Pulling himself up from where he had been watching TV, Joe trotted to the front door and pulled it open. Callie Shaw stood on the front porch.

“Hi, Joe,” she greeted him.

Callie!” he said in surprise. “What time is it?”

“A little after seven. Why?”

“Nothing. Frank’s just a little late, that’s all. Come on in.”

“Thanks.”

Callie followed him into the living room. As she sat on the couch, she glanced at the TV then rolled her eyes. “James Bond?”

“What’s wrong with James Bond?” Joe demanded.

“He’s an outdated old Tom Cat!”

“James Bond?” said Joe incredulously. “Callie, he is one of the coolest heroes of cinema!”

“He’s a misogynistic narcissist,” Callie snorted.

“I have no idea what that means.”

Callie sighed.

“Joe, who was at the- oh! Hello.” Laura Hardy smiled as she entered the living room. “You must be Callie.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Hardy,” said Callie as she stood up.

“Frank not here yet?” said Mrs. Hardy cheerfully. “Never mind. Will you have a cup of tea while you’re waiting?”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Hardy,” answered Callie politely.

“But you must have something,” Laura insisted just as the phone rang. “I’ll get that,” she added to Joe who had risen to answer it. “Joe, please get Callie a soda or something.”

As Laura left the room, Joe grinned at Callie. “You know, it’s better to say yes. Mom will just keep asking until you do.”

She laughed. “I’ll have a soda then. I’m afraid I don’t really like tea.”

“Me neither.” Joe got up from his chair just in time to hear his mother’s panicked voice coming from the hall.

“What! When? Is he alright? Where is he?”

Alarmed, he hurried into the hall to see his mother clutching the hall table tightly. She was white-faced and panic-stricken.

“Mom, what- ?” he began, only to be met with shushing gestures from his mother.

“I’ll be straight there,” she said and hung up the phone.

“Mom, what is it?” he demanded at once.

“Frank’s been attacked!” she said, trembling as she stared at Joe. “He’s in the hospital.”

Joe felt his blood run cold. “Is he alright?”

“I don’t know. They…they couldn’t tell me.”

“We have to get to the hospital now!” Joe cried.

“Frank had the car,” his mother told him. “We need to call a Cab.”

“I can drive you, Mrs. Hardy,” Callie offered quietly, coming into the hall from the living room.

“What? Oh, Callie, that would be such a help! Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Callie shook her head. “It’s no trouble.”

“Thank you, Callie,” said Mrs. Hardy. “Just let me get my purse. Joe, leave a note for Gertrude telling her where we’ve gone.”

As Joe rushed to the kitchen to write a note, Laura dashed up the stairs to get her purse. Callie remained rooted to the spot, clench-jawed and frightened.

Within minutes, they were hurrying out the door and into Callie’s car. As he buckled up, Joe felt a dreadful chill of foreboding pass through him and immediately tried to shove it away. Frank would be fine.

None of them spoke during the drive to the hospital, afraid of what they might find. As they dashed through the doors of the emergency room, they were met by Fenton and Sam Radley.

“Dad!” Joe exclaimed. “How’s Frank?”

“I don’t know yet,” his father responded grimly. “The doctors haven’t been out yet.”

“Fenton,” Laura whispered. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, shaking his head. “It seems Frank was attacked after Karate. The guy was scared away by the janitor who called the police and an ambulance.”

“We were at the station when the call came in,” Sam added. “We came straight here. Mike and Con Riley have gone over to the Town Hall to look over the area, see if they can find anything.”

Silence fell over the little group as they stared towards the doors leading to the examination room, but they remained resolutely shut. Resigned to the fact that it would be some time before they had any information, they settled in to wait. Fenton and Laura sat down while Joe paced nervously back and forth. Callie, however, remained standing in a corner, un-noticed; an intruder on family grief.

“I’ll get some coffee,” Sam offered quietly, leaving them to it.

Two long hours passed with the Hardys waiting anxiously for news on Frank. Fenton and Laura grew more silent and grim with each passing minute, while Joe became more and more restless.

Finally, he could no longer stand it. “What’s taking so long?” he burst out.

“Joe, the doctors will be out as soon as there’s news,” his father tried to pacify him.

