"Hmm," Vanessa murmured, a thoughtful look on her face. "His body has been sent home, right? So if he wasn’t the real Craig, there should have been an uproar already from his family."

"His family signed the release forms once the body reached Stockholm a few days ago," Fenton informed. "And that means he must be the real Craig Henderson. But what intrigued me more was his autopsy report. The post-mortem revealed that he didn’t exactly die from the stab wounds like we thought he did."

Frank raised his eyebrows. More surprises? He could feel a headache forming already. "If it wasn’t because of that, then what?"

"He was poisoned," Fenton answered simply. "That’s why we took a long time to identify the drug in his blood, because it got mingled with the toxin."

"Drug?" Vanessa perked up. That was why she had called Frank in the first place, to find out about the drug. Little did she know that if she hadn’t called, Joe could probably be dead. Or maybe both. "Was it the same drug, the one I found in his backpack?"

"Oh shoot," Frank cried out suddenly, slapping a hand against his forehead. "I can’t believe I forgot to tell you all about it!" Frank then explained everything to her, about Proxcel and what it could do to the human mind. Vanessa’s face turned pale as the meanings of Frank’s words sank in.

"What do you mean, a drug that makes people kill?" she whispered aghast. "You mean, Craig could have been the killer?"

Fenton shook his head. "That’s what we thought to at first, but now…"

"But Dad, don’t you see? He could have been the killer-"

"And the fact that he’s now dead?"

"Could only mean that now we have a bigger problem at hand," Frank said. His eyes suddenly roamed warily across the deserted hospital cafeteria. Hospital attendants in uniforms lounged at the tables, their soft chatter the only thing keeping the dining hall alive. He used to think that the hospital was the safest place in the world. But sometimes it could also be the most dangerous.

"There’s another killer," Fenton said softly.

"And right now we don’t know where she is," Vanessa said grimly.

"How is he?" Fenton murmured, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He’d fallen asleep in the empty cot next to his son’s hospital bed while Frank had kept a vigil by Joe’s bedside, refusing to even take a short nap since the night before. Fenton could understand his elder son’s concerns over his brother but he didn’t want Frank to neglect his own health and needs. Right now, Frank needed rest.

"Still asleep," Frank whispered. He was struggling to keep his eyes open. It was nearly 3 o’clock in the morning and Vanessa had been gone for hours. The dim light illuminated Joe’s pale face. Joe had been asleep, or rather unconscious since Saturday morning, which was more than 12 hours already.

"Did he wake up?" Fenton climbed down the bed and moved slowly toward his sons.

Frank shook his head unhappily. "Not even once."

Fenton sighed and rubbed his face again. "Mom’s on her way back. Called her last night,"

Frank didn’t know whether that was good news or bad news. Normally he loved having his mother around, but now wasn’t one of the times. Not when a serial killer was after Joe. Or him? Or both? Frank honestly didn’t know. But it was unnerving all the same. And terrifying.

"That’s good." That was the only thing he could say.

"Get some sleep, Frank."

"Later, Dad."

"Dad, please."

"I’ll go get some coffee." Abruptly Fenton started walking toward the door. On his way out, he laid a heavy hand on Frank’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Frank laid his own hand on top of his father’s and returned the gesture. Thanks, Dad, he said silently. He really appreciated his father’s profound understanding. Then Fenton walked out.

Frank sighed and leaned forward, propping his elbows on Joe’s bed. He couldn’t sleep; he needed to stay awake. He needed to think. He needed the silence.

These are the names of all the scientists who were working on the project," Fenton said, handing Frank a list of names the next morning. Frank took the piece of paper but as he tried to read it, the words blurred and he couldn’t read a thing. Trying to hide a yawn, Frank pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, as if to clear it. He was so tired he could fall asleep on his feet.

"Son, you need to sleep. Give your body a chance to rest," Fenton admonished gently, knowing full-well how useless it was to say something like that when Frank was in a frenzy over a case, especially in a case like this when their lives were at stake. Both his sons could work non-stop like overloaded machines and as proud as he was of them, Fenton couldn’t help feeling afraid sometimes. Not so much for himself, but for their well-beings. Too many times his sons had worked so hard until they were totally worn-out and exhausted. In his opinion it just wasn’t healthy no matter how important a lead may be.

