Carlos had also asked if they would stay afterwards and give their official statements as to exactly what they saw and heard once they found Joe. Sanchez knew it was against official procedures for him to have waited this long to get their statements, but his heart and his conscience got the better of him and he wanted to wait until Joe was out of the woods before he made Frank and Fenton relive the horrible details.

The Hardy’s made their way to the police station and, after identifying themselves at the front desk and confirming they had an appointment with Detective Sanchez, they were led to his office on the fifth floor. Carlos’ desk was situated in the back of a long, narrow room, near a window. Files and papers surrounded his desk and some had taken up residence on an empty desk close by.

"Fenton, Frank. Thanks for coming." Carlos said shaking their hands. "How’s Joe doing?"

"Better, thank you." Fenton replied, obviously relieved. "He’s progressing better than the doctor had anticipated. He’s even starting to act like himself – flirting with the nurses, complaining about the food."

"That’s good to hear." Carlos said with a smile. "I’m looking forward to meeting him."

"I spoke with Dr. Marston and he said it would be fine for you to come to the hospital and get Joe’s statement. But I’d like to put it off until tomorrow or the next day."

"Whatever you think is best, Fenton. I know it’s going to be extremely difficult for him"

"I just want to have some time to mentally prepare him for it."

As Frank listened to the conversation between his father and Carlos, he wandered over to the window and peered out, taking in the view of downtown Chicago. Turning back, he glanced at the unused desk that contained the overflow of Carlos’ case files when something caught his eye. Getting a little closer, he peered at what had grabbed his attention and felt his heart leap into his throat.

Laid out on the desk, obviously in some kind of order, were all the pictures Rashman had taken of Joe. Leaning over the desk, Frank felt his heart start to race. He moved a few of the pictures an inch or two, so as to get a better view of all of them and felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach.

Picking up one of the pictures, he was met with an image of Keith Rashman holding a burning log so it was in direct contact with Joe’s left arm. Another picture showed the same thing, but was obviously taken a moment later as portions of Joe’s arm were already raw and red. A third picture clearly showed the pain on Joe’s face as a result of the burns.

A voice in Frank’s head told him not to look any further, but he couldn’t look away. He was vaguely aware of eyes watching him, but he didn’t care. For the next several minutes, he studied the pictures of his brother being beaten with a heavy chain; punched and strangled by Rashman; he saw how the gash on Joe’s foot had come to be, the smile on Rashman’s face showing he was enjoying every minute of it.

Frank noticed his hands were now shaking as he held the pictures and wave after wave of intense emotions washed over him. It didn’t surprise him that the most dominant of these emotions were hatred and revenge.

He saw Joe being doused with water, obviously choking on it and visibly shuddered when he saw scorpions crawling on his brother’s arm, neck and head with the next picture showing the two sites where he’d been stung – red, swollen and painful just to look at. His stomach tightened when he saw the leather straps tied around Joe’s neck and wrists and it threatened to rebel completely at the sight of Rashman rubbing salt into the burns on Joe’s arm. Picking up the last picture, taken at the exact moment Joe had been hit with the alcohol, Frank covered his mouth with one hand and gagged. Seconds later, he dropped the picture back on the desk and bolted for the men’s room, becoming violently ill.

Several moments later, Frank leaned back against the cool tile of the bathroom wall, tears streaming down his face as he realized every single picture had one thing in common. While Joe had been able to remain silent, during his captivity and torture, he wasn’t able to keep the agony he was in from showing on his face.

"I’m sorry, Joe." Frank choked out. "I’m so sorry."

Sliding down the wall, Frank sat on the floor of the rest room, staring straight ahead and hating himself more than he ever thought possible.

Leaning his head back, Frank’s thoughts turned to Keith Rashman and the feeling that rose in him left him absolutely terrified. After seeing the actual pictures of the abuse Joe had endured at the hands Keith Rashman, Frank found he would give anything to turn the clock back and have one more chance to kill the man who had tortured his brother.

