It was mid-afternoon by the time Fenton Hardy stepped into the lobby of the Phoenix Police Department.  While waiting for the paperwork for his rental car to be completed, he’d called and made an appointment to see John Gainey.  After a brief stop to check in at his hotel, he drove to the police station, wanting to see what Detective Gainey had uncovered in his investigation and get the man’s opinion on exactly what he thought had happened to Kevin.

After checking in with the receptionist, Fenton was asked to wait while she paged Detective Gainey.  A few moments later a man approached him, hand outstretched in greeting.  In his late thirties, with wavy brown hair and hazel eyes, John Gainey wore faded blue jeans and a navy blue, button down shirt, his badge clipped to his belt. 

“Mr. Hardy?  I’m John Gainey,” he smiled, giving Fenton a firm handshake.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Thank you, and please, call me Fenton.” 

“Only if you’ll call me John.”

“Deal,” Fenton smiled. 

“So you’re looking into the Cutter case?” John asked as he led Fenton across the lobby to the elevators.  Stepping on, he pressed the button for the third floor.

“Yes.  Kevin’s father seems to think he didn’t simply just up and leave town,” Fenton replied evasively. 

The elevator whooshed open and Gainey led Fenton through a small room crowded with desks, most with plain clothes officers seated behind them either talking on the phone or filling out paperwork.  Fenton smiled thinking it looked like every other police department he’d ever been in.  He sat in the chair next to John’s desk and accepted the folder Gainey offered him.

Fenton spent several minutes looking over the information.  It was essentially the same thing Jeff had related to him the previous evening.  He’d hoped there would be a little more for him to work with in the official police report and then silently chided himself.  If the police had found anything of significance, he wouldn’t need to be here!  Closing the file, he looked up. “What’s your take on Kevin’s disappearance?”

“There’s no sign of foul play, and nothing to indicate Kevin was forcibly abducted,” Gainey shrugged.  He waited a beat and added, “But if he left of his own free will, he took nothing but the clothes on his back.  That’s not completely unheard of, but most people who run away to get a new start take something.”

Fenton nodded in agreement, his interest now piqued. He thought back on the few missing persons cases he’d solved where the person had been alive and well and simply didn’t want to be found.  And he’d been able to locate all of them by the financial trail they left.  Money was the one thing everyone needed to survive.  “Did you pull his financial records?”

“Mm-hmm.  No activity.  No sudden large withdrawals from his checking or savings accounts, no cash advances before he disappeared, no loans taken out recently, no activity on his credit cards.  In fact his paycheck was direct deposited the day after he disappeared.”

“Odd,” Fenton mused.  “If he chose to disappear, he’d need some seed money.”

“And that’s what always bothered me about this case.”  Gainey leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head.  “If he’s starting over somewhere else, what’s he starting with?

“I tried to convince my boss that was reason enough to keep digging, but he disagreed.  No foul play, no ransom demands, no body and no suspects…he told me to put it on the back burner. Said the guy’s less than stellar childhood lends itself quite nicely to the idea that he got fed up and just wanted a fresh start.”

Fenton stiffened. “What does his childhood have to do with it?” he asked warily.

“You know the family is always the first to be suspected.  I had to do some digging into their background so I could eliminate them as suspects.  His childhood wasn’t the best I’ve ever seen.”

“What exactly did you find out?”  Fenton said guardedly.  Did Gainey know Kevin was his nephew? Did he know the reason for the estrangement between the Hardys and the Cutters?

After Tilghman’s trial, Fenton had been adamant that any information that could be used to identify Joe in the public records be changed.  Joe had simply become 'Victim J'.  Still, Fenton knew from experience that a cop could find out the identity of an anonymous victim if they really wanted to.  He’d done it himself.

“It’s all in there,” John answered vaguely and waved at the file in Fenton’s lap.  Standing, Gainey smiled apologetically.  “Sorry to cut this short, but I have to meet the D.A. about an upcoming case.  I can show you where the copier is on my way out.  Just leave the file on my desk when you’re done.”

“Thank you.  I will.”

The two men walked silently to a small alcove near the front of the room.  “Here you go,” John pointed to the machine.  “Extra paper is underneath if you need it. And if you find anything new, please let me know.  I’d love to re-open this case.”

