Fenton settled in at the desk in the small bedroom Kevin had converted into an office.  He’d spent the previous day and all morning searching the rest of the house without finding anything to tell him what might have happened to Kevin.  This was his last hope of finding something and that was frustrating him no end.  He usually had something to work with by the third day of a case, but he was no closer to finding Kevin now than he was the night Jeff Cutter had shown up on his doorstep.  He was starting to think maybe Kevin really did just up and leave!

Starting with the drawers, Fenton searched each one, scrutinizing every shred of paper he found.  He was thankful Kevin was so neat, making his job a little bit easier.  Every folder was neatly labeled and they were all hung alphabetically.  Each paper inside the folders was carefully placed in the proper place, giving order to what could easily have turned into chaos; it appeared Kevin kept just about everything.

Finding nothing of interest in the desk drawers or on the desk itself, Fenton moved on to the collection of videos, CD’s and DVD’s housed in a bookcase next to the desk, noting that Kevin burned a lot of his own CD’s.  Each one was meticulously labeled, arranged in alphabetical order by artist and always on the same brand of CD.

‘Just like Frank!’  Fenton chuckled, imagining the comments that would be flying out of Joe’s mouth if he were there.

Glancing at the CD in his hand, he wondered how Joe was doing, as he hadn’t spoken to him the previous evening.  Absently, he put the CD back in the slot and moved on to the next one, when his hand froze on the plastic square.  He felt a tiny fluctuation on his internal radar.  There was something about the previous CD…  He pulled it out and looked at it again, checking the label.

‘The Criminals… never heard of them,’  though he found the band’s choice of names somewhat amusing.

Staring at the label, he noticed that it had been stuck on haphazardly, not perfectly centered as all the others had been.  Looking at the inside cover, he saw no song tracks listed and his radar spiked a little higher.  He looked at the brand of CD and then pulled out one of the others and noted they were different.  Immediately, he thought about the time Joe had called home from the mall to see if anyone needed anything before he left.  Frank had asked him to bring home some blank CD’s, being careful to tell him exactly which brand he wanted.  When Joe arrived home having purchased a cheaper brand that was on sale, Frank spent several minutes lecturing him about quality being more important than price.  Frank had returned the CD’s the next day and gotten his preferred, more expensive brand.  By all accounts, it appeared Kevin was just as compulsive as Frank about that kind of thing, so why the different brand of CD with the sloppy label and lack of song tracks?

‘Something isn’t right here…’ 

Returning to the desk, Fenton sat down and booted up the computer.  He inserted the CD, fully expecting to hear music come floating out of the speakers.  He was shocked when a spreadsheet, with numerous individual pages, appeared on the screen.  He flipped through the pages realizing he’d seen something similar before, on Kevin’s computer at work.

Kevin had checked the performance of his own retirement fund on the employee page of the company website shortly before he disappeared.  Fenton peered at the screen again and realized he was looking at the monthly accounting of the employees’ retirement fund - a listing of the deposits and current balances in each employee’s retirement fund.

Checking the numbers closely, Fenton frowned; they seemed awfully low.  Many of the employees had worked at the company their entire lives, and Myelin matched the employees’ contributions dollar for dollar.  It seemed to him that the older employees should have a substantial amount in their accounts by now.

Logging on to the Internet, Fenton pulled up the Myelin Manufacturing website and hacked into the employee benefits page, then the retirement fund section.  He started randomly pulling employee names and social security numbers and comparing the amounts on the website page to the amounts on the spreadsheet Kevin had.  The numbers on the spreadsheet were considerably lower than those on the website.

Fenton sat back and drummed his fingers on the desk as he stared at the screen, coming to what seemed to be the only logical conclusion.  Kevin did disappear voluntarily – after skimming a substantial amount of money from the employee pension fund!

