Taking a deep breath, Joe forced himself to be calm, trying to remember that his father had little or no idea about what was actually going on. Walking over to his father, Joe grabbed the edge of his dad’s desk with a grip so tight that his knuckles actually turned white.

"Frank’s gone, Dad," he repeated, slowly, to emphasize the point. "I looked all over. I know he’s not with Callie, and he’s certainly not in the house. Dad," Joe pleaded, fighting with his own anxiety, "You know what this means!"

Fenton remained silent for a moment, trying to absorb all of this information at once. The implications of Joe’s words were extraordinarily clear to him, but he still had a hard time believing it. "Frank wouldn’t…" he gulped, trying to regain his composure, "he wouldn’t go after Nash, son. I mean, he promised."

"Dad," Joe sighed, "Come on!"

"Oh, my God," Fenton whispered softly to himself, forcing himself to have a seat as all the possibilities and new scenarios filled his mind. In a moment, he looked at Joe, his heart breaking when he saw the devastation in his youngest son’s face. "What’s happened to us?"

Fenton was about to continue when he saw Joe visibly fighting back tears. In that instant, he immediately snapped back into fatherly mode and stopped allowing himself even a few moments to feel sorry for himself. Frank was in serious danger; they had to do…SOMETHING. Walking around from behind his desk, Fenton quickly enveloped his youngest son in his arms. "It’s going to be okay," he said softly, patting his neck. "I promise."

Joe quickly pulled away from his father’s embrace, embarrassed that he had allowed his emotions, once again, to overcome him. Frank was the most important thing in the world right now, and even the shortest delay could have serious consequences for him.

"Okay," Joe mumbled, and looked up at his father, feeling like a little boy for the slightest of moments before allowing reality to set in. When it did, though, it hit like a ton of bricks. "Dad!" He began, the passion in his voice evident as he pleaded his case. "Dad, we’ve got to find Frank. We need a plan or something, and obviously, it all starts in Cape May. Come on—let’s go, now!" With those words uttered, he headed for the door, but was quickly restrained by his father, who grabbed his arm.

Wincing, his body still sore from his own ordeal, Joe turned around and was about to protest when he saw the look he knew he would never forget in his father’s eyes. Although Fenton’s eyes did not hold the terror that he obviously could not help but feel, the expression in his eyes was one of such abject determination and fierce thought that Joe found himself stunned into silence. Only on the rarest occasions did this man come out, the one who was one of the nation’s top private investigators, who could solve almost any puzzle put in front of him with such a methodic and calculating thought process. Joe was almost awed.

"Son," Fenton said evenly, "That’s all well and good, but now we’ve got to get serious. We can’t just drive around town for a couple of hours hoping Frank will show up."

That’s true, he had to agree. Still, Joe needed to MOVE, to do something…anything, really, to get going and find Frank before he got into any trouble.

"Well then. What do we do?" He felt stupid asking the question, but the only way they could get to the bottom of this, and fast, was to work together and use each other’s strengths. Just like Frank and I always did, he added to himself with a swallow.

Fenton rubbed his temple with his right hand and allowed himself a few deep breaths. Seeing his father focus, Joe tried to do the same thing. And, despite their natural varying inclinations, he found that he could concentrate, too. Suddenly, he felt almost calm.

"He took the car."

Fenton looked up. "What?"

"I said he took the car, Dad. So, obviously, there’s no way to track what time he would have left, since he wouldn’t have taken a bus or a train."

Nodding slowly, Fenton continued Joe’s train of thought. "Okay, that’s true. But he would have slept a little, knowing your brother. He was serious, and determined, and that must have meant that he had some sort of game plan."

"Unless he was blinded by rage," Joe said softly, hating even to think it about his calm, sweet brother.

"Unless he was blinded by rage," Fenton repeated, slowly. After a moment of silence, he went on. "Let’s presume that’s the case, Joe. He would have left at dawn, since he’s not familiar with the area. Which means," he said excitedly, as the realization dawned on him, "That he had to have directions!"

"And if he was really that upset, he wouldn’t have thought to go on to the computer to print out directions, so he must have bought a map—probably closer to the area where he was headed!"

Fenton nodded, but still looked deeply disturbed. "Joseph," he said evenly, "check out that angle. Look up on the computer any convenience or grocery stores in the area. While you’re at it, check with the local authorities along the highway route to see if there were any accidents or if any speeding tickets were issued this morning."

"What will you work on? Dad, is something else bothering you?" Joe asked, half out the door already.

Fenton looked up, momentarily ignoring the doubts in his mind. "Just get to work, Joe. Hurry up—because we’re going to Cape May, ourselves, as soon as you’re done."

