A big thanks to Red and Phoenix. Two of my favorite writers from the Hardy Detective Agency. I got so much from reading their stories. Especially in Vanished, when Frank tells his brother he needs him. I did that too – sorry Red. No reviewer names included in this one, just wanted to finally get it out. God Bless

End of Chap 8 (to bring you up to speed)

POV Frank (flashback)

"She asked me to marry her on this beach," Joe whispers with his eyes closed.

"Who?" I ask.

Dad holds a glass of water in his hands.

"Iola," Joe whispers.

Dad drops the glass. It shatters on the floor.

Iola was Joe's girlfriend in high school. She died when our car exploded. Someone wanted to kill Dad, instead Iola died.

The pain pills have worked their magic. Joe is so relaxed he didn't even open his eyes when Dad dropped the glass.

"Gonna live here after the wedding," Joe whispers. "Add on a couple bedrooms for the kids. Play with them on the beach. We were gonna sit on the deck every night, hold hands and watch the sunset."

Silence. I have no idea what to say. How do I comfort Joe?

"House is all I have left of her," Joe whispers. "Watch sunsets and pretend she is still alive. Promise?" Joe asks.

"Anything," I say and put my hand on Joe's shoulder.

"Don't tell Dad. Don't want him to feel bad," Joe whispers before falling asleep.

Dad stares at us. The color drains from his face. He runs out of the room. The back door slams. Dad is gone.

(end flashback)
Chapter 9
Pov Frank

Joe sleeps on the couch.

I need to check on Dad, I say and brush Joe's blond hair off his forehead. I smile. They call me the logical one. Yet here I am getting my sleeping brother's permission to leave.

Dad paces on the sand beach.

"I've been on Joe for months!" Dad yells. "Told him if he bought this place he was on his own."

"I stood by while everybody made jokes about this place too," I say and put my hand on Dad's shoulder. "We had no idea Iola was the reason Joe bought this place."

"I'm his father! It's my job to know!" Dad shouts and pushes my hand off his shoulder.

Dad's voice drops to a whisper. "Joe came to me the day after the Wayman kidnapping, " Dad says. "Joe said he wanted to buy this place. I wasn't supportive."

I swallow hard. Something bad happened on the Wayman case. No idea what went down. Dad and Sam worked the case alone. And they never talk about it.

"I almost let the kidnapper get away," Dad whispers. "He ran and I couldn't catch him. I put on a burst of speed, jumped and made a lucky tackle. Harrison, one of the rookie cops, said maybe I needed to retire."

I clench my fists thinking I'd like five minutes in a dark alley with Harrison.

"I woke up the next morning feeling old and sore," Dad whispers. "I was loaded for bear when Joe walked in."

I get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"Frank, I read Joe the riot act. Told him he was the weakest link at our agency. I said Joe didn't have time to learn to be a detective and fix up this house. If he wasn't one hundred percent I didn't want him at the agency. I'd been riding him the past two months about being good enough."

My anger surprises me. I tackle Dad in the sand. I land a solid right hook to his face.

I feel disgusted with myself. Gritting my teeth, I get up and face the ocean. I take some deep breaths and force myself to gain control.

When I turn around, Dad is slowly getting to his feet. Blood drips from his nose.

"I take it Joe didn't say anything to you," Dad says.

"He never does," I say in a cold voice. "Just like last year when Callie got engaged and I shut everybody out. Joe never ratted on me to you. He just put up with the abuse."

The waves crash.

"Joe tried to kill himself in the hospital when he was blind. He was scared I would shut him out again," I whisper.

"I didn't know," Dad says.

"He didn't want you to," I say. "He thinks you and I are perfect."

The irony is Dad and I have never been farther from perfect. I shut down all my emotions to keep from hitting Dad. I have to be strong for Joe.

"Stay away from Joe and me," I growl. I walk to the cottage without looking back.

Dad's car engine roars to life. I hear his tires skid as he turns on the road.

I grab my cell phone and hit speed dial number three.

