"You shouldn’t do football practice tomorrow, and you’ll need a written excuse from Mom. Let’s just hope that swelling goes down overnight."

The slipped inside, switching off the kitchen light left on for their benefit, and went quietly upstairs. Once in their rooms, with the doors to the connecting bathroom open but the ones to the hallway shut, they could talk freely once more.

"Joe, I gambled, not taking you to the emergency room." Frank spoke around a mouthful of toothbrush. "So for Pete’s sake, if you start feeling bad, tell me, right away. Okay?

"Okay, okay." Joe had already brushed his teeth, and was stretched out on his bed, the ice pack Vanessa had given him resting on his forehead. "But all I really need is some sleep. I’d be okay for football practice tomorrow."

"Don’t push it," his brother advised. "Admit it, sometimes it’s sort of nice to have a ready-made excuse to get out of drills."

Joe removed the ice pack and stacked his pillows so that he was half-sitting. "What do you think we should do about that tape? Once we contact the police about it, it’s taken out of our hands. You know what’ll happen; it’s ‘back off and let the police handle it’ time again."

"I know," Frank conceded. He leaned against the door frame, toothbrush in hand. "I think maybe we’ll mail that tape to the police department, marked for Con’s attention. That might give us a couple of days to find out just where Megan’s dad fit into all this."

"We know where he fit in!" Joe exclaimed, sitting upright, which he immediately regretted. "Ow!….shoot…" He lay back gingerly, then continued. "He filmed Crowley and Waring talking – looked like they all were in the parking lot at the manufacturing site. They must have spotted him; that’s why the recording ends so suddenly."

"But he obviously escaped them for a while," Frank reasoned, sitting down on the edge of Joe’s bed. "Otherwise the tape wouldn’t have been in the Wright’s family room, with the deceptive label.

"I keep thinking I’ve heard of this Dr. Waring somewhere before." Frank continued, frowning in concentration. "I just can’t put my finger on it…something I read, somewhere…."

Joe yawned, and his eyes drifted shut for a moment. "Maybe you’ll think of it during the night." he murmured. "Tomorrow you can look him up on the computer. If you read about him, it probably was in the newspaper."

"That’s it!" Frank reached to give his brother’s leg a congratulatory slap, but pulled back just in time, remembering Joe’s condition. "It was a newspaper article. Quite a while ago, too – several years."

"Why were you reading newspaper articles about weird doctors when you were fourteen?" Joe yawned again. "Can’t we get some sleep?"

"Okay, okay, sorry. You’re right." Frank stood up. "Better get in bed, little bro, you don’t want to sleep on top of the covers in your clothes, do you?"

"No, not especially." Joe slowly rose to his feet and began undressing. "but I may be asleep standing up, in a minute." He peeled off his bloodstained polo shirt, then wriggled out of his jeans. A few moments later he was sliding beneath the blankets, eyes already closing in sleep.

***

Morning found both boys wishing they’d had a few more hours’ rest. The bump on Joe’s temple had not subsided much, and had turned purple to boot, but his headache had eased enough that he could function normally. Frank rose the same time Joe did, even though he didn’t have to be at school until noon. He wanted time to research Dr. Waring on his computer.

"Morning, Mom." Frank said as he and Joe entered the Hardy kitchen. Laura looked up from the table where she was reading the morning newspaper.

"Good morning, honey. Joe, you’re going to have to hurry; you’re running a little bit – " Laura broke off as she got a good look at her younger son. "Joseph Hardy, what in the world happened to you?"

"Just a little accident with Vanessa’s jeep," Joe mumbled, hastily sliding into his chair and reaching for the box of Cheerios on the table. "No big deal."

"Is Vanessa all right – and the jeep?" Mrs. Hardy asked with concern.

Joe nodded, drank half his orange juice in two gulps, and replied: "She’s better off than I am. But could you write me an excuse from football practice for today, Mom? Frank – " with a disgusted glance at his brother – "Frank thinks I shouldn’t practice today."

"He probably has a point," Laura said dryly, reaching for a pad of paper and a pen. "He does occasionally, you know."

