Back at the hotel, Frank paced nervously in his room, waiting for his brother to get back. He was still trying to fathom the last piece of information he had been told. How could the person who had visited Ramses be Fenton Hardy? He knew, without a doubt, that his father couldn’t be involved in this case. That, and the fact that Wilkins’ mother had known who he was, was making him very nervous. Nothing in this case seemed to be making sense.

Frank’s attention was diverted for a moment as he heard a low moan. Turning around, he stopped pacing for a moment and faced Callie. She was lying down on Frank’s bed, pillows propped behind her head. Concerned, Frank sat next to her and took her hand.

Weakly, Callie smiled at him. "Hey," she murmured.

"Hey, yourself. How are you feeling?" Frank asked, knowing the answer already.

"I’m…" Callie began, but Frank cut her off.

"I know. You’re okay. You’re always okay." Frank released her hand, and walked to the window, trying to gain control before he looked at her again.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Callie asked, and Frank could hear the shock and anger in her voice, mixed in with the weakness from her obvious pain.

Taking a deep breath, Frank tried to ignore the feeling of helplessness and fear present in his chest. He turned to her, slowly, and walked back over to the bed, where Callie was now attempting to sit up and continue their discussion. Seeing her struggle, he gently caught her arm, and then sat beside her on the bed. He slipped an arm around her shoulders, and carefully pulled her next to him. Silently, he kissed her forehead, and said, softly, "I’m sorry, Callie."

"Me, too," she answered, and, surprised, he looked at her.

"What on earth for?" he asked.

"For being here," she responded, resting her head on Frank’s shoulder. "I… I shouldn’t have come. You were right. I mean, I love helping you, and this case is unbelievably challenging, but…" her voice broke as she tried to hold back tears, "But I can’t do it. I’m… so scared, Frank. I … I can’t see right, and my head hurts so badly sometimes, and I feel sick, and…" Finally, Callie had to stop. If she continued like this, she knew she’d break down. And she was afraid that if she started crying, she’d never stop. Still, she felt her lips tremble, and a few tears did manage to escape, which she quickly wiped away.

Looking at her, Frank felt his own eyes begin to sting, and he had to swallow hard and fight back the horrible lump in his throat. Reaching around her, he wrapped his arms tightly around her and rocked her back and forth, gently rubbing the back of her neck. "I know, baby," was all he could manage to say. It was getting harder and harder to keep his composure, and he couldn’t even fathom his reaction if the news came back bad.

Finally, after holding her for a few minutes, he said quietly to her, "Why don’t you go to your room and try to sleep for a while? I’m right here if you need anything, anything at all. Joe will be back soon, and I don’t want him to wake you."

Callie looked up at Frank, and was surprised to see the deep pain present in his eyes. She felt a twinge in her heart. He doesn’t deserve all this angst, she said to herself, and resolved to avoid moments of vulnerability in the future, if possible. She nodded at him, and managed a small smile. "I think you’re right. I’ll go. I want to encourage you, though, not to fight with Joe. Please, Frank. You need each other to get to the bottom of this case. I know it must be killing you not to tell him about me, but in a few more days, all that will be over."

Frank leaned down and kissed her softly. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that Joe already knew. Helping Callie up, he walked her to her room, and made sure she was okay as she lay down. He wanted to tell her he loved her, that he’d do anything to take away her pain, and that he truly wished beyond anything that this was happening to him and not to her. But, as he looked at her, he realized that she knew all that already. So, he did the only thing he could think of.

"Hey," he said to her, before she closed her eyes.

"Mmm?" she responded, looking up at him.

"High five?" he asked through blurry eyes.

Reaching up to touch his hand, she whispered back, "high five." Then, at a second thought, she added, still holding onto his hand, "Now make-up with Joe or you’re going to get a high five across the face!" She smiled at him.

Frank laughed through his tears. "Okay, Callie. I can’t argue with you." He winked at her, kissed her good-bye, and headed back to his room, feeling like bursting into tears. He didn’t, though, for two reasons. First, he’d never been a crier in his whole life, and he was pretty good about controlling his emotions. Second, and more importantly, because he found his brother and Iola waiting in the room, and he wasn’t about to break down in front of them.

Iola, sensing the tension in the room, quickly excused herself, and the two brothers stood facing each other. Frank, looking at Joe, could only feel the hurt over Joe’s earlier reaction and words about Callie. Still, he tried to remember his promise to Callie to make up with Joe. On the other hand, Joe tried to mask his shock as he looked at Frank, who looked visibly distraught.

Clearing his throat, Joe said, "Um, Frank, I’m…uh… you know… before… maybe I was wro… well, not totally THAT… but, you know, I guess I’m sor.. well, you know what I’m trying to say."

Despite everything, Frank managed a small smile. "Actually, Joe, I have no idea what you’re trying to say," he said.

Joe, relieved, felt a smile come to his lips as well. "Are we, um, friends again?"

Frank managed a small laugh. He replied, mocking Joe’s earlier style, "Joe, we’re not in the fifth grade. We’ll always be friends; you’re my brother. You know…um.. how I feel about you… that I.. um.. love… well, not THAT exactly.. you know what I’m saying?"

Joe snorted out loud. "Shut up, Frank!" He went over and gave his brother a hug. He was a little surprised when Frank held on just an instant longer than necessary. He chose not to pursue it; he was treading thin ice as it was.

Frank sat down on the bed, happy to have Joe back, but still utterly confused about Joe’s earlier reaction to Callie. He’d handle THAT later, though. "So," he said at last, "How was your day? Because man, do I have a lot to tell you!"

"You do? Me, too!" Joe exclaimed.

"Well," Frank began, "You go first. You’re always one for blurting things out."

