He’d convinced Vanessa and Kara to go out to dinner and a movie. Kara was hesitant, feeling as if she were taking advantage of Joe and Vanessa. But when Vanessa, eyebrows raised suggestively, proposed dinner at Prito’s, Kara had readily agreed.

Alone in the apartment, Joe spent the evening poring over the information he had, getting more and more depressed. ‘What the heck am I looking for?! There’s nothing here to find!’ Joe rubbed his eyes tiredly. ‘And how do I explain that to Vanessa?’

Listening to the monotonous ticking of the clock, Joe had no idea how to begin to break that kind of news to his fiancée. He heard the door open and then Vanessa’s hearty laughter echoed down the hall. Sitting back, Joe closed his eyes, losing himself in the sound. During the months after she had been raped, Joe realized just how much he’d taken that sound for granted. At one point, things seemed so dark he was certain he’d never hear it again. When it finally resurfaced many months later, Joe vowed never to take it for granted again.

Realizing he could be responsible for silencing Vanessa’s enchanting giggle, should he tell her he was unable to find a shred of evidence to help Kara, Joe decided to keep that information to himself just a little longer.

*****

The next morning, Joe procrastinated as much as possible before leaving for work. After an extended visit with Laura, he finally faced the music and made his way into the office.

"Hi, Mrs. G," he greeted the woman he’d come to see almost as an adopted grandmother.

"Good morning, Joe," she smiled as he passed by her desk.

Taking a deep breath, Joe stopped in the doorway of his brother’s office. Peeking in, he saw Frank engrossed in something on the computer.

"Knock, knock," Joe said tentatively.

"Hi," Frank looked up. "Come on in."

"Thanks," Joe replied flopping on a chair in front of Frank’s desk. "Listen, I’m sorry about yesterday. I didn’t mean to take out my frustrations with Dad on you."

"Thanks," Frank acknowledged the apology. Sensing Joe’s eagerness to make amends, Frank made a suggestion he hoped would buy him some peace of mind. "You know if you and Dad sat down and talked to each other – calmly – you could both stop apologizing to me."

Prior to Joe’s arrival, Fenton had sat in the very same chair himself and apologized for putting Frank in the middle of his disagreement with Joe.

"Uh…can I think about that for a while?" Joe asked evasively, still not quite ready to face his father head on.

"Sure, why not," Frank sighed, unnoticed by his brother. ‘One out of two is half the battle, right?’ Frank tried to convince himself. He recalled his father’s willingness to make things right with Joe – if Joe would hear him out before making any judgments.

"Cool," Joe stood and smiled as he walked to the door. "Let me finish up that list of contacts you gave me yesterday. Hopefully the rest the people I tried to reach have returned my calls by now. Be back in a little while." With a wave of his hand, Joe was gone.

As the day wore on, Frank noticed Joe and Fenton were tactfully avoiding each other. Despite their apologies to him, they both insisted on using Frank as a go-between rather than actually speaking to one another face-to-face. Come day’s end, Frank was seated in his father’s office listening to Fenton’s discourse, yet again, on Joe’s misguided mission to prove Kara innocent. With frequent glances at the clock on this father’s desk, Frank counted the minutes until he could retreat to the sanctuary of his own home and Callie’s arms.

"Could you please explain to Joe that I’m just worried about him?" Fenton requested.

"Dad," Frank began patiently. "I think it would be more effective if he heard it directly from you."

"He doesn’t listen to me!" Fenton exclaimed, frustrated. "You can get through to him so much easier than I can…please?"

Frank stared at his father and cursed silently when he saw a hint of the puppy dog look Joe had perfected visible in Fenton’s eyes. ‘They’re ganging up on me with that look!’ Frank thought sourly.

"Fine," Frank replied evenly. "Sure…nooooooo problem."

"Thank you, son," Fenton smiled, oblivious to the sarcasm in Frank’s voice. "I knew I could count on you." Immediately, he returned to the report he’d been studying, content that his problem with Joe would be solved within minutes.

Frank stood and glowered at his father and then turned and stalked out of the office and down the hall.

"Could you explain it to Joe… he doesn’t listen to me… you can get through to him…" Frank mimicked his father acerbically, his pace increasing with each muttered thought.

"Chin up, Frank," Mrs. Gresham called out as he strode through the reception area.

With a wave of acknowledgement, Frank continued on, stopping in front of Joe’s closed office door. Taking a deep breath, he knocked once and poked his head inside. "Got a minute?"

"Sure, what’s up?" Joe replied amiably.

‘What’s up? You and Dad are making me crazy, that’s what’s up!! I’m gonna end up in a padded room before my thirtieth birthday because of you two!’ Frank silently fumed.

