"You look excited," Callie said Sunday morning when she opened her front door to find Frank standing there, a silly grin on his face as he practically hopped from one foot to the other.
Frank's grin deepened. "We're going to see Joe this afternoon," he admitted.
"Do you think he'll want to see you?" she asked a bit hesitantly. She didn't want to put a damper on Frank's rapture but neither did she want to see him in the same state as she had found Laura when she stopped by last Sunday evening. Laura had been almost hysterical because Joe had refused to see her.
"I hope so," Frank said, his grin fading as worry lines began to form on his forehead. "He may have been beat up too bad and not wanted mom to see him."
"You really think that was the reason?" Callie asked, hoping he was right.
"I hope so," Frank repeated, his good mood vanishing with the growing fear that like before Joe had been sentenced, he wanted nothing to do with them.
"Have you found any leads as to who might have framed Joe?" Callie asked, feeling it prudent to change the subject.
"Who DID frame Joe," Frank corrected, scowling now. "No. If only we hadn't had to go to California we could have got right on it and found someone by now," he said. "Who am I kidding?" he continued, his voice filling with self-loathing. "If we had believed Joe in the first place he would be home and safe now and not rotting in prison for something he didn't do."
"What about your Dad?" she asked. "Is this affecting his job?"
"Yeah, but not in the way you mean," he answered. "He's turned down four cases since we got back. He's been putting every waking hour into trying to clear Joe. We're only taking a few hours off today to visit Joe."
"When are you leaving for the prison?" she asked him.
Frank glanced at his watch. "About twenty more minutes," he said, then looked into her eyes. "I just missed you so much I had to drop by for a bit."
Frank stayed for five more minutes then returned home where he parked the van and climbed into the back seat of his father's car. They arrived at the prison in a little over an hour.
"Visitation starts in an hour," Laura informed them, having been there once before already. "But we need to get in line. The sooner we get in the more time we'll have with him."
An hour and ten minutes later they were sitting in a large room filled with tables, each with four accompanying chairs. Frank had picked up a flyer at the front gate where he, like everyone else, had surrendered his license and undergone a search. It listed the rules of visitation. Only three adult visitors were allowed. Children must be kept quiet and if they were old enough to require a chair, they were considered as one adult visitor. 'If any of the guys want to see Joe, mom or dad will have to go a week without seeing him,' thought Frank. 'Because I am going to be here every week.'
Frank continued to peruse the rules. Hands must be kept on the table at all times and only a brief hug hello and another brief hug goodbye was the limit of body contact. Frank only hoped he didn't break any of Joe's ribs when he got to hug him. He missed him so much.
They waited as the room filled up with visitors and the prisoners began making their appearances one at a time. Fenton recognized the fourth man to enter the room. He watched the man move toward them, his eyes shining like he had a secret he was dying to tell, then veer away at the last second and sit down at the table next to the Hardys.
"Pierce, buddy," said the man who had come to see him. "You're looking happier than I've seen you in a long time."
"That's 'cause I got me a new playmate, " Pierce told him. "Best little piece of artwork on the block. I don't even need any smokes for awhile," he continued, loud enough for all the Hardys to hear. "Anyone who wants to do him pays me a pack of cigarettes." He broke off and gave a loud guffaw. "I'm telling you Mac, I've been doing so well whoring him out, I even put him up for auction last night. Everyone on the block watched him take it and fall to his knees and give it."
"Sounds like you lucked out," Pierce's friend said. "Anyone I know?"
"By name, maybe," Pierce admitted, raising his voice a hair. "His name is Hardy. Joe Hardy."
Frank flew out of his chair, paying no attention as it crashed to the ground behind him and landed on Pierce, his hands at the man's neck.
Frank's grin deepened. "We're going to see Joe this afternoon," he admitted.
"Do you think he'll want to see you?" she asked a bit hesitantly. She didn't want to put a damper on Frank's rapture but neither did she want to see him in the same state as she had found Laura when she stopped by last Sunday evening. Laura had been almost hysterical because Joe had refused to see her.
"I hope so," Frank said, his grin fading as worry lines began to form on his forehead. "He may have been beat up too bad and not wanted mom to see him."
"You really think that was the reason?" Callie asked, hoping he was right.
"I hope so," Frank repeated, his good mood vanishing with the growing fear that like before Joe had been sentenced, he wanted nothing to do with them.
"Have you found any leads as to who might have framed Joe?" Callie asked, feeling it prudent to change the subject.
"Who DID frame Joe," Frank corrected, scowling now. "No. If only we hadn't had to go to California we could have got right on it and found someone by now," he said. "Who am I kidding?" he continued, his voice filling with self-loathing. "If we had believed Joe in the first place he would be home and safe now and not rotting in prison for something he didn't do."
"What about your Dad?" she asked. "Is this affecting his job?"
"Yeah, but not in the way you mean," he answered. "He's turned down four cases since we got back. He's been putting every waking hour into trying to clear Joe. We're only taking a few hours off today to visit Joe."
"When are you leaving for the prison?" she asked him.
Frank glanced at his watch. "About twenty more minutes," he said, then looked into her eyes. "I just missed you so much I had to drop by for a bit."
Frank stayed for five more minutes then returned home where he parked the van and climbed into the back seat of his father's car. They arrived at the prison in a little over an hour.
"Visitation starts in an hour," Laura informed them, having been there once before already. "But we need to get in line. The sooner we get in the more time we'll have with him."
An hour and ten minutes later they were sitting in a large room filled with tables, each with four accompanying chairs. Frank had picked up a flyer at the front gate where he, like everyone else, had surrendered his license and undergone a search. It listed the rules of visitation. Only three adult visitors were allowed. Children must be kept quiet and if they were old enough to require a chair, they were considered as one adult visitor. 'If any of the guys want to see Joe, mom or dad will have to go a week without seeing him,' thought Frank. 'Because I am going to be here every week.'
Frank continued to peruse the rules. Hands must be kept on the table at all times and only a brief hug hello and another brief hug goodbye was the limit of body contact. Frank only hoped he didn't break any of Joe's ribs when he got to hug him. He missed him so much.
They waited as the room filled up with visitors and the prisoners began making their appearances one at a time. Fenton recognized the fourth man to enter the room. He watched the man move toward them, his eyes shining like he had a secret he was dying to tell, then veer away at the last second and sit down at the table next to the Hardys.
"Pierce, buddy," said the man who had come to see him. "You're looking happier than I've seen you in a long time."
"That's 'cause I got me a new playmate, " Pierce told him. "Best little piece of artwork on the block. I don't even need any smokes for awhile," he continued, loud enough for all the Hardys to hear. "Anyone who wants to do him pays me a pack of cigarettes." He broke off and gave a loud guffaw. "I'm telling you Mac, I've been doing so well whoring him out, I even put him up for auction last night. Everyone on the block watched him take it and fall to his knees and give it."
"Sounds like you lucked out," Pierce's friend said. "Anyone I know?"
"By name, maybe," Pierce admitted, raising his voice a hair. "His name is Hardy. Joe Hardy."
Frank flew out of his chair, paying no attention as it crashed to the ground behind him and landed on Pierce, his hands at the man's neck.