Detective Carlos Sanchez would be arriving shortly to question Joe, in detail, about exactly what Keith Rashman and Denis Malick had done to him. Even though they had the pictures the two men had taken, with no eyewitnesses to what had happened, Joe’s testimony would be crucial. Ever since the arrangements for Carlos’ visit had been made, Joe had clearly avoided talking about it.

Frank knew Joe was apprehensive at having to relive those twenty-four hours of abuse. Frank himself was not looking forward to hearing about it, but there was no way he would desert his brother now, when Joe needed him the most. Frank still hadn’t been able to shake the intense emotions seeing the pictures had evoked. After he and his father had left the police station after giving their statements the previous evening, they returned to the hospital to visit Joe. Frank had found it almost impossible to hide what he was feeling from his younger brother and was thankful there was only an hour or so left before visiting hours were over.

Upon returning to the hotel, Frank had paced the bedroom like a caged animal until Callie suggested he go down to the hotel gym to try and work off some of the emotions that were eating away at him. He had no idea how long he had run on the treadmill or how far but by the time he was done, he’d been dripping with sweat and completely exhausted.

Frank realized he had increased the speed of the treadmill again and again and again as if he could outrun the burning need for revenge that had consumed him. It seemed to have dulled the extreme reaction he’d had, until this morning. When he awoke, the fire inside him was burning out of control once again. Frank was certain it had been fueled by the nightmares he’d had all night, each one different but all of them inspired by the horrific pictures he had seen the day before.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind, Frank concentrated on remaining calm and unemotional for Joe’s sake. He hadn’t told Joe about seeing the pictures and Joe hadn’t asked. In fact, Joe hadn’t asked about anything that had happened while Frank and Fenton were gone, which made Frank realize Joe was having a difficult time dealing with everything. More than he was letting on. All the more reason for Frank to remain in control at all times, knowing Joe would feed off any emotions Frank let show.

"Are you sure Mom and Vanessa aren’t going to walk in on this?" Joe asked nervously, turning off the T.V, and throwing the remote on the nightstand. If only he could get up, walk around – MOVE – do something to burn off some of this nervous energy.

"Dad was honest with them, Joe. He said you were giving your statement today and didn’t want them here when you did it." Frank tried to reassure him.

"So what are they doing all day? Hanging around the hotel? That could get old pretty fast."

"They’re going out for lunch and then to the Sears Tower. If you’re not done by then, they’ll go shopping."

"What if they finish early and assume we’re done and show up here?" Joe said, getting more agitated by the minute. "I don’t want them walking in and hearing any of it."

Frank got up and sat on the edge of the bed, looking directly at his brother. "They agreed not to come back until Dad calls and tells them you’re done." Frank replied keeping his voice calm hoping it would help Joe relax a little bit. "Don’t worry, Joe. We’ve taken care of it."

"Well, ok." Joe responded, not nearly as confident as Frank was. "If you’re sure."

"I’m sure." Frank said, patting Joe on the leg. Looking closely at him, Frank sensed something else was troubling Joe. "Is something else bothering you, little brother?" He asked gently.

Joe hesitated a moment before responding. "I…well..." Joe stuttered. "No." He finally mumbled, looking away.

"I don’t have to be a detective to pick up on that clue." Frank joked, trying to lighten the mood. "Come on, spill it. What’s wrong?"

Joe appeared to be working up the nerve to say something, and then finally just blurted it out. "You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to." Joe said, the look on his face begging Frank not to leave. "It’s gonna get…ugly."

‘I’ve seen the pictures, Joe. I know how ugly it gets.’ Frank swallowed hard, determined not to let his emotions get the best of him. "I’m not leaving."

"I mean…it’s…it’s bad, Frank. Really bad." Joe told him, not looking forward to reliving it all again.

"I know it’s bad, Joe. And that’s why there is no way I am leaving you." Frank said with quiet determination.

Joe smiled, gratefully. "Thanks, bro."

Try as he might, Frank could not keep the murderous thoughts that had been haunting him from bubbling back to the surface. If Joe was this rattled about having to give a statement, how in the world was he going to make it through a trial as the prosecution’s star witness?

