While waiting for return phone calls and responses to emails he’d sent, Joe pored over the details of Kara’s case, scrutinizing every single piece of evidence. When lunch time arrived, he declined Frank’s offer of a trip to their favorite burger joint, instead spending the time calling some of the Federal agents and NYPD detectives who’d worked so hard to gather evidence against Kara, retracing every step they made.

By day’s end, he was still waiting to hear back from some of the people he’d contacted. However, the ones he’d already spoken to didn’t offer him much hope. While virtually everyone involved in the investigation genuinely liked Kara and felt sorry for her, they had all come to the same conclusion – she had means, motive and opportunity. As much as they hated to admit it, all the evidence proved she had embezzled over three million dollars from her employer.

The general feeling among the investigators was: the stress of her embarrassing failed marriage and subsequent lifestyle change due to the enormous debt she had been forced into, had finally pushed her over the edge. Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Joe had to admit there wasn’t anything that could even remotely support Kara’s claim that she had been framed.

"Joe?" Frank’s voice sounded muffled from the other side of the closed door.

"Yeah, come in," Joe called out.

Opening the door to Joe’s office Frank stood in the doorway, making no move to enter. "Dad wants a rundown on what we’ve got so far before we go home." He held up a sheaf of papers. "How’d you make out?"

Joe shuffled the multitude of papers laying on his desk, picking up a few and shoving the rest into a manila folder. "I got through most of it," he replied. Standing up, his muscles screamed at having been stationary for so long. Joe grimaced, remembering why he hated sitting behind a desk all day. "I’m still waiting for a few people to get back to me."

"Let’s go brief Dad on what we’ve got and then we can go home," Frank suggested.

"Sounds good to me," Joe agreed, following his brother down the hall.

As they passed through the reception area to the other side of the office, both boys said a pleasant goodnight to Estelle Gresham, Fenton Hardy’s long-time receptionist, secretary, administrative assistant and sometime confidante. While he’d never admitted it to anyone, Fenton had turned to Mrs. Gresham more than once when he had found himself at a loss as to how to discipline one of his sons – usually Joe. Having raised four boys on her own after her husband’s untimely death to cancer, he found Mrs. Gresham’s experience and words of wisdom to be invaluable.

Now seated in Fenton’s office, Joe and Frank brought their father up to speed on what they had accomplished that day. Having answered all Fenton’s questions and made a tentative game plan for the following day, the three sat in a somewhat awkward silence. Deciding to try to make amends for his remark earlier in the day, Fenton cautiously broached the subject of Kara, knowing Joe had been working on her case during every spare moment he had.

"Were you able to make any headway on Kara’s case?" Fenton asked.

"I talked to some of the detectives and Federal agents," Joe replied, being purposely vague. The last thing he wanted to do right now was admit that he had come up empty.

"What did they have to say?" Fenton continued, curious to know if Joe had indeed found something everyone else had missed. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time…’ Fenton thought with a touch of pride.

"They answered my questions," Joe shrugged, making Fenton feel as if he were getting the brush-off.

"But did they give you anything to work with? Anything new to go on?" Fenton pressed, wondering why Joe was being so evasive when he was making a concerted effort to try to understand his son’s motives. "Anything that might support Kara’s claim that she was framed?"

"No, nothing," Joe said crossly, getting the mistaken impression his father was enjoying his failure.

"Joe," Fenton leaned forward and looked at his son intently. "Do you think she’s innocent?" Seeing Joe’s nervousness, Fenton was certain Joe didn’t really believe in Kara’s innocence but would kill himself looking for evidence he wasn’t even sure existed – just so he wouldn’t have to face Vanessa’s possible disappointment in him.

Joe shifted his gaze away from his father and stared out the window. ‘Do I? I think she’s desperate… I wonder where the money went… but do I really, honestly believe she’s innocent?’

Joe found he couldn’t answer truthfully, even to himself. Refusing to lie, yet unable to voice his true feelings, he decided to fake it. Joe turned back towards his father and met Fenton’s eyes once again. "Vanessa is sure she’s being framed."

"I didn’t ask what Vanessa thinks," Fenton said evenly, his eyes locked on Joe. "I asked what you think." Thinking back on Joe and Vanessa’s evolving relationship over the years, he’d often wondered if they loved each other too intensely. Just how far would Joe go for Vanessa? Would he let his sanity suffer to ensure she never lost that touch of hero-worship Fenton sometimes saw in her eyes when she looked at Joe?

