Fenton Hardy also stared at his son, desperately looking for some sign that Joe was still alive. Joe had been dropped on the floor face down, hands still bound behind him. His face was turned away from his parents and Fenton couldn't tell from that position whether or not he was even breathing. He looked at his wife, struggling madly to get free and feared she would injure herself.

"Let her go!" He said angrily. "Look at her. She just wants to hold him."

Jarrell's eyes flicked from Fenton to Laura who let out another heart breaking wail. He nodded once to the guard who moved forward and freed Laura from the bonds holding her to the chair. Immediately she dropped to her knees beside Joe.

"Joe?" she said tentatively, touching his hair. "Baby, can you hear me?" She leaned closer to him, her tears dropping onto his cheek. "Please, Baby, talk to me." She begged.

Removing her hand from his hair, she stared at it in horror. It was covered with blood.

"NO!" she wailed, collapsing on top of him. "Oh, God, what did they do to you?!"

To Jarrell, his guards and even her husband, she appeared to be nothing more than a hysterical mother. Laura, however, knew exactly what she was doing. At this moment, she was an extremely concerned mother, but far from hysterical. Uppermost in her mind was getting much needed medical attention for her badly injured son.

Still lying across Joe's body, she cried out again at the same time surreptitiously reaching into the pocket of his jeans. She hadn't done his laundry for over twenty-one years without learning something. Praying he was still a creature of habit, she was rewarded when her fingers closed over his Swiss Army knife. Unobtrusively pulling it out, she kept it concealed within her hand and slowly sat up. Looking down, she saw that Joe's hands were still bound, his wrists raw, bleeding and covered in dirt. She looked up at Jarrell.

"Untie his hands." She said in a low growl. "Your men have already beaten him half to death. He can't hurt you."

Jarrell stood contemplating her request.

"NOW!" She yelled causing everyone in the room to jump.

"Please move behind your husband." Jarrell said.

'If you only knew how easy you're making this.' Laura thought as she went to stand behind Fenton. She put a hand on his shoulder and leaned down to kiss his cheek. At the same time, she dropped the knife into his hands.

Fenton Hardy felt his wife slip a small object into his hands, hoping the shock didn't register on his face. They both watched as a guard moved forward and began to hack at the ropes binding Joe’s wrists. When Joe moaned involuntarily, Fenton breathed a sigh of relief. His son was in obvious pain but that meant he was still alive.

"Gently!" Laura ordered and the guard instinctively obeyed, not wanting to face the wrath of this angry mother.

The second Joe was free of his bonds Laura was at his side in an instant, the guard moving back a few steps. As another guard aimed a gun at Joe and Laura, Jarrell nodded towards Fenton as he addressed the first guard.

"You may untie him now."

When the guard was finished, the severed ropes and chairs were removed from the cell and the door was once again locked, leaving Fenton and Laura hovering over their unconscious child.

"What did your animals do to him?!" Fenton yelled at Jarrell, enraged.

"Come now, Fenton. You know how difficult and uncooperative he can be. My men had to be sure he’d be accommodating during transport." Jarrell replied with the same infuriating smile.

"Your men? Plural? You don’t have one man who could take him on alone? And even outnumbered they had to beat him unconscious? " Fenton mocked.

Jarrell’s face showed a glimmer of rage before returning to the ever-present smile. "You’re lucky I didn’t have him killed immediately. I don’t like traitors."

"What did they do to you?" Laura murmured softly, taking one of Joe’s hands in hers and examining it. Seeing the dirt embedded deep in the cuts and lacerations made by the rope, her anger quickly resurfaced. Still holding Joe’s bloody hand, she looked up and glared at Jarrell.

"I want a First Aid kit." Laura demanded.

"We don’t have…" Jarrell began.

Laura was instantly on her feet, practically throwing herself at the cell door where Jarrell stood. He flinched and took a few steps back.

"I want a First Aid kit and I want it now!" Laura snarled at him, fire in her eyes. "I saw it when you first dragged us in here so don’t tell me you don’t have one."

Something in his face told Laura he was going to comply. He started to turn away when she stopped him with her voice.

"And some towels. And water." She added.

Fenton watched in amazement as his wife stood up to one of the most feared terrorists in the world and had a vision of an angry mother tiger protecting her young. Joe may have gotten his at times uncontrollable temper from Fenton, but it was abundantly clear which parent Joe inherited his defiant streak from.

Jarrell stared at her for a long moment then turned and left, as his guards followed behind him obediently.

Laura hung her head as tears filled her eyes. ‘I pushed him too far with the water and towels. Now I won’t get anything to help Joe.’

Turning, she walked back to where Fenton sat on the floor next to their injured son. Laura knelt down beside them and touched Joe’s cheek.

