"I could use some," Frank admitted, wearily running a hand through his wavy brown hair.
"There are only two islands owned by individuals," Phil informed Frank. "One belongs to a woman named Nicola Katopolis and the second to a Frieda Maijer. Ms. Katopolis inherited the island from her uncle and it is located near Greece. Ms. Maijer's island is located roughly sixty miles from the shore of Brockton, Massachusetts."
"Did you find out anything about Maijer?" Frank asked, his blood shot brown eyes locked on Phil with interest.
"The most interesting thing I discovered was that she died almost eleven years before she bought the island."
"That's not possible!" Chet exclaimed.
"I think that's the point he was trying to make," Callie stated. "See, we have two possible leads to finding Joe," she continued, pushing a strand of hair away from his cheek affectionately. "Now, go home and get some rest while we follow up on one of them."
Frank smiled and nodded his agreement. "Thanks guys," he said gratefully. "I will but, uh, let me know the minute you find something?"
"Even if I have to drag you from bed," Callie promised.
"If she catches him in bed they will never leave," Tony mumbled to Biff.
Frank blushed. "All right you," Callie said, turning on him. "Enough of that. Frank, go home. The rest of you, let's get moving."
Frank was still grinning at Callie's automatic take-over of leadership when he arrived home. Going inside, he found his mother on the sofa with her eyes closed. As he pulled the afghan from the back of the couch to cover her up, her eyes flew open and she jerked to a sitting position. "Did you find him?" she asked, her blue eyes looking up at him with a pleading expression.
"Not yet," Frank admitted with a sigh as he sat down beside her. "We do have a couple of leads though," he added and told her about them, breaking off every sentence or two to yawn.
"Go on upstairs and get some sleep," Laura ordered him. "I'll wake you in a little while." Too tired to argue, Frank did as he had been bid.
Four hours later, Frank felt a hand on his shoulder as his mother's voice slowly roused him to consciousness. "Honey, you're father's on the phone," she told him when his eyes opened.
Frank leapt from bed and raced into the hall and snatched up the phone's receiver. "Dad!" he exclaimed, snatching up the receiver.
"Hello, Son," Fenton greeted Frank wearily. Frank could tell his father had also enjoyed very little, if any, sleep since Joe's abduction. "Your mother told me you had a couple of leads?"
Frank told his dad about the key and Frieda Maijer. "I'll see what the Network has on her," Fenton said. "I will be home in the morning," he added. "Be there."
"Yes, Sir," Frank promised hearing the direct order not only in his words but also his tone. Frank bid his father goodbye and returned to his room to find his mother making his bed.
"Your friends will be here in about half an hour," Laura informed him. "You should shower and change and I will make sandwiches for everyone."
"Thanks, Mom," Frank said, putting an arm around her shoulders and kissing her forehead. "I'll be down in a few."
When Frank got downstairs, Callie, Vanessa and the guys were already there. "Did it fit anything?" Frank asked.
"Yes," Tony answered. He waved a hand to a cardboard box on the coffee table.
"What's in it?" Frank asked, falling to his knees and reaching for the box.
"You aren't going to like it," Callie warned him, frowning. She and Tony had gone through the contents before leaving the airport.
Frank paused in the process of lifting the lid. "But is there anything useful in here?" he asked.
"No," Tony answered softly. He was dreading not only Frank's reaction but also Mrs. Hardy's because she would surely see the contents as well.
Frowning but curious, Frank lifted the lid to the box and looked inside. With a shaking hand he reached inside and lifted a handful of snapshots. His face paled and his lips drew together in a thin line. Laura entered the room and set a tray of sandwiches on the table beside Frank. She sat down just behind him on the sofa and picked up a photograph.
"Why?" she asked in a voice so low it was no more than a whisper. "Why have they been taking surveillance photos of Joe for the past nine years?"
"There are only two islands owned by individuals," Phil informed Frank. "One belongs to a woman named Nicola Katopolis and the second to a Frieda Maijer. Ms. Katopolis inherited the island from her uncle and it is located near Greece. Ms. Maijer's island is located roughly sixty miles from the shore of Brockton, Massachusetts."
"Did you find out anything about Maijer?" Frank asked, his blood shot brown eyes locked on Phil with interest.
"The most interesting thing I discovered was that she died almost eleven years before she bought the island."
"That's not possible!" Chet exclaimed.
"I think that's the point he was trying to make," Callie stated. "See, we have two possible leads to finding Joe," she continued, pushing a strand of hair away from his cheek affectionately. "Now, go home and get some rest while we follow up on one of them."
Frank smiled and nodded his agreement. "Thanks guys," he said gratefully. "I will but, uh, let me know the minute you find something?"
"Even if I have to drag you from bed," Callie promised.
"If she catches him in bed they will never leave," Tony mumbled to Biff.
Frank blushed. "All right you," Callie said, turning on him. "Enough of that. Frank, go home. The rest of you, let's get moving."
Frank was still grinning at Callie's automatic take-over of leadership when he arrived home. Going inside, he found his mother on the sofa with her eyes closed. As he pulled the afghan from the back of the couch to cover her up, her eyes flew open and she jerked to a sitting position. "Did you find him?" she asked, her blue eyes looking up at him with a pleading expression.
"Not yet," Frank admitted with a sigh as he sat down beside her. "We do have a couple of leads though," he added and told her about them, breaking off every sentence or two to yawn.
"Go on upstairs and get some sleep," Laura ordered him. "I'll wake you in a little while." Too tired to argue, Frank did as he had been bid.
Four hours later, Frank felt a hand on his shoulder as his mother's voice slowly roused him to consciousness. "Honey, you're father's on the phone," she told him when his eyes opened.
Frank leapt from bed and raced into the hall and snatched up the phone's receiver. "Dad!" he exclaimed, snatching up the receiver.
"Hello, Son," Fenton greeted Frank wearily. Frank could tell his father had also enjoyed very little, if any, sleep since Joe's abduction. "Your mother told me you had a couple of leads?"
Frank told his dad about the key and Frieda Maijer. "I'll see what the Network has on her," Fenton said. "I will be home in the morning," he added. "Be there."
"Yes, Sir," Frank promised hearing the direct order not only in his words but also his tone. Frank bid his father goodbye and returned to his room to find his mother making his bed.
"Your friends will be here in about half an hour," Laura informed him. "You should shower and change and I will make sandwiches for everyone."
"Thanks, Mom," Frank said, putting an arm around her shoulders and kissing her forehead. "I'll be down in a few."
When Frank got downstairs, Callie, Vanessa and the guys were already there. "Did it fit anything?" Frank asked.
"Yes," Tony answered. He waved a hand to a cardboard box on the coffee table.
"What's in it?" Frank asked, falling to his knees and reaching for the box.
"You aren't going to like it," Callie warned him, frowning. She and Tony had gone through the contents before leaving the airport.
Frank paused in the process of lifting the lid. "But is there anything useful in here?" he asked.
"No," Tony answered softly. He was dreading not only Frank's reaction but also Mrs. Hardy's because she would surely see the contents as well.
Frowning but curious, Frank lifted the lid to the box and looked inside. With a shaking hand he reached inside and lifted a handful of snapshots. His face paled and his lips drew together in a thin line. Laura entered the room and set a tray of sandwiches on the table beside Frank. She sat down just behind him on the sofa and picked up a photograph.
"Why?" she asked in a voice so low it was no more than a whisper. "Why have they been taking surveillance photos of Joe for the past nine years?"