Steven Taylor leaned back in his chair behind the large wooden desk in his classroom. A stack of reports sat in front of him, desperately needing to be graded. Unfortunately, Steven couldn't find the energy needed to tackle the task. The past few days had been such a nightmare. He knew he should have taken some time off, but it helped to have something to keep his mind occupied - and off the rumors that had begun to surface with Emma's death. He could feel it everywhere he went in town - the looks, the whispered words. No one believed Emma would commit suicide. Steven must have had something to do with it, right?

Snapping the red grading pencil he held in two, he slammed the pieces onto his desk. Watching as they bounced of the hard wooden top and onto the floor in separate directions, he dropped his head into his hands. It just wasn’t fair! First Sara, and now Emma. Not only had he lost both of the women he loved so much; but the police now seemed to think he was responsible.

A knock at the classroom door caused him to look up.

Quickly rising from his chair, he strode across the room and opened the door. Two young men that looked vaguely familiar stood in the hallway. Frowning, Steven quickly tried to place their faces and gave up.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" Steven asked.

The dark headed one nodded. "I hope so. My name is Frank Hardy. This is my brother Joe. We were hoping to get a chance to talk to you today." Frank held out his hand to Steven. Steven looked down at it for a moment, then reached out to shake it.

"Well, that depends. What did you want to talk about, Mr. Hardy?" As if I don’t already know, Steven thought to himself.

"Chief Collig hired us to look into the death of Miss Lawson," Joe said. "As her fiancé, you are the best person to talk to. Who would know her better than you, right?"

Steven suddenly realized why their faces had seemed so familiar. He’d already moved on to college by the time these two were big names in high school here, but he’d seen their faces in the local newspaper often enough to know who they were.

Steven gave a bitter laugh. "You mean the best suspect, don’t you? I know why you’re here. Chief Collig had decided I’m guilty and he’s called out the famous Hardy brothers to prove it." He glared angrily at Frank. "I must really rate the big time if you’re handling my case. The last I heard, your little investigating team was defunct, with one of you in New York and the other off somewhere in California."

Frank glanced around the hallway. A student, obviously a straggler as the other teens forced to attend summer classes had already made a beeline for the parking lot, eyed them curiously as she passed by. "Yes, well, we’re both back home, working out of Bayport now. And as for whether or not you're guilty of anything, hey, that’s not my call. The Chief’s shorthanded right now, and we agreed to give him a hand in finding out exactly what happened to Emma. That’s what’s important, isn’t it? Finding out why Emma died?"

Steven stared past the brothers for a few seconds. "Yeah, it is," he said. "Let’s not talk here, though. Give me a couple of minutes to grab my things and we’ll go for a walk. There’s a park not far from the school where I like to sit and sort things out sometimes. We can talk there."

Nancy detested grocery shopping. Especially when it had to be done with a four and a 1/2 year old in tow. She always felt like she was running a race to get everything on her list in the cart without any surprises also making their way into the cart courtesy of Laurie. Sighing, she pulled the box of Fruit Loops out of the cart and set it back on the shelf.

"Laurie, come back here," she said, exasperation creeping into her voice.

Laurie turned from her examination of a box of sugar coated pop tarts to witness her mother putting the cereal she’d chosen back on the shelf. Eyes widening, she cried out, "Mommy, no! I need those."

"You do not," Nancy reprimanded. "You’re hyper enough without eating pure sugar for breakfast. Besides, how many times have I told you not to put stuff in the cart without my permission?"

"But, Mommy," she said, her voice verging on a slight whine. "Fruit Loops are good for you. You said I need fruit! Aren’t they fruit? They say fruit!" Laurie’s mouth formed a small pout as Nancy placed a box of Life cereal in the cart instead. "I don’t want that one."

"Tough, kiddo. This one’s better for you."

"I don’t like that one," she said, grabbing onto the side of the cart to take the cereal out.

"You liked it last month. Besides, don’t you ever watch the commercials? Kids eat this stuff all the time on TV."

Laurie looked confused. "You said TV wasn’t real."

"Never mind," Nancy sighed, moving the cereal out of Laurie's reach. "Just don’t put anything else in the cart without asking."

Nancy turned the corner, in search of crackers. Finally finding what she wanted on the bottom shelf, she stood up just in time to find Laurie dropping a package of cookies into the cart. "Laurie Hardy!" she said. "What did I just tell you?"

"But Mommy, they aren’t for me!" Laurie pleaded with huge blue eyes. "They’re for Daddy. He likes Oreos. He said so. We need some Oreos for when he comes over."

Nancy heard laughter break out from behind her, as a familiar voice spoke. "Well, she does have a point. If I remember correctly, Frank Hardy can’t resist an Oreo cookie."

Nancy turned around to find herself face to face with Callie Shaw. Startled, she dropped the box of crackers on the floor.

"Sorry," Callie said, reaching down to retrieve the crackers. "I didn’t mean to startle you."

"Oh, no, you didn’t," Nancy started to say. Dropping the crackers in the cart, she grinned. "Well, that’s not exactly true. You did, but just a little."