‘God, why didn’t I kill them…’ Frank thought, as he watched Joe nervously rearrange the sheet then pick up the remote once again.

*****

Just outside the door, Fenton Hardy and Carlos Sanchez were listening to Dr. Marston. "If Joe says he wants to stop, at any time, then your interview is over." He told Sanchez.

"Absolutely." Carlos agreed.

"I haven’t pushed the issue because you said Joe has a therapist that he trusts back home." Marston now addressed Fenton. "But he hasn’t said anything at all about what happened to him and that concerns me. Something like that is too traumatic for anyone to just take in stride." He now looked at both men. "If he starts to get upset or suddenly doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, I want the questions to stop immediately."

"I understand completely." Carlos replied.

"I’ll be back to check on him a little later." The doctor told Fenton, and then departed for the nurses station.

Fenton eyed the envelope containing the pictures of Joe that Carlos held in his hand. He too had looked at them the previous day, after Frank had run from the room. He still wasn’t sure how, but he had managed to maintain control and not break down as he looked at them. But when Fenton was finally alone that night, after everyone had gone to sleep, he cried unable to stop for a very long time. Not knowing how Joe would react to seeing the pictures, he tried to prepare himself for the worst.

The previous evening, Fenton had spent some time alone with Joe trying to prepare him for this. Joe had simply listened to what his father had to say and then nodded his consent. That very subdued reaction was enough to keep Fenton up most of the night worrying that Joe wasn’t mentally ready to do this.

"Let’s get it over with." He said, loathing the thought of Joe having to describe each torture in vivid detail. Pushing the door open, Fenton and Carlos walked into the room.

Hearing the door open, Joe looked up and felt his stomach tighten. He had known that eventually he would have to tell the police what had happened, in as much detail as possible, but he had tried to push it to the back of his mind. Seeing his father enter the room with a tall, dark haired man Joe accepted that ‘eventually’ had become ‘now’.

"Hi, Dad." Joe said.

"Hello, Joe. How are you feeling today?" Fenton asked, the smile on his face not able to hide the concern in his eyes.

"Fine." Joe replied eyeing Carlos Sanchez.

"This is Detective Carlos Sanchez." Fenton made the introduction. "I told you about him last night."

"Nice to meet you, sir." Joe said extending his hand.

"Hi, Joe." Carlos smiled and shook his hand. "Please call me Carlos. Sir makes me feel too old."

"Carlos." Joe repeated the name and smiled.

Carlos studied Joe with a practiced eye, taking in Joe’s heavily bandaged left arm, resting on a pillow, the now fading red area on his right arm where he’d been stung, the still visible bruises on his neck and wrists and the way he gingerly shifted in the bed, obviously trying to protect his broken ribs from any unnecessary movement. Based on what he had seen in the pictures, it seemed to Carlos that Joe was making quite a remarkable recovery, at least physically. He wondered how anyone could ever truly recover from something like this, mentally.

Chairs were pulled up and Carlos took a seat near the foot of the bed. Frank sat very close to the bed on Joe’s right, while Fenton sat down on the opposite side of Joe, positioning himself so he could clearly see Joe’s face.

Pulling out a small tape recorder, pad of paper and pen, Carlos set the tape recorder on the rolling bedside table and turned it on. Placing the envelope with the pictures on the table next to it, he settled back into the chair.

"Joe, I know this is going to be difficult so if you need to take a break, or you decide you’d like to stop for the day and finish tomorrow, just let me know. Ok?" Carlos said.

"I’d rather just get it all done in one shot." Joe replied.

"That’s fine, Joe, but you may find you want to take a little break." Fenton said, wishing Joe would realize he didn’t have to be invincible. "If you do just say so."

"Ok."

‘Stay calm.’ Frank told himself, feeling the tension in the room increase dramatically. He noticed Joe kept looking at the envelope, as if drawn to it. ‘No matter how bad it gets, do not get upset, do not get angry, do not lose it.’

"Let’s start with what happened at the airport." Carlos suggested.

"After I called Vanessa to confirm my arrival time with her, I went to the restroom." Joe began easily. "When I went in I was the only one in there. I went all the way to the stall on the end. Right after I locked the door, I heard someone enter the one next to me and an envelope came flying over the partition. The guy said, "Here’s the down payment along with your instructions. You’ll get the rest of the money when the job is complete." And then he left.