"Radley," a brisk voice answers. I hear romantic music in the background. "This better be important."

I need you to find Dad.

"I'd like to wrap my hands around that rookie cop's neck," Sam growls.

The romantic music ends abruptly.

"He was at Joe's cottage." Part of me wants to tell Sam why Joe bought this falling down beach house. But I don't want to betray Joe's trust…again. "Things got heated," I say.

"You sure he doesn't need to see you instead of me?" Sam asks.

"I'm staying with Joe."

"Ok. I'll find Fenton. We're supposed to have a windstorm tonight. You make sure Joe's place doesn't blow down."

"Sam, I want you to put out the word anybody makes fun of Joe's place they answer to me."

"Okaaaay. I'm going to find Fenton and find out why everybody is acting nuts," Sam says and disconnects.

I walk back thinking how Dad disappeared after Iola's death. He was so busy helping other people he forgot to help us.

No idea how to fix my family. Maybe it can't be fixed.

Joe lies asleep on the couch. I push his hair off his forehead.

I sit next to Joe and carefully wrap my arms around him. Joe thought about killing himself after Iola died and again when he was blind. What if I'd lost him? I hold Joe tighter. Feeling his chest rise and fall reassures me.

Everyone thinks I am smart. But the scary truth is I have no idea what to do.

My brother buries his guilt, but it's always there. Like a shark swimming beneath what looks like a calm sea.

I swallow hard when I think about all the jokes people made about this place. Why didn't I stick up for Joe? I laughed along with everybody else. What kind of brother am I?
Joe mumbles something. I lean closer.

"Not a hundred percent", Joe whispers.

I will kill Dad.

"Here's the thing. Nobody's one hundred percent," I say quietly.

I keep talking. Joe relaxes in my arms.

No wonder Joe isn't on speaking terms with God. How can he imagine a Father in Heaven who loves him unconditionally, when his earthly father put so much pressure on him?

After Iola died, I worried Joe would kill himself to escape the guilt. I wrap my arms around him tighter. And I fall asleep.

I wake up as the sun shines in the window. My neck hurts. I untangle myself from Joe and lay him gently on the couch.

Since Joe is still out I grab a five minute shower in his claw foot bathtub with a shower curtain. There is no hot water. There's barely any water. How does Joe live like this? I shave while looking in a cracked mirror.

I pull on black jeans and a black polo shirt. Just as I finish brushing my teeth, my cell rings.

"Frank, it's Sam."

"How's Dad?" I ask.

"Not good. He broke up a biker riot at the Watering Hole. He put 15 bikers in the hospital and called 911. I'm at the ER. He's got four broken ribs."

"Thanks for finding him," I say and run my fingers through my hair.

"He needs to see Joe," Sam says.

"Not today."

"Frank, the regret and guilt are eating your dad alive."

"Joe had a rough night."

"So did your Dad," Sam says.

"Look Sam, you take care of your partner and I'll take care of mine."

"I am. We'll be there in an hour."

Sam disconnects before I can argue.

One hour. Joe hates being fussed over. So I give him a sponge bath with the warmest water I can get out of the faucet. Every rib is visible when I pull up his shirt. Joe lost too much weight at the hospital. I've got to get him to eat more. I wash his hair and shave him.

My gut tells me Joe needs to be left alone to heal. Not endure another meeting with Dad. Maybe I can Joe out of here before Dad and Sam show up?

"Morning, Sleepy Beauty," I say.

"Weird dream," Joe mutters and snuggles deeper into his comforter.

Was he dreaming about Iola's death?

"Some guy was pointing a gun at you. You walked out with your hands up. I was too far away to do anything. All I could do was watch…just like when Iola died, "Joe says in a shaky voice.

"Can't believe you remember that," I mutter.

"Did he shoot you?" Joe asks.

"No, he smiled at me and shot you. You fell off a catwalk. That's why you spent so much time in the hospital. I was out of ammo. Figured if I distracted the gunman you could get away."

