J.M.J.

Author's note: Thank you so much for continuing to read! Thank you to my two followers on this one and to max2013 for the review on the previous chapter!

Chapter III

It was Friday and Joe wasn't scheduled to work until afternoon, so he had planned on sleeping in, but when Shaun got up, he made enough noise to wake his roommate. Joe reached for his phone, which he usually left lying on the floor within reach of his bed—since he didn't have a nightstand—to check the time. His phone wasn't there. That woke him up a little more, and he peered over the edge of his bed. Nothing. He rolled over on his back, trying to remember where he had left it. He couldn't remember doing anything unusual with his phone. For that matter, he didn't remember doing anything at all with it.

With a groan, Joe got up and started searching the room. He looked under his bed and in all his dresser drawers and even his closet, but he couldn't find the phone anywhere. By this time, Shaun had left the room, so Joe even looked under Shaun's bed, although he knew that there was no reason for his phone to be on Shaun's side of the room. After about ten minutes of frantic searching, Joe was frustrated.

He threw open the door of his room and saw that all three of his roommates were in the kitchenette, in various stages of getting cereal or toast for breakfast. Axel was lying at the edge of the carpet, which marked the border between the living room and the kitchen, the latter of which he wasn't allowed to enter.

"Anybody seen my phone?" he asked.

"No," Phil replied unhelpfully. "Where did you leave it?"

"If I knew that, I wouldn't be looking for it." Joe frowned. "I usually put it by my bed at night so I can keep an eye on the time, but it's not there."

"Maybe a packrat stole it," Shaun teased him.

"Hilarious. Here, give me your phone."

Joe held out his hand and Shaun tossed his phone to him. Joe called his own number and listened for his familiar ringtone, but he couldn't hear it anywhere.

"Great," he grumbled, pressing "end call" and tossing the phone back to Shaun. "The battery must have died during the night, or I shut it off and forgot about it."

Tony set his bowl of cereal on the table. "Are you sure your phone's in the apartment?"

"Where else would it be?"

Tony shrugged. "Maybe you left it at the beach by accident."

"I hope not." Joe frowned. "I might have. To be honest, I don't remember having it here. But I'm sure I brought it back. I put it in the cooler while we were at the beach." He snapped his fingers. "It must still be in there."

He pulled the cooler out of the cupboard and opened it, but it only contained a few empty bottled and packaging which he dumped into the garbage with an unenthused air.

"Well, then, there's only one thing to do," Tony said. "We'll just have to search the whole apartment. We could clean once while we're at it. This place could use a good cleaning."

"I wouldn't mind helping you guys, honestly," Phil replied, "but I've got to head to work in…" He checked his own phone and blinked in surprise. "…about five minutes. No time for breakfast."

He rushed to his room and grabbed his backpack which he used to carry his laptop and other necessities for work and then practically ran out the door.

"You're going to have to count me out, too," Shaun said, chewing a large bite of toast. "I'm headed to the beach again. They're predicting great surfing out there today, and I told Candace and Everly and Darcy I'd meet them out there again."

Joe couldn't help grimacing slightly. "Don't say we didn't warn you about Darcy."

Shaun waved it off. "I'm not planning on marrying the girl, dude, and from everything you guys said, it sounds like she's a great one to have fun with."

"Yeah, lots of fun," Joe muttered under his breath. He had lost his appetite for breakfast, so he decided to dive right into cleaning.

Tony said grace silently before sitting down to his bowl of cereal. "I'll help in a minute, Joe. It's a good thing I've got the day off."

"Yeah, well, thanks for using your day off to help me out, unlike some people I could mention," Joe replied with a pointed look at Shaun.

"What?" Shaun looked from one roommate to the other innocently. "I can't help it if I want to actually enjoy living three minutes away from a beach."

"You've lived three minutes away from a beach your whole life," Tony reminded him.

"No, actually, I used to live almost ten minutes away when I was a kid." Shaun smirked teasingly, and Tony had to chuckle. Joe just went on cleaning.

Shaun only stuck around for a few more minutes before he headed out in his swim trunks and with his surfboard. By that time, Tony had finished breakfast and had started in on the dishes and generally cleaning the kitchen. Joe was busy turning all the furniture over and digging through every drawer and cupboard in the apartment.

"So," Tony ventured after a couple of minutes of silence, "what's the deal, if it's not none of my business?"

Joe had his head stuck in the cubby hole in the TV stand, one of the few nicer pieces of furniture in the apartment. He pulled it out long enough to ask, "What deal?"

