Jeff Cutter sat in the parking lot and stared at the building in front of him.  At the height – or depths – of his battle with alcoholism he had practically lived here.  He’d been a fixture in this bar.  It had been his sanctuary whenever the guilt and shame began to crush him.  It was much easier to forget what had happened to his nephew because he hadn’t been paying attention to the small boy.  It was easier to convince himself Kevin wasn’t the family’s sole support when he could drown the reality in a bottle of alcohol. 

Sitting in the car, trying desperately not to give in to the overwhelming urge to have just one drink, Jeff wondered, as he had so many times before, how differently his life would have turned out had Joe not been kidnapped.  Would he and Carole have stayed in Bayport?  Would they have kept their close relationship with Fenton and Laura Hardy?  If only he’d kept his eyes on Joe that day his kids would have had the happy, carefree childhood they deserved.  Shaking his head in defeat, Jeff got out of the car and slowly walked into the bar….

*****

Marcus Andresson stared at Fenton Hardy, a frown creasing his forehead.  “Let me see if I understand what you’re asking.  You say you’ve found evidence that Kevin Cutter has embezzled a substantial amount of money from our employees pension fund, but you don’t want me to notify the authorities?”

“It’s not quite that simple,” Fenton responded. “I found evidence that someone has embezzled money from the pension fund.  It may very well have been Kevin.  It may be that he acted alone or he may have had an accomplice.  There’s also the possibility that Kevin had nothing at all to do with it and became a victim of whomever orchestrated the theft.”  He leaned forward slightly.  “All I’m asking for is a little time to find out exactly who stole the money before you contact the police.”

Andresson sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 

“If you notify the authorities now and it isn’t Kevin, you’d be accusing an innocent man,” Fenton pointed out.  “And even if he’s cleared, it would follow him the rest of his life.  Everyone remembers the accusations; no one remembers when they are recanted.”

Andresson sighed and finally nodded in agreement.  “You’re right.  I suppose it won’t hurt to wait a few more days.” He hesitated a moment.  “Do you know how much money was stolen?”

“It looks like a little over five hundred thousand dollars.”

“Well, if you can’t recover the money, I’ll replace it myself.  I won’t have employees who’ve been loyal to my family their whole lives have to worry that they won’t have enough to live on once they retire because of one bad employee.”  Andresson stood up and escorted Fenton to the door.  “You have access to anything you need within the company.  If anyone seems resistant to the idea of helping you, please contact my secretary immediately.”

Fenton returned to Kevin’s desk and booted up his computer, not looking forward to what he was sure would be a long and tedious day.  Again he began to review the project Kevin had been working on, but conflicting memories repeatedly derailed his train of thought.  Joe had disappeared while in Laura’s care, yet Fenton never once blamed her for it.  In fact, he’d spent endless nights talking her out of blaming herself.  Did he hold her blameless because she was his wife?  Because Joe hadn’t been kidnapped and in fact, hadn’t been harmed at all?  Regardless, she had committed the same ‘sin’ the Cutters had – one he had never been able to forgive them for.  Frustrated, he sat back and turned away from the computer, staring out the window on the opposite wall. 

He felt haunted by his own actions – and ‘non’ actions.  How many times had Carole called over the years, asking about Joe; wanting to speak to Laura?  What if he’d told Carole, just once, that Joe was okay and hadn’t remembered a thing?  He couldn’t help but wonder what path the Cutters’ lives would have taken had he handled things differently.  If he hadn’t laid one hundred percent of the blame for Joe’s abduction at their feet, would they have been less likely to blame themselves? 

But they were to blame; Fenton was certain of that.  He had to be.  To second guess himself now would mean he’d been wrong all these years, and that was something he simply wasn’t ready to admit.  Feeling the beginnings of compassion trying to break through the years of anger and hatred, Fenton refused to acknowledge it.  Turning back to the computer, he became the cool, detached investigator and spent the rest of the day concentrating on the task at hand.

By the end of the day, Fenton found himself at a dead end and began to wonder exactly why he was considered the best in his field!  Dejectedly, he made his way out of the building and headed back to his hotel, not looking forward to another lonely evening spent missing his family and trying to block out the increasing guilt he felt whenever he thought about the Cutters.

Arriving back at the hotel, Fenton parked his rental car in the rear lot and got out, locking it with the remote.  Pocketing the keys, he trudged towards the back entrance of his hotel, making a mental list of what he needed to do that evening.  ‘Background checks on the employees Kevin worked with on a daily basis; more thorough background checks on Andresson, Ellison and Brandenburg; check out their spouses and children,’ he smiled, adding one more item to the list. ‘Call the boys.’

“Excuse me, Mr. Hardy?”

Fenton turned and, recognizing the person who had called his name, smiled.  “Hello.  What brings you here?”

“I need to talk to you.  It’s about Kevin Cutter…”

*****

Frank glanced at the long forgotten board game taking up most of the space on the coffee table and then back at his brother.  He, Callie, Joe and Vanessa were seated on the floor in Joe and Vanessa’s apartment.  They had enjoyed a delicious dinner that Joe swore he and Vanessa prepared themselves, but Frank had his doubts, thinking it tasted an awful lot like the pasta served at Prito’s Restaurant. 

