A/N: Sorry for the delay. But for my Hardy fans in particular, I think you'll probably enjoy this chapter the most. Thanks for your patience, everyone. I'll try not to leave you hanging in suspense for too long.

12.

In the fading light of the early Spring evening, a tall man, dressed in black as was his custom, dialed a private number and waited expectantly for the other person to pick up.

"What is it, Brad?" came the familiar voice.

"It's done," he said.

"Good. It will only be a matter of time, then, before the searchers find the infant's clothes."

"Right," Brad said in agreement. "If all goes according to plan, they'll conclude the worst and give up looking for him."

"If it all goes according to plan," the other voice seethed. Brad read there a veiled threat that the plan had better succeed, or the consequences would be his to suffer. "I am still concerned about those two private investigators from Bayport. I hope you're keeping a close watch on their activities."

"Yes, I am. My sources have told me there's a personal connection between them and the Hunters, so they've been actively trying to follow up on any leads they think they have."

"Yes, that damned 'personal connection'!" Brad's party spat scornfully. "Why didn't our initial background check of Calvin Hunter include information about his sister-in-law's ex-boyfriend?"

"It was...outside our normal degree-of-separation parameters. It was an unfortunate oversight," Brad replied carefully, knowing his excuse came up lame.

"An 'oversight' we have to ensure never happens again!"

"Of course. You're right. But these Hardy brothers will not get close enough to us; that I can promise you. I'll take them out long before that happens. If it comes to that, I can also promise you no one will ever find their bodies."


The morning dawned raw and chilly in the Adirondacks. It was a decidedly unwelcome reversion to temperatures of the seemingly endless winter. By the time it rose, the sun was only a dull disc behind heavy gray clouds that threatened wet snow or rain.

A group of about a dozen volunteers had gathered with several supervising officers from the Meritsville department to assist in the search for the remains of the missing infant, Andrew Hunter. They stood huddled together for warmth, even though they had all wisely dressed for the inclement weather. Someone had brought coffee and donuts, which were quickly being devoured.

Frank and Joe Hardy were among the volunteers. They listened carefully but impatiently to their search instructions and parameters.

The coffee Frank had drunk left a bitter aftertaste. He wasn't sure if it was due to the brew, or a psychological effect of the dreary day. This, coupled with the grim reminder that their search was now one of 'recovery', not rescue, depressed him. He watched Joe consume more than his share of the sugary donuts, dusting his fingers from the last powdered one he'd chomped down in two bites. The one chocolate-glazed donut Frank himself had eaten now settled like a rock in his stomach. They'd had breakfast before arriving, and he now regretted the sweet snack. Typically, Joe's appetite was in fine form as he helped himself to a second cup of coffee from the large, insulated dispenser. The steam rose from the cup as Joe sipped, and Frank felt his stomach revolt acidly.

The volunteers paired off and were instructed to keep in contact over radios that were handed out to them. They were shown how they would systematically sweep the designated search area.

Frank and Joe started off for their assigned area, and Joe cast an uneasy glance at the still cordoned-off spot that had been the hastily-dug graves in which Calvin and Sandra Hunter had been callously buried.

A steady, cold drizzle started down. Frank had to make a concerted effort not to grumble. The fringe of hair that missed the cover of his hood was already getting damp. He wiped his face from the spatter of precipitation. Joe was jauntily moving along up the muddy, sloping terrain ahead of him, seemingly unaffected by the dismal atmosphere. Frank paused to get his bearings. So far, there had been nothing remotely resembling the remains of a human infant, or the jumper Andy had been wearing. They'd had a description of the clothes from several of the townspeople the Hunters had met the afternoon they departed from Meritsville.

"You okay, Frank?" Joe called out.

"Yeah," Frank said, with a slight nod. "Just not enjoying myself out here."

"You're right. The rain's not helping."

Frank allowed himself a moment to imagine he was back home in Bayport, sitting in front of a fire with a hot cup of cocoa...

And Nancy's sitting with me.

Frank shook his head regretfully. He reluctantly started after Joe.

We gave it a shot, Frank thought to himself, remembering when Nancy was in Bayport. I was thrilled when she showed up at our office that day. I wanted to make it work. Was I just fooling myself when I thought she'd want to have something deeper with me? We did give it an honest shot, didn't we?

As Frank sloshed through the soggy earth, he thought how hard it had been to let Nancy go back to Chicago.