"The Darcy deal. Every time anyone so much as mentions her, you get all weird. I can understand that with Phil, but what's it to you?"

Joe put his head back in the cubby so that Tony wouldn't see his expression. "Well, maybe I just don't like…" he started, but then he stopped, knowing that wasn't going to be convincing. "You know what, it is none of your business."

Tony held up his hands placatingly, even though Joe couldn't see it and the gesture let dishwater drip down his forearms. "Okay, okay. It's just that if there's something really wrong with this girl, maybe you'd better actually warn Shaun."

"You heard him. He doesn't care."

"Should he?"

Joe rocked back on his heels and closed the door to the cubby. "She's not like a gangster or something, if that's what you're worried about. I just don't like her and would rather forget that she exists."

"Okay, okay, I'll drop the subject then." Tony backed down. The trouble was that Joe's adamant refusal to talk about it only made him more curious. Their short acquaintanceship with Darcy had been so many years ago now that Tony would have thought there was nothing to hide about it.

"Besides, what's your deal?" Joe added, seizing on the opportunity to change the subject.

"My deal? What deal?"

"You've been weird lately, like you've got something on your mind. If you want to psychoanalyze me, why don't we talk about your problems, too?"

"I don't have any problems," Tony insisted.

Joe shrugged and went back to searching and Tony finished up the dishes. While he was drying them, Tony leaned back against the counter and hung the towel over his shoulder.

"My whole family's been bugging me to go back home," he said.

Joe was lying on the floor, trying to see underneath an old second-hand armchair that Shaun had brought when he moved in. Axel was trying to sniff underneath it, hoping that the object of the search was something edible. Joe propped himself up on his elbows. "Why don't you go, then?"

Tony sighed and looked around him before he replied. "I don't know. I mean, I like it here, for the most part. It would be nicer if I could afford my own place, but I mean, I could have worse roommates. But…"

"It's not home," Joe finished for him.

"Exactly," Tony agreed, "but I don't really want to go back home just yet. I never was able to find something I wanted to do there. Sure, I could work for my dad at his construction company, and I probably will end up doing that eventually, but I want to get some experience first."

"Right. Totally understandable."

"But, you know, it isn't really any better here." Tony crossed his arms. "When I first moved out here, it was all like, yeah, I'm finally doing something, going places. I'm going to do things and see things. But then, all I'm doing is working in that souvenir shop. I'm barely making enough money to pay the rent and I'm not really getting any experience that I couldn't get back in Bayport if I was renting my own apartment."

"But you just said you like it here."

"Yeah, but it's just kind of…empty, you know? I feel like I'm not doing anything for anyone but myself, and that goes against the grain of everything I've ever been taught and believed." Tony frowned thoughtfully. "I thought that going to the young adult group would help, and it has, I guess."

"Does anyone actually go to that, besides people who are looking for a date?" Joe asked.

"Well…not too many. Although there is one girl who goes that you should meet. Her name's Jenna. I think you'd like her."

"Yeah," Joe replied, drawing the word out. "I'm not signing up to go to Desperate Catholic Singles Night, thank you very much. If she's so great, why don't you ask her out?"

Tony hesitated slightly. "I don't know."

Joe gave him a knowing look. "I'm sensing a case of serious cold feet. Just ask her already."

"But if I start dating someone who lives here, I might wind up having to stay," Tony pointed out. "I guess that's it, really. I never meant to spend the rest of my life out here."

"It wouldn't be that bad. You can't always stay in your hometown your whole life, and having someone here would solve your problem of living for yourself."

"That's true. On the other hand, Jenna might not even go out with me." Tony stuck his hands in his pockets. "It's not like I've really given much of a hint that I'm interested in her, and she hasn't given any indication that she's interested in me. It's usually not a good idea to start planning your whole future with someone when you haven't even asked them on a date yet."

"Well, you'll never know till you ask, then." Joe stared up at the ceiling, forgetting his lost cell phone for a few seconds as the topic brought up memories of his ex-girlfriend, Iola Morton.

He and Iola had known each other literally as long as they could remember. About five years ago, they had started dating. That is, Joe had asked Iola out. Before their date, she was caught in an explosion related to one of the Hardys' cases. It had left her paralyzed from the waist down. No one had ever expected her to walk again, but in true Iola-fashion, she had put in a lot of work, perseverance, and therapy and had reportedly regained most of her mobility, although it would never be perfect again. Not that Joe knew any of this from seeing it or even from talking to Iola. The whole incident had put a strain on their relationship from the start, with Iola's therapy and Joe's mysteries leaving them little time together. They had drifted apart, made a few half-hearted attempts to salvage the relationship, and then had finally broken up. It had seemed a peaceable, mutual break-up, but they both knew that their friendship couldn't survive it. They didn't even try to save that. They hadn't even spoken since.