*****

Frank tapped the pen incessantly against the desk as he stared at his cell phone.  ‘Ring, damn it!’  It was mid-afternoon and he should have heard from Vanessa by now.  He threw the pen at the phone and then glared at it for good measure.  Seconds later, it rang, startling him.  ‘Maybe violence is called for sometimes,’ Frank smiled to himself reaching for the phone.

“Hello?”

“Frank?”

“Joe! Hi,” Frank replied, thrilled and a little surprised to finally hear from Joe.

“Can you meet me at the park?”  Joe requested abruptly.  “At the jungle gym?”

‘The jungle gym?’ Frank’s heart fluttered.  Only the most serious of subjects were discussed at the place that held such happy and carefree memories for the brothers.  “Sure. Of course,” Frank quickly replied, wanting to reassure Joe, although at the moment he didn’t know exactly why.  “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Okay…  good,” Joe sounded distracted – and very nervous.  “See you in a few.”

And then he was gone.  Frank stared at the phone for a few seconds before hanging up.  Grabbing his coat, he raced through the office, giving Mrs. Gresham a hasty goodbye and running out the door.

*****

Frank pulled into the nearly empty parking lot, coming to a stop next to his brother’s car.  Getting out, he scanned the park, his eyes coming to rest on the lone figure perched on the jungle gym.  Shoving his hands in his pockets, Frank strode across the open field watching Joe carefully.  Seated at the very top of the metal structure, Joe gazed out at the grassy area in front of him, completely still except for one foot tapping a constant rhythm against one of the bars. Reaching the jungle gym, Frank took a deep breath and began climbing upward. 

“Hey.  Thanks for coming,” Joe said as Frank settled in beside him.  “I know I’ve been a world class jerk the past few days.”

Frank threw him a sidelong glance.  “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”  He stopped and waited a beat.  “You’ve only been an average jerk.”  Hearing Joe chuckle softly, he relaxed a little bit.  “How long have you been here?”

“Beats me,” Joe shrugged.  “Kinda lost track of time.  Couple hours, maybe.”

“Why didn’t you call me sooner?  I would’ve come right over.”

Joe was silent for a moment, then exhaled loudly.  “Guess I was trying to figure out how to explain everything without having you haul me back to the Campbell Center,” he replied, referring to the psychiatric facility where he’d been a patient the previous year.

“Not funny!” Frank snapped almost without realizing it.  His heart constricted for a moment as the memories whirled in his head.

Joe flushed, wrinkled his nose and shrugged.  Frank recognized his brother’s version of an embarrassed apology for striking a raw nerve.

“Sorry,” Frank mumbled.  “I didn’t mean to bite your head off.  Just… don’t joke about that, okay?”

Joe nodded, looking away as silence fell over them.  Frank knew that no matter how long Joe had been there prior to his arrival, he still needed time to work up to whatever it as he wanted to talk about.  It was part of the ritual – allowing the peace and innocence of their childhood to surround them in a protective cocoon.

In the meantime, Frank watched the few people still left in the park.  A boy about fourteen pushing a little girl on a swing – ‘His younger sister?’, Frank thought absently; two women jogging around the perimeter of the park; a man in his early thirties tossing a ball with a young boy; an older couple holding hands, slowly meandering behind a small, furry dog who seemed intent on sniffing every blade of grass in the park.

“I went to see Linda this afternoon,” Joe suddenly announced.

Frank nodded, letting Joe know he was listening without interrupting.  Whatever Joe had to say would initially come out in seemingly random, unrelated bits and pieces.  He would listen to what Joe said, and what he didn’t say, and fit the pieces together like jigsaw puzzle.

“I had this dream… I guess it was a dream. No, it was really a memory, but I dreamt it.  I mean, it really happened, but I was dreaming about it.  But it was real.  Not something my imagination came up with…”  When Joe momentarily stopped his rambling to take a breath, Frank jumped in. Whatever Joe had to tell him was apparently more difficult for him to talk about than he’d anticipated. He knew if he didn’t interrupt, Joe would keep talking around and around about dreams and memories and never get to the point. 