"Listen," Frank perched on the edge of Joe’s desk. "Could you go see Dad? Just sit and talk with him for a few minutes. He’s concerned about you, Joe. Can’t you just hear him out?" Frank requested.

Joe wrinkled his nose distastefully, twirling a pen between his fingers. "I don’t know," Joe shook his head. "Dad and I are having…issues."

"Gee, I hadn’t noticed," Frank retorted his eyes narrowed in annoyance. "This would give the two of you a chance to work out your issues."

Joe studied the pen in his hand as if it contained the secrets of the universe. Finally, he vetoed Frank’s idea. "Mmm… no, I don’t think so. But I bet if you talked to him for me, things would be all straightened out in no time flat," Joe suggested with a broad smile.

Feeling his blood pressure rise, Frank decided he’d had enough. "That’s it," he growled. Reaching across the desk, he grabbed Joe’s forearm and forcibly pulled his brother out of the chair. "Let’s go."

"Ow…hey….that hurts…" Joe sputtered trying to wrench his arm from Frank’s stranglehold as he was dragged out of his office and down the hall. "Mom!" Joe wailed, attempting to make himself a dead weight until the cavalry arrived.

Passing through the reception area, Frank nodded once at Mrs. Gresham. She smiled and winked at him as if she was seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

"Mrs. G, help me!" Joe pleaded, digging his heels into the carpet.

"Sorry, Joe, I was an older sibling myself," the silver haired woman replied, throwing Frank a sly grin as the elder Hardy brother continued on to the opposite end of the hall and barged into his father’s office, eyes blazing.

"Sit!" he ordered Joe pointing to a chair.

"But…" Joe tried to protest only to be stopped by Frank’s outraged voice.

"I said sit…NOW!" Frank roared.

Joe complied immediately, attempting to blend in with the pattern on the chair. Slouching down as far as possible, he looked at his father worriedly. Fenton closed the file he’d been reading and focused all his attention on Frank. He could count on one hand the number of times Frank had lost his temper in the last twenty or so years. Seeing the icy glares Frank was distributing evenly between he and Joe, Fenton slunk down in his seat slightly, realizing he was partially to blame for whatever had gotten Frank so angry.

"I...have…had…enough!" Frank said through clenched teeth. He slammed his fist on the desk causing Fenton, Joe and a glass of water to jump. His gaze shifted between Fenton and Joe with each word. "I am sick and tired of being the rope in your personal tug of war!"

Frank whirled and focused all his attention on Fenton. "If you want Joe to know why you want him to drop this whole thing – TELL HIM!!" Frank yelled, pointing at Joe for emphasis.

He then turned on Joe, causing the younger Hardy to flinch and sink further into the chair. "And if you want Dad to know why you refuse to stop investigating – TELL HIM!!!" Frank bellowed gesturing in a similar manner towards his father. Taking a step back, Frank closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, as if the outburst had been physically painful.

Joe watched closely as Frank’s lips moved but no sounds came out. ‘Uh-oh…he’s counting to ten…not a good sign…I wonder if they give the death penalty for fratricide in this state…’ Joe glanced at his father and saw that Fenton Hardy was quietly waiting for Frank to finish, knowing that any attempt to mount a defense would be suicide.

When Frank opened his eyes and began to speak again, his voice was low and calm. "I’m going home now, to spend a quiet evening with my wife. The two of you are going to work this out yourselves and if you need a referee, don’t call me – I won’t answer the phone." That said, Frank turned on his heel and walked out.

An eerie silence descended over the room as Fenton and Joe looked at each other warily. Finally, Joe cleared his throat to speak.

"Well, I guess we deserved that," he said, chastised and ashamed.

"Agreed," Fenton concurred, flushing with embarrassment. "And he’s right. We need to work this out between us." Leaning forward on his elbows, he gazed earnestly at his younger son. "Joe, I understand why you don’t want to give up, but I’m just concerned that there isn’t anything to find. I think deep inside you’ve considered that possibility and…" Fenton sighed, knowing nothing he could say would change Joe’s mind. "I’m just worried about you, that’s all. I’m your father…it’s my job," he said tempering the words with a smile.

Joe looked at his father for a long moment before responding. "I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record but I promised Vanessa I’d look into it-"

"And you have!" Fenton blurted out in frustration. "When are you going to tell her there’s nothing to find?!" Seeing the flash of despair that had appeared briefly in Joe’s eyes set off his parental instinct to protect his son – even if the person he was trying to protect Joe from was Joe himself. Fenton quickly sucked in a breath, immediately realizing that he might have just negated their shaky truce, when Joe started to chuckle.

"Try not to hold back, huh, Dad?" Joe said shaking his head with a grin. "Vanessa is adamant that Kara is innocent. I gave her my word…" Joe’s voice trailed off but his eyes pleaded with his father to try to understand.