"What about you?" Tony said, suddenly jarring Joe out of his musings.

"What?" Joe asked.

"Do you ever feel like you're just wasting your life here?"

Joe gave a wry smile. "Considering it's honesty hour, yeah. I do."

"For you, it's probably because you don't have a mystery to solve," Tony said with a knowing grin.

"Except for where my phone is." Joe frowned as he forced his mind back on the task at hand, taking one last look around the apartment. "It's not here. I guess I must have left it at the beach."

HBHBHBHBHB

"So next time, come to a full stop and count to three before you move when you come to a stop sign," Frank repeated the instructions one last time.

"Ye…yes, sir," the kid in the driver's seat stammered.

"You know, this isn't just about avoiding a ticket," Frank went on. "You could cause an accident by running stop signs. You could hit another car, or a pedestrian, or someone on a bike. Someone could get seriously hurt, or worse. Believe me, you don't want to be responsible for that. When you're driving a car, you've got a responsibility to think about what consequences your actions could have for yourself and for others. So I don't want to see you breaking anymore traffic laws. They're there for a reason."

The kid nodded. "Yes, officer. I won't do it again. And thanks for not giving me a ticket."

"You're welcome, but remember, if I pull you over again, I won't be letting you off with just a warning."

The kid nodded one more time and then asked if he could go. Frank told him to go ahead. Then he walked back to the patrol car, where Burns was leaning against the hood, watching the whole conversation.

"What made you decide to just give the kid a warning?" he asked. "He almost caused an accident, after all."

"Yeah, but he seemed pretty shook up," Frank replied. "I think he would have learned his lesson even if we hadn't pulled him over. Giving him a ticket seemed pointless if there wasn't anything more for him to learn."

Burns rubbed his chin and nodded. "You did good. I would have done the same thing. Plus, you remembered to ask him to put his hands on the wheel before you approached the car this time, so you're improving there."

"Yeah." Frank took in a deep breath. "It just doesn't seem right to treat everyone we pull over like they're a potential murderer."

"I know, and a lot of people object to it, which is fair, but a lot of cops have gotten themselves killed or injured by not making sure that the person's hands are in sight when they approach. You don't know what's going on inside that car until you're at the window, and by then, you don't have time to react. We're just trying to keep things safe for everybody."

"Right."

Both officers got into the patrol car and pulled away from the curb. Frank jotted down notes about the encounter to put into the log later. Then he asked Burns if they could request to go on their lunch break.

"You going to try calling your brother again?" Burns asked.

"Yeah. I mean, it's been hours. I don't get why he doesn't answer or call back. I've got to admit, I'm a little bit worried. Besides, he should know about this thing with Angelo Beretta."

"Go ahead and call," Burns said. "It should only take a couple minutes, even if he does answer."

"Thanks."

Frank placed yet another call to Joe's number. It was the fifth one that day, and Joe hadn't answered any of them. Frank didn't really think that the incident with the Berettas posed any danger to Joe, and since he wasn't working on any cases, there wasn't any real reason to be concerned. Still…he was tired of Joe completely ignoring him and he really would like to hear his brother's voice for once.

Yet, once again, there was no answer. Frank had already left two messages, so the last three times he had called, he didn't see any use in leaving another one. He had also texted several times. He ended the call and frowned thoughtfully. Then he asked Burns if he could place another call. This time, it was to Phil's number.

"Hey, Frank, what's up?" Phil answered after a couple of rings. "I don't have time to talk; I'm at work."

"So am I," Frank replied. "I was just wondering if you knew if something was up with Joe. I've been trying to get hold of him, but won't answer his phone or reply to any texts or anything."

"Oh, yeah. He lost his phone this morning. He was looking for it when I left the apartment, but I guess he didn't find it."

That relieved Frank a bit, but he still couldn't help feeling as if some danger was hanging over him. "That explains that, then. Could you give him a message when you get back to the apartment? I want him to call me tonight. I guess he'll have to borrow someone else's phone."

"Sure, I'll let him know. I'd better get back to work now. Call again sometime when neither one of us are at work."

"Will do."

Frank ended that call, but his movements were slow and deliberate and he stared at the screen for several seconds after the call was over.

Burns glanced over at him. "Did you figure out what's up with your brother?"

"Yeah." Frank explained.

"So, what's the problem?"

"I don't know. I just feel like something bad is going to happen."