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Frank always knew there was something different about Joe. Even with the whole amateur detective business, Joe has quirks that never meshed with his adventurous persona. When he was a little kid, Joe refuses to go to haunted houses and cemetery scares, and as a teenager, he never takes his dates to the obligatory scary movie. Frank questions his brother every time, but Joe merely shrugs and offers some bland excuse.
But after Iola’s death, everything intensifies. They’re barely putting the finishing touches on the case of her death when Joe walks in with a new case – one thousand miles away. Frank figures Joe needs the time to heal and doesn’t offer protest. Six cases later and Frank’s left explaining to his parents over the phone in Scotland that this is the last time. Just one more case.
Except it isn’t, and Joe drags him to Arizona three days later.
Each case and location becomes a whirlwind of stolen jewels, international art thieves, and long airplane rides. By the time his head hits another motel bed, Frank’s completely exhausted.
“So, I found us something,” Joe begins impossibly early the next day.
Frank groans. “What time is it?”
“4:30,” Joe responds evenly.
Frank rolls over. “Since when did you become an early riser?”
“Since now.”
Frank glances up. “I’m worried about you, Joe. This isn’t like you.”
“You don’t need to worry about me,” comes Joe’s curt response.
“You’re my brother. It’s my job to worry.”
Joe looks over, and it’s the most honest look Frank’s had of his brother in months. “Thanks. I appreciate it, but I just need time.”
“But does it have to include jet setting all across the world?” Frank counters. “I’m bushed. I want to go home.”
Joe’s face hardens. “There are still bad guys out there, Frank.”
“Of course there are, but we don’t have to tackle them all by ourselves.”
“Then who will?” Joe growls. “If we don’t take them out, someone else will have to go through what I’m going through!”
Joe’s voice falters as it tinges with emotions. “I’m not sure what to say,” Frank murmurs. “I don’t understand what you’re going through, and God knows I hope I never do. But we can’t stop everyone, and we’re certainly going to be no help on three hours of sleep each night.”
“What do you want? A vacay?” Joe questions.
“I want to go home,” Frank responds. He doesn’t bother hiding the exhaustion in his voice this time.
“No.”
“Joe-”
“No!” Joe booms. “I don’t want to go home.”
Frank folds his arms. “I don’t care. We need to go home. Mom and dad are worried about you. I’m worried about you! We haven’t attended classes in over six months, and it’s with the grace of the principle that my previous work is even allowing me to graduate.”
Joe glares over, and Frank knows he has to out stubborn him. “I’m not trying to worry them. You know that, but I’m not leaving.”
“Fine but I’m leaving without you if you don’t come,” Frank announces.
“Fine.”
Frank expects more, but Joe’s silent. He watches Joe pull out his laptop and type several sentences. Joe doesn’t say anymore, and Frank grunts and rolls over for some more sleep.
By the time sun is streaming through the windows, Joe is gone, and Frank nearly collapses from fright. Frank races to the door with wallet and keys – where are the keys? He rips open all the drawers and shakes his pants frantically searching for his car keys.
“What are you doing?”
Frank turns to see Joe standing in the doorway holding a bag and drink carrier. “You didn’t leave?”
Joe shakes his head. “No, we’re a team whether you like it or not. I’m not going to leave you. Hopefully, you won’t do the same.”
Frank knows what he means, and he sighs, accepting the coffee Joe hands him. There are burritos from some local restraurant, and he’s grateful for the breakfast. They eat in silent, and once finished, Frank announces he’s heading to the shower.
“We are going to have to talk about this,” Joe calls after him.
He nods. “We will. After my shower.”
Frank’s mind is clearer as the water cascades over his head, and he’s ready to face the problem of Joe as he steps out. Joe’s waiting for him at the table unmoved by his time in the shower.
“You’re still planning to head home?” Joe breaks into the silence.
Frank nods. “Yeah.”
Joe shakes his head. “Why can’t we just stay here?”
“We have family there, Joe. We have school. My graduation is in three weeks. I just want to be back on my own turf for a little bit so I can recharge and get a firm grip on something in my life.”
“I know,” Joe murmurs. He offers a small smile. “That’s why I already booked us plane tickets.”
Frank breaks into a bright grin. “You didn’t!” Joe nods, and Frank almost hugs him. “You’re such an asshole for holding this out.”
Joe laughs lightly. “It’s my job, right?”
By the time they’ve landed in Bayport, Joe is noticeably tense. Frank tries to joke with him, but Joe’s always been so much better at it than him. Even his poor attempt can’t get Joe to crack a smile.
Joe hugs his parents and teases Aunt Trudy like he’s supposed too. Their friends greet them with excitement, and Frank and Joe are whisked into a series of parties and welcomings. Frank, much to his own guilt, finds himself focused on the easy excitement of graduation and dates with Callie.