Fenton shook hands with the detective, promising to keep him updated.  Slowly he began to copy the file, page after page.  He wondered about Gainey’s cryptic comments and fought the urge to sit down right there and devour the contents of the report.  What had Gainey uncovered about the Cutter family?  What could have happened that could cause Kevin to want to run away; to forget his family and never look back? And had the detective discovered anything about Joe in the course of his investigation? 

Once he’d finished copying everything, Fenton returned the file to Gainey’s desk.  Checking his watch, he frowned.  It was almost four o’clock.  He’d hoped to stop at Myelin Manufacturing and talk to Kevin’s coworkers before heading back to his hotel but it was too late now.  He wouldn’t have much time there before they closed for the day.  He thought about going to Kevin’s house to look around but the copies he just made seemed to be burning a hole in his hand. 

Walking back to his rental, Fenton decided to return to his hotel and hole up there for the evening, studying the contents of the file.   Tossing the papers on the seat next to him, he stared at them for a long moment.  Shaking his head, he started the car.  As he had done so many times in the last twenty-four hours, he wondered if he’d made the right decision in agreeing to try and find Kevin.

*****

Frank walked through the darkened offices of Hardy and Sons, Investigations, making sure everything was locked up for the night, and left through the door that connected the offices to the Hardy home.  Walking down the hall he emerged into the foyer of the house where he grew up.  Turning right he continued on into the kitchen, and poked his head through the swinging door.

“Mom?”  He glancedeH H m,. fsdiwepoi  H around the empty room, then stepped back into the hallway.   After checking the living room, dining room and den with no sign of his mother, Frank headed up to the second floor.

Walking past the two bedrooms that had belonged to him and Joe he smiled, recalling many a happy childhood memory.  He looked in the guest room, the bathroom and his parents’ room.  Still not finding his mother, Frank stood in the hall scratching his head when he noticed the door at the end of the hall was ajar.

“I woke up about three o’clock this morning and found her in the attic going through the boxes…and crying.”

Staring at the door that led to the attic stairs, Frank remembered his father’s words from that morning.  He walked slowly towards the stairs, not looking forward to what he might find.  Pushing the door open a little further, he climbed the steps and emerged into the dimly lit room at the top. 

Laura was seated on the floor surrounded by boxes – some open, some taped shut.  A few items, mostly framed pictures or scrapbooks, were scattered on the floor around her.

“Mom?”

Laura started and turned towards Frank.  “I didn’t hear you come up.”

“Sorry.  Job hazard.”  Frank flushed a little in embarrassment.  Over the years he’d honed the ability to approach people or enter a room without making a sound.  It now came as naturally to him as breathing.  More than once he’d almost scared his wife, Callie, to death by soundlessly coming up behind her, intending on doing nothing more threatening than surprising her with a kiss.

“What are you doing up here?”  Frank walked the few steps to where his mother sat and picked up a picture off the floor.  Settling comfortably on the floor next to her, he looked at the picture in his hands for a moment.  Four smiling children were seated on a sandy beach surrounding a pretty pathetic looking excuse for a sand castle.  He recognized himself and Joe, at probably around five and four years old.  He assumed the boy and girl around the same ages, who were also in the picture, were his cousins.

“Kevin and Kelly?” he asked, still staring at the picture.

“Mm-hmm.  We had moved to Bayport the previous year.  It was your first trip to the beach here.”  Laura said softly, looking at the picture over his shoulder.

“Man, Joe must’ve been one hurtin’ puppy the next day!” Frank chuckled.  His brother’s skin had a pinkish hue, indicating the beginnings of nasty sunburn.

“Oh, he was.  I put sunscreen on him – both of you – before we left.  He hated that stuff.  I didn’t realize until we got home that he’d thrown it out the window before we ever left the driveway.  I ran over it when we came back.”  She laughed recalling the incident. “All day, while we were at the beach I’d keep telling him I needed to put more sunscreen on him.  Every time I did, he’d smile that smile and say, “Frankie already did!””

“He told you I put sunscreen on him?!”  Frank exclaimed, laughing. “That little brat!  Served him right, then.”

“Uh-huh,” Laura arched an eyebrow at her older son, as she took the picture back.  “Who do you think hovered over him like a mother hen for days until he started to feel better?”  She grinned as Frank’s face reddened.  “It wasn’t me or your father.” 