"I know what Vanessa thinks, son," Fenton countered softly. "I want to know what you think. Do you really believe Kara is innocent?"

Even though it was the same query that had angered Joe only a day earlier, this time his response was just the opposite. The antagonism with which his father had uttered the question twenty-four hours earlier had been replaced with compassion and concern.

"Not completely," Joe responded honestly. "But I’m not convinced she’s guilty either. There’s one thing that’s been bothering me right from the start."

"What’s that?" Fenton asked, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Where’s the money?" Joe threw up his hands in question. "If she really stole it, why didn’t she use it to get out of debt, move to a nicer place or just get out of town altogether?"

"Good question." Fenton leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling for a moment. "I think there are two possible answers. Number one, she really was framed and you need to keep digging. Number two, she really did steal the money and has since moved most of it out of the Swiss bank accounts and has it stashed somewhere else." He dropped his elbows to the desk and stared at Joe intently. "This would be her first offense. No weapons were used, with time off for good behavior and probation, she could be out in a few years. Maybe she thinks a few years in prison is worth three million dollars. In which case, you’re killing yourself searching for something that doesn’t exist."

Joe considered his father’s words carefully and had to admit his theory was plausible. "Which do you think it is?" Joe asked anxiously.

"Honestly? I’ve thought all along that she was guilty. But you have a point about the missing money. She’s never been in trouble with the law – she’s never been in trouble at all. That doesn’t fit the profile of someone who’d think a couple of years in prison was a fair exchange for a few million dollars."

"So you think I should keep digging?" Joe requested, hopefully. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted his father’s approval until now.

Fenton sat back and stared at Joe. "You know one of your best qualities is that your word means something. When you say you’ll do something, you always follow through. When you make a promise, you won’t break it for anyone – not even me. Your word is gold. That’s very rare these days." Fenton stopped as his eyes shone brightly. "You don’t know how proud that makes me."

Joe blushed slightly, yet beamed at the high praise from the man he had aspired to be like his whole life.

"Listen," Fenton continued, sensing Joe’s mild embarrassment at his little speech. "Why don’t you take the next few days off and give this all your attention. If you find something everyone else missed, let me know. I’ll call Sam Peterson personally and ask him to reopen the case."

"Really?" Joe’s eyes widened in surprise.

"Really."

"Thanks, Dad!" Joe exclaimed jumping up from the chair, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.

"Joe," Fenton stopped him with his voice. "A feeling or a gut instinct won’t be enough this time. I need something concrete; hard evidence. Something I can hold in my hand and give to Sam, okay?"

"Okay, Dad, I understand." Joe practically bounded out of the office.

As Fenton watched him leave, he was surprised at the wide range of emotions he felt, the most prominent of which was pride. He knew Joe wouldn’t stop digging until he found an answer for the missing money. He just hoped it was one Joe could live with.

*****

When Joe arrived home, he’d thrown himself into Kara’s case, buoyed by his father’s words. Even if Fenton wasn’t convinced of Kara’s innocence, his faith in Joe and his investigative skills was as strong as ever. Now, several hours later, Joe wondered exactly what he’d gotten himself into and how he could get himself out of it.

Long ago Joe had made a promise to himself that he would never let Vanessa down. Staring dejectedly at the papers in front of him, Joe was no longer sure if he could keep that promise, despite Vanessa’s blind faith in him.

A chill ran through him, as Joe once again connected the two events in his mind, fearing if he failed to help Kara, Vanessa would be sentenced to "fail" her final blood test.

All his life Joe had simply wanted his father to be proud of him. Yet, he often found himself in opposition to the man he hero-worshipped. While he and Fenton may have cleared the air, it hadn’t changed Fenton’s opinion of Kara.

Joe winced, recalling his easy-going brother’s angry words. Joe was the first to admit he’d become spoiled by Frank’s indulgence of him and often took advantage of it. Knowing Frank would always step in if Joe manipulated him correctly, Joe had honed that skill to a fine art and used it shamelessly to avoid confrontation and get Frank to do his ‘dirty work’. This time, Joe readily admitted he’d gone too far and felt badly that he was the catalyst for Frank’s rare outburst of rage.

Kara had been genuinely surprised that she was under investigation for months before her eventual arrest. While Joe still wasn’t really convinced of her innocence, Vanessa’s faith in her friend wouldn’t allow him to admit it out loud.

The voices of Vanessa, Fenton, Frank and Kara merged in Joe’s head, taunting and mocking him. In an effort to please everyone, Joe had ended up at odds with his father, alienating his brother and scared he would disappoint the woman he loved. He was now drowning in the impossibly high demands he’d placed on himself.

Feeling overwhelmed, Joe stared at the list of transactions he’d committed to memory, when he finally saw it, practically leaping off the page at him. The one piece of evidence he’d driven himself crazy searching for.