“Joe, what did you dream about?”  Frank asked, trying to get his brother to focus.

Joe stared out over the park, a pained expression on his face.  “I dreamt about the day Dad found me.  The day he rescued me from Tilghman.  I’d never… I didn’t really remember it before.  Not in any great detail anyway… ‘til now.”  His voice trailed off and he looked away.

“I imagine that was pretty difficult.  To just remember it out of the blue like that,” Frank stated.  He had a feeling that simply remembering that day wasn’t what had Joe so worked up.   There was something more to it.

“Yeah, it was,” Joe replied, sounding spooked and still not looking at Frank.

Frank reached out and touched Joe’s arm, shocked when his brother flinched and pulled away slightly.

“Careful,” Frank grasped Joe’s arm as he teetered unsteadily.

Joe stared at Frank’s hand for a second and then looked up at him, with haunted eyes.  “I’m sorry!  I’m sorry, Frank!  I don’t want to feel this way!”  And without warning, it came pouring out – the dream, the memories, the feelings of betrayal and abandonment Joe had buried when Frank never came for him; buried them so deeply even a year of therapy couldn’t unearth them.

“I guess when Dad told us about Uncle Jeff coming to him for help, it – it flipped a switch or something.  I swear I didn’t know what was going on until today.  When ever I was near you it felt like… like…”  Joe was talking faster and faster, the words spilling out on top of each other so quickly Frank could barely process them.  And Joe was getting more upset by the second.  “It hurt… so bad… like you didn’t care about me at all. And I know you do!  I know it! And I kept hearing this voice in my head – a little boy.  He kept saying ‘Where are you? Why didn’t you come back for me?’ ”  This time Joe reached out and grabbed Frank’s arm, almost as if he were afraid Frank would flee.

‘And leave him alone again!’  Frank thought as everything suddenly clicked.  ‘He thought I’d be there that day; that I’d be the one to find him!  And when I didn’t…’  Frank sucked in a breath, realizing how devastating that had to be for Joe at the time; and for how frightening and confusing these past few days must have been for him - to suddenly feel such incredible anger and betrayal and have no idea why!

‘He was angry with me… and hurt… and didn’t know why!  Poor kid, no wonder he’s been acting so crazy…’  A dull ache in his forearm made Frank glance down.  Joe was clutching his arm so hard his knuckles were white, and it was beginning to hurt!  Silently he reached out, placing his hand over Joe’s and grasping it tightly.  He looked Joe straight in the eye, hoping the gesture would reassure his younger brother that he wasn’t going anywhere.

“I know it’s crazy to feel like this now,” Joe continued, seeming to calm slightly. “And I really don’t! I’m not mad at you for not coming to find me.  Well, part of me is.  The part that’s still six years old… or thinks I’m still six years old.  But the rest of me – the adult me – knows you were just a kid!  There was nothing you could do!”  Joe sighed helplessly. “God, I sound certifiable.”

Seeing Joe had talked himself out, at least temporarily, Frank gathered his thoughts knowing he needed to express them in a way that wouldn’t end up making Joe feel worse than he already did.  “You know, for a six year old kid who just had his whole world shattered – or someone who is just now remembering what it felt like to be that six year old kid – what you’re feeling makes perfect sense. 

“Joe, when I made that promise to always come back for you I meant it – with all my heart.  Believe me, if I’d been around when Tilghman’s men grabbed you, there would have been no doubt in my mind that I was going to be the one who found you.  The bottom line is I made a promise to you – and I broke it.”  Joe started to protest but Frank held up a hand stopping him. “It doesn’t matter if it happened when you were six, sixteen or sixty.  It hurts.  Period.”  Frank leaned a little closer and put his free hand on Joe’s back.  “And I’m sorry.”

