After some unsuccessful attempts Frank conceded defeat, stood, and waved Vanessa to his chair. "Madam, I bow to your expertise. Have at it, Van!"

She chuckled, shoved her long hair back, and settled in.

***

Half an hour later, Vanessa was still trying access codes, passwords and various hacking tricks. Frank hovered over her shoulder, offering occasional advice, but mostly letting her do it on her own. Megan had watched closely for a while, but was growing more and more discouraged as time passed and access was denied again and again. She now was staring out the window at the Benders’ yard, watching leaves drift toward the ground from the yellowing maple trees.

The sound of a car alerted her, and she watched Joe arrive. He got out of the van, approached the front door, and was admitted. In a moment, she heard footsteps on the stairs.

"Try – yeah, try that…" Frank was murmuring softly. "maybe…nope, damn it! How about this…?" He reached over Vanessa’s shoulder and tapped some keys. "Aagghh."

Megan leaned her head against the windowpane and shut her eyes despondently.

"Hey, guys!" Joe announced his arrival at the bedroom door. "How’s it going?" He glanced from one person to the other. "…oh." He entered quietly, and sat down on the bed.

"What about this…." Now it was Vanessa speaking. "…whoever designed this has a twisted, devious little mind…so…Aha!"

"Yes!" Frank whooped with delight, hugging Vanessa’s shoulders, then turned around. "Megan! Look! She got in!" He leaped across the room and seized Megan’s arm, whirling her towards him, and enveloping her in a hug. "Joe! Hey, hi! She got in!" He grinned in triumph.

"Oh, that’s so wonderful! Vanessa, you’re incredible!" Megan gasped, nearly squeezed breathless by the elder Hardy’s embrace.

"I hate to admit it," Frank grinned. "but she really is much better than I am at this sort of thing. It’s a good thing you don’t have any criminal tendencies, Vanessa!"

Vanessa was rapidly delving deeper and deeper into Ted Crowley’s computer files now, and hitting "print" for page after page. She chuckled at Frank’s gibe, and turned in her chair to share a hug with Megan.

"This is just the first step, though," she reminded her jubilant companions. "Now we have to find the information we want, that will incriminate our Mr. Crowley in some murders."

The four of them began poring over the sheets of paper, checking the lines of print with as much attention to detail as they could muster. Megan sat on the floor, pages in her lap. Frank and Joe sprawled across opposite ends of the bed, and Vanessa sat before the computer, still tapping an occasional key to keep the flow of information coming.

***

"Look at this," Megan finally said, holding up a sheet of figures. "A payment to Dr. Gerald Waring, dated over a year ago."

"I have one on this page, too." Joe replied. "And – yup, here’s another. Looks like he gets paid about once every two months…and note the memo line – services rendered!"

Vanessa shuddered. "That is so cold. It sounds like a – a – carpet-cleaning service, or something."

"Have you noticed," Frank commented quietly. "that there are large deposits that don’t correspond with any payments to Dr. Waring? And they’re noted as insurance payoffs. So obviously Mr. Crowley’s scheme worked the way he’d intended, part of the time. People died, the insurance policies paid the benefits, and he got the money."

"Frank…" Megan’s voice was so small it was almost nonexistent. "there’s a payment right after my father’s death…." She handed the incriminating document to him, her hands shaking so hard the paper rattled. Frank glanced down at the indicated date, then reached for her hand, pulling her to sit beside him on the bed.

"Megan…" he began, helplessly. She ducked her head, waving his sympathy away with one hand while she dashed tears from her eyes with the other.

"I’m all right." she said.

"Vanessa, have you got the latest dates there?" Joe asked, craning his neck to see the computer screen.

"Yes – as of last week." she answered. "No deposits or payments to Waring. Just regular business-as-usual."

"And the last time there was one?" Joe continued, scanning the sheets of paper scattered across the bed.

"Ummm, about six weeks ago."

"Then I’d predict that Crowley Manufacturing is ripe for another insurance policy payment…which means another untimely death at Bayport General." Joe said grimly.

Vanessa glanced at Joe, then Frank and Megan. "I think I’m going to become Dr. Gerald Waring’s new best friend tomorrow," she announced. "He’s just acquired his own private errand-runner."

"Are you crazy?" Joe exploded, leaping off the bed. "You are not going to traipse around the hospital with a known murderer!"

"Want to bet?" she shot back. "I work there, and can make up all kinds of reasons for being in various places. I didn’t say I was going to hang on his coat tails, but he’s not going to do anything that I don’t know about."

"Vanessa – " Frank began, hoping to try and talk her out of such a mad scheme. "—it really isn’t a good idea for you to be too close to him – "

She stuck her nose in the air and ostentatiously ignored both Hardys, concentrating on tapping the computer keys to save the entry code words and exit out of the system. Frank glanced at Megan, hoping for some backup, but she was studying Vanessa with something akin to envy.

"I wish I could go with you and help," she said quietly. Vanessa glanced over at her and smiled in a conspiratorial fashion.

"I wish you could, too. But unfortunately, you’re not familiar with the place, and I am. This one is mine, guys, so don’t try to argue with me or talk me out of it." She gave Joe a long straight look, and as she saw the anguished worry on his face, her eyes softened. "Joe, I promise I won’t do anything stupid. I’m not exactly going to walk up to him and say ‘I know you’ve been murdering people,’ now am I? I’m just going to keep a very close eye on him. If he makes clandestine phone calls, I’ll be around to notice. If he goes into the rooms of terminal patients, I’ll be around. If someone dies suddenly and he’s been there – I’ll notice that, too."

"I thought you didn’t work the critical care floor." Frank commented.

"I don’t – not usually. But I can invent a whole lot of errands, real quickly."

"I wish you wouldn’t do this," Joe whispered miserably. He put his elbows on his knees and rested his face in his hands.