"I’m so sorry, Baby." She leaned down and kissed his cheek. Looking up at her husband, tears ran down her face. "I pushed too hard. I’m sorry."

"Laura, you stood up to a man who has every law enforcement agency in the world terrified. Something I didn’t even think to do." Her husband replied, in awe of her and ashamed of himself.

"But it won’t help Joe." She tugged on the hem of her blouse and used it to try and wipe some of the blood from Joe’s face.

"Honey, Jarrell is a terrorist. They’re not really known for their compassion."

Suddenly the door to the room opened and two of the guards came in. One carried a box and the other carried a bucket and a gun. They stopped outside the cell door where the man with the bucket placed it on the floor. He then moved to the side of the cell. Saying nothing, he aimed his gun directly at Joe’s head.

For some odd reason Laura thought he had been sent to put Joe "out of his misery." Instantly she was on her feet.

"No!" she screamed and moved in front of Joe and Fenton shielding them with her body.

"I am going to open the door and push these inside." The man standing next to the door spoke. "If either of you even blinks I will kill all three of you, starting with your son."

Laura and Fenton watched in stunned silence as the cell door opened and the box and bucket were pushed inside. The cell door was closed and locked and the two men left without another word.

Laura looked at her husband in shock and then ran to the front of the cell. She picked up the box and carried it back to Fenton. Returning for the bucket, she dragged it back too, sloshing a little bit of water over the sides as she did so.

Laura quickly emptied the contents of the box, as excited as a child on Christmas morning. She pulled out a large first aid kit, some extra bandages, several towels both large and small and to her utter astonishment, two blankets – something she had neglected to ask for.

Fenton waited while she spread one of the large, fluffy towels on the hard floor, then gently laid Joe on the towel. He moaned, causing Fenton to wince.

"I’m sorry, son." He said quietly.

Laura and Fenton each took a small towel, dipped them in the bucket and gently began trying to clean the blood off their son. After several minutes, Joe was much cleaner allowing them to examine Joe more carefully for injuries. Opening the First Aid kit, Laura placed a large bandage over the wound on Joe’s forehead that had been opened when he was struck with the bat. Feeling gently with her hands, she winced when she found a lump on the back of Joe’s head where it had been smashed against the car. A swelling and bruised eye and bruised jaw were also evident on Joe’s face.

As Laura checked Joe’s head for any other signs of injury, Fenton gently lifted his son’s shirt grimacing when he saw the deep purple bruises developing on Joe’s ribs.

"He might have broken ribs." Fenton told Laura, pointing out the bruising.

Laura nodded silently, turning her attention to Joe’s hands. Holding one of them, she noted the dirt still embedded deep in the cuts and lacerations despite their best efforts to clean the wounds completely.

"The dirt is ground in so deeply it’s almost as if they dragged him through it." Laura said her voice catching.

"They probably did." Fenton concurred. Rummaging through the First Aid kit, he retrieved the small plastic bottle of antiseptic Laura had used to clean the cut on Joe’s forehead. Holding it up he looked at her questioningly.

"It’s going to hurt him." Laura said sadly, knowing they didn’t have a choice. "Go ahead and do it."

Holding one of Joe’s hands over a small towel, Fenton poured some of the antiseptic on Joe’s wrist letting it flow over his hand and onto the towel. As Laura predicted, even though he was unconscious, Joe moaned loudly and tried to pull his arm out of his father’s grasp.

Ignoring the small whimper Laura couldn’t hold back, Fenton repeated the same procedure on Joe’s other wrist, getting the same response from his son. Saving a little of the antiseptic, Fenton placed the cap back on the bottle and returned it to the First Aid kit as Laura once again examined Joe’s wrists.

"Better, but I can still see some dirt in there." She said critically.

Placing Joe’s hands gently at his sides, Laura looked up at her husband.

"What if they get infected? What if he does have broken ribs? Or a concussion?" She asked, her tough façade starting to crack. "He needs to be in a hospital." Realizing how serious Joe’s injuries could be Laura broke down in her husband’s arms and cried.

Suddenly Joe moaned, turning his head towards the sound of his mother crying. Laura took one of his hands in hers and gently stroked his forehead.

"Joe, can you hear me, honey? Please, Baby, open your eyes." Laura pleaded.

He moaned again and Laura gasped, looking at her husband. "He squeezed my hand!"

"Are you sure?" Fenton asked, now encouraged. Leaning forward, he took Joe’s other hand in his. "Joe? Come on, son. Open your eyes. Talk to us."

Turning towards his father’s voice, Joe opened his eyes and focused on Fenton for a second or two before closing them again. His lips moved slightly as if he were trying to say something. Fenton leaned his head closer trying to make out what Joe was saying.

"What is it, son?" he asked. This time he heard Joe clearly and his heart broke.