The agony of having to bury his younger sibling, even if only symbolically, would increase or decrease depending on the day, or his mood, but it would never, ever be forgotten. It was a special kind of torment. It was the first thing that greeted him in the morning and the last thing he thought of at night, sometimes even haunting his dreams.

Chet could feel it creeping up on him now as the saw the frequent glances Frank would throw at Joe’s abandoned car. While Chet loved his sister dearly, he knew their relationship couldn’t come close to the intense bond Frank and Joe shared. He knew if Joe did not survive whatever Ryan had planned for him, a big part of Frank would die right along with him. It was clear to everyone assembled that Frank felt completely responsible for Joe’s current situation and Chet knew that could make the pain of Joe’s death, should it happen, even more unbearable for Frank.

Considering that dark possibility, Chet looked skyward, turning to his sister once again, as he prayed for Joe’s safety until they could locate him. He had to live with the heartache of Iola’s death every day and he wouldn’t wish that kind of pain on his worst enemy let alone one of his closest friends.

Chet moved inconspicuously, until he stood beside Frank. Reaching out, he placed a hand on Frank’s shoulder and squeezed. Turning, Frank looked at one of his oldest and dearest friends and read the message in his eyes.

With a trembling smile of thanks, Frank put his hand on top of Chet’s and squeezed it gratefully.

Chet heard Fenton Hardy calling his name and snapped his head around.

"Yes?"

"You know this area better than anyone." Fenton began. "Ryan wants Joe dead as soon as possible. He’s not going to waste time transporting Joe any great distance just to kill him. Is there anywhere close by he could go to accomplish that? The more isolated the better." Fenton concluded, shuddering at having to make such direct references to his own son’s possible murder.

Gazing at his surroundings Chet thought hard. A bead of sweat popped out on his forehead as he felt the pressure at being seen as Joe’s only chance for survival.

‘Come on, think!’ He admonished himself. ‘You know this area like the back of your hand. Just think it through logically…’

"The Beeson farm!" Chet blurted out. "It’s less than a mile from here and it’s been abandoned for years! The only thing left standing is an old barn. It’s far enough off the main road that it can’t be seen!"

"You lead." Collig barked at Chet as everyone swarmed to their cars.

Frank’s heart started to race as he pulled out onto the road directly behind Chet. ‘Hang on, Joe. We’re coming!’

As Chet predicted, not quite a mile down the road, a rutted, overgrown dirt path appeared on the left. If one didn’t know it was there, they would zip right past it. Chet led the group a little ways down the road, and came to a stop. Getting out of the car, he waited for the others to join him.

"It’s about a quarter of a mile down there." He said, pointing behind him. "But it’s completely isolated. If we drive up, they’ll hear us."

"Then we walk." Fenton said grimly. Looking down he pointed out the tire tracks in the dirt that matched the ones they had seen on the shoulder of the road. With a renewed sense of purpose, he started out in the direction Chet had indicated, with Frank by his side.

It was only moments later when a dilapidated old barn came into view, a dark green Ford Taurus parked next to it. Collig and Riley now moved forward and took the lead. With guns drawn, they motioned for everyone to remain silent. As they neared the weather-beaten structure, Ryan’s muffled voice could be heard through the open roof and broken windows.

Soundlessly, the group made their way forward until they were nestled up against the outside wall. Carefully Frank stood and peered in a broken window. His heart stopped momentarily at what he saw. His brother was tied to a wooden chair, hand and foot. Ryan’s back was to the window partially blocking Joe’s view, which prevented Frank from making eye contact with him.

Frank’s throat tightened as he saw the right sleeve of Joe’s shirt had been pushed up and a piece of rubber tubing was tied securely around his upper arm, allowing the veins in his arm to be clearly visible. As Ryan abruptly turned and walked to the only other chair in the room, Frank pulled back so he was no longer visible through the window although he still had a clear view of what was going on.

Fear clutched at his heart as he saw Ryan open a plastic bag, dipping a spoon into it. As he pulled the spoon out, Frank could see it was laden with a white powder. Picking up a cigarette lighter, Ryan flicked it with his thumb and a small flame sprang to life. He placed it under the spoon and methodically moved it back in forth in a slow and calculated manner. It took several moments of this before the powder transformed itself into a clear liquid.

Very carefully, Ryan placed the lighter on the chair and picked up the syringe, filling it with the deadly liquid. Turning, he walked back to stand in front of Joe. Holding the needle in front of Joe’s face Ryan smiled down on his captive.