CJ kept a close eye on the hospital over the next few days, waiting for Frank to be released. On Saturday afternoon, his patience was rewarded. He’d sent several other "gifts" to Frank, all in white boxes. One had been a teddy bear with the stuffing ripped out. CJ would have given anything to see Joe’s face when Frank had opened that box!

He saw Fenton Hardy’s beige Cadillac pull up, then a very pale Frank Hardy climbed in the backseat. CJ could see Joe’s head in the back as Frank lay down. Fenton had made the mistake of letting Joe roll the windows down to let in the fresh, cool, salt-scented air. CJ slipped his car into gear and began to follow them yet again. Only this time would be slightly different.

After getting on the parkway, CJ gunned the engine of the old black Toyota and pointed it directly at the Cadillac. He wasn’t going to hurt them, not yet, just give them a good scare and then ditch the car for another one.

Fenton drove carefully, not wanting to do anything that might put his son in pain. He didn’t even notice the Toyota until is slammed into his bumper. Frank cried out as he rolled onto the floor from the force of the impact. Joe twisted around in his seat and gasped. "It’s the POS, Dad! He’s coming at us again!"

Just as Joe spoke, the car lurched forward again. Frank squeezed his eyes closed and clenched his teeth. Fenton sped up in an attempt to get away. "Where’s a cop when you need one?" he muttered angrily. Joe pulled Frank up from the floor as Fenton began weaving through traffic. The Toyota fell back until it was out of view. But Fenton didn’t stop until they were home, where he surveyed the damage to his car.

He pulled into the circular driveway in front of the house and got out of the car. The back bumper was barely hanging on and the taillights were merely remnants of what they had been. Fenton crossed his arms and sighed. This was going to cost a small fortune to fix. There was absolutely no way he could get the trunk open right now to retrieve his briefcase and camera.

He turned his attention to Frank. He was still very weak and it took Fenton and Joe to get him inside. "Dad, I don’t think I can make it upstairs," Frank whispered. They led him into the living room and Frank settled on the couch. Ruthie was instantly next to him, playing nurse. Frank smiled as she fussed with the blanket for the longest time, getting it just right so her brother wouldn’t be cold. Then she ran upstairs and came back with his pillow and his green teddy bear.

"Thank you, Ruthie," Frank told her as she pressed the bear into his arms. He kissed her cheek them obediently leaned back.

Ruthie sat on the edge of the couch and looked at her oldest brother. "Now, Frank. Mommy said I get to watch you. You have to be good or I’ll tell!"

Frank choked back a laugh at the stern look on her face. She looked like Aunt Gertrude! "I’m always good, Ruthie."

The stern look disappeared. "Then why did you get sick?" She looked up at Frank, her big blue eyes filled with tears. Frank pulled her into his lap and held her tightly. "I don’t know, Ruthie," he whispered in her ear. A few minutes later she was fine, and she resumed her role of "nurse". Frank snuggled down under the blanket and closed his eyes.

"Frank," Fenton called from the doorway of his study.

Frank sighed. "Yes, Dad?"

"I’ve got some surveillance pictures that I need you to run through that graphics program of yours."

Frank raised himself up and looked at his father, a huge smile on his face. "Really?"

Fenton smiled back and nodded. "Really. Sam, Joe and I have been watching a warehouse at the docks. I need you to clean them up for me." He walked over and leaned against the back of the couch. "You’re still part of the team, Frank. You may not can do legwork right now, but you can still use your head!"

"Thanks, Dad." Frank then leaned back again and closed his eyes. It was time for a nap. Fenton returned to his study, a new determination to keep Frank involved in his investigations growing inside of him.

Frank had planned on starting work on the pictures after his nap, but he didn’t wake up until his mother shook him and said dinner was ready. He leaned on Joe as they went into the dining room. He couldn’t resist asking about the reason for the pictures.

"Well, we’re watching a warehouse that the DEA thinks is being used to smuggle drugs into New York City and Bridgeport. There’s been activity one of the four nights we’ve been watching."

Frank turned to Joe. "So that’s why you were sleeping every time you stayed with me!"

Joe grinned sheepishly. "I would have told you, but I never could remember when I was awake enough to make sense."

