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Don tossed and turned in his sleep. He couldn't sleep well and the fact that Charlie – his own brother – was in the hands of that – that – manager made him want to cry. He had been talking to the manager for a good twenty minutes and he didn't realize he was a wanted felon. A wanted felon! How could he not notice it was a wanted felon! He was FBI agent, for god's sake! That mistake had cost him drastically, and, what's worse, was he couldn't do anything about it.

Maybe his dad was right. He'd barely got any sleep since he and his team (who, by the way, were sprawled out all over the floor), and shuddered. If he'd recognized it sooner, Charlie wouldn't be missing, Frank wouldn't be missing, Joe wouldn't be missing. He wondered why Frank didn't just come out and tell him about the kidnapping. He supposed the man could have bought some people off to keep Frank on his toes, but doubted it was likely. He sighed. Maybe Frank didn't trust the FBI (although Fenton said he did…)

He sighed as he grabbed his blanket. His father was sleeping on the couch, Megan on the guest bed for the night, and he, Colby, and David were on the floor. He winced as he walked to the icemaker and stared at a picture on the wall. The picture showed Frank, Joe, and Laura, all very happy. He guessed Fenton was either taking the picture, or wasn't there.

He got himself a glass of water and glanced at the clock. 2:10 A.M. He couldn't sleep. Suddenly, he thought about something and glanced at his laptop. Quietly booting it up, he realized they'd been very wrong about something.

Very, very wrong.

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"Come on, you bitch," the man said, shoving Charlie against the wall. He'd left Frank and Joe in the police car to be dealt with by his other henchmen. "I know you know what I'm thinking of, my boy," he said. "I know you know that I want you to work for me."

Charlie shuddered and glanced at the man's hand. It was rough and callous. He wondered if he was ever going to get out of this hellhole he was in at the moment.

The man threw him against another wall and left him there, shutting the door as he left. Charlie didn't hear a lock click, so he tried the doorknob, but it didn't work. He cursed angrily to himself, wondering why he'd thought it would work (when he was sure he was in the hands of professional criminals).

Grinning, he picked up his cell phone out of his pocket (he'd dropped something else on the ground to conceal the sound of his cell phone – a move Don had toaught him when he'd joined the FBI.)

He picked up his phone and opened it, cursing as he realized a very nice fact:

He had no service.

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"I don' wann' go with u!" Joe shouted, flinging himself against the wall, struggling boldy to get out of the man's sturdy grasp. "I don' wann' go with you!" he shouted. Not that it mattered; there was no one around anyway. He just had to get free – he had to let his father know where they were, free Frank and Charlie…. Suddenly, the man grabbed his shoulder roughly.

"Stop it, kid!" The man said, squiggling quickly to get Joe into handcuffs. "What on earth do you think you're doing?"

"Getting away from you!" Joe called. "I thought you people didn't want me."

"Maybe my brother didn't, but I do. So shut the heck up and stand against the wall!" he said, pointing the gun against Joe's stomach.

"Okay, okay!" Joe said terrified.

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Frank was left alone in the police car, wondering what to do next. He'd tried the handles, but realized quickly that the doors were locked. He'd then tried the bars, but realized that they weren't going anywhere. He wished there were easier ways to break out of police cars.

He groaned. It was hot in here! It had to be at least 75 degrees – hot for fall, of course – and he was wearing a thick sweater.

He knew Charlie and Joe weren't so lucky and hoped they weren't freezing. He was burning up, though.

He shuddered to think what could be happening to them in there as he heard a scream. A very, very loud scream, and then a gunshot.

The scream that followed was undoubtedly Joe's.

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Fenton shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs as he got out of bed. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was two thirty in the morning. He couldn't sleep, no matter what Alan had said. The man was snoring on the couch. Fenton chuckled to himself. Alan wasn't as young as he used to be, he thought.

"Hey," he said, seeing someone in the kitchen. The figure jumped, and Fenton saw his face. "Hey, Don. What's the matter?"'

"I've found something I need to show you," Don said, going back to the other page. "It could affect – and change – everyone's life drastically, and I bet you bottom dollar they'll do anything to keep it hidden."

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