"No, Joe, I’m not. She’s…she’s not exactly what she seemed to be." That was all Frank could say. He thought he’d chosen a right time to break the news to his brother but apparently, there was no such thing as the right time when it came to things like this. He’d waited until Joe had bathed, dressed, and made himself comfortable before he mustered up enough courage to tell him.

Joe barked an incredulous laugh. "Frank, you’re not making any sense. Wh-I mean, why would she want to do something like that?"

"I don’t know," Frank answered honestly.

Joe drew in a deep breath shakily. It still hurt a little to breathe but at least the pain wasn’t as bad as before. The doctor even told him he could leave the day after tomorrow if he felt up for it. But that’s not the issue now-

"I don’t understand," Joe said, shaking his head. "First you told me that the blood wasn’t Tessa’s. And then you told me that Tessa was not Tessa after all. And now you’re telling me that she could have been the killer? Is that what you’re saying?"

"Yes, it is." Frank’s voice was calm and controlled, his fingers, playing idly with the edge of Joe’s white hospital blanket, were the only signs of his discomfort.

Joe exhaled loudly and closed his eyes. Please God, tell me this isn’t happening. Since Tessa went missing, Joe had never stopped praying and wishing day in and day out that she was still alive. Apparently his wish had come true but not in a sense that he would have liked. Swallowing hard, Joe balled his fingers into tight fists, painfully aware of the needle pricking his index finger where the tube from his IV bag was connected to. He still couldn’t eat solid food, not for another couple of days. She did this to me?

"You think she sent the package, don’t you?" Damn, how he wanted to believe she was innocent.

Frank nodded solemnly. Joe turned his head sideways and stared out the window, bathing his face in the bright sunlight which streamed through the panes. Frank watched his brother as Joe spent the next few minutes in silence.

"She couldn’t have done it," Joe whispered at last. "She cared about me, Frank. She-she even-" Joe’s voice caught in his throat. She even kissed me. Had it only been a lie, a great big lie?

"No!" Joe nearly shouted. He started shaking his head vehemently, and a lock of blond hair fell over his eyes. With an angry brush of his hand, he shoved it away from his face and locked gazes with his brother, his blue eyes flashing. Tessa couldn’t possibly be the killer. He knew Tessa. "I refuse to believe it! No, Tessa didn’t pretend-"

"Remember what you said about the difference between dead people and living people, Joe? What living people can do and dead people can’t?" Frank asked, his intense brown eyes refusing to back down. Joe inhaled sharply.

Joe closed his eyes.

When Joe opened his eyes again, Frank immediately felt a pang of sympathy for his brother. There was too much hurt in his blue eyes, too much pain. For one second, Frank regretted telling him about Tessa’s betrayal. But Joe had the right to know.

"So what do we do now?" Joe asked dully.

"I’m sorry to be such a bother, Mrs. Reid." Vanessa sighed. "It’s just-I miss her so much."

Catrina Reid smiled sadly at the blond young woman standing in front of her. "I miss her too, Vanessa. She’s only been with us for 2 weeks and when she disappeared like that…" She shook her head, her eyes sad and sorrowful. "Tessa was a nice girl."

"I bet she was," Vanessa said, managing a tight smile. Mrs. Reid watched as Vanessa walked around the small but tidy room. Books were stacked neatly on the shelves, cosmetics were arranged in perfect order on the dresser, the bed was made…the room had been left untouched.

"Everything is still the way she left them before she was kidnapped. We didn’t touch a thing," the elegant woman said, brushing a few strands of dark hair out of her eyes.

"You don’t mind if I, you know, look around?" Vanessa asked, trying her best to look hopeful. She wouldn’t want Mrs. Reid to think she was snooping.

"Oh no, of course not," Mrs. Reid said. "It’s nice to know that she managed to find lots of friends in such a short time. I was afraid she wouldn’t get along."

"Why do you say that?" Vanessa asked, stopping in front of the dresser, staring at herself into the mirror. This is the mirror where a murder suspect had stood in front of for so many times. Vanessa shuddered inwardly. It was creepy, just being in the room.

Mrs. Reid shrugged. "She was a foreigner. And the only person she seemed to be comfortable with was Craig. But that only lasted for a few days, until the Hardy boy became her friend. Joe, is that his name?"

"Yes, it is," Vanessa answered in a tight voice. She definitely didn’t want to talk about Joe right now. Not when she was standing in Tessa’s room. Abruptly, she picked up a frame from the dresser. Tessa, Craig and a girl she didn’t know were smiling in the picture with the background of what looked like a fountain. Craig had an arm around the other girl who was kind of pretty, with long red hair and big brown eyes. "Who’s this?"

"That’s Annelie, Craig’s ex-girlfriend," Mrs. Reid said, rolling her eyes. "I asked him when he came over for dinner the other day. She’s also Tessa’s best friend back in Sweden." Vanessa felt a lump in her throat. She knew perfectly well that Craig could have been the killer, could have been in it together with Tessa but- As long as Vanessa had known him, Craig had always been nice to her. It was hard to think that he could be capable of committing such horrific, barbaric murders. She turned the frame around. True enough there was an inscription behind but it was in Swedish. Vanessa could only pick out the names; Annelie, Craig and Tessa. She recognized the handwriting as Craig’s.