Joe quickly ate his breakfast, pocketed his note, and prepared to leave. He automatically reached for his set of car keys, then hesitated. "It’s your turn for the van today, isn’t it?"

"Oh, go ahead; I’ll ride again today." Frank replied, waving a dismissive hand. "If it was raining, I’d hold you to it, but it’s okay. You’ll be better off driving anyway; the helmet would probably make your head ache."

"Thanks!" Joe grinned his appreciation, grabbed his backpack, and was out the back door. Frank finished his breakfast, stacked his dishes on the counter, and told his mother he was going back upstairs to do some computer research.

"…and Mom – if I get involved, could you yell at me when it’s 11:30, so I don’t miss my class?"

"Assuming I’m here and watching the clock, of course I will." his mother answered. "If I go out, I’ll tell you, so that you can keep an eye on it yourself."

Frank hurried to his room, turned on the computer, and started to work, instigating a search for articles about a doctor named Waring. Waring…Waring…Bayport General Hospital…. At three years and five months back, he hit pay dirt.

Bayport General…Dr. Gerald Waring…Bingo! Frank leaned closer to the screen, studying the words intently. Accused of questionable medical practices…indications of "mercy killings" of terminally ill patients….

The articles continued for several days, then spread further apart. The physician had been put on leave from the hospital, pending outcome of the investigation….then, two months after the first accusations had been filed, the case came to trial. Frank eagerly read on, following the proceedings through the reporters’ eyes.

After all the witness were called and the evidence was in…jury deliberated for half a day…verdict of not guilty! Inconclusive evidence…reluctance of witnesses to testify…

"Acquitted for lack of evidence – and reluctance of witnesses to testify against him." Frank murmured. "And then what happened…?" He clicked on the next set of articles. Dr. Waring…reinstated as practicing physician at Bayport General Hospital…

That seems odd…Frank mused. Hospitals usually aren’t too eager to associate themselves with someone in Dr. Waring’s situation. Even an acquittal leaves a lot of things open to question.

Still pondering, he printed out the articles, then put them with his school books. He would show them to Megan later in the day.

At 11:30 he clattered down the stairs, gave Laura a hasty goodbye kiss, and climbed aboard his motorcycle once again, after stowing his books in the saddlebags. He pulled on his helmet, started the motor, and was down the driveway and out into the street with a swooping flourish, heading for Bayport Community College and his class on Shakespeare’s plays.

***

At 12:55, the buzzer sounded, ending the class for another day. Frank collected his notes, his head full of Elizabethan phrases, and reminded himself that he needed to read and review the second act of Henry IV before Thursday. Mental reminder duly noted, he promptly put Shakespeare and his dramatic works out of his mind, and switched gears to the problem of Dr. Gerald Waring and his medical practices.

Frank hurried down the sidewalk towards the student center, eager to meet Megan for lunch. He spotted her waiting just outside the entrance, and waved. She returned the wave, and walked toward him, smiling.

"Hi," she said demurely, as they met. Frank reached for her hand and pulled her close to his side.

"Hey, long time no see." That was a brilliant remark, Hardy! Why can’t you say anything halfway intelligent to this girl?

"How was Shakespeare?" Megan inquired, as they went into the crowded building, joining the lines snaking into the food courts.

"I’m glad I didn’t live back then; too tough to talk!" Frank grimaced. "Too many ‘wilt thous’ and ‘doths’ for my taste. But the story is actually pretty interesting – at least, I think it is…if I understand it right."

"I actually like the comedies best," Megan admitted as she selected a salad. "And I expect almost every girl in the world loves Romeo and Juliet. But the histories are okay, too."

They continued chatting about their classes as they got their lunches, then took them outside once again, to eat in the soft September sunshine.

"Do you know if Vanessa got the tape copied?" Megan changed the subject, as they sat down.

Frank gulped. He suddenly remembered that Megan didn’t have any idea about the things that had happened the previous night.

"I think so. Megan, listen, I need to tell you something. But don’t freak on me, okay?"

Aqua eyes widened. "Freak on you? Why? What happened?" Megan demanded. "Frank Hardy, what haven’t you told me?"