Callie pushed back a strand of blond hair, tucking it behind her ear. "Frank told me you were coming back to Bayport. At first I thought he’d finally flipped; but then when he told me everything that had happened..." she stopped, looking thoughtful. "Well, it was such a wild story that I figured he couldn’t have imagined it. And here you are, alive and well."

"Yeah," Nancy said. "Here I am." Both young women stood still for a moment, unsure of what to say next.

"This must be Laurie," Callie finally said. "I’ve heard a lot about her." She smiled at the little girl. Laurie eyed Callie carefully as she got off the cart and came over to stand by her mother.

"Yes, this Laurie," Nancy said. She ran her fingers through Laurie’s curls. "Laurie, I want you to meet an old friend of your dad’s. This is Callie Shaw. We used to know each other before you were born."

"Are you a friend of my mommy’s, too?" Laurie asked.

"I was," Callie said, smiling. "a long time ago. Now that she’s back in town, I’m sort of hoping I will be again. What are my chances, do you think?"

Laurie shrugged her shoulders and looked up at Nancy. Nancy looked visibly relieved as she smiled at Callie. "I think they’re pretty good," she said. "It would be nice to have a few friends here," she began, as a young woman with long black hair joined them. Clinging to her hand was a sandy haired little boy who looked to be about 4 or 5 years old.

"I hope I’m not interrupting anything," the young woman said.

"No, not at all." Callie said. "Let me introduce you guys. Nancy, this is my friend Maggie Westbrook. Maggie, this is Nancy Drew. Nancy just moved to Bayport recently."

"Try yesterday," Nancy said smiling. Shaking hands with Maggie, she spoke again. "It’s very nice to meet you, Maggie."

"Same here," she said. "So, how do you two know each other?"

"Well," Nancy began. "We used to date the same guy."

"Really?" Maggie said. "How interesting. And you two ended up friends afterward? That doesn’t happen often."

Callie laughed. "We didn’t date him at the same time," she replied. "I dated him in high school, and Nancy dated him in college."

"Exactly," Nancy said, nodding her head emphatically.

"We actually met each other while Callie was dating him though, during a summer vacation."

"I see," Maggie smiled. "Still, I bet that made for some interesting conversations later on."

Nancy and Callie looked at each other. "Yes," Callie agreed. "It certainly did." Callie’s brown eyes twinkled in merriment. "Hey, I have an idea. Maggie and I were planning to rent a couple of movies tonight. Why don’t you join us? We could catch up on what you’ve been doing during your stay in the afterlife."

"The what?" Maggie asked, confused.

Nancy grinned. "It’s a long story. Callie can fill you in on it. I appreciate the offer, but I’m not sure what I’d do with Laurie. Plus, I don’t want to barge in on your plans..."

"You wouldn’t be barging in. I’m inviting you. We’ll even invite Vanessa over too. It can be a night for just the girls. That’s ok with you, right Maggie?"

"Sure. It sounds like fun. Callie, did you say afterlife?"

"Well," Nancy hedged. "I’ll have to bring Laurie along..."

"Frank can watch her. After all, he’s her father. It’s his duty to give his child’s mom a night out every now and then." Callie grinned wickedly. "Want me to call and tell him he’s babysitting for you?"

Nancy shook her head again. "No, Callie, I can do that myself." She contemplated the offer for a minute, then nodded. "Ok, you win. Tell me when and where to show up, and I’ll be there."

"Great!" Callie wrote her address and phone number down on the back of a receipt from her purse and handed it to Nancy. "See you around 7 then."

"Ok," Nancy said. "Seven it is." She put the paper in her purse and reached for her cart. "I better get going, before Laurie gets cranky."

Maggie agreed. "We should too. I promised Shaun that I’d take him to the park before fixing dinner. With everything his father has went through this week, I don’t want to frighten him by bringing Shaun home late." Callie nodded sympathetically. As the two women said their goodbyes, Nancy was left to wonder what Maggie had meant by her last statement.

"Mommy?" Laurie asked.

"Hmmm," Nancy responded absently.

"Can we PLEASE get the cookies?"

"Sure," she said as she moved the cart down the aisle.

Looking up at the clear blue summer sky, Steven Taylor closed his eyes and relished the feeling of warmth on his face. He turned his gaze to his left. A group of young boys were playing a game of three-on-three on the basketball court. Two preteen girls sat on the side, leaning in to whisper and giggle with each other. Looking back at Frank and Joe, both sitting across from him at the picnic table, he smiled.

"Remember when life was that simple?" he said, nodding toward the group of children.

"Yeah," Joe said. "It seems like it was just a few months ago that all I had to worry about was which girl to impress the most and how to go about doing it. No worries, no responsibilities....that was the life."

"It was just a few months ago," Frank replied evenly. "Remember, California?"

"Oh, you're funny, Frank. You really crack me up, you know that?" Joe rolled his eyes at his older brother.

Steven smiled. "You two don't exactly seem like the detective type. Don't get me wrong, you seem like a couple of great guys. It's just..."

"Not serious enough for you?" Joe asked.

"Something like that," Steven said.

