Frank yawned, bleary-eyed and still tired despite the lengthy nap he’d taken during the flight.  Twisting slightly in the passenger seat, he glanced over his shoulder at Joe in the backseat. Joe hadn’t said much once they landed and trudged through the almost deserted airport to try to find a rental car; he’d said exactly nothing since they began the drive to the hotel. 

“You okay?” Frank asked.

Joe glanced at him briefly, nodded once, and immediately returned his gaze to the window. 

Turning back to the front Frank looked at Sam, who only shrugged as if to say “There’s nothing we can do.”  Frank sighed in frustration.  Watching his brother over the past year, he’d become an expert on the signs of depression; more so than he ever wanted to be.  ‘I can’t remember the last time he was depressed.  It’s been months.  The longest time yet between bouts.’  Yet, he didn’t even bother to wonder ‘why now’ as he knew perfectly well why… ‘Damn you, Jeff Cutter.’

In the back, Joe was well aware of the looks being exchanged between Frank and Sam, despite appearances to the contrary.  He knew Frank was probably worried about him, but he felt drained and just didn’t have the energy to try and reassure his brother that he was fine.

‘I don’t even know if I am fine,’ Joe thought dejectedly, leaning his head against the glass. 

During the flight, Joe had plenty of time to think and he didn’t like where those thoughts had headed.  In an effort to keep his mind off Jeff Cutter and the emotions that might be reawakened when they eventually met face to face, Joe had tried to focus on everything Sam had told them.  Since Fenton had been true to his word and not involved Frank or Joe in the case at all, they had to be briefed by Sam on every detail.  Yet the more Joe had turned those details over in his mind, the more confused he became. 

Fenton had found a CD that implicated someone in the theft, with the most likely suspect being Kevin.  If it was Kevin, had he found out and decided to silence Fenton?  Or had Fenton found something else; some new information that led him to believe Kevin wasn’t the thief but never got a chance to tell Sam about it?

Sam had called Jeff, who related the conversation he’d had with Fenton that morning.  Sam had also been able to get hold of Marcus Andresson who said Fenton was at Myelin all day, searching Kevin’s computer.  Andresson hadn’t seen Fenton before he left and assumed Fenton hadn’t uncovered any new information during his search.

Joe leaned his head back against the seat and rubbed his eyes, feeling very tired.  His father was missing and they had no leads as to why. More than likely he’d have to see the man who’d inadvertently allowed him to be kidnapped by a child pornography ring eighteen years earlier.  Joe had no idea how he’d react to that situation. And Kevin was still missing.  Once they found Fenton, they’d still have to find Kevin.

That led him back to those original thoughts he was trying to avoid.  ‘Why?  Why couldn’t Uncle Jeff just have kept his eye on me like he was supposed to?’ 

Joe knew he had made a lot of progress in learning how to deal with everything, especially in the last few months when he really buckled down and tried.  He was finally happy again.  Really happy, not the fake kind of happy he used to put on for his family and friends.  The bouts of depression that had at one point seemed to have taken over his life, were now few and far between.  And when they did occur, he knew it was temporary.  Joe had finally found his light-hearted, positive approach to life again, and he didn’t want it buried under a mountain of new fears and memories. 

However, as he learned how to deal with the big issues, he found some little ones buried deep inside – and one big one that refused to go away.  Why?  It was a random act, not someone with a vendetta against his father.  So why, out of all the people in the world, did it happen to him?  That was the question that continued to haunt him; the one thing no one had been able to help him with.  Not Linda or Frank or Vanessa, and most definitely not himself.  And it was the one thing that brought on the occasional episodes of brooding darkness and despair.

‘Why did he look away – even for a second? I wouldn’t have been kidnapped; they wouldn’t have left Bayport; Kevin would never have disappeared; Dad never would have gone missing trying to find him; Vanessa never would’ve been…’  Joe’s eyes popped open and he stared at the ceiling of the car.  ‘Vanessa’… that was one issue he doubted he’d ever figure out how to deal with.  Most days he just tried to pretend it never happened unless she brought it up; pushing it out of conscious thought… that’s how he dealt with it.  ‘Very mature, Hardy,’ he chided himself. 

Joe sighed as he felt the beginnings of hopelessness wrap around him.  ‘Not now.  I don’t have time for this now!’  How could something that sounded so innocent - a moment of distraction - have such far-reaching and seemingly never ending consequences?   He stared out the window as the car pulled up to the hotel’s main entrance.  ‘I really do not want to see Jeff Cutter again – ever.  But if we want to find Dad there’s not much choice.  Man, sometimes life just sucks…’

*****

Opening the door to Fenton’s hotel room, Frank was thankful his father had left such explicit instructions with the hotel management.  Should Frank, Joe or Sam show up at the hotel, after properly identifying themselves, they were to be given immediate access to his room.  As Frank pushed the door open and reached for the light switch, Joe brushed past him and made a beeline for the dresser.

Pulling out the middle drawer, Joe crouched down and looked underneath it.  Frank heard a ripping sound as Joe retrieved the notebook that had been taped to the underside of the drawer.  He sat on the edge of the bed and immediately began flipping pages in search of the most recent entry.

Frank absently pushed the drawer shut as he walked by the dresser and took a seat next to Joe.  He glanced at Sam, who had settled himself at the desk and booted up Fenton’s laptop, before peering over Joe’s shoulder at the notes his father had made.

“Well?” he asked, unable to get a clear view of the small notebook.

