A/N: Thanks for your comments, Virtute! And yes, I promise I'll put up a chapter every other day until the story is finished. I know how frustrating it is to start reading a story and never have the ending, so every story I post here will be completely finished before it's "published". LOL Thanks again to all who are reading. I hope you're enjoying it.

Chapter 14

Joe quickly dashed down the basement stairs. Where the hell is Frank? The breaker is only at the end of this hall. He skidded around the corner and stopped short. A brick was lying in the middle of the floor. Joe bent down to examine it. Blood. His stomach churned.

Looking up, he saw two long black marks extending the length of the hallway. Joe balanced on one foot and studied one of the soles of his dress shoes. He slid the heel on the white linoleum tile, leaving the same kind of black mark. Someone attacked him and dragged him away. Joe quickly followed the marks down the hall. Why is it so hazy down here? He sniffed. Smoke. No, no, no!

He rounded the corner and was met by a wall of flames that was steadily working its way up one wall, having already broken through a wooden door and into the room behind it. The room where Frank's scuff marks led. He quickly got his bearings. Northeast corner. He dashed back down the hall, stopping only to pull the fire alarm before he ran up the stairs and headed toward the northeast side of the building.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

I've got to get up. Frank blinked and shook his head. Crap, that hurts. The pain brought him out of his fog and he quickly remembered where he was. Right, the fire. He reached backwards for his flashlight which was almost out. Holding it in front of him, he staggered to his feet. I'm in some sort of stairwell or something. It must be the one Joe and I were looking for. Now, if I can just make it out of here to tell him about it.

Frank dragged himself across the floor to where he could barely make out the edge of a stair riser. When he reached it, he groped upward for some sort of banister. Feeling a cold metal railing, he levered himself up against it to a standing position. One foot in front of the other, Hardy. You need to get out before the fire catches up to you. He heard the sound of the closet door exploding behind him. Shit.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe dashed up the stairwell to the third floor and flung the door open. Stepping into the reception area for the museum offices, he began looking around frantically. According to the blueprints, the main remodel for this building was done in the northeast section so they could put more office space in. That would mean the hidden passageway has to be in the northeast section of this floor, but where? He looked in that direction and found himself staring at the office door of the museum director, Mr. Perriton. He tried the doorknob. Locked. Too damn bad I don't have time to look for the key.

Joe backed up then moved forward with a well-placed kick on the bolt. Cheap locks, he thought as the door gave away. He entered Mr. Perriton's office and flipped on the lights. Northeast section and it would have to be an inside wall, where a staircase could be placed. He scanned the office and noticed that Mr. Perriton had a private restroom on that side of the room. Bingo. Joe headed in that direction and flung open the door. Tiled walls greeted him. Son of a... Wait? What was that noise? Pounding. There was pounding coming from the other side of one of the walls. Joe turned toward the sink. It had a large mirror mounted over it as well as cabinetry and a small closet. He moved closer. Definitely pounding. Joe opened one of the full length cabinet doors. It held two suit jackets and not much else. The noise was coming from the back of the closet.

"Frank, is that you? It's Joe. Listen, back up. I'm going to try and smash this wall down."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Frank groaned on the other side of the drywall." Of course he's going to smash it down," he muttered. He didn't have the strength to yell back at his brother. Instead he continued hitting the already loose drywall with his flashlight. One more corner and this panel will pop out. Before he could get in his last hit, the drywall began crumbling and Joe stuck his hand through.

"Are you there, Frank? Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me." Frank's breathing was labored." Listen, step back a minute. I almost have this whole panel out."

"There's wood in front of the drywall. It's a built-in cabinet."

"Okay, well, you take out the back of the cabinet and I'll finish this." Frank steadied himself and relied on the boost of adrenaline being rescued gave him to pop out the narrow panel of drywall between the two studs of the false wall.

On the other side, Joe quickly splintered the thin veneer that was the back of the cabinet and pulled it away. "Can you get through?"

"Um, yeah, maybe. It's really hard to breathe right now." Frank coughed. "Hang on."

Joe quickly squeezed himself through the narrow space. Worry etched his features as he surveyed his brother, his face stained with soot, slumped over, and trying to inhale.

Frank managed a smile as he looked up into his Joe's anxious face. "I guess I got some smoke in my lungs."