"I opened the envelope and saw the money and two sheets of paper. One was a picture of Senator Hurley and the other had all the instructions for his assassination. I knew my flight was boarding so I put everything back in the envelope and stuck it in my shirt. I figured I’d show it to Dad and Frank when I got home and we’d decide what to do together. But when I got to the entrance of the restroom I saw Rashman and Malick standing across the hall."

"Did you know who they were at the time?" Carlos asked.

"No. But it was obvious they were looking for someone. Malick was watching people walking by and Rashman never took his eyes off the door of the restroom. I assumed one of them threw the envelope and afterwards realized the person who got it wasn’t their contact and now they wanted it back. No one else had come into the restroom, and there was no way I could leave without being seen."

‘He really was trapped!’ Frank thought, hearing these details for the very first time. ‘He knew he’d be caught yet he still thought to hide the evidence and call me.’

Joe stopped for a moment as Carlos was taking notes, and waited for him to finish writing, then continued.

"They hadn’t seen me yet so I went back into the restroom. I hid the envelope under the trashcan in the handicapped stall, then I called Frank." Joe stopped and smiled at his brother. "By then I had a pretty good idea I wouldn’t be leaving Chicago voluntarily and wanted to give him some idea of what was going on and where to start looking for me.

"When I started to walk out of the restroom, Rashman and Malick were coming in. They weren’t really paying attention to me and I guess I hoped for a second that they didn’t realize I had been the only one in there. But I ended up walking right into their trap." Joe shook his head in disgust.

"And anyone else would have done the same thing." Fenton told his son. "But they probably wouldn’t have thought to leave a trail to follow. You did everything right, Joe."

Joe looked at his father gratefully. "Rashman stepped aside to let me pass. As soon as he was behind me, Malick pulled a gun on me."

"He pulled a gun?" Carlos repeated what Joe said. When Joe nodded in confirmation, Carlos smiled grimly and made a few more notes. "That means we can add a few weapons offenses to the charges."

Again, Joe waited until Carlos was finished before continuing. "Rashman grabbed me around the throat and started choking me. He pulled me back a few steps, so we were out of sight of anyone in the corridor. They asked me what I did with the envelope and I told them I didn’t know what they were talking about. Malick frisked me and when he didn’t find it they asked me again where it was. I kept telling them I didn’t know what they were talking about."

Joe stopped a moment and concentrated, not wanting to leave anything out. "Rashman spun me around so I was facing him, and Malick pushed the gun into my back, forcing me back into the restroom. They asked me again where the envelope was. I kept trying to convince them they had the wrong guy but they didn’t believe me. We heard someone coming into the restroom and that’s when they decided to take me with them and ‘beat it’ out of me." Joe said recalling Malick’s words. "I was looking for some way to escape and never saw Rashman’s fist coming. Knocked me out with one shot. That’s the last thing I remember at the airport." He shrugged apologetically at Carlos. When Joe spoke again, his voice was much more subdued. "When I came to I was chained to the fence."

An uneasy silence followed for a moment, before Joe spoke again. "I guess you want to know what happened next." He said quietly, looking at Carlos.

"I’m sorry, Joe. I wish there was another way." Carlos replied, hating the fact that he had to make Joe relive it all so soon.

"That’s ok. I understand." Joe told him.

"I’ll need as much detail as possible. And…" Carlos hesitated for a moment. "…I need you to look at the pictures and tell me what order they were taken in, exactly what’s happening in each one, what was being said at the time." He stopped, and glanced from Fenton to Frank, suddenly feeling like the enemy. "Since there are no witnesses, the more you can remember, the stronger the case we can build against them. Especially since the D.A. still isn’t absolutely sure he can get the pictures entered as evidence."

Joe stared at the envelope once again, nodding silently in acknowledgement. His stomach tightened and he could feel his heart start to beat faster. Joe had purposely avoided thinking about what had happened to him, afraid of what his reaction might be. Afraid he wouldn’t be able to get through even a vague recollection without completely falling apart.

Keith Rashman’s words came back to Joe, haunting him. "I will break you, Hardy. If it’s the last thing I do."