After clearing the table, the four had settled in the living room for coffee, dessert and a game of Trivial Pursuit.  However, Joe had taken center stage almost thirty minutes earlier, animatedly recounting his and Vanessa’s Internet search, trying to get ideas for wedding favors and attendants gifts.  After the strained silence and cold shoulder of the past few days, Frank was more than happy to sit back and listen to Joe’s lively recap.

“This one website had checklists for everything!  I mean everything! A wedding cake checklist, a wedding flowers checklist - they even had a wedding day hair checklist!  A HAIR CHECKLIST!” Joe exclaimed leaning forward and waving his arms wildly for emphasis, knocking a few of the game pieces onto the floor.

“I don’t think a checklist will help your hair,” Frank grinned.

“Hey, I’ll have you know women everywhere dream of running their hands through my hair,” Joe replied haughtily.

“Well, let them keep dreaming,” Vanessa warned, eyeing her fiancé.

“I think that checklist is supposed to be for the bride,” Callie said.

“Why?” Joe asked, both puzzled and amused.  “Is she going to forget to bring her hair to the ceremony?”

“Don’t even try to understand it, Joe. It’s one of those things men will never ‘get’,” Frank told his brother.  “So what else did this little search turn up?”

“Fruit candles,” Joe replied seriously.  “Three varieties to choose from, too!  And personalized ice cream scoops.  We get them inscribed with our names, put Jordan almonds in them, wrap them in tulle – whatever that is! – tie a ribbon around them and give them to everyone who comes to the wedding.  Can you just see Chief Collig dishing out ice cream using a scoop inscribed with my name on it?”  Joe laughed.

“Actually I was trying to picture you surrounded by tulle and ribbon, tying little bows,” Frank teased.

“Then there was the personalized hot sauce,” Joe continued, ignoring Frank’s gibe.  “You can get regular hot sauce or hot and spicy. And they make up these cool labels to put on the bottles with our name on them!  Hardy Hot Sauce!”  Joe grinned.

“That was your favorite?” Callie asked, laughing.  “Hardy Hot Sauce?”

“Actually,” Joe replied, throwing Vanessa a devilish glance, “my favorite item was the glitter bride thong.  I think Vanessa definitely needs to order that.”

“There was one thing we both thought was interesting,” Vanessa cut in, trying to change the subject.  “Tiki torch centerpieces.  I thought they might be cute for the rehearsal dinner.  I was going to email the website to your Mom.”

Frank glanced at Callie, who smothered a grin.  “Van, are you sure that’s such a good idea?”

“Why not?” she asked, confused.

“Joe… Biff… an open flame on every table…” he said, seriously. “How long do you think it would take before they burned the place down?”

“Hey!” Joe protested as the other three burst out laughing.  He turned to Vanessa, trying to look appropriately hurt.  “I thought you were supposed to be on my side!”

“I’m always on your side, Baby,” she leaned in and kissed him.  “But Frank does have a point.”

Joe crossed his arms over his chest and pouted.  “Fine.  No tiki torches on the tables.”  The pout quickly morphed into a wicked grin as Joe eyed Frank.  “Maybe we can go for elegance instead.”

“Such as?” Frank asked warily, all too familiar with the look in his brother’s eyes.

“Folded napkins,” Joe replied, straight faced.

“Folded napkins?” Frank repeated as a little voice in his head screamed at him not to let Joe goad him into playing this game.  No matter how quick he was with a comeback, he never won.

“Yeah.  Folded napkins.  Simple.  Elegant.  And there’s eleven different ways they can be folded,” Joe said, deadly serious.  “With your photographic memory it wouldn’t take you long to learn them all.”

“Me?!”  Frank exclaimed.

“Of course, you.  You’re the best man.  As such, it’s your responsibility – no your duty – to oversee the napkin folding,” he announced dramatically. 

Frank could see Joe was on a roll and judging by the giggles coming from Callie and Vanessa, there would be no stopping him.

“I don’t recall you folding any napkins for my wedding,” Frank said dryly.

“Hey, just because you didn’t think to ask, don’t blame me,” Joe shrugged.  “Just make sure you know those folds inside out, upside down and backwards.  After all, one incorrectly folded napkin could ruin the whole wedding.  And it would be on your head.”  Joe nudged Vanessa as he prepared to deliver the final blow.  “You wouldn’t want to be forever known as the guy who destroyed his little brother’s wedding would you?”  On cue, Vanessa leaned her head on Joe’s shoulder as they both adopted suitably devastated expressions.

“Bravo! Bravo!” Callie cried out, clapping enthusiastically.

Frank turned on his wife, glaring.  “Do NOT encourage him!”

“Oh, come on Frank,” Callie laughed, winking at Joe. “That was one of his best performances.”

“Traitor,” Frank muttered.

“I bet those tiki torches are looking pretty good right now, huh?” Joe smirked.

The ringing of his cell phone cut off Frank’s reply. He glanced at the number displayed as he answered.  “Hi, Sam.”  He listened, saying nothing.  His eyes narrowed and he clenched his teeth.  “Uh-huh.  Yeah.”  A muscle in his jaw twitched.  He looked at Joe.  “We’ll meet you there.” 

Frank disconnected the call, his eyes locked on Joe.  “Dad never checked in tonight.  Sam’s meeting us at the airport.  We’re going to Phoenix.”