Joe was seriously injured, fighting for his very life. When Frank had first seen Joe, he recalled how horrified he had felt. His strong, vivacious, and spirited brother lay immobile, attached to countless tubes, surrounded by innumerable bandages. Frank didn’t know if he could go on if something happened to Joe who was not only his brother, but also his best friend. They had always been of the same spirit despite their drastically different temperaments. What would he do if a part of his soul were missing forever?

No. I can’t think like that, Frank reminded himself. Joe will be okay. He HAS to be. The only way Frank could concentrate on what was happening was to hold on to that thought; it was all he had.

As Frank turned into the parking lot at the police station, he also thought of Callie. He had just left his fiancée at their hotel, knowing full well that he didn’t know when he would see her again. After his stop here, he planned on going back to the hospital to be with his brother.

One thing he knew for certain was that a terrible rift had come between he and Callie, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. As he had held Callie earlier, he realized how much he didn’t want to let her go, because once he did, he knew their distance had a good chance of growing. He could only pray that Callie would forgive him, and understand why he had to make his impossible choice.

And so, Frank, meaning well and trying to do the right thing, now stood to lose his only brother and the woman he loved. I might not be able to fix the results of this, he thought angrily, but I can certainly fix the cause.

Walking into the police station, he met with the Chief, a middle-aged man named Dan Bryant, who had requested that Frank come to the station right away. Apparently, some news had developed regarding the gravesite and Nash and Jenkins. Anything Frank could do to help to put these men behind bars- if they even deserved that much- he was more than willing to do.

The police office was buzzing with officers as Frank made his way through the building. The discovery of the grizzly murders had brought police officers and media personnel to Cape May from far around the accompanying region. The normally quiet beach town, known for its serene atmosphere and old, Victorian homes, was alive with activity. Something about the dichotomy struck Frank as unnatural.

"Frank Hardy?"

Frank turned as he heard his voice, and found himself facing the Chief, who had his hand extended in greeting.

Frank clasped it in a firm handshake. "Hello, Chief."

"Call me Dan," the Chief said with a small smile. "I have a feeling we’ll be spending a considerable amount of time together. Please, follow me."

Frank nodded, and was led into the Chief’s private office in the back. "Crazy around here, huh, since those bodies were discovered," he began, as Frank took a seat.

"Yeah, it is," Frank politely responded, anxious to find out what new information had been discovered.

The Chief sighed. "How’s your brother, son? And your girlfriend? They had a pretty rough time at the hands of those maniacs, from what I understand. I’m real sorry about that."

Frank winced as he thought about it again, but finally responded, "Joe, my brother, is in pretty bad shape. Callie…" Frank paused, and then continued, "She’ll be okay, I hope. Thanks for asking."

Dan looked at him. "No problem," he said earnestly.

"Look, Dan, we HAVE to catch these guys." Frank leaned across the desk, eyes intent. "They can’t get away with this. I have a promise to keep."

The Chief was surprised by the intensity of Frank’s eyes and the resolve in his voice. "We will, son. That’s actually why I asked you to come in here. We have some- news- that is a little disturbing. With the intense media coverage, it’s been a little difficult to keep things under wraps, and we don’t know how long we can keep this quiet, either. We’ve managed to thus far."

"Go on," Frank prodded, hanging on to every word.

"Okay," Dan began, slowly. "You know about the unmarked grave that was found by your girlfriend."

"Fiancée," Frank couldn’t help but add, sadly. "Yes. What about it?"

The Chief looked up. "Oh. Congratulations," he said, before continuing.

"Thanks," Frank whispered, having to shake himself out of his reverie.

"Anyway," Dan went on, "At the time, it appeared as though there were four bodies that had been located in the grave. That number is inaccurate. There were seven."

Frank looked up, surprised. "Wow. What was going on there?"

Dan sighed. "A lot, actually. The bodies there were badly damaged- in five of the cases, the people were dismembered. In all of the cases, the men were tortured."

Frank’s face paled, but he nodded. "Okay. Who were they? Have you been able to get identifications on the men?" Then, as a thought hit him, he added, "Are Nash and Jenkins responsible for their deaths? Do you know that? Who are Nash and Jenkins?"

Dan held up his hand. "Whoa, son. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about." He met Frank’s eyes. "We do have some knowledge, and I don’t think you’ll like what we found out."

"Okay- what do you know?" Frank asked.