“Hey, we’re going out for pizza,” Frank states one evening. “Want to come?”
Joe shakes his head. “No, thanks.”
“The guys really want to hang out.”
“No, I’m tired. I think I’m going to head to bed,” Joe answers weakly.
Frank watches him with concern. “Are you okay? You haven’t been yourself since we got home.”
“I haven’t been myself since Iola died,” Joe counters, and Frank doesn’t have an answer to this.
“Well, call me if you need something,” Frank offers, and Joe just watches him leave.
It’s after midnight by the time Frank comes home. His father has fallen asleep in the living room, and the silence in the rest of the house confirms the others are in bed.
Frank tosses aside his clothes and settles into his mattress happy after a wonderful night. He turns and finally rests into a comfortable position and closes his eyes.
Until he hears Joe’s voice.
It’s soft at first, and Frank’s not certain he really heard anything. He strains in the darkness, and silence once again greets him. But minutes later he hears Joe again. He’s talking to someone. At least Frank thinks he is, but he stumbles to their shared wall to hear more.
Joe’s moving a lot. There are shuffles and sounds of things skidding across the floor. Joe speaks a few more words before Frank knows he has to intervene.
There’s been an unspoken rule between the two of them since Iola’s death: they don’t talk about it. Ever. Period. But Frank can’t sit back and ignore his brother’s pain. He’s not sure what he’ll find next door, but Frank barges in headfirst.
Frank’s seen Joe cry only three times in his life, and he silently confesses he wished he’d never seen it again. Joe’s standing in the middle of the room wide-eyed with tears soaking his cheeks. He starts to speak, but the words apparently die on his tongue.
“Sorry,” Frank manages. “I was worried when I heard you talking. Who are you talking to?”
“No one,” Joe answers quickly.
“Right,” Frank responds. “And the truth is?”
Joe attempts a glare, but he’s tired. Instead, he turns around and sinks against his bed.
Frank walks over and sits before him. “Joe?”
“You’ll think I’m crazy,” his little brother sniffs between tears.
“You know I won’t,” Frank answers. “I want to help.”
To Frank’s surprise, Joe laughs. “You can’t help me. No one can help.”
“How do you know?” Frank’s voice etched with confusion. “You never let us try.”
“I’m serious,” Joe continues. “You, mom and dad, no one knows how to help me. There’s no help for me.”
Frank’s panic rises, and he reaches out to touch Joe. “Please just tell me. I won’t laugh. I won’t do, I don’t know, whatever it is you’re afraid I’ll do. I won’t. I promise.”
Joe buries his head in his arms. He just shakes with tears for several seconds before looking up half crazed. “I see her.”
Frank’s taken back. “Who?”
“Iola.”
Frank stops. He glances over at Joe and digests what his brother just said.
“You think I’m crazy,” Joe cries.
“No, no, no,” Frank protests hurriedly. “I don’t. I just don’t know what you mean. See Iola how? In your dreams?”
Joe shakes his head. “No. Here. Right now. In this room. I can see Iola.”
“That’s not possible,” Frank murmurs.
Joe stands angrily. “It is! It’s been possible forever. Why do you think I didn’t want to come home? She’s waiting here for me.”
“But, Joe, she’s dead, and ghosts aren’t real.”
“Because you’ve never seen them,” Joe bites out.
Frank stands with him trying to control the situation. “This isn’t the first time?”
“No,” Joe turns and begins to pace the floor. “I’ve seen them for years. I dunno when it began, but I was young. Real young. At first, I didn’t realize they were ghosts, you know? I figured it was an imaginary friend, or you were just teasing me. Then, I began to realize they were always there in cemeteries, old homes, murder scenes…” Joe stops for a second closing his eyes. “They’re always there begging me to help them. Begging me to tell their story.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Frank whispers.
Joe shrugs. “I didn’t know how.”
Frank nods. “Well, I guess I get why you didn’t want to come home.”
“You believe me?” Joe questions almost incredulously.
“Joe, you’re my brother. I love you, and I’d die for you. If you tell me you can see and speak to the dead,” Frank takes in a sharp breath. “Then I believe you.”
His brother smiles and pulls him into a hug. “Thanks.”
“So,” Frank begins once they’re separated. “I guess we need to figure out how to distract you from Iola.”
Joe snorts. “Believe me. I’ve tried everything.”
Frank walks to the bed and sits down. “Not everything.” He pats on the bed, and Joe shoots him a look. “Get your ass over here. I’m going to talk with you until you fall asleep. At least we can try to fight this.”
Joe trudges over. “Alright. Shoot.”
“I’m going to bore you to sleep, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Frank glances over. He hesitates, but he has to know. “Is she angry with you?”
“No,” Joe whispers. “Not anymore.”
Frank accepts this and trails off into discussion about the latest book he read. It isn’t long until he hears Joe’s soft snoring.