‘What about what you’ve endured in less than one year?’ Vanessa reminded herself. ‘But you had people who loved you to help you through it…Kara’s had no one…until now.’

Although Vanessa told Kara that she couldn’t promise Joe would help her without his consent, she did say she would talk to Joe about it that night. It was that moment when Kara’s voice lost the desperate, pleading note and Vanessa thought she’d heard something that resembled hope. Buoyed by the sound, Vanessa encouragingly told Kara that Joe was most caring person she’d ever met and rarely, if ever, turned down someone in need. By the time they hung up, Vanessa could tell her friend now felt she had a small glimmer of hope.

As she turned into the parking lot of her apartment complex, Vanessa suddenly got a chill. Pulling into a space, she turned off the car and sat there, shivering. It took a moment but she finally realized why – Kara’s story was much too similar to what Joe had been through almost one year ago. Joe had been accused of murdering the man who raped her and most people had believed it, without even hearing his side of the story. Recalling the trial and the toll it had taken on Joe, she vowed to do everything possible to help her friend avoid the same fate.

Getting out of her Jeep, Vanessa walked into the building and climbed the single flight of stairs to the second floor. As she opened the door to the apartment she shared with Joe, her tall muscular fiancé came bounding down the hall, cordless phone in hand and relief in his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Look, she just came in, okay?! Keep your shorts on! We’ll be there in ten minutes, tops," Joe said to the person on the other end. Rolling his eyes, he amended the estimate. "Okay, okay, fifteen minutes. Yeah, I’ll keep it under ninety. Bye."

Pushing a button, Joe ended the call, tossed the phone on the couch and scooped Vanessa up in his arms in one fluid motion.

"Where have you been?!" he exclaimed, his voice slightly muffled as he buried his face in Vanessa’s neck. "I was starting to get worried." Pulling back, he looked down into Vanessa’s eyes and smiled. "Oh yeah…glad you’re home. I missed ya," he finished pressing his lips to hers.

A moment later, when Joe finally released her, Vanessa was able to respond. "Sorry I worried you. And I missed you, too. Who was on the phone?" she asked, heading for the bedroom to change out of her work clothes.

"Who do you think, Mr. Worrywart himself!" Joe replied, trailing behind her.

"Frank?" Vanessa said puzzled, and then whirled on Joe with a loud gasp. "Oh, my gosh! I totally forgot! We’re supposed to go to their place for dinner tonight!" Looking at the clock on the bedside table she moaned loudly. "Oh, man we are soooooo late!"

Immediately, Vanessa began rummaging through the closet searching for something appropriate to wear to her future brother and sister-in-law’s house. Chuckling, Joe flopped on the bed and watched her every movement.

"What are you laughing at?" Vanessa scowled at him.

"Because we’re going to be late and for once it’s not my fault!" he responded as Vanessa emerged from the closet clutching a sweater and a pair of black jeans.

Throwing them on the bed next to Joe, she quickly began changing her clothes. As she reached for the sweater, Joe grabbed it and held it just out of her reach.

"Come on, Joe, Frank is already pissed as it is," Vanessa pleaded, holding out her hand.

"Why don’t you come and get it," Joe replied wickedly. Reclining on the bed, Joe folded up the sweater, put it under his head and waited for his fiancée to try and retrieve it…

*****

"So, why were you late? You never did tell me," Joe asked as he climbed into the driver’s seat of his beloved black Mustang convertible and buckled his seat belt.

"Yeah, well, you distracted me," Vanessa reminded him sardonically.

"I didn’t hear you complaining," Joe grinned slyly, stealing a kiss before he pulled out of the parking lot and headed towards his brother’s house.

"I got a phone call from an old friend – Kara Lidster," Vanessa sighed heavily.

"Weren’t you two joined at the hip or something until you moved here?"

"Yeah. We kinda lost touch…something I regret now," Vanessa replied somberly.

"Why? Is she in some kind of trouble?" Joe asked, picking up on the change in Vanessa’s mood.

"Big trouble…"

As Joe drove, Vanessa related Kara’s depressing story, finishing just as they pulled into Frank and Callie’s driveway. Joe turned off the motor and turned to stare at her, stunned.

"Wow! Guess she really did need to talk to a friend, huh?" he commiserated, reaching for his seatbelt.

"Joe, wait," Vanessa said softly, grabbing his hand to prevent him from getting out of the car just yet. "She didn’t do it. It’s just not possible. She’s the most honest person I’ve ever met in my life. She’s not capable of stealing anything."

Joe looked at her skeptically. "Van, you just told me every piece of evidence proves she did it. She had means, motive and opportunity," Joe ticked off the points on his fingers. "All the transactions can be traced back to her."

"Then where’s the money?" Vanessa challenged him. "Don’t you think if she had it, she’d gladly give it back to avoid prison?"

"Maybe she already spent it," Joe shrugged.

"On what? She lives in a dump and doesn’t own a thing, thanks to that loser she married. She exists just to work and pay bills." Vanessa leaned in closer, staring at Joe beseechingly. "I didn’t say you’d help her. All I said was that you’d talk to her – listen to her side of the story."

Joe couldn’t ignore the sadness in her eyes or her voice, and sighed to himself. "Do you really believe her?"

"Yes," Vanessa replied without hesitation. "Joe, I’ve seen her give back a test she got an ‘A’ on because the teacher missed an incorrect answer. I’ve been with her when she went back into a store because they gave her too much change and watched her give it back…she’s not capable of stealing."