Joe helped him to his feet and kept his arms around his waist. "Yeah, no kidding." He shoved him through the narrow opening and Frank fell to the tile floor, relishing the coolness of it against his skin.

Joe followed behind him. "Come on, bro. We've got to get you to the hospital."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe left the museum in the ambulance with Frank after finding Callie and Heather in the parking lot watching the Bayport Fire Department get the blaze under control. He handed Callie the van keys and told her to meet him at Bayport General.

Now, an hour later, he stepped off the elevator onto the fourth floor, where the ER doctor told him Frank would be sent for overnight observation. He saw Emily seated in the far corner of the waiting room, her head bent and her arms wrapped around her middle like she was trying to keep herself from breaking apart. Her hair was coming loose from its up-do and she was unconsciously rocking back and forth. His chest constricted at how alone and vulnerable she looked. He crossed the room quickly and knelt down in front of her.

"Hey," he said quietly, touching her arm.

She startled and jumped back.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." Joe's face had a concerned expression on it.

She shook her head. "It's not your fault. I guess I'm a little jumpy."

He took the seat next to her. "That's understandable. How's Duncan?"

"Um, he's supposed to be coming out of surgery in a little while. They had to remove the bullet." She sighed. "They think he'll be okay, although he lost a lot of blood."

Joe nodded. "That's good."

"Are you here to check on him?"

"No, actually, Frank's here...as a patient."

"What?" Emily was confused. "Why? What happened?"

"Remember when I told you Frank went downstairs to flip the breaker and turn on the lights?"

She nodded.

"Well, apparently someone conked him on the back of his head, locked him in one of the downstairs rooms in the museum, and then set a fire to try and kill him."

Emily's mouth opened and closed with no sound coming out. Her eyes were wide with astonishment. "Is he okay?"

"He will be. He managed to find a closet with a staircase behind it that had been walled over during the museum remodel and dragged himself up to the third floor. I found him as he was breaking through a floor to ceiling cabinet in Mr. Perriton's office. He has some smoke inhalation problems and a mild concussion, so they want to observe him for twenty-four hours before they let him go home." Joe leaned back in his chair. "Is the annual museum fund-raiser always this much fun?"

Her eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Joe, I wish I knew what was going on. I can't even come up with a remotely good explanation for all the violence."

He quickly moved forward and put his arm around her shoulders as the tears trickled down her cheeks. "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get you more upset."

She touched his hand reassuringly. "You didn't. I've just been sitting here trying to figure it all out. This all seems to have something to do with the Scottish clans exhibit, but I don't understand at all." She looked up at Joe, her eyes watery. "The artifacts are valuable, but we have so many other pieces at the museum that are worth much more. And there's certainly nothing in that collection that's worth someone's life."

"So, you're saying most art theft is done for monetary reasons?"

"Virtually all art theft is done for monetary reasons. But no one is bothering our Rembrandt or our Monet." She shook her head. "It doesn't make sense."

"Well, Duncan seems to think it all has to do with some ancient Scottish curse and those damned charmstones."

Emily sighed. "I don't believe in that sort of thing, but right now it seems to be the only viable explanation." She laughed. "What does that say about this whole mess?"

"That I need to work harder," he replied grimly.

"There you are!" Heather Howell stepped off the elevator and headed toward Joe, followed by a worried looking Callie.

"Is Frank–" Callie began.

"Frank's fine," Joe reassured her as he stood and faced the girls. "They just want to keep him here overnight for observation."

Callie let out a visible sigh of relief. "Thank goodness. I didn't want to call your father until I knew for sure."

"Don't worry about that. I've already spoken with Dad. He's coming home from DC tomorrow anyway," Joe said.

Callie nodded. "How's the guy who got shot?" She looked past Joe at Emily.

"He's going to be fine, too," Joe said.

"He should be out of surgery any minute now," Emily spoke up.

Even before she finished her sentence, a doctor stepped into the waiting room, pulling a surgical mask from his face. "Are you here for Duncan MacLean?"

Emily raised her hand. "I am."

"Then I'm happy to tell you he's resting comfortably. The surgery went well and we expect him to make a complete recovery."

"Can I see him?" she asked.

"He's pretty heavily sedated right now and he hasn't been moved to his room yet." The surgeon gave her a warm smile. "It might be best if you get some rest and come back in the morning. He'll be awake and alert then."

Emily nodded. "Thank you. Maybe that would be best. I am pretty tired."

