"Alright, Joe, here’s what I want you to do. Lean slightly forward… yeah, like that. Okay. Keep your head above your heart, that will make your nose bleed less," Frank ordered. Joe’s face had gone pale in a matter of seconds and painfully he did as he was told. He knew if Joe leaned back, he may swallow the blood and that might cause nausea, vomiting and diarrhoea.

"Is everything alright?" A waitress rushed over, looking concerned, and immediately her worried expression turned into one of horror when she saw the blood staining Joe’s T-shirt. "Oh my God, you’re bleeding!"

Frank ignored her.

"Now lean forward so the blood will drain out of your nose instead of down the back of your throat." Frank was aware of a small group of people crowding around their table to see what the commotion was all about. "Right. Now use your thumb and index finger to squeeze together the soft portion of your nose…it’s between the end of your nose and the hard, bony ridge that forms the bridge of your nose." Frank grabbed the back of Joe’s neck and pulled him forward to the appropriate position, frowning as he felt the heat radiating from Joe’s skin through the palm of his hand. He glanced sharply at his brother’s face, pale a few minutes ago, now flushed with the first bouts of a raging fever. Then he guided Joe’s fingers to the spot on his nose. "Right, there."

"Just a liddle dosebleed," Joe mumbled. "I’b fide." Closing his eyes, he tried to fight the waves of sickness which had suddenly assaulted him. He felt extremely nauseous. He had had nosebleeds before but never as bad as this one. Fear gripped his heart as he tried hard to think of what could have caused the bleeding.

The waitress came back from the kitchen with a small ice-pack. "Here, this would probably help."

"Keep holding your nose until the bleeding stops. Don't let go for at least 5 minutes," Frank said. An anxious onlooker handed Joe a napkin and with it, Joe wiped away the remaining blood smeared all over his face with one hand, the other still holding his nose. Frank gently placed the ice-pack against Joe’s nose, and while still pinching his nose, Joe’s fingers crept over the pack and pressed it hard against his nose.

"Thags," he managed to say. Damn, this is bad, he thought as he felt the blood draining down the back of his throat, filling his mouth. Grabbing another napkin off the table, he spat the blood onto it.

Joe made sure to breathe through his mouth but it certainly difficult to even breathe at all with the heavy poundings in his head threatening to take him under. Black spots danced in front of his eyes and Joe shook his head to clear it, only succeeding to make his head hurt worse. A heavy gasp escaped his lips and Joe could feel his brother’s strong hand gripping his shoulder, steadying him.

"He doesn’t look so good," another onlooker commented. Frank’s head jerked up.

"Do you want me to call an ambulance?" The waitress leaned down and whispered in Frank’s ear.

"No," Joe gasped, shaking his head. Frank could see the beads of perspiration on his face, some running down the sides of his face, mingling with the smears of blood on his cheeks, on his chin… "Just take me home."

"But-"

Joe shook his head more violently. "Just take me home, Frank. I’ve-" Joe paused for a while to gasp in a shallow breath, "-I’ve got a Physics-Physics session with T-Tessa tonight…"

It’s the fever talking, Frank realized. He rose. "Alright, Joe, let’s go home." A few people stepped back to give them more room, some going back to their own tables as the crowd dispersed.

Frank helped Joe to his feet, placing a hand on the small of Joe’s back, steadying him as Joe swayed a little. Thankfully his nose had stopped bleeding and Joe managed to stagger out of the diner with Frank’s help.

At the door, Frank handed the waitress a generous tip and a little extra, knowing that would take care of the broken glass. "Thanks."

"Anytime," she said, still looking extremely concerned. She nodded toward Joe, who was barely able to stand on his own. "You’d better get him checked out."

"I’ll do that," Frank promised. "Come on, Joe."

Joe nodded his head numbly, shivering as a chill ran through his body. "I don’t feel so good…" he slurred.

"I know. You’ll be alright soon." And as Frank helped his brother to the van, he prayed silently that this latest malady Joe was having was only temporary. He still had nightmares from his long and terrible nightmare and his emotions definitely weren’t ready for another roller-coaster ride. He would never be ready for that, knowing full well that it would kill him if he had to go through it all over again. Was it too much to ask for them to lead a peaceful and healthy life? I guess it is, he thought grimly.

"Ginger to Parsley, over." A scratchy voice crackled through the walkie talkie.

"This is Parsley," Fenton Hardy spoke into the mouthpiece. He squinted in the bright sunlight, his body tense as he kept his eyes on the red brick building looming in front of him. Frank had faxed him the names just now and without wasting any precious time, Bayport police had informed every hotel to check out the rooms with the listed guests.

He couldn’t help feeling proud of his sons when they received a promising feedback from the Sapphire Hotel, telling them indeed, loud music was heard from room 32, and the guest had registered under the name T. Everly, the name which Frank had suspected taken from the famous Everly brothers. And now a few of his officers were positioned outside the room on the 22^nd floor, waiting for further instructions.

"Occupants unresponsive, over. Permission to go in."

"Roger that." Fenton turned to Chief Collig who was standing next to him. "What now?"

Chief Collig nodded his approval. "Do it."

"Parsley to Ginger. Permission granted. I repeat. Permission granted, over."

"Roger that, Parsley."

