Joe couldn't sleep. He tossed from one side to the other, kicked off the blankets, decided he was cold, pulled them up, decided he was hot, kicked them off again. The conversation was echoing in his mind.

"I think we'd better stay off this one," Frank had announced. Joe had been so startled he'd dropped the file he was holding.

"What did you say?" the younger Hardy had demanded.

"You heard me. I can't explain why…I'm not sure, really. Instinct. I just have this feeling that we're in over our heads."

"Dad said he needed our help."

Frank had stared at him, his eyes clouded, almost as if he knew…

"I can't explain it Joe," he said softly. "I'm going to have to ask you to trust me. Please? There's something about this that doesn't seem right.

Joe swallowed. "Does this have to do with the van?"

Frank looked away. "Sort of. I just want to pull off."

"Just like that? We leave Dad?"

"Yeah. For now."

Coward, Joe had thought, although he wouldn't dare say the word—haunts him now, he hears it in his sleep, wakes up to it when the nightmares don't should have known better Frank was no coward he should have just trusted why oh why didn't he just trust…

But he hadn't known then, as he lay awake in the dark, his brother's words echoing strangely in his mind. What could frighten Frank so much to want to pull off? If it was the marks on the van, then what did they mean? What if—

SMASH!

The window in Joe's room shattered onto the carpet. Joe leapt out of bed, startled. A brick, painted black with a red skull, lay on the carpet. Joe stared at it, shuddering; stupid punk kids!

"Joe!" Frank burst through the bathroom door into his brother's room. "Are you all right?" he demanded. "What happened?"

"I don't know." Joe gestured to the brick on the floor. "That thing found its way to my window."

Frank turned and instantly paled; he moved toward it, glanced out the shattered window, and swallowed hard. "Joe…go into my room.'

'Frank, what…"

"Just do it! Stop questioning every single thing I tell you!"

"You're not telling me anything!"

"You don't need to know. Get out."

"Damn it, Frank, talk to me! What are you so afraid of all of a sudden? I've never known you to be a coward. But that'll all you are now! You're backing out of a case and running around like a frightened girl! What is wrong?"

Frank glared furiously at his brother, his anger apparent although silent.

"Don't ever call me a coward. I'm doing what I think is right."

"How is it right?"

Frank shut his eyes and clenched his jaw. "I can't stand you sometimes, you know that? Why can't you just trust me? Why do you have to be so damn stubborn?"

"Just tell me what's going on!" Joe shouted, feeling fury rise from chest. Frank just shook his head and stormed into his room. "Get yourself killed," he growled, "I don't care."

Joe jumped as the door slammed.