"That's my charm," Joe said. "I'm going for a young, dashing, semi-Columbo type of thing. Catch everyone off guard with my wit; let them think I'm a little clueless; and then slide in with the answers to everything. My brother here, however, is Scully from the X-files. Serious, does stuff by the book, looks at every little detail, you know, that kind of thing. Only he's not as hot as Scully."

Now it was Frank's turn to roll his eyes. "That's not even worth a comeback, Joe. Except maybe to ask if you even know who Columbo is."

"Of course I do," Joe retorted. "After all, I get cable TV. Rerun heaven!" he finished, winking at Steven.

Steven laughed this time. "So, Colombo, tell me what you want to know. I'll see if I can help."

"It would help if you could tell us anything you remember about the evening you found Emma's body," Joe said.

Steven sipped his soda. "I'd been teaching summer school, along with Emma. Core classes for those that didn't put in enough time or effort during the regular school year. Emma left around 1 o‘clock. I stayed until a little after 5, helping at baseball practice. Due to the long winter, our season got a late start this year; and we're just now beginning to wrap it up."

"So, you left work about 4 hours after Emma did," Frank asked, jotting down notes on a pad of paper he'd pulled from his pocket.

"Yeah," Steve said. "I was tired, and wanted to relax a little while. When I arrived at my house, I found it dark. There was no sign of Emma or my son, Shaun. I wandered around the downstairs; found Emma's note; and went upstairs. She had some music playing. It turned out that Shaun had spent the day with a friend of mine; and Emma had planned a romantic evening for just the two of us."

"Some romantic evening," he said, his eyes taking on a faraway look. "Imagine coming home to find the woman you love, dead, sprawled across your own bed. Like a rag doll. Her hair was spread out across the pillow, like strands of black satin glimmering in the lamplight." Steven paused as he fought back tears.

Joe looked down at the table. Taking a deep breath, he continued the interview. ""What else did you see?" he asked.

Steven shook his head. "Not a lot," he said. "There was a note on the bedside table. It was her handwriting. I'd recognize it anywhere. She had my prescription bottle still clutched in her right hand. I didn't see it at first because the book she'd been reading all week was covering it."

"What did you do then?" Frank asked.

"I dialed 911. I didn't know what else to do. I don't remember a whole lot after that. I think I sat down next to her and just stayed there, holding her hand until the ambulance arrived. And the police."

"Did you touch anything other than Emma?" Frank asked. "Or the note. The police report stated that your prints were on the note and Xanax bottle."

"No, I don't think so. I did pick up the note. And I think, I turned the bottle in her hand to see what it was. Plus, it was my prescription. I have trouble sleeping sometimes. So my prints would have been on it anyway."

"True," Frank replied. He looked thoughtfully at Joe.

"Is there anything else you want to ask about?"

"Maybe." Joe eyed Steven carefully. "What happened with Sara, Steven?"

"That's what this is all about, isn't it? Lightning strikes twice. My wife committed suicide by jumping into the rocks and water below the cliffs out by the highway. A witness saw her there. Without me. And now Emma overdoses. I admit, it looks bad, Joe. But I had nothing to with it. Emma and I were happy. And Sara...," he sighed. "Maybe I am partially to blame for Sara. We'd been arguing a lot at the time. She thought I was cheating on her with her best friend. I wasn't. Sara was my college sweet heart. I loved her, and only her. She ended the relationship permanently. I missed all the signs. She was depressed, argumentative, easily annoyed with little things, had withdrawn from the world around her. It was all right there in front of me and I missed it!" He slammed his hand on the table.

"Did you see any of those things with Emma?" Joe asked.

"No, I didn't," Steven said. "Even looking back, I still don't see them. We were happy. Both of us. How does this happen? One minute she's there, ready to spend the rest of her life with you. Then the next minute, she's gone. I just don't understand how it happened."

Frank shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Neither do I," he said. "Neither do I."

Joe cleared his throat. "I'm sure you probably need to get back for practice," he said, eyeing his brother. "Can we stop by if we think of something else we need to discuss?"

"Sure," Steven said. "Although, I'm not running late. I've been temporarily replaced on the coaching staff, until this whole mess is straightened out. I had to fight to keep my spot at summer school. They wanted to put me on a temporary leave." He stared at the kids on the basketball court again. "Whatever happened to being innocent until proven guilty?"

"We believe in that," Frank said. "Unless something shows up to prove otherwise, we believe that you're innocent."

"Thanks," Steven said. "I needed to hear that from someone."

"We're going to have to talk to the people that know you," Joe said. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"No," Steven said. "Knock yourself out. The police already did that, and it didn't seem to get them anywhere."

"You'd be surprised what we can come up with," Joe said lightly.

"We may need to talk to your son, too," Frank said.

"Shaun? Why Shaun? He wasn't even home that day."

"No, but he spent time with Emma. He may be able to tell us if she'd had any visitors you didn't know about."

Steven frowned. "I'm really trying my best to shield Shaun from this. He's only four. Do you have any experiences talking with kids that age at all?"

"No, he doesn't" Joe said with a grin. "But he's learning. Believe me, he's learning."