Slowly, Frank got to his feet and walked to the sink. He splashed cold water on his face, rinsed out his mouth and downed a few gulps of water. Raising his head, he looked at his reflection in the mirror and almost didn’t recognize himself. Never in his life did he think he would see that look in his own eyes. Fenton Hardy had impressed upon his sons from the time they were very young that revenge was never the answer to a problem. Frank had lived by that rule his whole life, firmly believing that revenge never solved anything. Today, however, Frank thought that maybe his father was wrong.

With a coldness in his heart that was reflected in his eyes, Frank exited the restroom and rejoined his father and Carlos Sanchez and silently waited for the arraignment of Keith Rashman. This feeling that just one week earlier had been completely unknown to him, was now his best friend. Frank would not rest until Keith Rashman had paid for what he did to Joe.

*****

Frank, Fenton and Carlos made their way to the courthouse for the arraignment hearing where, just outside the courtroom, they met up with District Attorney Peter Handling, a man in his early fifties with salt and pepper hair and intense blue-gray eyes.

"Mr. Hardy, it’s a pleasure to meet you." Peter Handling said, extending his hand. "I’m sorry about what happened to your son. At least some good will come out of it. We finally have a case that can put these two behind bars."

"Thank you, Mr. Handling. Believe me, there is nothing I want more than to see them put away for what they did to Joe." Fenton replied.

"I understand we’ll be able to call you two as witnesses also, correct?" The D.A. continued shaking hands with Frank.

"Yes, sir." Frank replied, his voice tight with controlled emotion. "We’re very anxious to help you in any way we can."

Fenton Hardy glanced at his oldest son in mild concern. He had never heard that tone in Frank’s voice before, nor had he seen the look of intense hatred that had been present in Frank’s eyes ever since he returned from the restroom.

At that moment, the door opened signaling them to enter. As Frank, Fenton and Carlos took seats directly behind Peter Handling, Fenton leaned over to his son.

"Frank, are you alright?" he said in a low voice.

"Fine." Frank replied, in the same tone, his eyes glued to the door at the side of the courtroom.

Sitting back, Fenton recalled the conversation he’d had with Frank when Frank admitted that he wished he had killed Keith Rashman when he had the chance. After they had spoken, he was confident Frank’s thoughts were just that – random thoughts, never to be acted on. But that was before he had seen the pictures of what Joe had been forced to endure. Fenton prayed it wasn’t a mistake bringing Frank to the hearing where he would be only a few feet away from the man who had tortured his brother. He prayed Frank’s random thoughts hadn’t suddenly become his reality.

A moment later the door Frank had been staring at finally opened and Keith Rashman and Dennis Malick were led into the courtroom. Malick had both his hands and feet shackled. Rashman, however, had shackles only around his ankles as his right arm was in a sling due to the bullet wounds he had sustained when Frank had shot him several days earlier.

As the two men took their places at the defense table, Rashman turned to Frank and smiled. With unconcealed hatred, Frank stared back at Keith Rashman hoping that somehow, he would know how much Frank wanted to see him dead.

As the judge entered the courtroom, everyone stood, waited for him to be seated and then did the same. The judge studied the papers in front of him then addressed the District Attorney.

"Mr. Handling, what are the charges?"

Standing, Peter Handling read the list of charges that had been filed against Rashman and Malick. "Your Honor, the State of Illinois charges Keith Rashman and Dennis Malick with the kidnapping, assault and battery and attempted murder of Joseph Hardy. We have been unable to question the victim as yet, since he has been hospitalized for several days and just recently regained consciousness. We would like to reserve the right to file additional charges after we get a statement from Mr. Hardy."

"Very well." The judge responded, then turned to the defense attorney. "Mr. Barning, you are representing both defendants?"

"Yes, Your Honor, I am." The defense attorney replied, standing up.

Frank gazed at the man, with light brown hair and hazel eyes, who appeared utterly confident and in complete control. Although he knew it was irrational, Frank took an immediate dislike to the man who was going to defend the people who tried to kill his brother.

"And how do your clients plead?"

"Not guilty by reason of insanity."