Joe growled in frustration and resumed pacing, while Fenton and Laura exchanged worried looks. What was taking so long?

“Mr. and Mrs. Hardy?” a voice called suddenly and they looked around to see a tall doctor with dark hair scanning the waiting area.

“Here!” answered Fenton anxiously, springing to his feet.

The doctor made his way over to them and shook Fenton’s hand. “I’m Dr. Whitehall, the neurologist who’s been treating your son.”

“Neurologist?” Fenton repeated.

The doctor frowned a little as he looked at him. “Frank has suffered a severe concussion and has not yet regained consciousness. Now, the x-rays don’t show that there is any skull fracture, but this prolonged unconsciousness is giving us cause for concern; Frank should have woken up by now.”

“What does that mean?” demanded Fenton. “When will he wake up?”

“We don’t know,” answered Dr. Whitehall. “And until Frank wakes up, we have no way of knowing the extent of the damage.”

“Oh, God,” said Laura miserably and sank into the nearest chair.

“I should also let you know that there was a slight hairline fracture of Frank’s left radius. He will have to wear a cast for the next six to eight weeks.”

“Is there anything else we should know?” asked Fenton bleakly, placing his hand on his wife’s trembling shoulder.

The doctor shook his head. “At the moment, we have no other information. I’m very sorry that I can’t give you better news.”

“Can we see him?” asked Fenton.

“Yes, but only the immediate family,” answered Dr. Whitehall. “Follow me, I’ll take you to him.”

The doctor headed towards the elevator. Fenton and Laura immediately followed him, but Joe seemed rooted to the spot.

“Joe?” Callie addressed him gently.

He turned to her with a blank expression.

“Joe, are you okay?”

He shook his head and instinctively Callie reached forward and gave him a hug. “Frank will be fine, Joe, you’ll see.” As he let go and pulled away, she saw Joe looking at her with an expression of surprise.

“Callie- ”

“Your parents are waiting,” she said softly, indicating towards the elevator where Mr and Mrs Hardy stood looking back at Joe.

Looking more than a little dazed, Joe headed over to his parents. Callie waited until they stepped into the elevator and the doors slid closed before she put her hands over her face and sobbed.

A gentle hand touched her shoulder and she jumped. The hand belonged to Sam Radley, whom Callie had forgotten was there.

“Miss, are you okay?” he asked kindly.

Callie nodded and with a shaky hand wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Are you a friend of Frank and Joe’s?”

“I’m in Frank’s class,” she whispered. “My name is Callie Shaw.”

“I’m Sam Radley. I work with Fenton.”

Callie nodded and her eyes strayed back to the elevator.

“Callie, it’s quite late, your parents will be getting worried. Maybe you should go home?” suggested Sam.

She sniffed, then nodded. “Okay.”

“Do you need a ride?”

She shook her head. “My car is in the parking lot.”

“Will you be okay to drive?” asked Sam, frowning at her tear-filled eyes.

“I’ll be fine. Mr. Radley?”

“Call me Sam.”

“Sam,” she repeated. “Would you mind asking Joe to call me tomorrow and let me know how Frank is?”

Her voice was quivering and Sam smiled sympathetically. “Of course. Would you like me to walk you out?”

“No, thank you. Good night, Sam.”

“Good night, Callie.”

Sam watched the blond girl leave the hospital. Despite the seriousness of the situation, he couldn’t help but smile. Frank Hardy had an admirer.

***

“He’s in here,” said Dr. Whitehall, stopping outside a room on the third floor. “I’ll be around for the night. If you have any questions, just ask the nurse to page me.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” said Fenton, pushing the door open and entering the room. Laura and Joe followed quickly behind him.

Joe felt as though he had been socked in the stomach when he saw his brother. Frank’s right eye was swollen and bruised, and his face bore multiple signs of the attack. A large cast covered his left arm, and a heart monitor beeped steadily beside the bed.

“Oh, Frank!” gasped his mother, dropping into the chair by his bed and taking his hand in hers. Frank didn’t move.

Fenton walked over to his wife and put his hand on her shoulder, staring down in shock at the figure of his eldest son.

Joe remained where he was by the door, unable to move. It was eerie to see Frank lying so still. Frank was his rock, his big brother; he wasn’t supposed to get sick.