"I can’t, Dad. Not until the killer’s caught." Frank glanced at his brother who was still sleeping soundly. When the nurse came in to change the IV bag a few hours ago, Joe had stirred a little and Frank had hoped that he would wake up. But apparently Joe was still out of it. It was nearly 10 in the morning and the sun was high up in the sky but still Joe had yet to regain consciousness. Frank couldn’t understand what was taking Joe so long to snap out of it. More than once he had asked Joe’s doctor about it but all she could offer for the time being was always the fact that Joe needed the rest, Joe’s body needed to heal, he’d gone through a rough time, blablabla. There was so much he needed to tell Joe, so much Joe needed to know.

Frank flipped the page over.

"And those are the names of the scientists who have been murdered." Fenton studied his son closely. He couldn’t help worrying about Frank. His son was almost as pale as Joe, and dark circles ringed his tired brown eyes.

"And the only name not on the list is?" Frank ran a finger down the names, comparing between the two lists, trying to single out the name. Then he found the one he was looking for. "Dr. Stefan Lindholm," he read.

Frank narrowed his eyes. "Did they find out what happened to him? Or where he was during the murders of his 6 colleagues?"

"In his grave," Fenton said vaguely.

"What?"

"Dr. Lindholm died in an accident two weeks before the murders happened. His car crashed into a boulder when he lost control of his car and it fell into a ravine, along with him trapped inside it. Further investigation showed that his brakes gave out. He left behind a widow and two kids."

Frank was stunned. "Was there any signs of foul play? Someone tampered with his brakes?"

Fenton shook his head. "They just stated that it was a freak accident. He just died a little earlier than his colleagues I guess."

"An early death," Frank murmured. It was ironic to know that the scientist had met his death in the accident, knowing that if he hadn’t he would have died a few weeks later anyway.

"I have something else that might interest you," Fenton said. "Before he died, Dr. Lindholm had officially stated his refusal to commercialize Proxcel. As the head of the project, he was also thinking of terminating the research-"

"Because of the side effects?" Frank guessed.

"That’s what I thought too, at first. But later on, they found out that it was because the company refused to patent the drug to his name. He claimed that it was his, he discovered the chemical significance of the substance he was testing, or something like that."

Frank frowned. He could sense that something was not right but he just couldn’t put his finger on it. Where would Craig come in? And Tessa? There were too many loopholes, too many missing links. His mind felt so jumbled he couldn’t even think straight. Dad was right, he realized. I’m too tired for this.

"Hello?" Fenton and Frank turned toward the door. They opened their mouths at the same time.

"Mom?"

"Laura?"

Laura Hardy rushed into the room and ran straight toward her husband and son. After giving them both hugs and kisses, Laura leaned down to look at her younger son and immediately her face turned into a mask of horror.

"Oh Joe…" She stroked his blond hair lovingly, her heart breaking at how pale and ill Joe looked. "How is he?"

"Stable," Frank answered in a hushed voice. "But he still hasn’t woken up yet."

Laura straightened and turned to face her husband and elder son, looking extremely worried. "Is he okay?"

"I’m okay…" A soft voice suddenly drifted from the bed, and in unison, all three of them shouted.

"Joe!!!" Frank rushed to other side of his brother’s bed while his parents crowded the other, all hovering over Joe. They watched as Joe’s eyelids flutter open slowly.

"Hey guys," Joe whispered hoarsely, managing a weak smile. "Hi, mom. You’re back."

"Yes, I am, honey," Laura said gently, laying a hand on his cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"My chest hurts a little but other than that I feel fine," Joe said tiredly. "Sore but fine."

"That’s good, son," Fenton said, smiling. "Just don’t scare us like that again, okay?"

"He’d better not," Frank said, smiling a little himself. His brother was okay. For the time being, a little voice inside his head said and Frank’s smile faded. Though Frank tried not to dwell on the matter, he couldn’t help feeling that the game was just beginning. And that there was more to come.

Come what may, I’ll be ready, he thought. No one hurts my family and gets away with it.