"Frank, you almost got killed when I was your partner and I was 100 percent. Look at me now. I'm a mess. Dad always says you don't work unless you are 100 percent."

"Joe, nobody is one hundred percent. We just do our best."

"What if my best isn't good enough?" Joe asks. "My best wasn't enough to save Iola."

"No one could have saved Iola," I say and rub Joe's shoulder.

Joe closes his eyes. If possible, he's even paler than when he woke up.

He pushes himself off the couch and wavers. I grab his arm.

"Deck," Joe whispers.

I help him walk to the worn wooden deck overlooking the beach.

"My favorite place," Joe says. He sits in the old wooden swing. "I always feel Iola out here. Some nights when I can't sleep, I drag a blanket out here and sleep under the stars."

Joe needs time alone. I need to get him breakfast. Ten minutes later, I'm back with a plate of toast and orange juice. Joe looks more relaxed than he has in months. This deck is definitely going to play an important part in Joe's recovery.

I set the food by the swing. Getting Joe to eat has been impossible.

"Joe, imagine if things had been reversed," I say. "If you had died in the car bombing, would you want Iola to spend the rest of her life blaming herself?"

"No! I'd want her to get over me and be happy," Joe says. He grabs a piece of toast and absentmindedly takes a bite.

"Maybe, for Iola, you could try to go easier on yourself. Stop hurting the person she loved the most," I say.

"Never thought of it like that," Joe says.

Joe is quiet. He takes another bite of toast. I wait…hoping he'll let me into his thoughts.

"Sometimes I think God hates me," Joe whispers. "Why else is Iola dead? I never loved anybody the way I loved her. Gonna get married and live here. Have a couple kids."

"Joe, God doesn't hate you. He loves everybody. But He gave us free will. Meaning bad people can do bad things. And you're Fenton Hardy's son. You were born with a target on your back," I say and rub Joe's back.

"Scared I won't recover," Joe whispers. "Won't be good enough to be your partner."

"You're the only person I work with," I say. "You're stuck with me. So suck it up, buttercup."

Joe looks away. Something else is bothering him.

"Feel like I'm falling into this dark hole," Joe whispers. "I can't escape. When I felt this way after Iola died, I'd go for a run. I got my endorphins going and felt better. Now my leg is a mess. What if I'm stuck in this dark hole forever?"

"I won't let that happen," I say and put my hand on Joe's shoulder.

"I don't know if I believe in God anymore. Too much stuff has happened. And if I don't believe…" Joe's voice drops to a whisper. "I won't see Iola again. Ever."

"Everybody has doubts, Joe," I say.

"You don't. You're an atheist."

"What makes you think sometimes I don't hope a loving, fatherly figure is looking out for us?" I ask.

"Do you trust me?" I ask.

Joe nods.

"How about giving me some time to figure this out?" I ask. Joe closes his eyes. I boot up my computer.

While Joe sleeps, I type.

Dear Dr. Welch,
Thanks for counseling Joe after Iola's death. Joe is going through a rough time. What is the first available appt you have open? Thanks. fhardy

Dear Dr. Perroti,
Just wondering what kinds of exercise is allowed/prohibited while Joe recovers? Please respond asap. Thanks. fhardy

Dear Father Art,
I need to counsel my brother about some religious matters. Since his mobility is limited due to a recent injury can you suggest some books or CDs re: doubting your faith. Thanks. fhardy

I take a breather and google security system specs. I have to make this cottage a safe place. Updating the wiring and installing a security system should have happened yesterday.

I hear a car engine. I assume it's Sam and Dad until I look up. Someone points a machine gun out of the passenger side window.

Seconds before a shower of bullets hits the cottage, I tackle Joe. My momentum knocks Joe out of the swing. I land on top of Joe. The heavy wooden swing lands on top of us. I push the swing off us and drag Joe behind a cement planter on the deck. Joe looks dazed. Blood covers the blond hair above his right eye. I put my clip into my gun. I fire hoping to buy us some time. We are outgunned and out of luck.