighbors. I’ll see if I can get you on a flight out tonight. That way you can start first thing in the morning."

Joe sat listening to the plans being made and felt useless. Guilt at not being able to protect Vanessa in their own home was slowly eating away at him and now he couldn’t even actively participate in finding the man who obviously wanted her dead. He knew his going to Miami was out of the question. He couldn’t leave Bayport without permission from the court and no one could know he was even remotely involved in the investigation. Hearing his name, Joe pushed aside the growing feeling of hopelessness and refocused on what his father was saying.

"Joe and I will do some background work from here and see if anyone we’ve put away has been released or escaped recently. I want to rule out any other possibilities before we take this to Collig." Fenton said looking at Sam and Frank, "Any questions?"

With negative responses from everyone, Fenton dismissed Sam and Frank to go home and pack, while he went to make airline reservations for them. Standing up, Frank motioned for Joe to follow him out to his car. Frank could see that his brother was starting to get depressed at being relegated to searching for background information and being left out of the active part of the investigation.

"Joe, promise me you’ll stick close to Dad until I get back." Frank requested. "Do whatever he asks and lay low, okay."

"Yeah, fine, whatever." Joe replied, sourly.

"No, not whatever. I don’t want to be worrying about you while I’m gone. Don’t lose your temper, don’t argue with Dad and don’t try and see Vanessa." Frank ordered.

Joe couldn’t help but smile at Frank’s list of do’s and don’ts, thinking he sounded like a parent who was leaving their teenage child alone for the weekend for the first time. "Yes, Dad." Joe quipped. "And I won’t have any wild parties while you’re gone either."

Frank rolled his eyes at the jab, but felt a little relieved. "Just don’t do anything that could get that restraining order revoked. I don’t want to have to go visit you in prison. We should be back by tomorrow night." Frank concluded getting into his car and starting it up. Looking at his brother, Frank could see Joe was still distressed despite the wisecracks. "Don’t worry, Joe. We’ll find him."

"Yeah, I know." Joe replied, although he still sounded troubled.

"Joe, you didn’t stab her." Frank said softly.

"Have a safe trip." Joe said as he stepped back from the car, not acknowledging Frank’s words.

Sighing, Frank backed out of the driveway, wondering what it would take to get Joe to actually believe it.

Bypassing the office, Joe went upstairs to his bedroom and shut the door. Sitting on the bed, he picked up the photo of he and Vanessa, staring at it until his vision blurred. Suddenly the image from the photograph was replaced with visions of knives and blood and broken glass. A painful scream echoed in his head and Joe dropped the photo onto the bed. Getting up he paced the room, willing the flashbacks away back into the recesses of his memory. Sitting at the desk, he focused on what they had learned so far when he realized one very basic question had yet to be answered.

Grabbing his cell phone, he quickly punched in Phil Cohen’s number. Wiry, dark haired, Phil Cohen had been a friend of the brothers’ since before high school. He was a genius when it came to computers and electronics and had often used those skills to help out on their cases.

"Hello?"

"Phil? It’s Joe."

"Joe! Hi! Biff called me earlier and told me what happened. How’s Vanessa? Any change?"

"No, no change." Joe replied, a note of dejection in his voice.

"Hey, I know she’ll be okay. She’s a fighter, like you." Phil said confidently. "Is there anything I can do to help you find the guy?"

"As a matter of fact, that’s why I’m calling." Joe responded. "Frank and Sam are flying down to Miami tonight to see what they can find out there. But I just realized we don’t know for sure if Ryan – Ryan Bender, our prime suspect - is even here in Bayport or not. Any chance you’d be willing to hack into the airline computers? See if he’s flown into town in the last few days?" Joe asked hopefully.

"My pleasure." Phil said, happy to be able to actively help out. "I’ll call you back in half an hour."

"Thanks, Phil."

Joe snapped the phone shut and sat back to wait. Twenty-five minutes later, Joe pounced on the ringing phone.

"Phil?"

"Ryan Bender arrived in Bayport two days ago on United Airlines Flight 1032 out of Miami." Phil said excitedly. "He had a return reservation for last night but it was changed."

"He wanted to make sure Vanessa was dead." Joe said, angrily. "When she wasn’t he couldn’t leave."

"It gets better. He changed it to a flight that was supposed to leave tonight, but that one was also changed about an hour ago. According to the notes in the airline computer, he intends to return to Miami but asked to leave the return date open. Which means…"