Days became weeks and weeks turned into months. Joe's arm healed and with his days no longer filled with forced prostitution, he had more time to himself. He took some of the classes offered in the mornings and got his GED. Not a real high school diploma which would have been better, but under the circumstances, it was the best he could do. After his morning classes, he would retire to the library and read to await Pierce's arrival after which they would go to lunch and then to the exercise room for a little workout.
His evenings were spent playing cards or watching the tube in the rec room except for Sundays. Every Sunday, Fenton, Laura and Frank still arrived for visitation, praying that Joe would change his mind or at least know they still cared about him and wasn't going to give up even if he had. But the guards had learned not to even bother telling Joe of their arrival for his response was always a refusal. They would let the Hardys wait until all the prisoners had entered and then tell them Joe did not want to have visitation.
At one point, one of the guard's had told them they were wasting their time. He knew Joe wouldn't see them and felt they should move on with their lives but when he said words to that effect, Frank had tried to attack him. His father had been forced to remove Frank, his arm behind his back. Then, Fenton had reported the guard to the warden. Now, none of the guards said a word to the Hardys except to send them on their way as normal.
The warden, an acquaintance of Fenton's, had informed Fenton he would talk with his officers. When Fenton asked about Joe, he had said Joe was adjusting. And, in his opinion, he was. Joe had fallen into a routine that involved more than loitering around in the exercise yard and in his twelve years as a warden, he could honestly assure Fenton that was a good thing.
What the warden did not tell Fenton was that Joe and Pierce had become more than master and slave as at first. They had developed a type of relationship. Joe had truly come under Pierce's protection and no one dared bother him. For Joe's part, he was starting to feel again and occasionally, as the warden took his required strolls through the prison corridors at night, he could hear Joe and Pierce talking. The voices were almost tender as they teased each other.
Back in Bayport, Frank had finished his senior year in high school. Graduation came and went with the only sadness being Joe's noticeable absence.
Frank had decided to forgo college and go straight into business with his father. He had been writing to Joe every day and tried to keep him up to date but he never received a reply and he was almost positive Joe didn't even bother opening them. But Frank was not going to give up on his brother ever again. He felt responsible for the way things had happened. If he hadn't told his dad what Joe had said the night he came home, then he doubted his father would have thought him guilty even for a second. They should have tried harder; sooner. Frank finished his current letter and put it in a pre-addressed envelope. Attaching a stamp, he put the letter in his jacket pocket and exited his bedroom. He paused briefly in front of Joe's door. The door was open and the room looked exactly the same as it had the day he had been arrested. Laura had dusted it and aired it out, but she refused to move even one comic from the floor, sure Joe would be home sometime and want his room the way he had left it.
Frank gave a sigh and walked on. He knew it was time for him to move out and get his own place but since Joe's incarceration, his mother had become more dependent on his being around. She would hear a report on television or the radio about an escaped convict or a prison riot and seek solace in his embrace.
He and his dad had done everything they could to find someone who could have framed Joe but no one they found had the opportunity and the ability to pull it off. As time moved on, they kept their ears and eyes open but moved on to other mysteries .
Frank ran downstairs and poked his head in the living room. "I'm going to Callie's," he told his parents who were nestling on the sofa.
"Call if you're going to be late," Laura told him.
"I will," promised Frank. As he headed out, the phone rang. "I'll get it!" he shouted, picking up the receiver. "Hardy residence," he answered.
"Frank, this is Chief Collig," Ezra's voice came across the line, excited but clipped. "I need you and your dad to come to my office on the double."
"We're on our way," Frank said, hanging up. He pulled out his cell phone as he returned to the living room. He passed on the chief's message to his father, punching in Callie's number as he spoke. Fenton went to pull the car from the garage while Frank apologized to Callie for having to cancel at the last minute.
They arrived at the police station in fifteen minutes and were sent straight to Chief Collig's office. "What's up, Ezra?" Fenton asked once Frank had shut the door behind them.
"We caught the culprit who set fire to the Cohen Security Agency and nearly killed Phil Cohen in the process," the chief informed them. "His name is David Morris."
"That's great!" enthused Frank. "That scum deserves to fry."
"He wants to cut a deal," Collig continued as if Frank hadn't spoke. "He wants the Cohen's to drop the personal charges against him."