“The last entry is from yesterday,” Joe replied, his voice tinged with disappointment.  “Sam got more information in the phone calls he made before we left.” Joe handed the notebook to Frank and got up, walking to the desk.  “Anything?” he asked Sam hopefully.

“Nothing we don’t already know,” Sam answered, shutting down the computer.  He leaned back in the chair, his brow creased in thought.  Reaching into his pocket, Sam pulled out his own notebook and flipped a few pages.  Grabbing a pen off the desk, he scribbled something on a fresh sheet, ripped it off and wrote the same thing on a second sheet.

Standing up, he handed one slip of paper to Joe and the second to Frank.  “We can assume your dad never made it back to the room tonight, but did he make it back to the hotel?”

Frank glanced at the paper as Sam continued.  “That’s the make, model and license plate number of the car he was driving.”

“You want to search the parking lot for his car,” Frank surmised.

Before Sam could reply, Joe was already out the door.

It was forty-five minutes later when Frank found what he was looking for in the rear parking lot of the hotel.  After rounding up Joe and Sam and borrowing a few high-powered flashlights from the hotel’s maintenance staff, they began a thorough search of Fenton’s car, the area around it and the path leading to the back entrance of the hotel.  By the time they had completed their search, Frank wasn’t sure if he was relieved or frustrated.  There was no sign of a struggle, no sign of foul play anywhere.  It was as if Fenton parked the car, got out and vanished.

‘Just like Kevin,’ Frank mused silently.  Gathered in the lobby with Joe and Sam, Frank looked at them questioningly.  “Now what?” he asked.

Joe shrugged and shook his head, then sank into one of the plush chairs and leaned his head back, closing his eyes.  Frank stared at his brother, wondering if it wouldn’t have been better for Joe to stay home.  Normally, Joe would be pacing like a wild animal, itching for action, wanting to do something to find their father.  Apparently, Frank thought, both he and Joe had underestimated the toll getting involved in this case would take on the younger Hardy.

Frank felt Sam’s hand on his shoulder and looked up.  “I have an idea.  I’m going to go talk to the manager on duty for a minute.  I’ll be right back.”  Sam gave Frank a gentle nudge towards the empty seat next to Joe and then turned and headed for the managers office.

“Joe?”  Frank said quietly, sitting down and watching his brother closely.

“Hmmm?” Joe replied, without opening his eyes.

“You okay?”  Frank asked, wondering if Joe was as tired of hearing those two words as he was of saying them.

Joe didn’t answer right away and when he did, Frank was surprised at his blunt honesty.  “No, not really.  This whole situation…it’s just bringing up some stuff that I’d rather stay buried.”

“Anything it would help to talk about?” Frank ventured.  He had learned one thing over the past year – sometimes Joe needed to talk and sometimes he didn’t; but the simple fact that Frank offered always seemed to give him some measure of comfort.

Joe opened his eyes now, and stared at Frank.  The emotions Frank could clearly see on Joe’s face went straight to his heart.  Confusion, disillusionment and the one Frank dreaded the most – hopelessness.  ‘He’s expecting too much of himself.  Thinking he can see Cutter again and not be affected by it.  Dad was adamant that Joe not be involved in this….’ 

While there was nothing Frank could do for his father at the moment, there was something he could offer his brother.  But would Joe accept it?  Not waiting for a response, Frank tried to give Joe an ‘out’; a chance to escape the dark memories and crushing emotions before they buried him in depression.

“Joe, you don’t have to do this.  Jack is flying back home in the morning.  If you decided you wanted to go with him, I’d understand.  We’d all understand.”  Frank waited, surprised that Joe seemed to be seriously considering his suggestion.

Joe simply stared, in that unnerving way he had, until Frank felt like a specimen under a microscope.   “You’re a pretty good brother, ya know that?” Joe finally murmured.

Frank felt a flush slowly creeping into his cheeks and was glad to see Sam returning, as he had no idea how to respond.

“Okay, I talked to the manager,” Sam said as he approached.  “There were security cameras in the parking lots. One of them was near where Fenton parked.  The manager is looking for the one from that area so we can take a look at it.”

“Wouldn’t they have seen it if anything happened?” Frank asked, as he and Joe rose and followed Sam towards the offices.

“No.  The cameras aren’t monitored.  They just record what goes on in the lots in a continuous loop.”

Sam led the boys down a short corridor and through a door marked “Security”.  Once inside he introduced them to the night manager, who had cued up the tape to the time frame Sam had requested. 

Crowding around the screen, they watched intently as Fenton’s car pulled into the parking space.  A moment later he emerged from the car, used the remote to lock it and began walking across the lot until he finally disappeared from the cameras range.  At a nod from Sam, the manager began playing a second tape from the camera that monitored the rear entrance of the hotel.  They watched several minutes of tape that was recorded during the time Fenton should have been entering the hotel, yet he never appeared on the screen. 

Sam sat back and gazed at Frank and Joe soberly.  “It looks like he made it back to the hotel but, for whatever reason, never came inside.”  Sam rubbed his forehead tiredly.  “The front desk clerk used the computer to check the activity on Fenton’s room.  Someone, presumably him, left at eight-thirty-two this morning.  Maid service cleaned the room at eleven-oh-five a.m.  After they left the only other activity was when we entered his room tonight.”

Frank looked at Sam and then Joe, voicing the question that was on all their minds.  “So if he came back to the hotel, but never made it to his room… where is he?”