Frank held his breath at his father’s question, and the annoyed frustration that he heard in Fenton’s voice. While Frank understood Fenton wasn’t really frustrated with Joe, but with the position Joe found himself in, Joe didn’t see that and the tension in the room jumped a thousand percent. Watching his younger brother, Frank saw the anger flash in his eyes. Joe and Fenton stared at each other, leaving Frank to wonder if the close relationship they had spent the past year building and nurturing was about to become a casualty of their shared stubbornness.

"You want to know what I think?" Joe asked in what could only be described as a growl.

"Yes," Fenton replied, challenging Joe to speak the truth.

"I think I better end this conversation before I say something I’ll regret," Joe glowered, unable to hide the pain in his eyes, as he turned and stalked out of the room.

Fenton stared almost in disbelief. He finally leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "Damn it, why do I always antagonize him?"

"The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree," Frank quoted an old cliché, tiredly. "He’s not exactly easy on you either."

Fenton nodded in agreement and then looked at Frank imploringly. "Would you go talk to him?"

"Sure," Frank replied, keeping the twinge of resentment well hidden. ‘Sure, Dad…sure, Joe…go ahead and fight. Good old Frank is always there to pick up the pieces…’

Pasting a smile on his face, Frank rose and went in search of his younger brother. After checking Joe’s office and seeing the computer had been turned off, Frank peered out the window overlooking the driveway. Seeing Joe’s Mustang still parked there, Frank headed for the house, knowing Joe was bidding Laura goodnight.

Emerging into the foyer of the house, Frank almost collided with Joe who was on his way out in something of a hurry. "Can I talk to you a minute?" Frank requested.

"Why, so you can tell me how wrong I am and how right Dad is?" Joe said bitterly, never slowing down as he strode towards the front door.

‘This is getting so old,’ Frank thought, wondering if either Joe or Fenton ever considered what it felt like for him to be caught in the middle of their occasional battle of wills.

Following Joe out the door, Frank continued on his mission. "Come on Joe, he asked you a simple question. Do you think Kara is innocent? You must, if you’re working so hard to prove it. What have you found that has you so convinced?" Frank asked, thinking if he knew why Joe was so insistent on helping Kara, it would be easier to get Fenton to back off.

Joe stopped as he reached his car, his head bowed.

"Well," Frank pressured him, "you must have found something or you wouldn’t be so gung ho to prove her innocence." He was met with more silence. "Have you found anything – anything at all – that even remotely supports Kara’s story?"

Still Joe didn’t speak, refusing to even look at his brother.

"Joe," Frank reached out and tugged on Joe’s arm, forcing Joe to turn around and face him. When Joe was unable to hold his gaze for more than a second, Frank realized the truth. "You haven’t found anything, have you?"

Joe shook his head, staring over Frank’s shoulder at some meaningless object that didn’t even register with him. "No," he said stubbornly. "But I’m still looking."

‘Damn you! You and Dad! You’re both making me crazy…for nothing!!’ Frank silently fumed. "And just how long are you going to look?" Frank asked, feeling his patience being stretched to the limit. "Based on the evidence do you honestly believe Kara was framed?"

Joe finally looked his brother in the eye. "Vanessa does."

"Why are you doing this, Joe?" Frank spat out, unable to contain his annoyance any longer. "Just for spite? Because your stupid pride won’t let you admit there’s a chance Dad could actually be right about her?!"

‘Why am I doing this?’ Joe asked himself honestly.

Kara had seemed desperate and Joe assumed it was because she was innocent and no one believed her – a feeling Joe could easily relate to. But the other feeling he always got in situations like this – the gut instinct that started deep in his soul, letting him know without a doubt that he was right – was conspicuously absent. Had the desperate look in Kara’s eyes not been one of despair that no one believed her cries of innocence, but a reflection of guilt and fear at having been caught?

When Joe finally looked at Frank, his piercing blue eyes revealed confusion and uncertainty. "I’m doing it because I promised Vanessa," Joe said inflexibly. "Please don’t make me choose between you and Dad, and her."

Joe turned and got in his car. Driving off he left Frank staring after him in stunned silence. Frank walked dazedly to his own car, his emotions finally bubbling to the surface.

"ARGH!!!!" Slamming a fist against the roof, he screamed in frustration. "I’m not making you choose between Vanessa and anybody!!" Frank yelled skyward. "I don’t even want to be involved in this!"