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Shared Sorrow

Chapter 10

Jeff Cutter took a sip of his coffee and stared distractedly out the kitchen window. He detested this small house with the tiny yard; his kids had deserved so much better. And they'd had it when the family first moved to Arizona. The engineering firm he'd worked for in New York City had offices in other areas of the country. Jeff was one of their most talented and creative engineers and when he requested a transfer, they wasted no time in finding a spot for him in their Phoenix office.

The first few years had been okay, but each day images from the videos Fenton had forced him to watch ate away another piece of his soul, and the accompanying guilt ate him alive. One day when he thought he couldn't deal with it for one more second, he discovered the numbing powers of alcohol. In the beginning he only drank when the grief became too overwhelming, but gradually those days seemed to occur with alarming frequency.

Jeff was desperate to know how Joe was coping with the aftereffects of his kidnapping but had no way to find out. He wouldn't dare contact Fenton or Laura and although Carole had The Bayport Times sent to their house it was no help. Coverage of the trial had been extensive but once it was concluded, information on the victims became non-existent. Not that he'd expected anything else; if it were his child he'd be damned if the press got within a hundred miles of them. And Fenton was fiercely protective of his children and their privacy. There was no way he could find out how Joe was faring without being part of the Hardys' very small inner circle.

As the years passed, he noticed the Times took great pride in chronicling the exploits of Fenton Hardy's sons, who apparently aspired to be just like their father. Both boys were also regularly featured in the newspaper's coverage of local high school sports. But the things he desperately needed to know would never make it into the local paper.

So Jeff could only imagine what his nephew was going through and how he was handling the memories of the traumatic incident. Unfortunately, his imagination was quite vivid and his need for information became an obsession. Soon, the only way he could stop thinking about it was to drink – heavily. Carole barely noticed as she was too wrapped up in her own guilt and grief, which she assuaged with Valium. But ultimately it was their own children who suffered, maybe even more than their parents.

Kevin became withdrawn and quiet. At the height of Jeff's struggle with alcoholism, when he lost his job forcing them into bankruptcy and resulting in the loss of their home, Kevin took a part-time job to help keep food on the table. At sixteen years of age, he worked nights and weekends in addition to attending school full-time. His teenaged son had been forced to grow up much sooner than he should have because his father was too busy drowning in a bottle; yet another screw-up in a long list for Jeff.

And then there was Kelly. She'd had Jeff wrapped around her little finger from the day she was born. She was the ultimate Daddy's Girl and learned at an early age how to work that to her advantage. But when they moved to Arizona, things changed. She was no longer the center of her father's universe; his world didn't revolve around her anymore. And while she didn't know all the details, Kelly did know the unwelcome changes in her father revolved around her cousin's kidnapping. Much to Jeff's dismay, by the age of twenty-four Kelly had grown into a bitter, self-absorbed young woman.

Downing the last of his coffee, Jeff acknowledged yet again that his obsession with Joe's well being caused him to let down the two people who needed and depended on him the most – his own children. If he'd only known that taking his eyes off Joe for a few seconds to make sure his own little princess was all right would have such far-reaching consequences. God how he wanted a drink.

Getting up, he walked to the sink and rinsed out the mug then placed it in the dishwasher. Turning his back, he leaned against the counter and rubbed his eyes. He was still tired, physically and emotionally, and would have loved to take one more day off work, but he couldn't. They were barely making ends meet as it was. Working as a manager at the local mini-mart was very different from his former position as one of the highest paid engineers at his firm. Still, he was thankful to have this job. No one wanted to hire a drunk; a man who couldn't even put food on the table for his own family because he'd spent what little money he had on booze to drown his own sorrows.

'Not a drunk, a recovering alcoholic,' he reminded himself. He'd been sober for five years, eight months and two days. And God how he wanted a drink.

Grabbing his keys off the peg hook by the door he left for work, thinking it might not be a bad idea to attend an AA meeting that night.

oooOOOooo

"Hey, Mrs. G." Joe smiled and waved to Hardy Investigations' long time administrator as he walked through the reception area. He couldn't remember a time when Edith Gresham hadn't worked for his father.

"Good morning, Joe," she returned the greeting. "Sam isn't in and Frank is in your office."

"Thanks." Joe continued down the hall to his own office and saw Frank seated in a chair looking over some files.

Frank looked up, acknowledging Joe's arrival, and grinned. "So how goes the napkin crisis?"

Joe stopped and glared at his brother for a moment before replying with a sardonic smile. "Talked to Dad, huh? Well for your information it's all taken care of."

"You picked out the napkins?"

"Yup."

"And Vanessa approved?"

"Of course." Joe settled himself into a leather chair, one leg dangling over the side. "Piece of cake."

Frank eyed him suspiciously, sensing he wasn't getting the full story. "And how exactly did you make this momentous decision?"

Joe's eyes took on a devilish spark and his grin widened. "I asked Van what her three favorites were and then I just did eenie-meeney-miney-moe."

Frank shook his head in amusement and admiration. "Only you could get away with that."

"I know," Joe winked. "Sooooo, what are you doing in my office?" He stared at his brother for a moment as a somewhat uneasy silence fell over them. Frank seemed to redden slightly and Joe quickly figured out why. "Ah, now I get it. Dad wanted you to check up on me, make sure I was okay." When Frank's blush deepened, he knew he was right.

"He's still a little worried about you, that's all."

Joe sighed, wondering if being the baby of the family meant this would go on for the rest of his life. "He doesn't need to be. And neither do you. As far as I'm concerned, it's just another missing persons case. Dad has solved hundreds of them before without our help and he can do it this time too. He'll probably have it all wrapped up and be home by the weekend." Joe leaned forward and looked at Frank earnestly. "Last night he told me – again – that he'd drop the case in a heartbeat if I asked him to."

"And he would."

"I know that. I also know that in his entire career, Dad has never voluntarily dropped a case without seeing it through to the end. So knowing he'd do it for me…" Joe shrugged, a little embarrassed. "That's more than enough. So when he calls this morning you can tell him in all honesty, that I'm fine with it. Okay?"

"Okay." Frank stood, as did Joe, who took the files Frank had been reading. "Background on that possible insurance fraud case. Guy claims he got hurt at work and is out on extended disability. The company thinks he's faking it to collect disability payments. Sam is tailing the guy today to see if he does anything that would prove he's not disabled.

"He left a list of people to call who might have seen the guy physically exerting himself. Can you call them and use that Joe Hardy charm to see if they'll cough up anything we can use?"

"No problem."

"I'll check in with you later."

"Mm-hmm," Joe mumbled, already engrossed in the file. As he turned towards his desk, Frank brushed past him, bumping Joe's arm. Joe felt as if he'd been hit with an electric charge. For one fleeting moment, the fear and terror he'd felt when he woke up during the night returned in spades. He looked at Frank's retreating back as he disappeared down the hall. A chill raced down Joe's spine as he clearly heard a child's voice.

"Where are you, Frank? When are you coming back for me?"

Joe whipped his head around. Troubled blue eyes scanned the office but found nothing. "I gotta stop eating Chinese take-out right before bed."

Joe tossed the file on his desk and walked behind it, taking a seat. He rubbed his arms more for comfort than anything else, trying to shake off the feeling of… he wasn't sure exactly what the feeling was but he knew he didn't like it at all. Nor that it seemed to have been caused by Frank.

Opening the file, Joe picked up the first sheet of paper and began to read, pretending to ignore the fact that his hands were shaking.