It did nothing however, to lessen the worry she felt that this time Joe had gotten in way over his head. Vanessa knew he would have called her if he had been physically able to. Not having heard from him meant one of two things – he was either too badly injured to call or…

"No." She whispered. "He can’t be."

It seemed impossible, but as horrible as they were, the events of the past several months – her rape, Joe’s murder trial, his sudden recollection of the horrors he had endured as a small child – had actually served to bring them closer together. Closer than they had ever been before. For some reason, Vanessa felt she would know if Joe were dead. Something inside her would have died along with him and right now the only thing she felt was pain. An overwhelming pain in her heart so intense she knew without a doubt that Joe was in agony. She prayed that whatever was happening to him, whatever he was being subjected to, he could find a way to hold on until Frank and Fenton found him. Vanessa couldn’t bear to face the rest of her life without him.

Joe was the only one who really understood her anymore. He knew when she needed to be held and when she needed to be left alone. When she was scared or depressed; what might trigger a flashback and the most terrifying of all – when a flashback was imminent. He also knew just what to do to bring her back from those flashbacks.

‘He can’t be dead. I can’t face my demons without him. Not yet.’ Vanessa thought as the fear inside her grew.

‘Please, Baby, wherever you are, hang on.’ Vanessa begged him silently. ‘Frank will find you if you can just hang on.’

*****

"Let’s start again, shall we?" Rashman said. Drawing his arm back, he swung the heavy chain a few times to gain momentum before snapping it forward, catching Joe squarely in the chest.

Joe cried out in pain as his knees buckled. His arm screamed in protest as it was once again yanked back by the chain. Inadvertently standing on his right foot, he felt the knife wound tear open a little bit more.

"Where’s the envelope?"

Breathing heavily, Joe glared at Rashman but refused to say a word. Rashman shrugged and wound up striking Joe with the heavy chain once again, unmoved by Joe’s painful cry. Rashman repeated the question over and over. Each time Joe refused to answer, he was subjected to the same excruciating penalty.

Several minutes later Rashman threw the chain, on the ground. Leaning over, he put his hands on his knees and tried to catch his breath.

"I have to hand it to you, Blondie." Rashman said between breaths. "You're tough. I think it’s going to be a long night." He stood up and walked away, only to return several moments later holding a bucket. Wordlessly he held the bucket over Joe’s head and turned it upside down.

Joe gasped out loud as the freezing cold water drenched him, causing his numerous injuries to scream in protest. Choking momentarily on a mouthful of water he had accidentally inhaled, Joe felt a sharp pain in his chest with every single breath. He saw the now familiar flash of the camera as Rashman apparently intended to capture each new torture on film.

"I’ll be back in a little while." Rashman said with no emotion. Turning his back on Joe, he joined Malick in front of the blazing fire, which was just far enough away to offer Joe no warmth at all.

No longer able to hold himself upright, Joe tried to keep the chains from pulling on his left arm as he sagged forward. His arm was throbbing, his foot was sending out waves of pain at regular intervals and he had heard a few ribs crack on the third strike of the chain. Shivering, Joe found he was now having difficulty breathing and felt his heart beating faster. Despite feeling somewhat disoriented and having trouble staying focused, Joe was still aware enough to know he was starting to go into shock. Beaten, bloody and in unbearable pain, one thought flitted through his mind…

*****

As difficult as it was to see, Frank sat and watched the video of his brother, unconscious and helpless, being dragged through the terminals of O’Hare Airport. He studied the two men who had kidnapped Joe, wanting to be certain he would be able to recognize them instantly when he saw them. Frank was determined to get his brother back alive no matter what. He heard footsteps approaching and looked up into his father’s worried face.

"George’s friend from the task force is here." Fenton said in a reserved undertone. "He found a small office where we can talk privately."

Frank glanced around at the Secret Service agents, who were oblivious to what was going on around them.

"They’ll want to speak with him, too." Fenton continued, subtly nodding at the agents. "If they get to him first, we may not get to speak with him until it’s too late – if we get to see him at all."

Frank nodded as he switched off the video and followed his father down the hall. Turning left, they entered an office with a small conference table, several chairs and a computer sitting off in the corner.

"Frank, this is Detective Carlos Sanchez." Fenton made the introduction. "Detective, my older son Frank."

"Good to meet you, Frank." Sanchez said, shaking Frank’s outstretched hand.

"You too, sir." Frank replied taking in the tall, lean man with jet-black hair and eyes almost as dark.

"Carlos, please." He requested. "George has briefed me on what happened to Joe." Carols began as the four men took seats around the table. "I don’t want to alarm you Mr. Hardy, but this is probably the most vicious and violent crime syndicate in the country. The sooner you find him, the better."

"Carlos, if we can’t find him right away, what are the chances Rashman and Malick will let him go if he tells them what they want to know?" Frank asked, now more concerned than ever.

"Truthfully?"

Frank nodded silently.

"None." Carlos replied without hesitation. "They’ll kill him as soon as they have the information they want. That’s why it’s imperative you find him as soon as possible."

Frank looked at his father and they both realized they were in a race against the clock without a clue as to where to begin looking for Joe.

"Do you have any idea at all where they might have taken Joe?" Fenton asked. His voice was calm and steady but the worry and despair in his eyes was unmistakable.

"They generally take their hostages to very remote locations. Places where they can basically torture their victims freely without having to worry about anyone hearing their screams." Carlos couldn’t begin to imagine how hard this must be for the Hardy’s to hear, but he wanted to make sure they knew exactly what they were up against. They had to make every second count if there was to be any hope of finding Joe alive. "They move around a lot; never use the same location twice in a row. We haven’t been able to catch them in the act. We usually find out about their location when hikers or campers report finding a body." He said, obviously frustrated.

Frank sat back and closed his eyes for a moment, feeling sick to his stomach as he thought of what his younger brother must be going through.

"Are you alright, Frank?" George asked quietly.

"Yeah, I’m fine." Frank lied. "So you have no idea where they may have taken Joe?" Frank said, despondently.

"I didn’t say that." Carlos replied. "There are only so many remote areas within a few hours drive of Chicago. We have been tracking them and we think we may have finally uncovered a pattern." Reaching into a jacket pocket, he pulled out a computer disc and looked questioningly at George.

George stood and quickly made his way to the computer, turning it on.

"Apparently they ran out of new locations because it seems they have been backtracking. Bodies have recently been found in areas very close to the first two locations they used." Carlos explained as he, Frank and Fenton followed George to the computer, hovering behind him as they waited for the programs to load. "We think they are now going back to the same general areas they’ve used before, although not the exact same spots. If our theory is correct, I can give you a good idea of the area where they might have taken Joe."

For the first time since this nightmare began, Frank felt a faint glimmer of hope. He watched as the computer screen lit up with a map of Chicago and it’s outlying areas. Red dots marked specific locations far outside the city. He listened intently as Carlos explained the pattern he believed the syndicate was using and pointed to a very remote area where he thought Joe might be held. Watching as his father took very detailed notes, Frank thought of his younger brother with a heavy heart.