Taking a deep breath, Dan finally answered Frank. "The men who were in those graves were not nice people. They were, in reality, some of the worst scum of society. We’ve identified five of the men—we can infer that the final two will produce the same result. You’re looking at drug dealers, murderers, and men involved in the underground practices of society; sex, prostitution, pornography."

Frank felt the implications of the words immediately. "So you’re saying that this is what Nash and Jenkins are involved with."

"I’m saying," Dan cut in, "That Nash and Jenkins not only are among these type of people, but they are responsible for killing the others. All evidence points to that fact."

Frank swallowed, hard. "Who are Nash and Jenkins?"

The Chief paused. "Very bad men who have rap sheets a mile long, but have always managed to escape the authorities and have not been seen in quite a while. They’re not from this area- in fact, they’ve been linked to New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, and other major cities. Apparently, they’re heavily involved in all those practices that I just mentioned, but especially in pornography and murder.

"They are part of some sort of organized crime family that is spread throughout the country. Leaders have been captured and imprisoned, but new ones always spring up. This group is very, very dangerous. The pictures that Callie Shaw submitted to the newspaper and were published nationally contained information about these graves that they didn’t want to become public knowledge. They were angry, and they wanted revenge- that much is clear. Your brother and fiancée are extremely fortunate to have escaped with their lives."

Frank clenched his fists, trying to remain calm. "What can we do to catch them?" he asked at last.

Dan met his eyes. "Frank, there’s something else you should know. Two things, actually."

"What?" Frank asked at last.

"First," he began, honestly, "There is every reason to believe that Nash and Jenkins are still in the area. Let’s face facts, here. These guys don’t play. They almost killed your brother, true," Dan continued, "But who was their target? Callie Shaw. She got off without physical harm. It doesn’t make sense."

Frank swallowed, hard. "But… I mean, they played mind games with her. They.. made her watch… with my brother…" Frank realized he couldn’t go on. How could he explain to this man that the emotional torture so adversely affected Callie- all of them?

"Son," Dan replied, in a no-nonsense fashion. "I hear you. That type of gross behavior is all-together indicative of this group. But don’t you see? No one escapes from them unscathed. People are lucky to live. Your fiancée should be very careful, that’s all I’m saying."

Frank felt his heart start beating harder in his chest. Hadn’t these guys done enough? Hadn’t they all suffered enough?! He made a mental note to call Callie as soon as he got out of here, and to pick her up before he headed to the hospital. If Dan was right, and Frank had to admit that he did make sense, then there was no way that he’d let Callie out of his sight.

"Frank? Did you hear me?" the Chief asked.

"Yeah," Frank said quietly. "I hear you." Shaking off the feeling of dread that he now felt in the pit of his stomach, Frank met Dan’s eyes. "What is the other thing you said I should know?"

Dan inhaled sharply, and then finally said what he had been hesitant to mention since the beginning. "I think you should be very careful, too, Frank, and keep an eye on your brother as well. This case could be more than against your girlfriend, although she is certainly the primary focus of their revenge."

"Why is that?" Frank asked, puzzled.

Dan leaned across the desk and spoke forcefully. "Because guess who has spent a considerable amount of his time putting away this very organized crime family?"

Frank shrugged. "Who?"

"Fenton Hardy."

Frank’s eyes widened. "What?"

"That’s right, son," Dan continued. "Your father has done enough to destroy the upper members of their organization in his years that they’re probably more than a little pleased to be able to get back at him. And how better to do that than to destroy you and your brother, AND to get back at Callie Shaw- badly?! I’m telling you, watch out, watch your back. Until these guys are caught, it’ll be difficult for any of you to be completely safe."

"Oh, God," Frank murmured, exasperated. "I can’t believe this."

"Where is your brother now? And your fiancée?"

"Joe’s in the hospital. His girlfriend is there with him. Callie- she’s at the hotel."

"If I were you, I’d go get her and warn her," Dan said at last. "Just call it the gut instinct of a long-time cop, but I’d say there’s very good reason to think they’ll strike again."

Frank’s mind began to spin. Thanking Dan and asking to be informed about any further developments, he called Vanessa’s cell on the way back to the car and told her to stick close to Joe and not to leave the hospital. Although frightened, Vanessa agreed to do so.

Then, he went to call Callie. He tried her cell. He tried the room.

No one answered.

Fighting back panic, Frank realized it would take him over an hour to get back to the hotel with all of the traffic.

Despite hitting redial countless time, Callie’s phone continued to ring. As Frank pulled out into traffic, he tried one more time, and his eyes widened in horror.

"No," he whispered. "Oh, Callie, hang on."

The phone was dead.