Frank shook his head. "My brother the genius," he muttered. Joe made a face, then reached for another roll.

Fenton smiled at his sons. They never ceased to amaze him. He turned his gaze back to Frank. "I got several shots of people, and I’d like you to try to pull some faces out."

Frank nodded. "Shouldn’t be too hard. I might even could start on them tonight."

But after they were finished eating and Frank had taken a shower, he dropped into bed and almost instantly fell asleep. He failed to hear Joe’s fight with Piper over who got to sleep in Joe’s bed, or Ruthie’s shrieks of laughter as she and Fenton played in her room. He didn’t notice when Joe came in and dropped Piper on the bed, then left muttering about possessed cats.

However, he did notice the stares and the way people steered clear of him the next morning in church. Apparently the whole town of Bayport know knew about Frank’s illness. As soon as the Hardy family was seated in their usual place, Frank retreated into his own little world. Their church was now full of people who didn’t know about the first time. Bayport had grown so much in the last 7 years and Frank hated the stares, the looks of pity and the whispering from the newer members.

Joe nudged his brother. "You OK?" he whispered.

"I wish everyone would stop staring at me. They’re acting like I have two heads!" Frank glanced up at Joe, who was smiling. "What?"

"Pretend you do!"

"I had to ask!" Frank groaned. Just then the service started and Frank relaxed. He was so glad they always sat in the back.

After lunch, Frank settled on the living room sofa with his book to rest before tackling the pictures. Just as he cracked his book open, the doorbell rang. He heard his mother answer it, then a very cold, "Hello, Callie."

Callie took a deep breath. "Could I please talk to Frank, Mrs. Hardy? It’s very important."

Laura though a moment, then opened the door all the way. Callie walked in, followed by a nice-looking young man. "And who is this?" Laura asked, her voice still cool and slightly unfriendly.

"He’s the reason I need to talk to Frank." Callie knew Laura was mad at her, along with the rest of the family. And they had every reason to be. Callie had been berating herself for not explaining to Frank since school had let out. She was determined not to leave until Frank knew the truth.

"It’s alright, Mom," Frank called out. "I want to know what’s going on." He dropped his book onto the floor and focused on Callie as she walked into the room and sat down. He recognized the man from his recent hospital stay. He was a nurse in the Intensive Care Unit. "This better be good, Callie."

Callie took another deep breath just as Joe walked in. He sat down and remained quiet, so she started talking. "This is Quin Walters. I met him last fall when you were undercover in New York City. We spent a lot of time together the two weeks you were gone. He took me out to dinner a couple of times and we got along really great." She paused. She could see Joe tensing up in anger. Frank was also doing his best to remain calm and hear her out.

"After you came back, things just weren’t the same with us, so I kept seeing him. You were staying so busy with your dad and your own cases and you were always pre-occupied at school."

Frank flinched at that remark. He had sort of ignored her after returning from New York. He’d been distracted with the trial and the possibility of murder charges against Joe. But Callie hadn’t known that because he hadn’t told her. "I’m sorry, Callie," he said softly. "I was pre-occupied. Joe was almost charged with murder and that was all I could think about. But then after Christmas you kept brushing me off. You know how important Joe is to me."

"Yes, I know. Frank, I don’t know what happened. But I do know that it wasn’t all you." Callie felt Quin’s hand slip into hers and she squeezed it. It was then that the Hardys noticed the ring on Callie’s left hand Frank swallowed hard as Callie continued.

"Quin proposed over spring break and I accepted two weeks ago." Silence filled the room for several minutes.

Frank looked into Callie’s blue-green eyes. "Why didn’t you tell me sooner?" he asked quietly.

Callie shrugged slightly. "I really don’t know, Frank. I didn’t realize what you had told me until I ran into Phil last week. I wouldn’t blame you if you never want to see me again."

"I wouldn’t go that far, Callie," Frank told her. "Just not any time soon. Eventually we might could be friends again, but for now-" he broke off.

"I understand, Frank." With that, she stood and the two left

Joe looked at Frank as soon as they were gone. " I wasn’t expecting that!"