Fenton and Chief Collig waited for a few long minutes. At last a voice crackled through the transmitter.

"Chief? I think you’d better see this."

Fenton exchanged knowing looks with the police chief next to him, and together they marched into the red brick building, preparing themselves for what they were about to see.

"Joe, wake up. We’re home." Frank gently shook his brother’s shoulder. The ride home from the hospital had been short but still Joe had managed to fall asleep. He must have been exhausted. Again, Frank reprimanded himself for letting Joe sweet-talk him into letting him come with, but then again, if he hadn’t, they wouldn’t have gotten the information they wanted.

"Huh-" Joe opened his eyes blearily. His head felt extremely heavy and all he wanted to do right now was go back to sleep. And that was exactly what he did before Frank shook him again.

"Come on, Joe. Let’s go up to your room, then you can rest."

Joe opened his eyes again. He reached up a hand to his head and began to massage his temple in slow, circular motions, his face contorted in a mask of pain.

Worriedly, Frank began to wonder whether it had been such a good idea to bring Joe home instead of letting him stay at the hospital where he could get immediate medical help if anything happened. Although the doctor had reassured him that the fever was only his body’s way of fighting the last of the toxin, and Joe would be better off resting at home, but still Frank was worried. He hoped his father was having better luck.

Frank helped Joe out the van, and together they made their way slowly into the house with Joe leaning heavily against him, all the while painfully aware of the heat escaping Joe’s skin. He had to get the fever down.

"T-Tessa…she-she’s expecting me," Joe whispered weakly, shivering slightly as a chill ran through his weakened body.

Frank supported him as Joe went up the stairs one by one slowly, hanging on to the banister for dear life, his head lolling backward every few steps, Frank had to make sure he wouldn’t stumble backward and fall.

"I’m sure Tessa wouldn’t mind if you miss one class," Frank lied, his voice soothing and comforting.

"Are you su-sure?" Joe slurred, at long last reaching the head of the stairs. He peered at Frank, his eyes cloudy with pain and exhaustion. "I’m so tired…"

"Yes, I’m sure." Frank gripped Joe’s arm and led him to his room. Joe slowly sank onto his bed, instantly closing his eyes the moment his head hit the pillow. Frank took out the prescription bag from his pack and sat down on the bed gently. A while later, he lifted Joe’s head a little and slipped a pill into his brother’s mouth.

"Here, take this. It’ll make you feel better," Frank said, and watched in satisfaction as Joe swallowed his medicine easily, washing it down with a small sip of water.

"Call her, will you, Frank?" Joe said weakly. "I don’t want to worry her."

"I will." A lump rose in Frank’s throat. He doubted Tessa was still alive. Frank rose and went to the bathroom, coming back a few moments later with a cloth and some water. He dampened it and placed it gently on Joe’s forehead. Joe’s forehead creased in a frown and he squirmed slightly.

"Shh, try and get some sleep."

"Tessa…"

"It’s alright, Joe." What would his mother do in this kind of situation? Should he cover Joe from head to toe? Joe was shivering. But he was hot to the touch. Somehow, covering him up with heavy blankets didn’t seem like the right thing to do. Joe shivered pitifully once again and that prompted Frank to bring Joe’s covers up to his chin. Joe’s face was pasty and damp blond fringes were plastered to his forehead. Right now he wished his mother hadn’t gone on that 3-day volunteering trip to an orphanage in Denver so that she could tell him what to do.

"Oh my God." Fenton inhaled sharply. The executive room was in a mess. A huge pile of blanket was strewn across the bed, chairs, tables, lamps were all overturned, but what scared Fenton more than anything was the blood. It was everywhere. Some was splashed onto the wall. Someone’s bad idea of graffiti decorated the intricately wallpapered walls on all sides of the room, colouring them a deep, bloody red. The white sheet was soaked in blood, and a large, kitchen knife was dangling from a string attached to the bedpost, dried blood crusting the sharp edge of the steely blade.

"I’ll be damned…" Chief Collig was also stunned. "Where’s the body?"

"The body’s gone, sir." A young officer spoke up grimly.

"What?" Fenton twirled around. "What do you mean gone?"

"There was nobody in the room, sir. We checked."

Fenton let out a frustrated sigh.

"Alright. You, send the blood samples to the lab immediately. And you, I want you to check out every hotel room in the list I’ve sent to every precinct. And check those not on the list too," he snapped. All the officers nodded.

Fenton stared at the gruesome sight in front of him once again. What now? He wondered. Joe’s going to be devastated when he learns about this.

Frank wearily walked down the stairs just in time to see the front door swing open. Fenton Hardy walked in, looking dishevelled and a little worse for wear.

"Hey, Dad."

"Hello, son. Is Joe home?"

"Yeah, he’s asleep."

"So early? It’s only 8 p.m.!" At Frank’s worried face, he paused. "Is he feeling okay?"

Frank breathed in deeply. Then he began to tell his father everything that had happened. Fenton’s face turned pale.

"Don’t worry, Dad. He’s going to be just fine," Frank reassured his father. But he could sense that there was something else which was bothering him. "What is it, Dad?"

Now Fenton watched his son go pale as he told Frank everything about the latest break in the case. Frank went even paler at his next words.

"The blood found at the crime scene, it was Tessa’s."