Staying low, Joe waddled around to the other side, praying he would be less of a target. Two more shots rang out as Joe moved; one barely missing him as it ripped the fabric of his shirt before continuing its journey and slamming into a tree.

A siren sounded in the distance before a car door slammed shut. Joe leaned up in time to see a leprechaun green Mustang hurtling down the street and around the corner. No more shots, Joe observed, standing upright as Stan's door flew open and he came running out.

"Are you alright?" Stan demanded, grabbing Joe and looking at him critically. "You're hurt!" he declared seeing blood on Joe's shirt sleeve.

"It's just a scrape," Joe assured him as a cruiser pulled to a stop at the front of the drive. Joe's eyes went wide. "MOM!" he screamed and raced inside. Why hadn't she put in an appearance once it was safe? Had one of the bullets entered the house and struck her? Had a henchman entered their home and done something to her?

"Mom!" Joe yelled again, racing up the steps. He stopped when he saw his mother exiting her room wearing a robe, her head wrapped in a towel. "You were in the shower?" he asked, relief written all over his face as Stan came bounding up the steps.

Laura quickly went back in and shut the door. Joe smothered a grin and, turning around, hustled Stan back out of the house as Sergeant Con Riley came running up to them. "Are you all right?" he demanded. "We got a call that shots were being fired."

"I made the call," Stan informed him. "Someone was using Joe for target practice."

"Did you see anyone?" Con asked Joe.

"A light green Mustang," Joe told him. "But I never got a look at the driver." He frowned. "We made a bust at the hotel just a little while ago," he continued. "I guess we didn't get them all."

"Unless this is someone different," Con pointed out.

"Possible," admitted Joe. "But doubtful." He shrugged. "At any rate, we're on our way to headquarters to press charges against two of the men captured earlier. Would you let mom know what happened?" he asked, sure she would be worried.

"Sure thing," Con promised. "Can you get around my car?"

"We'll take my jeep," Stan said.

"Okay," Con said. "After I talk to your mom, I'll look around and see if I can find anything."

"The shots came from that way," Joe said, pointing down the street. "From the way the bullets went, I would say the shooter stayed on the ground."

"Gotcha," Con said. "Be careful and be sure and let the officer you talk to know about this."

"Will do," Joe agreed before he and Stan left.

"Life is never dull at your house, is it?" Stan asked as they climbed into the jeep.

"No," Joe agreed. "But sometimes, I wish it were," he admitted with a little sigh. "A little ordinary might be good for a change."

After they had finished identifying and pressing charges against Willis and Meecham, Stan was asked to wait while Joe was sent to Chief Collig's office.

"He's here," Collig said as Joe entered the room and shut the door. "Joe, your dad is on the speaker phone."

"Dad, have I got a lot to tell you!" Joe exclaimed.

"I know. I have already spoken with Agent Tinesdale and Ezra. I just got off the phone with your mother. I wanted her to go to a safe house until this case is done but she refused because she knew you and your brother would as well."

"Who are these guys and why are they after me?" Joe demanded.

"They are part of a unified terrorist attack headed by Logan Dempsey. They probably went after you to try and get to me. You, nor your brother, are safe. I want both of you to be extremely careful."

"We will," Joe promised. He talked for another couple of minutes then said goodbye, leaving Chief Collig to end the conversation at his leisure.

***

It was late when Frank got a chance to call Chet but he knew Chet would probably be up late since there was no school the next day. He wasn't disappointed. Even though it was after three in the morning, Chet picked up the phone on the first ring. Frank told him about the job opening and Chet promised to be down there first thing in the morning.

When Frank hung up, he headed to the kitchen. He had discovered that being a bellhop entailed more than carrying luggage; it also included room service.

He pushed the cart off the elevator and down the hall to room 219. He knocked on the door but received no answer. He used his master key to get inside, as instructed by the cook. He was about to leave the cart and depart when he noticed the corner of a picture sticking out of a shirt lying on the bed.

There were no faces, just a pair of pants, but something about them looked oddly familiar. Frank went closer and pulled the picture out. It was a picture of Joe and himself at the carnival two weeks ago. The butterfly design on the pants, which had attracted his attention, was actually a stain made from chocolate ice cream.

Frank quickly went through the pockets. He found half a pack Luckys and a receipt from Burger King. Hearing the toilet flush, Frank quickly put all the items back into the pocket, including the picture. He had barely reached the cart when the bathroom door opened and a man stepped out.

Frank lifted the lid on the man's late night snack. "Thanks," said the man, pulling a five out of his pocket. He held it out to Frank. As Frank neared the man, his fist shot up and landed squarely on Frank's jaw.