Frank heard his father gasp, and then swear under his breath. Glancing at the District Attorney, Frank noticed the man didn’t seem happy about the plea.

"Your Honor, I would also like to revisit the question of bail for my clients." Barning continued.

"No, Mr. Barning." The judge cut him off. "Bail has already been denied with good reason. Mr. Rashman and Mr. Malick will be remanded to the county jail until trial."

The proceedings swiftly concluded and the bailiff prepared for the next case. As Rashman and Malick were led towards the exit they had to pass directly in front of Frank and Fenton.

As they slowly walked by, Rashman came to a stop and addressed Fenton. "Hello, Mr. Hardy." He smiled, although to Frank it looked more like a self-satisfied smirk. "This must be your other son." He continued, glancing at Frank. "He’s the spitting image of you. You must be very proud."

Frank watched as his father clenched his fists, barely able to control his rage, and Frank wanted nothing more than to lash out and punch the smirk right off Rashman’s face. Instead, he chose a different tactic.

"You know those pictures you took of my brother?" Frank said evenly.

Rashman looked at him, with the same infuriating smile, but neither acknowledged or denied the photographs.

"I just wanted to thank you. They helped save his life." Frank finished with a smile of his own.

Rashman’s smile disappeared instantly and was replaced with unabashed hatred.

"You should have killed me when you had the chance." Rashman snarled.

"Don’t worry. Should the opportunity present itself, I won’t make the same mistake twice." Frank replied, the hatred in his eyes, reflected in his voice. "Thanks again." Frank called out as Rashman was quickly led away by the guards.

Fenton looked at Frank and was shocked at what he saw in his son’s eyes. A shadow of doubt began to gnaw at him, as he wasn’t sure whether Frank’s words were just an idle threat – or a promise of revenge. That combined with the stark reality of the plea that had been entered for Rashman and Malick, and what it meant should they succeed, combined to leave him with a sudden feeling of powerlessness and overwhelming depression.

Turning to look at his father, Frank was shocked to see him pale and wobbly on his feet.

"Dad! What’s wrong?" Frank cried out, helping his father to sit down.

"My, God." He whispered. "They might actually get away with it."

"That’s impossible, Dad." Frank tried to reassure him, a little unnerved at seeing his normally unflappable father on the verge of falling apart. "The evidence is overwhelming."

"Which is exactly why they went with the insanity defense." Handling said. "Unfortunately, it’s an excellent strategy and it just might work."

"What?!" Frank asked, incredulous. "How can a jury possibly believe they’re not guilty?"

"When a jury hears the details of what they did to Joe – sees the pictures – they won’t want to believe a sane person could do something like that. None of us wants to believe that one human being could knowingly inflict that kind of pain on another person. We want a reason we can understand for that kind of abhorrent behavior. Something that makes sense to us. A jury would like nothing better than for the defense to convince them that Rashman and Malick were insane.

"My guess is Barning will admit right from the start that they kidnapped and tortured Joe. His entire defense will hinge on getting the jury to believe they were insane at the time they committed the crime and therefore not responsible for their actions."

"You mean…they could really get away with what they did to Joe?" Frank asked in total disbelief.

Peter looked at Frank and Fenton sympathetically. Carlos could barely look them in the eye. He had come to like them immensely in the short time he’d known them and felt that somehow, he had let them down. It appeared the airtight case against Rashman and Malick was falling apart before it even had a chance to get started.

Frank sat down heavily as the reality hit him full force. Rashman and Malick could be sent to a psychiatric facility and once they were declared mentally competent, they would be released, free and clear. And unlike any other career, having been confined to a mental hospital would only enhance their reputations and give them that much more respect in their field.

"He’s right." Fenton finally said in a hoarse whisper. He looked at Frank, absolutely devastated. "They almost killed Joe. And they may never have to pay for it."

Seeing the look on his father’s face was all it took to cement Frank’s resolve. ‘No way, Dad. Even if a jury finds them not guilty, they will pay. I promise you, one way or another, they will pay for what they did to Joe.’