Frank saw something flicker in Joe’s eyes – pain, abandonment and betrayal – and then it was gone.  Completely.  Frank smiled to himself.  As Joe had been talking, trying to explain his strange behavior, he’d become more and more upset.  Joe seemed to think that by apologizing to Frank for feelings he had no control over, that would make everything okay.  Yet Frank understood that apologizing wouldn’t make Joe feel any better.  But getting an apology – from the one person he’d felt had betrayed him all those years ago… 

Frank could see Joe was fighting some very powerful emotions.  He exhaled a long, shaky breath as if he were expelling the last of the demons that had haunted him from the nightmare weekend so long ago.

“Thanks,” Joe said softly.  He smiled before turning and looking off into the distance.

Frank studied his brother and frowned.  He knew he was right about this.  The look on Joe’s face – in his eyes – proved that. So why was Joe still out of sorts?

“Anything else you wanna talk about?” Frank offered.  He needed some kind of hint as to what was still bothering Joe.

Joe didn’t answer right away.  Instead, he looked down at the ID bracelet peeking out from under the sleeve of Frank’s jacket.  Sensing it was at the center of whatever was bothering Joe, Frank pulled the sleeve up a little.  Joe reached out and ran a finger over the shiny metal.

“You wear it a lot.”

“I haven’t taken it off since the day you gave it to me,” Frank confirmed, watching a smile flicker across his brother’s face.  They sat silently as Joe fingered the bracelet, staring at it a moment longer. 

“I never brought it up again,” Joe said quietly.

“The bracelet?” Frank asked, confused.

Joe shook his head. “That day at Mom and Dad’s.  Right after we got Van back from those guys who blackmailed Callie.”

Frank shivered at the unexpected chill that raced through him at the memories.

“Remember?” Joe pressed.

“I remember that day,” Frank replied guardedly, having no idea where this was going.

“You said the next time we talked about it, it’d be because I brought it up.”  Joe traced the inscription on the bracelet with his finger as if he were mesmerized by it.  “I never brought it up again.”  He finally let go of the bracelet, looked up and stared into Frank’s eyes.  “We never had that talk.”

It hit Frank all at once, what Joe was referring to.  “You gave me the bracelet, Joe. As far as I’m concerned that said it all.”

Joe smiled gratefully.  “That’s what I thought, too.  But Linda said if it’s still bothering me this much – and I guess it is – then just giving you the bracelet wasn’t enough.”

Frank held his breath, suddenly no longer sure he wanted to have this conversation – ever.  It had occurred to him once, quite a while ago, that he and Joe hadn’t really talked about the trust issue again, but as time wore on, he really didn’t want to.  It just didn’t seem necessary anymore.  Maybe he was being a coward but things were good between him and Joe again.  Really good!  And if Joe still wasn’t able to trust him totally, completely and absolutely – the way he used to – well, Frank didn’t really want to know!  But the way Joe was looking at him now, Frank knew he was about to find out for sure, whether he wanted to or not.

“You asked me something that day.  Something I couldn’t answer.”  Joe looked at him with an intensity that Frank couldn’t ever remember seeing before.  “You remember that?”

Frank swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry.  Yes, he remembered what Joe was referring to, with painful clarity…

"Joe…I have to know. Do you still trust me?"

"What? What kind of question is that?" Joe replied with questions of his own. He was getting a very bad feeling about what he knew was a potentially volatile issue.

"A valid question, I think. Considering everything that’s just happened." Frank replied quietly. "So…do you? Still trust me?"

"Of course I trust you!" Joe replied hastily, telling himself it was the truth. He did trust Frank…up to a point. Praying Frank would be satisfied, Joe hoped he would just drop the subject. But he had a strong feeling he knew exactly where this conversation was headed and he was not ready for it. Not yet. Almost three months later, the wounds were still much too fresh.

"You trust me?" Frank pressed. "Totally? Completely? Like you did before?" He had seen Joe flinch and already knew the answer. Now he needed Joe to confirm it.