To his horror, Joe felt tears rising and hastily blinked them back.

Stop crying you girl! he reprimanded himself.

A knock on the door made them all jump and they looked around to see Mike Wilson poking his head into the room.

“How’s Frank?” he enquired gently.

Fenton shook his head. “We don’t really know yet. Did you find anything?”

Mike nodded. “Yeah. But…could we talk outside?”

Fenton looked slightly alarmed, but nodded and moved towards the door. His wife stood up to follow and he turned towards her. “Laura, maybe you should stay here?”

“I don’t think so!” she retorted. “I want to hear what Mike has to say.”

Fenton opened his mouth to argue, but one look at his wife’s face and he thought better of it.

“Joe,” his father addressed him. “You stay here with Frank.”

The blond boy fumed silently as the adults left the room and closed the door behind them. He did not appreciate being kept in the dark when it concerned his brother. Joe looked back at Frank; the still figure sent a frisson of apprehension and fear up his spine.

Refusing to be left out any longer, he crept over to the door. Pushing it open just a crack, he was able to get snatches of the conversation going on outside.

“Syringe found at the scene…Temazepam…The FBI think…Frank…”

“He’s targeting Frank?” Laura Hardy yelled suddenly followed by hissing noises from her husband. “Don’t you dare tell me to shush Fenton Hardy! You drop news like that on me and you expect me to be quiet?!”

“Laura,” Fenton pleaded. “Keep it down! What if Joe hears you?”

Their voices dropped to a murmur once more, and try as he might Joe could hear no more. Then he heard Mike bidding his parents good bye and dived into the chair beside Frank’s bed.

His parents returned to the room looking visibly upset. His mother in particular was pale and shaking.

“What did Mike say?” Joe asked at once.

“Not much,” replied his father and Joe scowled at the obvious lie.

“Yeah, right! Dad, what is going on? What happened to Frank?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“Are you telling me that Mike found nothing at the scene?”

Fenton shifted uncomfortably. “Yes.”

“So, he just called you out in to the hall to talk about nothing?”

“That’s right.”

“That’s crap!”

“Joe!” said his mother, shocked.

But Joe ignored her. “Mike found a syringe found at the scene, didn’t he? And why did the FBI get involved, huh? This has something to do with your case, doesn’t it?”

“You were listening?” said Fenton sharply.

“Yeah, so I know you’re lying!”

Fenton’s face grew stern. “Joe Hardy, you listen here, I am telling you unequivocally to butt out! This case is none of your business, got that?”

“It is my business if Frank is involved!”

“JOE, STAY OUT OF THIS!” Fenton shouted.

“Shhhhh!” snapped Laura with an angry look at both of them.

Fenton lowered his voice. “Joe, I mean it. This case has nothing to do with you or Frank, got that? And if I find out that you’ve been getting involved, then there will be hell to pay! Understood?”

“Yes, sir!” said Joe sarcastically.

Muttering darkly, he slunk down in his chair and stared at his brother’s unconscious form. This was no longer just a case his father was working on; someone had attacked Frank.

This was personal.

Joe didn’t care what his father said, he wasn’t going to let sleeping dogs lie.

***

It was after eleven when Mike returned to the hospital to drive Laura and Joe home. Fenton remained at the hospital with Frank.

Joe and his father had said very little to one another after their argument. The boy didn’t like fighting with his father, but he was so angry about being kept in the dark that he couldn’t help it.

When they got home, Joe went straight to bed. Partly because he didn’t want to discuss the argument with his mother, but also because the bones of a plan had begin to form in his mind. Joe was planning on breaking into his father’s filing cabinet as soon as his mother was asleep. He was tired of all this secrecy and now that it concerned his brother, he was determined to find out what was going on.

It was after one by the time Laura Hardy went to bed, and by that time the boy was sizzling with impatience and frustration. There was no danger of him falling asleep - he was too worried about Frank - but he was anxious to get started.

He waited for nearly half an hour before sneaking downstairs. Well aware that his mother may also have been too worried to sleep, but too impatient to wait any longer, Joe bundled up some clothes beneath the bedcovers to make it look like he was asleep.

