Frank leaned closer and closer to the computer screen until it was just an inch away from his eyes. He had just sent Callie home for she was without any mode of transport. She had taken a taxi to the Hardy’s residence because she was afraid if Frank saw her Camry in the driveway, he would simply drive off and not return. Sometimes, she was too shrewd for him but he was awfully glad she came. He needed to see her; he needed to talk to her. He only needed her to tell her his needs.

"So what’s our status now, Callie?"

"We’ll take it nice, slow and easy. There’s so much we have to mend…we must do it right this time."

Bret. Bret. Only one photo showing his blurry face and nothing else. No sign of an accomplice… or anything.

He closed the windows of the numerous photos he had called up on the screen and maximized the window that would flash her journal on the screen.

A knock and then his door swung rudely opened, startling him. Seeing that it was Joe, he was about to click the window shut but Joe’s eyes were too sharp.

"Leave it. Frank, I know Ness better than you. I promise I won’t go crazy, let me… let me just…" Joe gestured to the screen and implored with those huge, cobalt-colored orbs, which, at that moment, seemed to be all sparkling pupils and no whites.

He relented. There was no harm. Joe already knew the worst that the diary contained, maybe even more. If Joe should go berserk or act funny, at least Frank was beside him to catch him. Frank jerked his head towards the spare, plastic foldable chair at the corner of his room and Joe’s eyes lit up before he almost sprinted across the short distance to grab it, place it beside Frank’s chair and sat on it with a plop.

I got accepted into Boston. Joe was so happy. I am ecstatic, too! He kept rambling about how he can be with me and be close to Frank, who’s in Harvard. I told him something about Frank and Callie maintaining a long-distance relationship and he said Frank seemed to have no problems with it.

The casual way he put it made me brave. I asked him if I chose to stay behind in UB, not Boston… but Bayport, will he mind? His whole face just fell and he looked like he was about to cry. I was so afraid that we would get into another one of our fierce arguments again regarding this. The football scholarship’s important to him but he began muttering about staying behind as well. It was funny that Boston offered him a scholarship but Bayport rejected his application. I wonder why. It’s Bayport’s loss.

But then again, Bayport had never put much emphasis on football. I asked him again to try for a scholarship in music and he made a face at me, like this mischievous little monkey and started the whole story on how Beethoven made his life hell, (please refer to entries 2-02-01 and 12-04-01 for more details).

"Please… Ness… come with me to Boston. It’s a great University… more so than Bayport. We need to spread our wings and fly one day…" He begged me and I knew then he felt Bayport’s too small for him. He was always ready to explode with so much energy and Bayport can only harness so much of it.

I debated over how to tell Mom. First, I wrote a letter to Mina. I’m waiting for her advice… it’s nice to have such a mature, sweet cousin who seems to know all the right things to do. Mina’s said she wanted to come and visit but Uncle Brad was not feeling too good. His heart problem is getting worse and Ken had obviously cheated on her again.

I don’t want to hurt Mom, but at the same time, I really want to build a life with Joe.

With Joe.

Joe giggled then and Frank’s alarm bell wailed wildly. Joe caught his rounded eyes of worry and shook his head before pointing to the part where Vanessa wrote about Joe’s declaration of his dislike for classical music.

"I’m laughing at the way she referenced the previous entries. Very… amusing." He assured Frank but somehow, Frank was not too comforted.

"I did a check but I can’t find any mention of anyone who would want to hurt her in any way. Can you think of something?"

"Maybe someone who’s jealous of her cat-pin? I don’t know. How’s the Bret angle coming along?" Joe, after some deliberation, minimized the screen of the journal and began to click on files to find the photos. He just kept tapping at the mouse, bringing up irrelevant screens and when a cascade of windows flooded the flat-screen monitor, Frank hurriedly took over before the system could hang from data overload.

He went straight to the correct file and Joe listlessly surveyed it. "Is this the only one? There’s only Liz posing alone next to her car and the shadow of Bret behind her."