Picking up a photo album, he absently flipped through it.  “So what’re you doing up here all by yourself?”

Laura’s expression changed, clouding over with unhappiness.  “I’m packing it all up so I can get rid of it – for good.”  She retrieved a few more items on the floor and put them in one of the open boxes.  As she reached for the photo album Frank held, he put a hand on her arm.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” he asked quietly.  Looking back at the pictures in the album, he saw his parents at a much younger age, seated next to two other adults who he knew had to be Jeff and Carole Cutter.  The photo had been taken in a restaurant and all four of them were holding glasses of champagne in a toast.

Extricating her arm, Laura took the album, her eyes falling on the picture.  “We had just bought our very first house - this house.  We rented when we lived in New York City.  Jeff and Carole took us out to dinner to celebrate.”  She stared at the photo a moment longer, then closed the album and put it in one of the open boxes.  “And yes, I’m sure,” she added in almost a whisper.

Frank didn’t want to presume he knew how his mother felt.  Heck, he didn’t have a clue!  But from what his father had told him about how close Laura and Carole had been, he just wasn’t sure doing something so permanent was a good idea.  Obviously Laura still held very strong feelings towards her sister for her part in Joe’s kidnapping. But what if her feelings changed at some point down the road?  Wouldn’t she be distraught at having destroyed every memory of her sister?

Then again Frank felt nothing but unbridled anger when he thought of his aunt and uncle – and he didn’t even remember the incident!  He barely even remembered Jeff and Carole!  Still, he didn’t want his mother to do something in the heat of anger that she’d regret later.  The boxes filled with memories had been sitting in the Hardys’ attic for over seventeen years now.  She obviously hadn’t thought about them until Jeff Cutter’s sudden appearance. 

Frank had never stumbled upon them and as far as he knew, neither had Joe.  In fact they usually only went into the attic twice a year, at Christmas time, to retrieve, and then put away, the multitude of decorations Laura insisted on hanging every holiday season.  They’d never even ventured far enough into the attic to know these boxes existed.  Why was it so important to his mother to dispose of these boxes now?

“I thought Carole was the best mother in the world.”

Frank had been so lost in thought his mother’s sudden announcement startled him.  He now saw a faraway look in her blue eyes; one that was filled with regret and betrayal. 

“She was like my mentor.  She didn’t have any more experience at motherhood than I did, but she was a natural at it.  She made it look effortless.  It was like she was born to be a mother.  I used to call her all the time when you boys were little, panicked and needing advice.”

She had been smiling a bittersweet smile, obviously recalling some of those phone conversations, when suddenly her expression turned to one of absolute betrayal.

“If I thought for one second Joe wasn’t safe with her…”  Laura swiped at a tear and swallowed.  “When she allowed Joe to be kidnapped, my whole world was destroyed.  I completely fell apart.  I mean this was my sister!  My God, if I couldn’t trust her with my son, who could I trust?”

Laura stopped and looked at Frank, almost as if she were searching for an answer.  Seeing the look of disillusionment that passed over her face, Frank’s heart broke for his mother.  “She insisted on staying with me until Joe was found.  At first I thought it would help, but the more she was here the more I hated her.  It was her fault my baby was gone.”  Laura closed her eyes, her lower lip trembling.  “When your Dad finally called and said he’d found Joe I told her to leave.  She never set foot in this house again.”

“You – told her to leave… and never come back?”  Frank asked, surprised.

“No, no.  I mean at the time it never occurred to me that it would end the way it did.  I thought I could get past it - eventually - and reconcile with her.  I knew our relationship would never, ever be the same but at the time I didn’t think it would just… end.”  Laura sighed, letting out a shaky breath and Frank suddenly felt guilty for pushing her with his questions.

“Listen, Mom, we don’t have to talk about this.  If this is too difficult… it’s really none of my business…” Frank stumbled over the words, unsure of how to comfort his mother.

Laura reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently.  “Actually, I’d like to talk about it.  If you don’t mind?”

Frank shook his head, indicating he didn’t mind, and Laura continued her story, never letting go of his hand.

“After your father found Joe, when I found out what he’d been through… I was inconsolable.  When I’d see him playing with you and your friends – with Kelly and Kevin – like nothing had ever happened, I couldn’t stop crying.  Every day I cried and cried because he was acting so… normal.”