I guess I knew she had to go back, he mused. I couldn't really expect her to drop everything there, especially after her year of Hell, and be with me. It wouldn't have been fair to tie her down. She's just not ready for a relationship, long distance or otherwise...and giving her some space after that breakup with Nickerson...you made the right choice, Hardy...

The drizzle was turning into a full-fledged shower now, and the drops were beginning to pelt like needles. Frank sighed and wiped his wet face again. Am I really in love with her, or were we just testing the waters? He wasn't sure, even now.

It hit Frank that in the weeks since Nancy had returned to Chicago, she hadn't called him once. But then again, I haven't called her, either.

A half-hour had passed when deputy Peter Van der Beek came over the radio, summoning them back. The search was being called off for the day due to the poor weather conditions. Indeed, the temperature had actually been dropping, and the rain had not abated. A snowfall warning was now in effect from the local weather office, Van der Beek announced, and Frank looked resignedly at Joe. He saw disappointment mirrored in his brother's eyes.

"I guess we head back," Joe said with a shrug. "Maybe someone else had better luck. I don't want to have to come back tomorrow."

Together, they started to retrace their steps. They still kept their eyes open for anything remotely resembling baby clothes.

The rain started to abate, giving way to a light, misty drizzle. With the plunging temperatures, Frank and Joe were increasingly intent on returning to their car.

Joe stopped short so suddenly, Frank nearly walked into him. "What's wrong?" Frank asked quietly, recovering quickly from his surprise. Experience told him that a loud outburst in this circumstance would be an unwise reaction.

Joe held up a hand, indicating he wanted silence. He stood rooted to the spot, and slowly craned his neck to the left. After about ten seconds of stillness, he let out a breath he'd been holding.

"I thought I saw something moving over there," Joe said, turning to face Frank.

"What did this 'something' look like?" Frank asked.

"It was just an impression, really," Joe admitted, "like a passing shadow beyond the trees there."

"Might have been an animal," Frank ventured.

"Mm-mm. No way," Joe said, with a curt shake of his head. "The motion was wrong. This was definitely motion from something that moves on two legs, and it was tall."

"Think it was another volunteer searcher?"

"Maybe," Joe said, irresolutely.

"Maybe it was Bigfoot." Frank cracked a smile.

"Your jokes are terrible, bro."

"I never said I was a comedian. Come on, let's go," Frank urged. "It's freezing out here."

With a frown, Joe followed after Frank, still uneasy about what he thought he'd seen.

There was a lot of hushed, but excited activity when the Hardys returned to their start point. They approached deputy Van der Beek, who was at the center of the group of volunteers who had already made it back.

"What's going on?" Frank asked, trying to snake his way through the other volunteers. With gloved hands, Van der Beek held up a damp, muddied and tattered shred of clothing, too small to have belonged to an adult. Most disconcerting of all were the dark stains that the brothers instantly recognized as blood.

"One of the volunteers – Liam over here - found it on the hike back," the deputy said to the brothers.

"I almost missed it, to be honest," the man named Liam put in, with a rueful shake of his head. He turned away, overcome with the sadness of what the discovery meant.

"There's not much left of it, but I'd say this pattern of teddy bears you can still see matches the description we got. These look like bloodstains...an animal, perhaps...unearthed the body..." Van der Beek trailed off.

Frank and Joe nodded silently. Van der Beek cleared his throat uncomfortably. Several of the volunteers began to silently disperse now that they were no longer needed. He thanked them all quietly, and carefully put the recovered garment in a brown paper bag.

"We'll want to be sure about the blood, and that it is actually Andrew Hunter's," Frank said, trying to keep a steady voice. "The families will want nothing less than 100 percent certainty."

"Of course," the deputy replied, almost defensively. "We'll be sending samples to be tested. Could take a few days for the lab to process and send us the results, but I think we all know what they're going to say."

The deputy's words echoed in their minds as they walked back to their car. Alone on the side of the rural road, it looked cold and uninviting through the wet drizzle that had started up again. Not for the first time, Frank thought about getting an automatic starter, so that in times such as this, the engine would already be on, and the car warm. Frank unlocked his door, climbed in, and popped the passenger side open for Joe.

"Thanks," Joe muttered, as he sat and closed the door.