Joe smiled, grateful for action at last. "You got it, Dad!" he exclaimed happily before rushing up the stairs.

As soon as Joe left, Fenton sat at his desk, his dark eyes clouding over. Fenton was very aware that, had anyone been looking in on him, they would have thought him to be grieving over the disappearance of his son. However, he was not a crier; at least, not until he knew there was definitive reason to be, and his instincts, his logic, his years of experience, were all working on overload. He knew, somehow, that Frank was alive; if he was okay was another story altogether. No, he was disturbed, rather, that there were too many holes in a long overdue resolution to this case.

Think, Fenton, think damnit! He mentally chided himself. This is your son we’re talking about—you have to fill in the holes – now!

There were holes, indeed. Where had Nash been all this time? Did it really make sense that he would continue to hurt and to hunt down their family? He’s a professional criminal, for God’s sake. Why would he bother?! Already he had almost killed Joe, and virtually destroyed Frank and Callie. What good would continuing to harm them do? They were small peas in a large pod. It simply didn’t make sense.

"It doesn’t make sense," Fenton said out loud to himself. And then, although he’d thought of it a million times before, he actually LISTENED to himself. "If it doesn’t make sense… then it didn’t happen!" the thought was so simple, so clear, so damned obvious, that Fenton almost fell out of his chair.

Frantically, he started pacing the room. How could he NOT have thought of that?! DUH was too good for him at the moment. "Okay, okay," Fenton said rapidly out loud to himself. "Let’s go with that. Nash didn’t do it? Good? Yes. Then Frank’s probably okay. Bad? Yes. Because…because… because he was in Cape May for some reason, which means Frank may have run into him."

"But WHY? I don’t get it!" Fenton slammed his hand into the desk, unanswered questions floating through is mind.

"Don’t get what?" Joe asked, startled, having returned from his research.

"What did you find?" Fenton snapped, more intently than he meant to.

Joe was taken aback, but he knew his father was thinking about something, and he hated to be interrupted during a train of thought.

"No police reports. I got the name of a few convenience stores that sell maps in the area," he said, holding up his hand that contained several loose sheets of paper.

"Let’s go," Fenton said, and stormed past Joe.

*****

Joe got over his initial shock at his father’s intensity, and ran after him, beating him to the driver’s seat. "I’ll drive," he said, and slid behind the wheel.

"We need to get there in one piece," Fenton murmured sarcastically, feeling the stress.

"Well, we need to GET there," Joe countered, "and the way you drive, it’ll be next week before that happens. You think—I drive. Okay?" With that, he peeled out of the driveway.

The way down to Cape May was spent in virtual silence until Fenton spoke, ready to run his thoughts by his son. "Joe?"

"Mmmm?" Joe mumbled, concentrating on the road.

"I don’t think Nash did it."

The revelation was so startling that Joe almost drove off he road. "Wh.. what? Why?" he sputtered.

"Because he has no reason to go after us. Look, I know it sounds crazy, but think about it—is it really so crazy? He got his revenge on Callie… on all of us. Why bother? It doesn’t make sense."

"But he was spotted- in Cape May!" Joe protested. "And remember what Con said. The crops that are grown that can be used to… you know…" The words were painful even to his own ears… "induce abortion… they were all in that same area. Why would Nash be there and the drugs be there, and Nash deal with drugs… and the whole thing not be connected? It HAS to be connected."

"No," Fenton said slowly. "Those are all good points, Joe, but go beyond the obvious. Who else could do that to Callie and Frank?"

"Jenkins," Joe said, trying to concentrate, "or one of his cronies. But he’s in jail in Cape May, awaiting transfer to a maximum security prison. That end is all but dead."

"Hmmm… maybe." Fenton muttered. It wouldn’t be the first time someone who was supposedly safely behind bars had continued to orchestrate crimes on the outside.

"Maybe Nash paid someone to do it?" Joe queried, desperate to continue bouncing ideas off his father.

Something snapped in Fenton, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. "Damnit!" he shouted, hitting the dashboard with his fist.

"What?" Joe asked, shocked at his father’s outburst.

"I’m sorry, Joe," Fenton said, apologizing. "I just wish Collig was in town. Instead, we have that imbecile Davis who couldn’t even think to inform their top investigator and the father of the main people involved that Nash was spotted."

"I hope all the Cape May cops aren’t that stupid," Joe agreed.