"Me either. I’m really kind of glad it happened though. The downs with her were beginning to outnumber the ups. But I would like to stay friends if we can manage it."

Joe nodded, then changed the subject. "So, how about we tackle them pictures?"

Frank stood. "Sounds like a plan to me." The brothers went upstairs to Frank’s room and began scanning pictures. Fenton still preferred his 35mm camera at night. He said developing film relaxed him.

"Weren’t there some pictures of the garage that needed to be printed out?" Frank looked at Joe, who was now wearing a huge grin.

"I did it already. And all by myself too."

Frank nodded. "Impressive. I told you it wasn’t hard!"

Two hours later Frank had the pictures scanned, cleaned up and the shading adjusted. Fenton joined them as they looked through the photos. Suddenly Joe gasped and his finger landed on the screen.

"Hey! You’re getting fingerprints all over my screen!" Then Frank looked closely at the person Joe’s finger had landed on. "Uh-oh."

"What?" Fenton asked. "You recognize him?" Joe nodded.

"It’s CJ Ericson," Frank answered grimly. "I wonder what he was doing there."

Fenton stood up from his seat behind Frank. "The leader of the Tigers," he said thoughtfully. "I’m going to run a check on him and see just what all he’s in too." He then went downstairs to his office.

"This just keeps getting better and better!" Joe remarked sarcastically.

"No kidding." Frank stared at the picture in front of him. The more he learned about this guy, the less he like it. "Maybe Dad’ll find an outstanding warrant on him." Frank then hit the "print" button.

Joe smiled. "That would be nice."

But Fenton had no such luck. He learned everything there was to know about the Ericson brothers, including that PJ Ericson had been wanted on three counts of murder at the time of his death. Fenton was very glad that count had not gone up to four or five with his sons’ lives. The Ericson brothers had been as close as Frank and Joe from all reports. But where Frank and Joe fought the bad guys, CJ and PJ were the bad guys!

The rest of the week passed uneventfully as far as the stalking was concerned. They still had no basis for an arrest warrant. Frank received another treatment on Wednesday. Joe sat up with Frank all night as he battled the nausea. Joe didn’t mind the staying up part. It was the reason that bothered him.

But by Saturday, Frank was himself again. There was a huge neighborhood/church picnic planned at the park, and both boys were excited. Joe was looking forward to the big baseball game, but bemoaning the fact that Frank wouldn’t be able to pitch. The pneumonia the week before had sapped his energy and he didn’t think he could make it through the game. And the chemo treatment hadn’t helped matters much.

The family piled into the boys’ van and arrived at the park fifteen minutes later. People were just beginning to arrive. Laura staked out a spot under a large tree that had plenty of shade. The men unloaded the van, then Frank settled on the blanket with his book while Joe and Ruthie went over to the playground.

A few minutes later, just as Frank was getting engrossed in the story, Becka Nickerson plopped down next to him. "Hi."

Frank jumped and glared at her. "Don’t do that! If I’d been standing I might have flattened you!"

Becka smiled. "Sorry." She folded her legs up Indian style and looked at him. "How are you doing?" she asked softly.

Frank shrugged. "OK. It could be worse."

Becka had known about his leukemia for almost two weeks now. When she’d started volunteering on the oncology floor at Bayport General, she’d had no idea that she would find Frank Hardy there. She had also been a volunteer in River Heights and it was not something she was willing to give up.

She would never forget walking into that double room and seeing Frank lying in the bed, sound asleep. She’d turned around and left, then returned a couple of hours later to make sure she hadn’t imagined it. She hadn’t. He was awake this time. "Why are you up here?" she’d asked softly.

Frank had been silent for a minute before answering. "Leukemia," he’d finally whispered. She’d hugged him then, and promised she wouldn’t tell her brother. And she’d kept that promise too, so she changed the subject as Nancy and Ned came into view.

For the first time, Frank cringed inwardly as he greeted Nancy. Sooner or later she would give him the third degree. And he really had no desire to answer her questions just then.

Almost an hour passed before Joe appeared again, this time with Vanessa in tow. The park had filled rapidly. "The game’s about to start!" he announced.

"What game?" Becka asked.