"Okay," Joe said, "I’ll talk to her."

"Thank you!" Vanessa threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she repeated punctuating each exclamation with a heartfelt kiss.

Joe finally pulled her arms from around him and grinned. "We better get inside before I decide to distract you again…"

Emerging from the car, Joe walked to the other side and opened the door for Vanessa. Putting his arm around her, Joe pulled her close, mumbling something about body heat and the cold January air. As they stepped onto the porch Joe reached for the door, which suddenly swung open.

"Fifteen minutes?!" dark-haired Frank Hardy exclaimed. He scowled first at his watch and then at Joe. "Try forty minutes! Where were you?!"

"We got a little sidetracked," Joe winked as he brushed past his older brother. "Hey, Sis, we’re here!" Joe called out walking into the foyer.

"It’s about time," Callie Hardy’s voice, tinged with amusement, floated out from the dining room. "Frank was getting ready to call out the National Guard."

"My fault," Vanessa said as Joe helped her out of her coat. "I got tied up on a phone call at work. Forgive me?" she begged, batting her eyelashes at Frank.

"You’re almost as bad as him," Frank rolled his eyes. "But yes, you’re forgiven." He smiled, accepting a peck on the cheek from Vanessa.

"See, I told you he’d forgive us," Joe smiled, as Vanessa headed for the dining room to help Callie.

"I forgave her," Frank corrected him. "You have to earn your forgiveness," Frank told his brother sternly, "which you can do by helping me finish getting dinner ready. Come on." He grabbed the collar of Joe’s shirt and dragged him, whining and complaining, into the kitchen.

"Mmmm….Italian," Joe sniffed appreciatively as they walked into the kitchen. Snatching an olive out of the salad, Joe hopped up and took a seat on the edge of the counter, watching his brother bustle about the room. "Your famous lasagne?" he guessed.

"Yup," Frank replied. He pulled a loaf of garlic bread out of the freezer, placed it on a cookie sheet and slid it into the oven. "Eight minutes," he said tossing an egg timer at Joe.

"So why was Vanessa late getting home from work? Phil’s a pretty easygoing boss," Frank asked, referring to their childhood friend Phil Cohen, for whom Vanessa now worked.

"Nothing to do with work," Joe answered as Frank slapped his hand away from the salad bowl, foiling the attempted theft of a few more olives. Joe fiddled with the timer for several seconds before setting it for eight minutes. Putting it down next to him, Joe picked up the cheese grater, having decided to amuse himself with that instead. Whirling it around in a circle, Joe began to relate what Vanessa had told him about her friend.

Frank listened with interest as he put the finishing touches on dinner, interrupting with a question every now and then. After removing the garlic bread from the oven, Frank moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a chunk of Parmesan cheese. He placed it on the counter next to a small bowl and then looked around, frowning.

"Lookin’ for this?" Joe grinned holding up the cheese grater.

"I thought you were supposed to be helping me!" Frank said aggravated, as he snatched the cheese grater away from his younger brother.

"I am helping!" Joe cried out offended. "I set the timer, didn’t I? Besides, I’m also supervising," he continued mischievously, snagging another olive before Frank could stop him. "And acting as official food taster to make sure you’re not secretly trying to poison us," he finished popping the olive into his mouth.

Throwing Joe a dirty look, Frank steered the conversation back to Kara Lidster. "Sounds like there’s a lot of evidence against her."

"I know, but Van is convinced she’s been framed," Joe shrugged.

"What do you think?" Frank stopped and eyed his brother.

Joe smiled, turning up the charm. "I thought if her story sounded even remotely true, my big brother the genius, would help me investigate."

"The things you do for love," Frank laughed.

"Is that a yes?" Joe pressed. "Because you love your little brother soooooo much?" he leaned forward hopefully.

"That’s a see-if-you-come-up-with-anything-and-I’ll-think-about-it," Frank responded noncommittally.

"Oh, come on, Frank, you love a challenge," Joe wheedled.

"Wait…what firm did you say she worked for?" Frank asked distractedly, his forehead now creased in concentration.

"BRG Investments."

Frank’s eyes widened slightly. "I don’t suppose you’ve had time to run any of this by Dad, have you?"

"No, Vanessa just asked me like twenty minutes ago," Joe replied warily. "Why?"

"Do you know what the BRG stands for?" Frank asked with barely concealed amusement.

"No, what?" Joe responded, starting to get irritated.

"Bradford R. Galloway," Frank replied, watching for Joe’s reaction.

"What?!" Joe blanched, staring at Frank wide-eyed. "Brad Galloway? As in Uncle Brad?" Closing his eyes, Joe groaned and lightly banged his head against the cupboard a few times. "How do I get myself into these things…"

Hearing Frank snicker, Joe opened one eye to glare at his brother. "Are you absolutely sure about that?" he demanded. "I thought his company was called Galloway Investing. You could be wrong you know. It’s happened before… once…" Joe muttered as Frank laughed out loud.

"Sorry, bro. I’m positive," Frank affirmed. "He changed the name several years ago. Kara stole money from-"

"Allegedly stole," Joe corrected him.

"Allegedly stole money from a firm whose owner, president and CEO is one of Dad’s best college buddies," Frank chuckled, shaking his head. "Just let me know when you plan to tell Dad about this, okay?"

"Why, so you can offer me moral support…and backup?" Joe asked hopefully.