"FRANK!" Joe shouted, getting to his feet and preparing to put himself between his brother and the car. But that proved to be unnecessary. Hurling himself towards his brother and Callie, Frank narrowly evaded the Cadillac, which proceed to turn down the next block and disappear in the late afternoon sky.

Callie got up; brushing the dirt from her jeans and helping a dazed Frank get on his feet. "What was that all about?" She demanded angrily.

Joe shook his head. "Another proud graduate of the Bayport Department of Motor Vehicles, right Frank?"

Frank remained inattentive, eyes gazing at the empty street.

"Frank?" Callie asked cautiously.

Turning to face her and Joe, he was met with two pairs of loving, concerned blue eyes.

"I'm fine Callie. Thanks…"

"You don't think this was an accident?" Joe asked, worriedly.

"The driver accelerated when he spotted me, like he wanted to hit me…" Frank shook his head as if to clear it. "I know it…he wanted to hit us…"

Joe gradually got to his feet as well. "No use in staying here. Callie, you should go home and Frank…we should probably talk to dad."

Frank nodded and after promising to call her when they got home, Callie left in her mom's stationwagon while Frank pulled away in their dad's truck.

"Who do you think is after us?" Joe asked.

"I don't know. Usually this kind of stuff only happens when he get involved in a case and we haven't…not very recently anyway." Frank replied.

"That's true…I mean…I guess there was that thing with Henry Riley and Tom Harding…but they wouldn't…"

"Or it could be the Stone case."

Joe thought this over for a second before replying, "Nah, that was dad's thing…"

"Fields made bail yesterday."

Joe shifted in his seat. "What?"

"He was released yesterday. The bail was like 10,000 dollars…an anonymous donor paid for it."

Joe shook his head. "Crazy."

Frank nodded blankly. He knew what Joe was thinking because he was thinking it himself. The day of Field's hearing for the murder charge, a letter was sent to the Hardy residence addressed to Fenton threatening that if the case went to trial, "bad happenings" would occur.

Pulling up into the driveway, Frank noticed the lights were on in the kitchen.

"Mom's home early."

Frank shrugged and used his keys on the front door, swinging it open.

"Frank? Joe?" Laura Hardy's calm voice made Joe feel better all ready.

"Here mom." Joe answered, throwing his jacket onto the sofa and collapsing into its cushions.

"You two are home early."

Frank shrugged. "So are you. Slow day at the center?"

Laura sighed. "Well boys, I'm sorry to say that Michael Chavez is dead."

"Who's Michael Chavez?" Joe asked, confused.

"He was one of dad's old colleagues from when he was on the police force. I remember him…He used to bounce you on his knee, Joe." Frank explained.

Joe shrugged. "I was how old?"

"I think four in a half." Laura answered. "Well, your father is there investigating it up in New York as we speak. He caught the first train up there."

"Investigating? You mean it was a murder?" Joe asked, interest perked.

Laura shrugged. "All I know is he called me at the center telling me he'll be gone for the rest of the week and that Michael was gone. I don't really know what he's doing there, but considering how he seemed so secretive about it…I thought he was probably investigating something."

"Or its possible he's just grief-stricken." Frank argued, taking a seat beside his mother.

"Also possible I suppose. Anyway, dinner won't be ready for at least another three hours or so. Why did you boys come home so early anyway?" Laura asked, her gaze shifting suspiciously from Frank to Joe.

Slowly and carefully, Frank explained what happened. Laura looked horrified.

"Who would do such a thing to you two?" She demanded angrily. "You're not even on a case!"

Joe shrugged. "We don't know mom and truthfully, we haven't completely ruled out that it was just an accident by some road raged idiot."

Frank laughed at Joe's choice of words, which earned a snicker from his younger counterpart.

"Actually mom, we were thinking maybe it has something to do with that letter dad received during the Stone hearing."

Laura's eyes widened. "Oh my God."

"What?" Joe asked in confusion.

"Your dad's been receiving letters…strange things really…couldn't make sense out of them."

"Do you have any of them?" Frank asked.

Laura thought for a minute. "I think they're somewhere in your father's office."

Joe nodded, rising from the sofa. "I'll look around. Be right back."

"And mom," Frank said, looking up and into the small blue eyes of his mother. "Why don't you tell me everything you know."

Laura Hardy sat down on the same spot in the sofa where Joe was, cupping her head into her hands. "All right…it started a few days after we received that first letter…"

***

Joe Hardy shifted a precariously stacked pile of papers from his father's desk. Everywhere there were cut-up newspaper articles or Xerox copies of police reports strewn everywhere. Finally, he came upon a small pile of papers bound together with a rubber band. He peeled off the rubber band and unfolded one of the letters.

He read, "Knight C 5."

Confused, he opened another letter. It read, "Pawn 4 D."

He quickly replaced the papers and headed back into the living room where he looked from the wary faces of his mother to his brother.

"I think I found them." He told Frank, handing his elder brother the letters he found in their father's office.

"What does all this mean?" Frank asked, looking to their mother for a response.

Laura Hardy rose and went into the kitchen. She returned with the chessboard the boys had found in the living room just that morning.

"Your father believed that what's written on all these letters were chess moves." She explained, looking down at the strategically placed pieces. Joe took another glance at the letters and nodded.

"He's right. I studied some of these moves back in the day. This one here," He told them, picking up a letter, "says 'Rook 3 E' that move's really popular…even has a name, though I can't remember it now."

Laura nodded. "Your father was looking into it…but now with Michael's death I guess we'll have to wait until he gets back."

"I don't think we can," Joe replied softly. Frank looked up into his brother's eyes and was troubled by the distress he saw there.

"Why not?" Frank asked, chewing his lip.

"This one," he pointed towards one of the letters, "is the newest one of the batch. And I remember the move."

"You do?" Joe nodded.

"It's the one Gordon used to beat me that time at the tournament."

"Which means what?" Laura asked, confused.

"It means in about six moves whoever sent these letters could take the king and win the game…"