HDA - Living in Darkness Trilogy - Pt 2 - The Search

And for once he liked it. It was peaceful and quiet as he sat in the living room, the television on mute while he flipped channels with the remote. Daytime programs were the worst. Talk shows, soap operas, "how-to" programs…he finally landed on a Bonanza rerun but didn't bother to un-mute the sound.

Being alone wasn't so bad. His mom panicked that morning when she realized Joe would be home by himself. She had a meeting with the architect and was dropping Frank off at the hospital for his physical therapy. Mandy was in class and Joe talked his dad into taking a new case the day before, so Fenton was on the west coast, in Seattle . Aunt Gertrude had not moved back in, though Joe spoke to her on the phone on a number of occasions and wondered if she – his staid and proper aunt – was seeing someone. He knew he heard a man's voice a couple of times. She'd gone back to visit 'her friend' after Frank's birthday party.

Good for her, he thought with a grin.

The doorbell rang and Joe jumped, his heart climbing into his throat. Joe went to the door and peered cautiously through the viewer to find a vaguely familiar blonde-haired woman on the other side of the glass. Joe kept the door on the latch as he opened it, being careful to keep his toe to the bottom of the door and his hand on the doorknob – just in case.

"Can I help you?" Joe asked cautiously.

"You probably don't remember me," the woman smiled, blue eyes sparkling. "My name is Deanna Merrill – Agent Deanna Merrill, from the F.B.I. I was on the team that helped find you and wanted to see how you were doing."

"Oh, yeah," Joe nodded. He closed the door and unlatched it before opening it again and stepping back, allowing Deanna enough clearance to enter. "Come on in. I'm the only one at home right now."

"That's okay – I wanted to talk to you, after all."

"Have a seat," Joe motioned to the living room. "Do you want anything to drink?"

Deanna shook her head. "No, I'm good. How are you?"

Joe shrugged uncomfortably.

"I thought I would tell you, though I'm not sure if you'll consider this good or bad news – or if you even care – that Mathews was arraigned yesterday on charges of kidnapping and aggravated sexual assault." Deanna leaned forward, clasping both hands lightly together as she peered at Joe. "He pled guilty – he actually sounded proud of what he did, and I still don't think he thinks he really did anything wrong, but the judge basically threw the book at him. He got 20 years for the kidnapping; the maximum under Federal statutes, and he got 10 years for the A.S.A. – not the maximum, but the sentences are consecutive and not concurrent so he's got 30 years to think about what he did."

Joe swallowed, suddenly sweating and shaking. Deanna waited, giving Joe time to get himself under control and not invading his personal space.

"So…th-thirty years..?" Joe asked softly. "And parole when…?"

"Not for less than 7, probably more like 15 – half the sentence," Deanna said. "It could have been worse."

It was said with the conviction of a woman who knew what she was talking about, and Joe sighed, leaning against the back of the sofa as he pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around them. He shivered, feeling suddenly cold.

"He doesn't think he did any…anything wrong?" Joe asked softly.

Deanna shook her head. "Not really," she said. "He pled guilty like it was a natural thing to do. He allocuted to what he did to you – that is, he confessed in full, more or less. We just didn't have enough to charge him with the bombings, yet, but we can revisit those charges later on if we need to. He didn't confess to those; he claims his mother was behind it."

Joe nodded shakily.

"He'll be serving hard time," Deanna said softly. "I wish we could have done more…"

"It's okay," Joe felt like screaming; it wasn’t that okay. "At least…at least I don't have to see him again. I don't have to worry if he's going to pop in and…"

Joe swallowed painfully, wiping a tear that had fallen. He did it angrily, ashamed to be crying in front of a near stranger, for falling apart again just because they were talking about Andrew.

"I'm sorry," Joe whispered. "I didn't mean to fall apart again."

Deanna smiled gently and leaned forward, touching Joe very carefully on the knee.

"It's okay, Joe," she said softly. "I don't know exactly what you're going through because, well, I've never been raped. But I know someone who was, and I was with him for his recovery. If a fully grown man and F.B.I. agent can be forgiven for falling apart, as you put it, then so can a 20-year-old betrayed by someone he used to love."

Joe studied his knees for a while and the fabric of his faded denim jeans and wiped another tear.

"You…you know someone who was r-raped?" Joe stammered and mentally cursed. One minute he was doing great, the next he was totally losing it. This had to stop!

Deanna nodded, blue eyes looking into blue eyes. "My husband, Daniel."

"Your…your husband?" Joe asked. "How…?"

Deanna sighed and Joe saw the ghost of pain in her eyes. He remembered, just now, that her husband was dead, that he had died looking for Joe.

Oh, God, Joe thought dismally. That's my fault…it is…

"It was six years ago," Deanna admitted softly. "Daniel would have been 32…we were getting ready to celebrate our 10^th wedding anniversary when someone broke into our house. I got knocked out and they took him."

Deanna paused and Joe looked out the window, not wanting to see the struggle in her eyes.

"It took me two weeks to find him," Deanna said. "I was…I was surprised he was still alive, that they hadn't killed him right away. I knew…the second I saw him, I knew what happened to him. He was in terrible shape and he wouldn't let anyone touch him, not our friends, not me, not even our children. He went from mood-to-mood so fast I couldn't keep up – acceptance, anger, sadness, falling apart, as you put it.

"We got through it," Deanna said. "The men who raped Daniel wanted to break him, to make him ineffective as an agent, and they very nearly succeeded but…when it came down to it, neither of us allowed that to happen. Daniel wanted to be whole again and I did everything I could to make that happen."

Joe swallowed nervously again and got to his feet, running into the kitchen for a glass of water. He came back into the living room and sat again, nervously.

"What…did…what did you do?"

"He got into counseling," Deanna said. "And we talked. And I gave him space when he wanted it. It's never gone completely away, Joe. Six years later and he still has occasional nightmares…or had them."

She looked tearful now and Joe froze where he sat, wishing he knew what to do to help her.

"It's something that stays with you forever, Joe," Deanna said softly. "But you can get to where the memories aren't so strong, where you can live normally. But you'll never be able to forget and…you won't ever be the same again."

Joe nodded. He knew that – or at least he'd heard it often enough he was starting to believe it. The rest of his life, living with what Andrew did to him. It was a daunting thought.

"Are you going to be okay, kiddo?" Deanna asked gently.

Joe looked at her for a long time but finally, he nodded.

"Maybe not right now," he said. "But I will be."

Deanna smiled and reached out, this time giving Joe a hug. Joe accepted it but, this time, remained dry-eyed.

"Are you going to be okay?" Joe asked the agent when he saw Deanna wiping tears.

"Maybe not right now," she echoed his words, smiling past her tears. "But I will be."

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.