"The biggest baseball game of the summer!" Joe shook his head, then turned his attention to Ned. "My team is short a player. Wanna play?"

Ned stood. "If a can borrow a glove."

"No prob." The group moved over the baseball diamond where a crowd was gathering to watch the game. It promised to be an interesting game between The Hardy Gang and the Southport Summer League. Joe introduced Ned, then announced that Tony was pitching.

"We’re going to get creamed!" Chet moaned.

"Then we’ll get creamed putting up a good fight!" Joe looked at his friend. He was determined to play the best game he’d ever played, for Frank. They all headed out to their positions. The other team was up at bat first.

Ned snagged Joe’s shirt. "Why are we going to get creamed?"

"Frank usually pitches for us," Joe answered. "He holds the state high school record for strike-outs pitched. Dad told him he couldn’t play because of the pneumonia last week." Joe didn’t feel the least bit guilty about not telling Ned the whole truth. He didn’t need to know.

Ned nodded, then jogged over to left field. Joe took his place at third base and the game began. The first three innings were runless. Frank was shouting instructions to Tony from his place behind the first baseline. Tony was listening too. Then at the bottom of the fourth inning, Ned scored the first run.

The Bayport crowd cheered loudly. Frank, Becka and Nancy were jumping up and down as Biff batted in the second run. By the seventh inning, they were up 7-0.

Just as Joe stepped up to bat, a loud commotion was heard and the spectators parted like the Red Sea. Joe turned, dropped his bat and stared as CJ Ericson appeared with his buddies. Frank saw Joe tense up and went over to him. He placed a hand on Joe’s shoulder. "Easy, Joe. Letting him start a fight won’t do any good."

Joe took a deep breath to calm himself. It didn’t work. Ericson walked out to home plate. He stared at the brothers for what seemed an eternity to Joe. "Don’t mind me, Joseph. I just came to watch the game." He laughed as Joe’s eyes narrowed and his hands balled into fists.

"Get lost!" Joe hissed. He hated being called Joseph.

Ericson shook his head and smiled sadistically. "I’m afraid I can’t that, Joseph. You see, things are different where I come from. An eye for an eye. A brother for a brother."

"Is that a threat?" Frank challenged.

No, Hardy." Ericson paused, letting the tension build. "It’s a promise."

Joe reached his boiling point and let loose with a powerful roundhouse right that knocked Ericson to the ground and left him dazed. Joe then bent over and grabbed a handful of Ericson’s shirt. "You stay away from my brother or next time I’ll take your head off!" Joe released the shirt and stepped back, but not before Ericson grabbed his arm and flipped him to the ground.

Joe found himself being squished beneath the young man, with CJ’s hands wrapped around Joe’s throat. "I always keep my promises, Hardy. Always." He was about to say more when someone grabbed the back of his collar and yanked him up. He turned and found himself staring into the angry green eyes of Biff Hooper.

"I don’t know who you think you are," Biff told him. "But no one threatens my friends and gets away with it!" He shoved Ericson back. "Now get out of here before I change my mind and take you apart!" Biff’s voice had lowered to a growl by the time he was finished speaking.

Frank pulled Joe up as Ericson and his cronies left. "Are you OK?"

Joe started brushing dirt from his jeans and shirt. "Yeah, I’m OK." He turned to Biff. "Thanks, pal. I owe you one!"

Biff brushed the comment aside. "Don’t worry about it." The three walked towards the Hardys’ spot on the grass. The game suddenly didn’t matter anymore. "So, who was that guy?" Biff asked.

"My secret admirer," Frank answered.

Biff whistled. "That was CJ Ericson?"

Joe nodded glumly.

"I see why you’re worried." Biff made sure that the brothers made it safely to their parents, then disappeared.

The Hardys left early that afternoon. Joe had lost interest in what was going on and Frank was now truly afraid. Ericson was serious, and deranged enough to keep that promise. Upon arriving home, Frank went to his room and remained there the rest of the evening.

Just before going to bed, Joe went to check on his brother. Frank was sound asleep. Joe gently sat down on the bed and stared at Frank for a minute. "Don’t worry, Frank," he whispered. "I won’t let him get you."