It was about four in the morning by the time the boys reached a dusty looking motel, just 10 minutes drive from the edge of the Canyon.

They checked themselves in and wearily flopped down on the twin beds in the rooms.

"I guess there’s no point in heading to the Rangers office now", Joe looked at his watch and yawned. He was asleep almost before the end of the sentence.

Frank dropped off soon after, but not before setting the alarm on his watch to 6am.

It was a bleary eyed pair that made their way down a long laneway to the Rangers office. The Ranger’s name was Bill, a thin wiry man of about forty. He was pleasant and helpful, even providing the boys with a map on which he roughly outlined the location of all the cabins that he could remember.

As the boys walked back to the car Frank looked at Joe, "I’m tired."

Joe smiled wearily at him. "Me too. Sorry you came?"

"Na" Frank replied. "Who else is going to drive?"

Joe laughed softly as he climbed into the passenger seat of the car. The grey station wagon took off in the direction of the nearest cabin to them according to the map.

This first cabin turned out to be occupied by a large and noisy family of raccoons, and looked like no human had lived there for years.

So it continued. They went from one cabin to the next, but either they were old and abandoned or had holiday makers in them.

And so the day stretched on, and the sun rose high in the sky. The air-conditioning in the station wagon was unreliable and oftentimes blew out hot air instead of cold.

Both Frank and Joe were silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Frazer was somewhere close by; the pair could almost feel him. They knew they had to keep driving, if it took them all night.

By this time it was about 4 o’clock in the afternoon and the sun showed no signs of abating. Frank was busily negotiating the station wagon through some overgrown bushes quite close to the canyon edge. They saw rather a large log cabin in the distance.

Suddenly Joe spoke up. "This is the one, Frank, I know it". Frank knew it too. There was something about the location, the obviously expensive cabin in amongst overgrown bushes.

Frank pulled up some distance from the front of the cabin. He got out, and slowly made his way up alongside the side of the cabin, Joe following close behind. Frank noted that he hadn’t brought the shot gun.

They slowly edged their way up to a back window and Frank peered in. The cabin was still, silent. There had been no car out front. It appeared that no-one was inside. Slowly and carefully, Joe opened the back window and slid in. Frank held his breath, waiting for Joe to call the all clear.

Two minutes later, he heard the back door of the cabin open, and Joe’s head emerged. His face was white. "We have the right cabin alright. You have to see this"

Frank stepped in the back door of the cabin, and his eyes immediately fell on the wall of what appeared to be a darkroom. It was covered with photographs.

The photos were of Frank, of Joe, Callie and Vanessa. There were dozens of them, photos of the two couples having dinner, sitting on the porch of the boys California apartment, sitting in restaurants eating dinner, pictures of Joe and Frank surfing, sitting on the beach, talking or laughing.

Frazer seemed to have intruded into all the most precious moments of the boys lives without them even knowing about it.

Frank felt ill. He couldn’t believe that Frazer had been following them for all that time and they hadn’t even realized. They were meant to be detectives for pete’s sake.

There were later photos too, of Frank and Joe arguing, of Vanessa coming out of hospital, and of Frank sitting alone on the porch after Joe had returned to Bayport.

At first neither boy could speak. Finally Joe broke the silence.

"He wanted to break us up Frank, the four of us, Me and Ness, you and Callie, me and you. That’s why he did what he did." "And I almost let him." Joe’s eyes filled with tears.

For once, Frank didn’t let his emotions overcome him. "I know, Joe, but right now I think we are too far over our heads. I say we get out of here and call the local sheriffs office."

Surprisingly, Joe nodded his agreement.

The pair left the cabin, being careful not to leave any tracks, and quickly made their way back to the car. Frank found himself fumbling with the keys of the car and realized then that his hands were shaking.

As they made their way back towards the motel Joe blurted out "I’m sorry, Frank"

"Sorry?" Frank sounded puzzled.

"Yeah, sorry. I know it wasn’t your fault, and I guess I know why you made the decision that you did"

Frank turned his eyes to those of his brothers. "I’m sorry too Joe. Sorry for the way things turned out"

That was all they said, but somehow in those few words, a huge gap was suddenly narrowed.

"I guess we should so straight to the police station," Frank said as they neared the small town. There was no answer from Joe. Frank looked over at him; his eyes were closing despite his best efforts to keep them open.

"How about I drop you at the motel and then head down myself to the station, Frazer can’t know we are here yet, and I’ll only be a half hour or so."

Joe nodded, and within minutes, Frank had let him out of the car and took off towards the town.

Frank tapped the steering wheel as he drove; something he often did when he was deep in thought. He was thinking back to the cabin in the woods and those photographs all over the walls.

He didn’t notice the white van coming closer and closer to him. By the time he did, it was too late. The van was speeding towards him.

Frank swerved in order to avoid the larger vehicle, but he was too late. There was a loud crunching of metal as the station wagon left the road and rolled across the bumpy desert until it eventually came to a stop.

Franks head crashed against the dashboard, stunning him. He tried to move, to take off his seatbelt, but found that he was too dazed to function properly. He heard footsteps behind him and a voice that he remembered only too well.