"Forget it!" declared Frank, thinking Collig was crazy to even entertain such an idea. "Phil's permanently disabled because of him."
"Frank," Ezra said, looking only at him now. "He says he can tell us who framed Joe and furnish proof."
His evenings were spent playing cards or watching the tube in the rec room except for Sundays. Every Sunday, Fenton, Laura and Frank still arrived for visitation, praying that Joe would change his mind or at least know they still cared about him and wasn't going to give up even if he had. But the guards had learned not to even bother telling Joe of their arrival for his response was always a refusal. They would let the Hardys wait until all the prisoners had entered and then tell them Joe did not want to have visitation.
At one point, one of the guard's had told them they were wasting their time. He knew Joe wouldn't see them and felt they should move on with their lives but when he said words to that effect, Frank had tried to attack him. His father had been forced to remove Frank, his arm behind his back. Then, Fenton had reported the guard to the warden. Now, none of the guards said a word to the Hardys except to send them on their way as normal.
The warden, an acquaintance of Fenton's, had informed Fenton he would talk with his officers. When Fenton asked about Joe, he had said Joe was adjusting. And, in his opinion, he was. Joe had fallen into a routine that involved more than loitering around in the exercise yard and in his twelve years as a warden, he could honestly assure Fenton that was a good thing.
What the warden did not tell Fenton was that Joe and Pierce had become more than master and slave as at first. They had developed a type of relationship. Joe had truly come under Pierce's protection and no one dared bother him. For Joe's part, he was starting to feel again and occasionally, as the warden took his required strolls through the prison corridors at night, he could hear Joe and Pierce talking. The voices were almost tender as they teased each other.
Back in Bayport, Frank had finished his senior year in high school. Graduation came and went with the only sadness being Joe's noticeable absence.
Frank had decided to forgo college and go straight into business with his father. He had been writing to Joe every day and tried to keep him up to date but he never received a reply and he was almost positive Joe didn't even bother opening them. But Frank was not going to give up on his brother ever again. He felt responsible for the way things had happened. If he hadn't told his dad what Joe had said the night he came home, then he doubted his father would have thought him guilty even for a second. They should have tried harder; sooner. Frank finished his current letter and put it in a pre-addressed envelope. Attaching a stamp, he put the letter in his jacket pocket and exited his bedroom. He paused briefly in front of Joe's door. The door was open and the room looked exactly the same as it had the day he had been arrested. Laura had dusted it and aired it out, but she refused to move even one comic from the floor, sure Joe would be home sometime and want his room the way he had left it.
Frank gave a sigh and walked on. He knew it was time for him to move out and get his own place but since Joe's incarceration, his mother had become more dependent on his being around. She would hear a report on television or the radio about an escaped convict or a prison riot and seek solace in his embrace.
He and his dad had done everything they could to find someone who could have framed Joe but no one they found had the opportunity and the ability to pull it off. As time moved on, they kept their ears and eyes open but moved on to other mysteries .
Frank ran downstairs and poked his head in the living room. "I'm going to Callie's," he told his parents who were nestling on the sofa.
"Call if you're going to be late," Laura told him.
"I will," promised Frank. As he headed out, the phone rang. "I'll get it!" he shouted, picking up the receiver. "Hardy residence," he answered.
"Frank, this is Chief Collig," Ezra's voice came across the line, excited but clipped. "I need you and your dad to come to my office on the double."
"We're on our way," Frank said, hanging up. He pulled out his cell phone as he returned to the living room. He passed on the chief's message to his father, punching in Callie's number as he spoke. Fenton went to pull the car from the garage while Frank apologized to Callie for having to cancel at the last minute.
They arrived at the police station in fifteen minutes and were sent straight to Chief Collig's office. "What's up, Ezra?" Fenton asked once Frank had shut the door behind them.
"We caught the culprit who set fire to the Cohen Security Agency and nearly killed Phil Cohen in the process," the chief informed them. "His name is David Morris."
"That's great!" enthused Frank. "That scum deserves to fry."
"He wants to cut a deal," Collig continued as if Frank hadn't spoke. "He wants the Cohen's to drop the personal charges against him."
"Forget it!" declared Frank, thinking Collig was crazy to even entertain such an idea. "Phil's permanently disabled because of him."
"Frank," Ezra said, looking only at him now. "He says he can tell us who framed Joe and furnish proof."