"Pretty," Vanessa murmured, putting the frame down. She picked up another one. Vanessa thought Tessa looked absolutely beautiful in this one Tessa was wearing a slinky red dress and beside her was a dashing young man in tux with dark hair and dark eyes. An elderly couple was standing behind both of them also smiling into the camera. It was a function of some kind, judging from the champagne glasses they were holding and the hanging decorations and flowers all around.

"That’s her and Bastian, her boyfriend back home." Vanessa raised her eyebrows. Boyfriend? She had a boyfriend? "The picture was taken during his parents’ wedding anniversary."

"Oh." Vanessa was frustrated. She had been hoping that Mrs. Reid would leave so she would have the room to herself, but obviously she was more than happy to keep Vanessa company and chat. Well, I won’t leave without something, she thought.

"Oh, my contacts," Vanessa suddenly cried out and dropped down on her knees. She started patting the carpeted floor in front of her, as if looking for something. "Oh no…I dropped my contacts…"

"Oh dear," Mrs. Reid said sympathetically and went down on her knees to help Vanessa look for her fallen ‘contact lense’. Vanessa turned sideways, pretending to look for it the other side and when Mrs. Reid wasn’t looking, she snaked a hand out and quickly grabbed a spiral notebook from Tessa’s desk. It had caught her attention earlier because it was the only thing lying on her desk and not stacked nicely with the other books. With lightning speed, she slipped the notebook into her handbag.

"Found it," Vanessa exclaimed breathlessly and made a big show of picking something off the floor, blowing hard onto it, and putting it back into her eye. Ooh, I’m good, she thought as she blinked her eyes to make her acting more realistic. Now, the only thing to do is go home and try look what’s inside the book.

"Alright, let’s see…"

Joe leaned forward and squinted, trying to look at what his brother was typing. When he was done, Frank turned his notebook sideways so Joe could read it.

"I’ve listed down the names of the victims and also where each of them was found. Maybe we could detect a pattern," Frank said, tapping the first name on the list with his pen.

Janet Coulter.

Room 55, Grand Bluewave Hotel.

Joe read through the rest of the names.

Trevor Dalton,

Room 195, Keyaki Hotel.

Valerie Houston,

Room 128 Trademark Hotel.

Mary Helen Lee,

Room 402 Manhattan-East Hotel.

Craig Henderson

Room 75 Middle Grove Hotel

A lump rose in Joe’s throat when he read the last name.

Tessa McCaffrey(?)

Room 32 Sapphire Hotel

"I’ve tried plotting the hotels by programming their coordinates into the computer but after analyzing the points…there’s no distinctive shape or symbol or anything," Frank said, frowning at the screen. He clicked on something and automatically, a map of Bayport suddenly materialized on the screen. Joe whistled.

"I’m impressed."

Frank ignored him. He clicked again. Small red X’s appeared in various locations around the areas Joe recognized as New York City and Bayport. Joe knew what Frank meant by the plots forming no distinctive shape or symbol, like a polygonal pyramid or a crescent or a cross or something. The kind of thing when the police could predict where the next murder is going to happen by connecting the dots only happens in movies, Joe realized with a sinking heart. The red dots were scattered randomly with no distinctive pattern of distribution.

"Could it be that there are going to be more victims? That’s why we can’t detect the pattern yet?" Joe guessed uneasily.

"But it’s been days since anything happened," Frank argued. "Sh-The killer had killed them all on alternate days except for…Craig Henderson. And Tessa McCaffrey." If she’s really dead, he added silently.

Joe shifted in his bed and grimaced in discomfort, tugging at his hospital gown. He was sick of staying in the hospital, sick of waking up to the same white ceiling, sick of being hospitalized all the time. Joe was starting to feel like a wuss.

"You’re restless, aren’t you?" Frank asked. Joe couldn’t seem to stop fidgeting. That means he’s okay, Frank thought, feeling a surge of momentary relief.

"Yeah. How can you tell?" Joe asked dryly.

Frank smiled. He spun the notebook around and closed it, placing it carefully on the chair next to him. Then he clasped his hand and rested his elbows on Joe’s bed.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Joe asked.

"Enough about this case. I want to know about you," Frank said, his warm brown eyes full of concern. "How do you feel? I mean, really?"

Joe studied his brother closely. Frank seemed genuinely concerned about him. No matter how many times Joe managed to land himself in scrapes like this, he knew Frank would always be there for him. Frank was the only person he could really talk to, the person he trusted with all his heart. They had gone through a lot together and Joe knew he could always count on Frank to make him feel better, if not make things better.

"I’m scared," Joe whispered, his voice trembling.

Frank swallowed hard.

Frank reached for his brother’s hand and squeezed it tightly. Joe looked at him in surprise and awkwardly, he returned the gesture. Frank’s hand was warm and somehow comforting.

"Don’t be," Frank said softly.

Joe opened his mouth as if to say something but then closed it. The reassurance in Frank’s brown eyes spoke more than words. I’ll be strong for you, Joe. I’ll be strong for both of us.