Why would she be upset that Joe didn’t remember anything?  Did she want him to remember it? Frank realized she must have understood the look of utter confusion on his face. 

“I cried because what happened to him was so horrifying, so traumatizing, that his psyche wouldn’t allow him to remember any of it.  Nothing!  He was so young... and he was forced to witness things that were so terrifying he repressed it; all of it.  I can’t even imagine….” her voice trailed off for a moment and she shook her head sadly. 

“Then one day the psychiatrist who’d been treating Joe said we didn’t need to bring him anymore.  She said his subconscious knew he couldn’t deal with it yet and that’s why he didn’t remember anything.  There was no need for counseling for something he couldn’t even remember.   I asked her what would happen if something sparked a memory – someone he saw or something he heard – before he was ready; how would it affect him?  She said if Joe were inadvertently forced to remember anything before he was ready, the results could be devastating.”

‘They almost were!’ Frank thought, recalling what happened the previous year when Joe finally did remember.

“I was afraid seeing Carole or Jeff might trigger something in Joe and he’d remember everything before he was ready to deal with it.  I had no other choice; my child had to come first.  I felt that the only thing I could do to protect Joe was to cut Carole out of my life completely.  It was the only way I could be certain he wouldn’t see or hear something that would force those memories to resurface.  I had to do it.

“It didn’t help matters that a month later I still couldn’t see or talk to Carole without feeling an uncontrollable anger.  I trusted her, Frank.  I trusted her to take care of Joe!  There were two of them there at the park for God’s sake!  Couldn’t one of them have kept an eye on him?”  Laura stopped, realizing how deeply she was reliving the past and took a few deep breaths.  “In the end it didn’t matter; I knew our relationship would never be the same.  So, I went to Carole’s house and told her.  I told her I had to cut her out of my life – her and her family.  I wasn’t going to risk Joe’s sanity just to have an overly strained relationship with my sister.”

“How’d she take it?” Frank asked with more than a little trepidation.  He was the older brother.  While listening to his mother, he couldn’t help but put himself in Carole’s shoes and Joe in Laura’s.  He was trying to imagine how he’d feel, how he’d react, if Joe came to him one day and completely severed their relationship.  He found it was impossible to even imagine.

“She said she understood, but I know she was devastated.  A few weeks later, they moved to Arizona.  You know the rest.”

Watching his mother while she spoke, Frank had seen a deep sadness in her eyes as well as a look of fierce protectiveness.  He felt a tremendous loss for her and wondered how Carole had been able to cope with being cut out of her younger sister’s life for good.  Still, something nagged at him.  “Mom, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, honey.”

“I completely understand why you severed your relationship with Aunt Carole.  You did it to protect Joe.”

Laura nodded slowly, her eyes wary.

“It’s been a year since Joe remembered.  Have you thought about contacting her at all since then?”  Frank saw her eyebrows shoot up in surprise and caught a fleeting glimpse of what looked like guilt in her eyes.  Slowly Laura shook her head.

“I couldn’t do that.  I’d feel like it would be saying that just because Joe remembered, everything was fine now.  And it’s not.  A sick, twisted pedophile took Joe right out from under their eyes.  That will never be okay.”  She looked at Frank, sorrow etched on her face. Sorrow for the sister she lost; sorrow for her child; sorrow for herself. 

Frank’s heart ached for his mother.  She had voluntarily severed a cherished relationship with her sister to protect her child.  Could he do the same thing if he had to?  Choose between Joe and his own child?

‘We’d never put ourselves in a situation like that!’ Frank told himself resolutely, trying to shake off the despair he suddenly felt.  A chill shot through him as another thought came out of nowhere.  ‘Like Carole and Jeff put themselves in that situation on purpose?’  Not liking where this internal monologue was heading, Frank focused all his attention on his mother.

“Mom, why don’t you let me finish packing this stuff for you?” he offered, sensing she was nearing her emotional limit.

Laura gazed at the boxes around her, her eyes resting on each one as if she had the contents memorized.  She picked up a picture of the two families at a picnic.  Eight smiling faces beamed back at her.  She stared at the picture for several moments and then handed it to Frank.  Kissing him on the cheek, she got up and left, without uttering another word.