"Yup, it’s the only one. The softcopy of the photo that was destroyed. I’m sorry Joe, I can’t think of anything…" Frank propped his right elbow on the table and knocked his forehead with the right index-finger knuckle. Joe patted Frank’s shoulder lightly but again the sporadic contacts were too quick and awkward.

"It’s ok. You’re a genius, not a seer. Guess who I saw in the cemetery? Andrea. She came by later in the evening. She asked me about the case and it seemed like she saw you and Phil drove off from her house this morning and Mina could not lie to her. But it’s was good. We talked for a while and…" Joe raised his head up to the ceiling; a trembling smile graced his lips.

"And she forgave me. She forgave me. She said you and I are welcome anytime to look at anything Vanessa left behind that can help us find the killer. Frank… it felt so… to…"

"I know, kiddo. Hey, I got good news too… I’m sorry… I just need to… to share some happiness…" Frank patted Joe’s jeans-clad lap and grinned, unable to control himself. Joe guessed immediately and accurately.

"You made up with Callie?"

"Yup. Is it that obvious?"

"Yes, on your face and from a little bird who chirped in my ears first. Maggie saw you two kissing in the backyard. You have forgotten our nutty sister’s bedroom window overlook the nice spot with the swing." Joe gave Frank a half-smile, the old sadness still marring the mirth. Andrea’s forgiveness was not powerful enough to take away all the guilt but Frank knew it took away a good chunk of it.

‘Little imp…" Frank groused but he smiled. He wanted to tell Maggie too but she seemed too engrossed in her practicing. Even then, he could hear Canon March in D Major being beautifully coaxed by her on her seasoned violin from the room opposite his.

"Yah… treasure her this time, Frankie boy. Don’t you worry about Joey. I’m fine. I’ll have bad days but I’ll have good days too… I’ll be all right." Joe punched Frank lightly on the shoulder and Frank noticed Joe was wearing his black-leather motorcycle gloves.

But he said nothing about it. He just wished it was not a sign of escapism from reality.

"I didn’t hear your van pull up. What time did you get home?"

"Oh… about half an hour ago. Andrea drove me back. I asked her to stop at the main road because I wanted to take a slow walk in." Joe replied unaffectedly. Frank looked at him then with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows, afraid of what Joe was implying.

"Andrea drove you? Joe, you came back for your van… where is it? Have you sold it?"

Joe chuckled, shaking his head. "Frank, I’m not such a good salesman that I can just sell our old van in less than one afternoon and a little of evening. It’s parked at the car-park of the cemetery still… hmm… maybe not. I think there’s enough time for the mechanic to tow it away."

"What is it doing there? You ran out of gas?"

"Nope, the tires got slashed." His flippant tone was raising Frank’s ire. Immediately, Frank stood up to retrieve the brothers’ own case file on Bret from a combination-locked cabinet next to his cluttered bookshelf beside the study table. Frank punched in the numbers, remembering the combination from something much more trustworthy than memory. Some instinctive subconscious programming perhaps.

"Joe! Why didn’t you call me or tell me? This! This is serious…" Frank rattled on as he thumbed through the case file from where he was. "All of Bret’s victims had their mode of transportation tampered with in some way. Liz’s car was horrendously scratched. It was his way of telling the victims they can’t run from their fears… that he was coming and they can’t run. And the cat-pin! He always takes away something of his victims as some sort of souvenir…"

Joe’s attention was arrested as his brows knitted with deep thoughts going on in the messiness behind. "Now that you thought of it…"

Frank slammed the case file shut and placed it back carefully amongst the many that were proudly stamped, "Solved."