Joe ignored the jibe, and proceeded to tell Frank about everything that had happened that day with the Butlers and the Smiths. As he spoke, he watched as Frank’s eyes grew wide. "Isn’t that bizarre?" Joe finished.

"Joe, you have no idea how bizarre it is." He went on to inform Joe about his similar experience, and Joe's face registered the shock he felt.

At the conclusion of his speech, Frank looked at his brother. "Okay, Joe, I think we need to lay out what we KNOW here. What do you say?"

"Yeah, I agree. You’re more organized, so you write it down," Joe answered.

Frank took out a piece of paper and a pen from the nearby drawer, and made two columns as he spoke with Joe.

"Okay," he started. "We know there have been three robberies so far.

Bayport, NY- (Yeats Jewelers) rubies were taken. That took place around 10:30.

Radley, Pennsylvania- (Eliot’s Jewelers) amethysts were taken. That was at 11:00, I think.

Idaria, West Virginia.-(Larkin’s Jewelers) Sapphires were taken, but only a rare type called an Iolite. That was at…."

"That was at 11:30," Joe finished, seeing the pattern already. "Frank-"

"I see it," Frank finished. "The robberies have taken place a half an hour after one another. That fits the pattern dad told us about on the case he cracked with these guys, only in that case, it was 45 minutes apart."

Joe was getting excited. "Okay, cool. But do you have any idea WHY these types of stones?"

"None," Frank conceded. "But don’t get ahead of yourself. What else do we KNOW for a fact?"

Joe paused, then began. "The movement appears away from New York, which doesn’t make sense if the guys are after us."

"Joe," Frank warned, "one thing at a time."

Joe sighed. He admired his brother’s patience, although he wished he had gotten some of it himself. "I know, Frank. Fine. We know the movement is west- happy?"

Frank smiled, and said, "Yup."

Joe rolled his eyes, but continued. "We also know that the robberies have taken place in daylight, and that a hostage, a small child, has been a victim each one. Which is…"

"Which is again consistent with dad’s old case," Frank finished for him. "Then, we know that no alarms were sounded, which means it was pre-meditated, obviously, and that no safe’s were broken into."

"Don’t forget," Joe added, "The "totowas" license plate with the rainbow colored or muddy-whichever- color, and the fact that the getaway car was an Oldsmobile Toronado. Plus, there were two guys, and at least one driving the car."

Frank contemplated all of this. Joe could practically see the engines going in Frank’s brain. "Okay," Frank began slowly, "I think there’s a definite connection to dad’s old case."

Joe stared at him a moment, and then burst out laughing. "THAT’s your deduction?" he asked. "I could have told you that ages ago."

"ANYWAY," Frank said, ignoring his brother’s teasing, "Then we have the threat against us and dad. Now, today, the Wilkins’ family told Callie and I that they knew who I was, and that basically revenge would come to us. She did swear, though, that she hadn’t been in touch with her son, not that I necessarily believe her. Then, we went to the Ramses home. Of course, he’s dead, but that’s not the problem. The woman there told me that someone, who goes by dad’s name, was recently at her house, and got a bunch of disks, which would make sense since he was a "whiz" at computers, apparently."

"You also said that he took the gold medallion that was on Ramses’ body when he died," Joe reminded his brother.

"True," Frank replied.

"And," Joe added, "when Iola and I went to the Smith home, it was like your experience. I got the distinct impression that she knew who I was, like she was expecting me. And then, the Butler home was bizarre. Clearly, the woman was on to me, and told me that a guy stopped by to pick up books recently. Of course, Butler is dead, but that was a hint for some reason."

"PLUS," Frank continued, animated, "they all knew about the robberies. It’s not like this is national news. Even the police didn’t make the connection yet."

Joe had missed that, and he was impressed by Frank’s quick-thinking.

Joe spoke. "So here’s our problem, big brother. If they’re after us, why are the crimes going west? Why haven’t we been threatened? Why did these people know about the robberies, and why do they know about us?"

Frank continued on. "And where will they strike next? What type of jewelry will they take, and why is that important? AND, if they threatened the world’s greatest heist, why all of these silly little robberies? Something is here, Joe, and we’re missing it."

At that moment, Joe’s cell phone rang. He picked it up on the third ring. "Hello?" he said.

"Joe? It’s dad."

"Dad! What’s up, dude?"

"EXCUSE ME?" Fenton said loudly into the phone. Joe sighed.

"Sorry," he replied. "What is news-worthy, father?"

Now Fenton sighed, exasperated. "Why couldn’t I have gotten Frank?" he asked his son.

Joe smiled. "Well, ‘cause you called my cell phone," he replied, laughing. He knew he was driving his father crazy, but he liked to do that on occasion.

"Joe, I’m going to ignore you. The reason I called was because of the computer monitoring system we set up before you and your brother left for Boston. By the way, any progress?"

"Some," Joe answered, truthfully.

"Well, good," Fenton replied. "Because I may have another lead for you. At 12:00 today, in Charlestown, Missouri, there was another robbery. It seems to fit the usual pattern to a "T". This time, only natural pearls were stolen, and the cultured ones were ignored. Strange, eh? It’s at a place called Lee’s Jewelers. I just thought you might be interested."

Joe suddenly became serious. "We are, dad. Thanks. And we’ll be home tomorrow."

"Goodbye, Joseph."

"Later."

"Ahem."

"I mean, goodbye dad," Joe finished.

"That’s better. Love you."

"Me, too."

Joe hung up the phone, and turned to his brother. "Well, Frank, it happened again. The time frame is right." He repeated his father’s news.

Frank’s face became serious. "I guess in a day or two, we’re headed out to Missouri."

Joe met his brother’s eyes. "I guess so."

They continued talking long into the night, hoping to gain any more insight into the case, and preparing for a journey that they both knew, deep down, would not be good.

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow them without express permission of the authors.