Joe held his brother’s gaze for a second longer, then quickly looked away. This hadn’t come up since the night Joe had forgiven Frank and that was just fine with Joe. In the weeks that followed, Joe had been very afraid Frank would bring it up again, for it was a subject Joe had not been ready to discuss. In fact, he still wasn’t ready to talk about it. Abruptly, Joe got up and walked to the window, staring out at the morning sky.

"I know you’ll always be there for me, Frank. Always. Isn’t that enough?" Joe asked quietly.

Frank felt as if a knife had just been plunged into his heart. "But you don’t trust me anymore. Not like you used to." Frank said it as a statement; it was no longer an unanswered question.

‘I can’t do this.’ Joe thought. The searing pain he’d kept repressed for the past several months was suddenly screaming to be acknowledged and dealt with. ‘I’m not ready yet.’

"Please, Frank. I can’t do this right now." Joe begged softly.

At the time, Frank needed the answer to that question more than he needed to breathe.  But now… he’d accused Joe of murder!  What if, after all this time, Joe had come to the realization that was simply unforgivable?  Was it too late to tell Joe this conversation was no longer necessary?

Frank could feel Joe’s eyes on him and realized Joe was staring, waiting for some kind of response.  “Yeah, I remember,” he forced the words out.

“You wanted to know if I trusted you completely, totally, implicitly… like I used to.”

Frank nodded once, unable to find the words to end this conversation now.  Joe was still staring, so serious, so subdued… And that’s when Frank knew.  The realization didn’t hit him so much as it ran him over.  Joe would never be able to forgive him, not completely; the absolute, implicit trust they’d shared had been shattered, destroyed beyond repair.  ‘I don’t care if I’m a coward!  I don’t want to know!  Not now – not ever!’

“Joe, you don’t have to-“ Frank began, trying to stop the inevitable, but Joe cut him off, obviously needing to say it out loud.

“Yeah, I do have to.  You asked a legitimate question and you deserved an answer. In fact I should’ve told you long before now.”

Frank’s heart pounded in his chest. He was afraid to move, afraid to blink, afraid to breathe. 

“The answer is no,” Joe said softly. “I don’t trust you like that anymore.”

Frank felt as if his soul had shattered.  It was gone.  The bond he’d fed and nurtured and cherished his entire life was gone.  And now he knew for sure that he’d never get it back.  Of course Joe couldn’t forget.  How could he?  How would Frank feel if Joe thought, even for one second, that he was capable of cold-blooded murder?  Would he be able to forgive and forget?  Trying to ignore the pain in his soul, Frank heard Joe’s voice as a few of the words began to filter through the haze in his mind.

“trust… never be the same … Rashman… the trial…”

“Wh-what?” Frank asked, not quite sure what he was hearing.

“I can’t say that I trust you the way I used to. It’d be a lie.”  Joe ducked his head for a moment, almost shyly. When he looked up again, his eyes burned with a kind of hero worship Frank hadn’t seen since they were very small. “This past year with Rashman, the trial, everything that happened… I never would’ve survived it all if you hadn’t been there.”

Frank stared, not sure if he was hearing what Joe was really saying or only hearing what he wanted to hear. 

“You told me to trust you, and I did.  You said you wouldn’t let me down, and you didn’t.  Not once… not ever.”  Joe looked down again, studying his hands intently.  “I trust you more now than I ever have I my life.”  He looked up, making sure he had Frank’s full attention. “Ever!”  Joe shrugged, uncharacteristically shy once again, and looked away.  “So I hope that answers your question.”

Frank’s eyes began to burn as the full meaning of what Joe said washed over him.  He swallowed hard, barely able to get the words out over the lump in his throat.  Frank reached out and rested his hand on Joe’s back.  “Yeah,” he said softly, his voice quavering slightly.  “That answers it just fine.”