He lay staring up at the ceiling of his room, letting his tired brain revolve around the myriad problems he had encountered in the past two days. Callie…Megan…Ted Crowley…Darryl Wright…Callie…Megan…the possibility of hired thugs breaking into the Wrights’ home again…someone tailing him and Joe…Callie…Megan…Megan….

Giving up, Frank rose, showered and shaved, dressed in khakis and a sweatshirt, and wandered downstairs, where he discovered his mother reading the morning paper and sipping a cup of coffee.

"Morning," he mumbled, dropping into the chair across from Laura.

"Morning, honey," she smiled. "You look like you had a hard night."

"Just a late one." Frank told her. Suddenly he remembered the undeveloped film in his and Joe’s jacket pockets, and he leaped to his feet. His mother stared in amazement as he dashed for the stairs, then shrugged and returned to the paper. She’d gotten over questioning her sons’ and husband’s unexplained actions, long ago.

Frank knew better than to awaken his younger brother; he merely tiptoed into Joe’s room and rifled his jacket pockets until he found the film cartridges. He retrieved his own, then hurried down two flights of stairs into their basement darkroom. As quickly as possible, he started the development process, shaking his head in despair at the amount of work before him. This would take hours!

Around 10:30 he heard footsteps on the basement stairs, and then Joe’s familiar rat-a-tat knock on the darkroom door. "Frank?"

"I’m here; where else would I be?" the elder brother replied waspishly. Little sleep followed by no breakfast was taking a toll on Frank’s usually serene disposition.

"Come on, take a break. I’m here to take over for you." Joe said patiently. "Go on upstairs and get something to eat. Mom said you dashed down here like the hounds of hell were on your tail."

Frank eased himself out of the door, shutting it quickly behind him. "Mom said that? I don’t believe it."

Joe grinned. "Believe it. Didn’t you hear her that Thanksgiving when she dropped the jello salad in the sink and it went down the garbage disposal, slurrrp! She’s got more of a vocabulary than you might think!"

Frank laughed, remembering the episode Joe referred to.

"That’s better," Joe said in satisfaction. "Now get outta here and let me work." He opened the door a fraction, slid inside and shut it firmly. Frank stared after him a moment, then gave up and went upstairs.

Laura was just sliding a pan of cookies into the oven when her elder son entered the kitchen. "Joe said you were having Megan and Vanessa over this afternoon, so I thought I’d better prepare for an invasion." she remarked. "Sit down, hon, and eat something, okay? I don’t necessarily advocate cookies for breakfast, but I’m sure we can scrounge up something."

After downing a bowl of cereal and some orange juice, Frank did feel better. He was still sleepy though, and his mother suggested he go back up to bed for a while. Reluctant, but too tired to argue, Frank drifted upstairs.

Once in his room, however, he found himself irresistibly drawn to the computer. He switched it on and accessed his e-mail. Callie’s note was the last thing he’d received, and he stared at it thoughtfully for awhile, then touched "Reply" and began to type.

Dear Callie, he wrote. It sounds as if you are having a very good time in Colorado. I’m happy for you. I am enjoying my classes at Bayport Community, and have met some interesting people on campus. I am sure you are right about us seeing other people. Frank grinned a little as he wrote this, and a wicked sparkle lighted his brown eyes. Joe and I are currently working on a case, sandwiched in between his schedule and mine. Good luck this year. Frank

Six years, gone just like that. Six years…He moved the cursor to "Send," hesitated a moment, then firmly clicked. When the computer stopped whirring, he squeezed his eyes shut and said "That’s that." He turned off the computer, flung himself facedown on his bed, and was asleep in less than two minutes.

***

A tap on his door awakened him, and he blinked at the clock. Two-fifteen. "Yeah?" he called.

The door opened and Joe entered. "The developing’s done – well, the last films are in, anyway. Megan called, and I told her to come over around three. That okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, fine." Frank rubbed his eyes and sat up. "Vanessa coming?"

"Uh-huh." Joe sat beside him on the bed and looked him over speculatively. "You feeling okay ?"

"Sure, why wouldn’t I be feeling okay?" Frank said defensively.

"No reason." Joe held up his hands in apology – but Frank was already apologizing himself.

"I’m sorry, Joe, it’s okay. I answered Callie’s letter a while ago, and I feel better. All right? Don’t worry so much about me."

Joe nodded, not completely convinced but willing to let it go for the time being. "Want to start spreading out the files? Mom and I moved some of the furniture back against the walls, so there’s more room on the floor."

"Okay, sounds like a plan." Frank swung his long legs off the bed and got to his feet, and the boys went down to the family room, which looked even more spacious than usual, with the chairs pushed tightly against the walls and the couch shoved to one side of the room. Stacks of enlarged photographs were sitting on it, sorted neatly into piles.

"Hey, you’ve been busy!" Frank noted with approval.

"Yup." Joe sat down on the floor, reached for a stack of photos and spread them out in front of him. Frank followed suit, and soon the floor was covered with paper.

The boys were deep in their perusal of file pages when the doorbell rang. Joe leaped to answer it, then winced and grabbed at the couch back to steady himself.

"Ouch! I am so stiff!" he groaned. Frank chuckled without glancing up from his work, and Joe, who had hoped for a more sympathetic response, sulked his way to the front door. He returned with Vanessa, who surveyed the snowdrifts of paper with apprehension.

"What have I let myself get talked into?" she murmured, but gamely sat down and waited for instructions.

"We’re looking for something that strikes us as unusual, Van," Frank started to explain. "We don’t know what, exactly, just something that looks out of whack."

"Okay, I’ll do my best," Vanessa said. She picked up a photo and began to scan the contents carefully.

Megan arrived a few minutes later; this time Joe stayed put and let Frank answer the door. When he looked down at her, Frank felt his pulse quicken a little. The late afternoon sun was shining through her red-gold curls, those amazing eyes were warm as they met his, and her dimple was in evidence as she smiled at him.

"Did you get enough sleep?" Frank asked anxiously as he ushered Megan into the front hall.

She nodded. "Plenty. What about you?"

"Enough," Frank evaded a direct answer. "Megan, this is Vanessa Bender, a friend of Joe’s. Vanessa, this is Megan Wright. We’re in a class together, and she’s the one we’re doing this investigation for."

The girls nodded to each other in a friendly fashion. Vanessa remained seated; she had learned to play down her nearly-6-foot height when interacting with people considerably shorter than she; but she patted the floor beside her.

"Pull up a piece of carpet and dive in, Megan."

***

It felt like light-years later, but it really was only about five o’clock when Vanessa brought their first clue to light.

"This is pretty slim – but it’s the only thing I’ve seen so far. Look, this is the second time Ted Crowley’s put money into the business account. Crowley Manufacturing’s been skating on thin ice, financially speaking, and he’s pumping money back in from his personal account.

"Nothing wrong with that," Frank observed, but he knee-walked across the floor to study the pages Vanessa was comparing. "He wouldn’t be the first owner of a company to do it."

"I know that, but look. Look where he got the money. It’s apparently from a life-insurance policy…both times."

"That seems awfully convenient," Joe commented, joining them. "And how often do you get money from life insurance policies? It looks a little funny for this large sum of money – Lord! $150,000? Frank, go take out a life insurance policy on yourself with me as the beneficiary, will you?"

"Up yours," his brother said amiably Joe grinned and continued:

"Anyway, it seems odd for this amount of money to suddenly be available just when the manufacturing company is on the skids."

Megan had been studying the pages intently over Vanessa’s shoulder. "It’s something Ted Crowley did. Dad mentioned it once. I thought it sounded absolutely ghoulish."