"Joe, Bret was hung two months ago. I still have Elijah’s partner, Emil Dunks, mobile number. I’ll give him a call, see if Bret confessed to anything or let slip something about an accomplice or a copy cat he might have known about. See if he received any letters from anyone praising his works…"

"And me, what do I do? Act as the bait? Frank, let me act as the bait… we’ll lure the bastard out… so… so he can release… I mean, we can seek justice for Vanessa…" Joe, his cheeks flushed with adrenaline, abruptly stood up and offered the dangerous service. Frank shook his head; he would not have Joe as a sitting duck waiting to be shot at.

"Joe, right now, you have to protect yourself. I’ll make sure you’re never alone and…"

"I can take care of myself. The sooner we get this over and done with, the better." Joe interrupted Frank, strong in his resolve. Frank knew getting Joe to change his mind was akin to trying to stop weeds from growing over an unmanned field. But he had to try, Joe dead was not one of the immediate futures Frank was looking forward to.

Frank approached his brother who was staring down intensely at the computer screen, as if it was a digital crystal ball and if he willed hard enough, the face of the killer would surface. But besides the desktop wallpaper of Superman in diapers, nothing was revealed.

"Listen to me. If you die, we can’t solve this case because I can’t do it without you. We’ll work it out together, formulate the best plan. You’ll go to your room and get some rest now. It’s late. I’ll call Dunks and beg for a favor."

"He’ll have to agree, won’t he? You saved his life by pushing him away from the speeding car." Joe recalled and smiled grimly. "Cunning devil."

"Yes…" Frank nodded, trying to believe that Joe was dropping his idea at least for a while, until he could think of something better that could convince Joe otherwise. "He must."

***

After Joe left his room, Frank searched high and low for Dunks’ number, not finding the name card clipped to the case file on Bret which was strange. Finally, he found it in the name card holder he used for casual acquaintances and chided himself silently for being so careless. It had Dunk’s mobile number on it and as Frank punched the numbers onto the keypad, he prayed that Dunks had not changed his number.

The phone rang disinterestedly until Frank’s heart was almost palpitating out of his throat. He could always call the Bureau but he doubt they would put him through.

"Dunks here, who’s that?"

Immediately, upon hearing the cheery voice, Frank recalled the agent’s face. While he was not as keenly intelligent as Elijah Raily, he was a pretty smart fellow. Raily was as sharp as a scalpel in every aspect, from his mannerisms to his dress but Dunks was the complete opposite- friendly, casual and always in crumpled suits dotted with pastry crumbs. His pudgy face reminded Frank of Chet Morton, though, Chet Morton lacked the shrewdness twinkling in Dunk’s hazel irises.

"Frank Hardy. I assisted you on Jeremy Bret’s case. I’m the volunteer with Bayport Police as a Crime Scene Investigator." Frank crossed his fingers, hoping he had left a favorable impression on Dunks the last time they worked together. He heard Dunks snap a finger and knew he had.

"Hardy! Of course I do… we were quite reluctant to let your kid brother join in though you two were sneaky about it… please, tell me how can I help you?"

That was what Frank liked about Dunks- he did not put on airs, did not think that just because he was with the FBI, he was a part of some. elite force. He loved his job and loved people in general. Always open and chatty, he was only tongue-tied when conversing with his partner.

"I think that he may have had an accomplice or inspired a copy cat. I can’t confirm but I hope you can help me out. Maybe he told you guys something that is classified and thus, hidden from us. But I need to know anything that’s useful…"

"Wait a minute… you do know that if it’s an accomplice or a copy cat, it’s out of the Bayport Police hands if they can’t solve it…"

"Well, that’s why I’m asking you for help, to help them solve it…" Frank lied smoothly, seriously considering going to Con to seek some protection for Joe.

"Hmm…"

"Please… you owe me one big one… if you help me out… we’re quits… I’ll even owe you an itsy-bitsy one…" Frank bargained and he heard Dunks sighed heavily with capitulation.

"There’s something about you, Frank Hardy, I don’t know what but there’s something about you that tells me I won’t be surprise to see you here in a couple of years time. I can’t promise you I’ll let you cash in on the favor now, but if you tell me everything, I may just consider."