Their mood was sombre; almost identical to their emotions when they'd leaned about Calvin and Sandra. Only this time, the pain carried an extra edge. All evidence now pointed towards a third death – that of an innocent infant.

Frank started the car and nosed off the muddy shoulder onto the road again, windshield wipers swishing away the precipitation.

"Who could have done this?" Joe sighed.

"Who, and why?" Frank answered with his own question.

Monsters, Joe thought angrily. Only a truly cold, evil person would do this to a family like that.

"I'm just afraid that the trail's gone so cold, we won't be able to get who did this," Joe said worriedly.

"We have leads," Frank countered. "All we have to do is keep following them. We know from the NYPD that someone deliberately targeted the Hunter's SUV."

"Right," Joe said.

"Then when we get the autopsy report back from Chief De Groot, we'll have a better idea of how Cal and Sandy died."

"From what De Groot said, I think we can deduce that Cal and Sandy were probably shot," Joe said. "If that's the case, we might get lucky with some useful ballistics evidence."

"And I've been asking some of our sources to discreetly check into some chop shops in the vicinity," Frank added.
"Let me guess: looking out for a dark green, '98 Taurus."

"With or without a baby carrier," Frank replied. "I'm not quitting on this one, Joe. I owe it to Callie and her family. These killers deserve to be punished."

Wet snow began to pepper the windshield. It was ruining the visibility, but even so, the road ahead seemed deserted. Evidently, no one else wanted to be out in this threatening weather.

"Here it comes," Frank said. "I guess Old Man Winter isn't done with us yet."

The asphalt was becoming increasingly slick, and Frank kept a steady pace at the wheel. With the dipping temperatures, he knew it was only a matter of time before the wet snow turned to ice under the tires.

They'd been driving for about five minutes when Joe realized Frank kept squinting at the rear-view mirror.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Not sure," Frank responded. "It's a little hard to tell with all the snow coming down."

"What do you mean?"

"I could be imagining it, but I think we're being followed."

Joe wanted to release his exasperation with a loud groan. "That seems to be one of our less-than-pleasant habits, doesn't it?" He stole a glance behind him and made out a pair of headlights through the snow-streaked rear windscreen.

"Looks like a black van of some sort," Joe said. "Think it's one of the volunteers?"

"Meritsville is behind us. Unless they're driving into the city, they shouldn't be going on this direction."

"You're right," Joe said thoughtfully.

"I think I'll slow down and see if they pass," Frank stated. "No need to get paranoid just yet."

He slowed the car perceptibly. With bated breath the brothers watched for the van's next move.

"Damn. They've slowed to match our pace," Frank growled under his breath.

"Could be they're just trying to leave a decent space between us. The roads are crappy. Maybe they just want to be safe."

"Hmm...That is a reasonable assumption, Joe. Hey, where's the map we have of the area?"

"Here in the glove box," Joe answered, and popped it open. He removed the map and unfolded it.

"See if there are any old logging roads, or something like that that we can turn on to. If we're really being followed, they won't take a chance on losing us."

"Alright," Joe said. "But if they are following us, might I suggest we call for backup?"

"Sure. But no need to panic just yet. Just tell me what you find."

"Okay," Joe said, and started studying the map. "From what I can tell, there's a couple smaller trails coming up soon. There should be a turn-off for a road to some kind of summer camping area."

"Sounds perfect," Frank said. "If it's a summer spot, there shouldn't be any reason for folks to be wanting that route today."

"Agreed. But I've got my cell phone at the ready just in case."

They whizzed past a worn-looking signpost with a newly-accumulated crust of freezing snow. It indicated the camping grounds would be the next left turn.

"Brace yourself for a sudden turn, Joe," Frank said. "I want to take them by surprise when I make that exit."

"Got it."

With the wipers madly washing across the windshield, Frank knew he'd have to be extremely cautious. They were rapidly approaching their would-be escape route. Timing had to be perfect. The turn-off was almost obscured by overgrown pine tree branches. The car's tires squealed in protest as Frank abruptly yanked the steering wheel to the left. He fought to keep the car in line as it fishtailed. Joe looked back frantically, and saw the van shoot past them.

They sighed in relief.

Joe began to laugh. "What a couple of idiots we turned out to be!"

Frank grinned and slowed the car. "I guess this case has us in knots. We're imagining villains behind everything. I'll see if I can find a place to turn us around."

Without warning, the engine shut down.

