Author's Note: Sorry for the long delay, guys. I hit a major case of writer's block. Plus I had a vacation and lots of work stress thrown in for good measure so that killed any time I had to work on the story. I'll try to get more out soon, but I'm not making any promises. Let me know what you think of the new chapter. Now, on with the story…..

"Oh man, that was awesome," Joe smiled, as he re-entered the living room, plopping down on the couch.

"Glad you enjoyed yourself, little brother," Frank said, returning his smile, and patting his brother on the back.

Biff laughed as he popped open another beer. "I want one just like her, when it's my turn," he instructed his friends.

"I think you need to work on finding a girlfriend first, Hoop," Chet teased, taking another bite of his pizza.

Biff shot a mock glare across the living room at his friend. Before he could respond, a cell phone rang, interrupting the conversation.

"That's mine," Frank replied, pulling the cell phone off his belt. "Hello?" he answered.

"Frank, it's me," came Nancy's voice over the other end of the line.

"Nan, is everything alright?" Frank asked, immediately worried.

Joe's ears perked up at the sound of Nancy's name and he leaned forward on the couch expectantly.

She sighed deeply before answering him. "No, it's not," she said. "Grab Joe and meet me at Bayport Memorial."

"What happened?" Frank asked urgently.

"Vanessa's been drugged, Frank. Someone slipped liquid cyanide in her drink," she softly replied.

"We're on our way," Frank promised, ending the phone call. He stood and ran his hands over his worried face and told the gang, "Sorry guys, the party is over. We've got to go."

"Frank, what's going on?" Joe asked nervously, worry lines evident in his features.

Frank stared solemnly at his brother for a brief second, while he tried to figure out the best way to break the news.

"Frank, you're scaring me," Joe said, standing from his seat on the couch. "What happened?"

"That was Nancy," he said, speaking slowly and carefully. "Vanessa had something slipped in her drink and she's been taken to the hospital."

Several gasps could be heard from the other men in the room. Eyes wide with shock, Joe stared open-mouthed at his brother for a moment before he could speak. "What was in the drink?"

Letting out a deep sigh, Frank answered his brother as calmly as he could. "Liquid cyanide."

At Frank's words, Joe's legs gave out and he fell back against the couch. "No," he whispered. He knew that liquid cyanide could be deadly in the right amount.

"C'mon, Joe," Frank said, grabbing his brother by the arm and dragging him to his feet. "We've got to get to the hospital."

Joe could only nod mutely, as he was dragged by his brother towards the garage. 'This can't be happening!' he thought. 'She has to be alright,'

Frank opened the passenger door to the car, and helped his shell-shocked brother inside. He quickly made his way to the driver=s side and climbed in. As he backed out of the garage, he patted Joe's knee and promised, "It's going to be okay, Joe. It has to be."

"Thank god," Nancy muttered to herself as she rushed into the emergency room at Bayport Memorial Hospital. She immediately spotted Fenton Hardy speaking to the two men he had working undercover at the bar. Striding confidently up to the three men she asked, "Any word on her condition?"

Fenton shook his head no in response. "Unfortunately, not." Motioning to the taller man to his left, Fenton said, "Dave here tells me that you noticed that Vanessa's drink was laced with liquid cyanide."

Nancy ran her hands through her hair as she confirmed what Mr. Hardy already knew. "I did. I just wish I had paid more careful attention to the girl that slipped it in her drink."

"You saw the person that drugged her?" Fenton asked, disbelievingly.

Nancy sighed as she started to explain. "Vanessa and I went up to the bar to order some drinks. While we were standing there a girl with brown hair, probably in her mid to late twenties walked up beside us. She apologized for squeezing in saying that her waitress was taking too long and she just wanted a drink. Her excuse sounded plausible enough to me at the time. Now I know better."

After pausing momentarily to regain her focus, Nancy continued her story. AOnce the girl walked up to the bar, Vanessa and I turned away to face the crowd. I turned back around to grab our drinks when the bartender tapped me on the shoulder. I didn't notice it then, but the girl was nowhere around when I paid for our drinks. The next thing I know, Van's on the ground."

"That's where we came in," the man Fenton had introduced as Dave spoke. "We picked her up and took her out to the car. We thought she might've had a little too much to drink, so we took her outside to get some fresh air."

Nancy nodded her head and picked the story back up. "I saw her glass on the ground. Amazingly enough it hadn't broken. That's when the sweet almond smell hit me. I ran outside and told them to get her to the hospital immediately, that someone had slipped liquid cyanide in her drink. I then went back inside and confronted the bartender. He denied putting anything in her drink, but said he witnessed the girl that had walked up next to us put what he thought to be liquid ecstasy in her drink. She claimed to be with the bridal party and told him she was a friend who wanted to liven up the party."

Nancy could see the anger boiling up inside Fenton as he mulled over the information she had revealed. "That bartender will be out of business first thing in the morning! And the bar itself won't be too far behind it, if I have anything to say about it," he swore.

Just then the emergency room doors swung open and Frank and Joe ran inside. "How is she?" Joe demanded.

"There's no news yet, son," Fenton told Joe gently. "We're still waiting for the doctors to finish treating her before we'll hear anything."

Joe swore violently at the lack of news. "How in the hell did this happen?"

The information was quickly relayed to Joe and after letting it sink in he rubbed his eyes and turned to Nancy. "What did she look like?"

"Mid to late twenties I'm guessing. Light, wavy brown hair that fell about here," she informed him, pointing to a spot mid-way down her upper arm. "Pretty, friendly face really. Thin, my height - maybe an inch or two taller."

"Do you know who it is?" Frank quizzed his brother.

Joe closed his eyes as a mental picture formed in his mind. "Call the Bureau and let them know they have a criminal in their midst. It's Connie Matthews."