They drove along in silence for some time. Joe’s mind sorted through every angle, every possibility of his father’s seemingly implausible theory. BUT, if his father thought that an idea was valid, there was probably some kernel of truth in it somewhere. As they pulled into the first convenience store along the way right on the outskirts of Cape May, Joe suddenly gasped as an awful possibility occurred to him. "No," he said to reassure himself.

"What is it?" Fenton asked, turning to him.

"Nothing," he muttered.

"Joseph!" Fenton reprimanded. "I need to know what you’re thinking, no matter how insignificant it may seem to you."

"But…"

"Your brother’s life depends on it."

That was enough to spark Joe to action. "I was just thinking…I mean, I know it sounds crazy…but who exactly IS Davis? How long did Con know him? I mean, isn’t he from Cape May? Maybe, I don’t know… maybe something’s up with him. It IS weird he wouldn’t tell you, right, about Nash being seen? I don’t want to implicate an officer, and I know it sounds stupid…." His voice trailed off.

Fenton stared at him, the color slowly draining from his face. "I never even thought of that."

"I know. It doesn’t make sense."

"What does in this case?! I don’t understand, either, Joe, but let’s go to the police station." Fenton’s voice held a fierceness that, again, was extremely rare.

As they pulled into the station, Joe followed his father up the stairs. After identifying themselves, they started asking the local officers some questions, trying to seem as inconspicuous as possible. Having dealt with the authorities there before on their case last summer, it was not hard to fit in. One of the officers there, Adrienne Lyle, was in charge of pending cases and, while Fenton schmoozed with local authorities, Joe made his way to her.

"Ma’am?" he asked.

"Yes?" she replied looking up.

Joe identified himself and, as subtly as possible he asked, Pete Davis, who’s down with us near Bayport now on temporary reassignment—how long have you known him?"

After a little prodding, the officer responded, "Well, years, of course! He’s been in charge of major cases. You know, drug busts, crime rings, transportation of criminals. You know that, of course, from last summer, right? By the way, how are you feeling?"

Forcing a smile, Joe responded, "Better, thanks. Look, do you have an address for him?"

Smiling, the officer replied, "Well, you know I can’t give that out! However, I can say that he lives in the great big house - almost a mansion - on the other side of town. Take a ride to the right down a mile or two and you might just come across it." She gave him a wink.

Joe was incredulous. "He lives in a mansion?" he asked, stunned. "How does he afford that?"

The officer laughed. "Word has it that he was heir to a large fortune. Says he does the police work because it’s his duty, not because he needs to. Quite the guy, huh?"

Joe fought the sinking feeling in his stomach. "Where was Nash last spotted?" he demanded.

"What?" she asked, taken aback.

"Where?"

At that moment, Fenton’s shouting mirrored Joe’s. "Oh my God!" he exclaimed.

The police officers stood in shock as Fenton grabbed something off the sergeant’s desk. "What the hell is this?!"

The officer stood next to Fenton. "Calm down!"

"I asked what this was!" Fenton fumed.

"That?" The officer asked, confused. "That’s a stamp we use to mark all official correspondence from transporting criminals. Why?"

Fenton was as white as a ghost as Joe rushed to him. "Dad? What’s wrong?"

Fenton grabbed a piece of paper and, with a thud, impressed the stamp upon the paper. Joe’s heart stopped as he realized what his father saw.

"CAKE," he whispered, as things began to fall into place.

"No wonder I couldn’t find a bakery," Fenton replied in a shaky voice.

"What?" Officer Lyle asked.

"C.A.K.E.—Cape may Authorities Keeping Enforcement. My God!" Fenton turned to Joe. "We need to get on this – now! Davis was behind this all along! But how? And why? And with whom?!"

As the officers stared in confusion, Joe went into action with lightening speed, using his father’s news and the information he had obtained. "Get at least two squad cars, and EMT’s- NOW!- down to mile markers 120-123 and search—now! We’ll meet you there! Call the cars- this is an emergency!" With that command, Joe and Fenton ran out of the building, knowing they would find Frank, dreading what they would see.

It was less than ten minutes when Joe and Fenton arrived at the designated area. Although it was a fairly large coverage area, they knew that they had to stay together and that with the backup that would be arriving, they would soon locate Frank- they had to.

Their search was not in vain. Half an hour later, they saw it—an abandoned old cabin, deep in the woods. The sirens rang in the distance, signaling help was on the way. Running faster than he could have thought possible, Joe ran to the cabin, his father close at his heels. There was no car around…they knew there wouldn’t be one. Nash was too good. He wouldn’t stay behind and risk being caught.

Throwing open the door, Joe gasped in horror, a cry catching in his throat. There was Frank, tied to a chair, his face as blue as a sapphire stone…and his body absolutely lifeless.