Using his flashlight, Joe was careful not to make a sound as he crept downstairs. Once in his father’s study, he closed the door and listened carefully for any noise from upstairs. The house was silent and, pleased with himself, the blond teenager set to work. However, he hadn’t got very far when he heard the front door open and his father’s voice sounded in the hall.

Joe froze in horror. He hadn’t expected his father to come home. He had assumed he would be staying with Frank.

He clicked off his flashlight and waited with baited breath. Another voice spoke, one that sounded like Mike, and he realised they were coming towards the study. His heart beating wildly, Joe hurried over to the large easy chair in the corner and crawled in behind it. He would be in serious trouble if his father caught him snooping in here. Curling into a small ball, Joe hoped he would remain hidden behind the chair.

The light clicked on and he heard the two men enter the room. They seemed to be having some sort of whispered argument.

“Fenton, look at you!” Mike was saying furiously. “You’re exhausted! What good would you be if he showed up at the hospital tonight? Con Riley will make sure that Frank stays safe, you know that.”

“Mike, he is targeting my son! Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

“But by knowing he’s a target, we can protect Frank.”

“Protect him? Protect him? This bastard has been killing other people’s children for the last fifteen years! How the hell am I supposed to protect mine?”

“Shhh!” Mike hissed. “Do you want to wake the whole house?”

Joe heard angry muttering from his father.

“Fenton, look, I know you’re worried but we’ve never had warning before, we’ve never been able to predict who this guy will take! We can keep Frank safe until he’s caught.”

“If we ever catch him.”

Joe heard the sound of a squeak as his father sat into the swivel chair behind his desk.

“Fenton, we’ll catch him. He can’t escape us forever.”

“He’s eluded us for the past fifteen years so far.”

“Which means his luck has to run out sooner or later! Fenton, you’re doing exactly what you did the last time, you’re obsessing about this guy to the point of burn out. You left NYPD to get away from him!”

Behind the chair, Joe’s eyes widened in shock.

“Mike, I looked in the Gallagher’s eyes and promised to bring their son home safe, but I couldn’t even get his body back for them to bury. How many people have lost sons because of this man?”

“I know, Fenton. I was there too, remember?” Mike’s voice sounded weary.

There was a long silence, during which Joe didn’t even dare breathe in case the men discovered him. When his father spoke again, he no longer sounded angry but exhausted.

“I just want to know how Frank became a target.”

“You know, that’s a good question. Maybe we should start from there?” said Mike thoughtfully.

“What?”

“Why did Frank become a target? Where did he see him? The boys were only in New York for a few hours, and if he saw Frank here in Bayport…”

“But he must know Frank is my son. Why would he take that risk?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t know Frank is your son, but it gives us somewhere to start.”

“You mean we can map Frank’s movements since Andrew Watson went missing?” Fenton supplied.

“It might give us some clue as to how he selected Frank, maybe we can get a lead on his hunting grounds.”

Joe winced at those words. It made Frank sound like prey.

“God! I just want to GET this guy!” snapped Fenton, the frustration in his voice evident.

“I know, Fenton, I know. Look, get some rest. Tomorrow we can get started on mapping Frank’s movements. Joe might be able to help us with that- ”

“NO! I don’t want the boys involved in this case.”

“We don’t have to tell him what it’s about- ”

“Joe’s not stupid, he’ll know. He already heard some of what we said at the hospital this evening and it wouldn’t be hard for him to put two and two together. I don’t want them involved.”

“They’re already involved,” said Mike quietly. “Fenton, I agreed with you last weekend that they shouldn’t be involved in this, but I didn’t think one of them would become a target! I think you need to tell them.”

“I don’t need to tell them anything! All I need to do is protect them.”

“This is not the way to do it.”

“They’re my kids, Mike!” snapped Fenton, a dangerous edge to his voice.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the little study; Joe could feel the tension from his hiding position behind the chair.

Finally, Mike spoke again. “Fenton, it’s late and you need some rest. I’d better go.”

“Fine. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Joe heard the two men getting up and the sound of footsteps leaving the study. He remained where he was to give his father a chance to see Mike out and go to bed.

His heart was hammering wildly at what he had just heard. It would appear that there was a serial killer in Bayport.

And Frank was next on his list.