"What the-?" Frank said. He stared at the dashboard. The lights on the panel dimmed and flashed off. "The car just lost power!"

"What?" Joe sputtered.

They coasted for a few more seconds then came to a complete stop.

Silence.

Frank turned the key in the ignition without success. "Come on! Start!"

"This is so not funny," Joe said, glowering.

The sound of a different vehicle cut through the silence. Both brothers looked behind them. Twin points of light from the black van shined back through the falling flakes.

"Well, I think we can safely say we've been followed after all," Joe said mirthlessly.

"Joe, I think it's time we called for backup," Frank said with urgency.

Two figures clad in black from head to toe emerged from the van.

Frank tensed as he saw each man holding a firearm.

Both brothers knew they weren't being approached by any legal authority; a legitimate law enforcement official would have identified himself as such by now.

Joe hurriedly dialed the Meritsville department. He silently prayed someone would pick up immediately.

The armed men walked with unhurried steps towards the Hardy's disabled car.

We're sitting ducks in here, Frank thought, near panic. Who are these guys? What do they want with us?

"Come on, come on! Connect!" Joe whispered harshly to the cell phone. He was afraid the poor weather was interfering with the signal strength. It kept disconnecting each time he re-dialed.

For a brief moment Frank thought of making a run for it. He knew it would probably be a foolish move. They were in the middle of nowhere. Their car was inoperable. Could they escape these armed men on foot in such weather and treacherous, uneven ground? Would they be shot as the tried to escape?

This must be what happened to Cal and Sandy...The realization hit Frank and he breathed in sharply.

"I think I know what happened to the Hunters," he said quietly to Joe.

But before Joe could reply, one of the men spoke up: "Step out of the car!"

This sudden command was issued plainly, without emotion.

"Cal and Sandy were followed just like this. They were shot, then they were buried in the woods," Frank reasoned. I just don't know why.

Joe looked at his brother. He felt his heart beating madly in his chest. He was still unable to reach the Merritsville police.

"Step out of the car now!"the man ordered.

"What do we do?" Joe asked Frank, letting the phone fall uselessly into his lap. "If we get out, they'll kill us, just as surely as they killed Cal and Sandy."

"I'm not going down without a fight," Frank said through clenched teeth. "We step out, nice and easy. We need to find some way of distracting them."
"They've got guns, Frank," Joe countered.

"That's never stopped us before. There's two of them, and there's two of us. They're expecting us to comply. They won't expect us to spring an attack. I'd say that makes it even."

The armed men had each chosen one side, and were now slowly inching their way towards the car doors.

"I say we wait for them to get closer," Joe said, glancing at his man in the side mirror. "As soon as they get get close enough, wham! We shove open our doors. That'll give them a rude awakening."

"Good idea," Frank said.

But the armed men stopped a few paces back and remained standing.

"Get out now, or we'll shoot you where you sit!" called the man on Joe's side.

Frank felt his blood run cold. The snow was coming down in earnest now. The windshield was quickly becoming coated now that the wipers weren't functioning.

"I'm not dying here, Joe," Frank said stiffly.

"I have no intention of doing that," Joe replied. He released his seatbelt and slid his fingers to his door handle. "I'm not going down without a fight, either. But I'm not about to test their patience."

Wordlessly, Frank unbuckled his seatbelt. They eased their doors open, and slowly stepped from the car.

"Hands on your heads!" barked the man behind Joe.

The brothers complied. Joe wanted to turn around to face their captors, but decided against it. It might be too risky a move.

"Thanks for your cooperation," said Frank's man with eerie calm. "Now we're going to go on a little walk through the snowy woods. Start moving."

"To grandmother's house we go," chortled the other one.

The Hardy brothers stood irresolutely for a few seconds.

"Move! Or we shoot you where you stand!" bellowed Joe's captor.

Frank felt his heart sink as he forced his feet to move. From the corner of his eye, he saw Joe start off, too.

We're goners, he thought. We'll be shot deep in these woods. They'll bury us just like they did to Cal and Sandy.

The same thoughts were flashing through Joe's mind as the snow swirled around them. He felt numb from the cold. He idly noted that the tree branches were already turning white. The wild beauty of the scene seemed so incongruous with the ugliness of their present situation. Will this be the last thing I ever see? Will anyone ever find our bodies?

Desperation mounting, neither brother could see any way out of the impending disaster.