The surgeon shook her hand and moved away as a nurse leaned over from the reception desk. "Mr. Hardy? Your brother has been moved to his room now. You can go see him if you'd like. Room four-twenty-three."

"Thank you. Can my friends come?"

The nurse smiled. "As long as you're quiet and don't stay too long."

"Don't you want to go in alone first?" Callie asked.

"I think Frank will want to see all of us. He'll want to know you're okay, Cal." Joe turned. "Emily? Will you come, too?"

She hesitated, catching the subtle flash of annoyance in Heather's eyes. "Um, no. I don't want to intrude. Please tell Frank I'm so sorry about what happened tonight and I hope he feels better soon."

"Are you sure?"

Emily glanced at Heather, who had crossed her arms in front of her and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure. I'll see you later."

Joe lingered for a moment as Emily turned and began to walk away.

"Are you coming, Joe?" Heather asked.

"Yeah, of course." Joe followed the girls down the hall, while Emily picked up her evening bag from the chair where she'd been sitting in the waiting room.

OOOOOoooooOOOOOO

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Emily tried furiously to blink back the hot tears that kept threatening to spill over onto her cheeks. Every single time I spend more than five minutes with Joe I turn into a sobbing idiot. She turned and walked out of the waiting room and paused to lean against a wall while she searched her purse for her car keys. She sighed in frustration. Her car wasn't in the parking lot. She'd arrived at the hospital in the ambulance with Duncan.

Emily fished a coin out of her purse and headed toward a payphone on a nearby wall and dialed her home number. No answer. Pushing down the button to release the coin, she re-deposited it and dialed the museum. Again, no answer. Obviously this just isn't my night.

She turned back to the waiting room and into the hallway where she knew Joe had gone. Heather's face flashed into her mind. No, I can't do that. She'll misunderstand. Or she'll see how much I'm trying to hide my feelings for Joe. And then I'll look even more pathetic than I already do. She stared down at her strappy high heels that perfectly matched her evening gown. Her expensive strappy heels, meant to dance around a ballroom once or twice, not walk the three miles between the hospital and her house. Emily sighed again and headed down the hall with the song "These Boots are Made for Walking" going through her head as she teetered on her three inch heels into the waiting elevator car.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe knocked softly on Frank's hospital room door and peeked his head around. "Hey, are you decent? I have two women pounding down the door behind me to try and get to you."

Frank gave him a weak smile from his bed. "Send them this way. I could go for a hug right about now."

Callie pushed by Joe and hurried to Frank's side. "Are you okay? You scared us to death."

"Sorry," Frank said weakly as he welcomed her warm embrace. "And yeah, I'm fine."

Joe surveyed the oxygen tube under his nose and the IV in his arm. "You sure? Cause you look like crap."

Frank chuckled, then coughed. "I'm sure. Just a little smoke in my lungs. Doctor says I'll be ready to leave in the morning though."

Callie sighed with relief. "That's good to hear."

"Hey, what went on upstairs anyway?" Frank wanted to know. "Fill me in."

Joe pulled up a chair next to his brother's bed, turned it around and straddled it. He proceeded to tell Frank everything that had transpired on the main floor of the museum while Frank was trying to make his escape from the basement and ended with, "Duncan just got out of surgery about fifteen minutes ago."

Frank whistled low. "He's a lucky guy."

"No kidding, but unfortunately all the items for the exhibit were stolen." Joe leaned back. "I think I'd better get the girls home and then maybe call Collig and see what he's learned."

"I'll save you the dime." Frank's hospital door swung open wide as Chief Collig stepped through. He looked at Frank. "Are you up to giving me a statement?"

Frank reached for the water glass next to his bed and took a sip. "Sure."

Collig nodded and looked pointedly at Joe. "Can you get the civilians out of here?"

Heather crossed her arms indignantly. "Hey, I am not a civilian."

Collig gave her a hard stare. "Well you're not on my force, sweet stuff, so that makes you a civilian."

Frank bent his head and stifled a laugh at Heather's expression. He glanced at Joe who rolled his eyes.

"Um, Heather? Why don't I take you and Callie home? It's been a long evening and I have a feeling I've got some work to do yet."

Collig nodded. "Damn straight you do."

Heather huffed as she walked by Collig. "You're rude," she said, as she exited the room followed by a smiling Callie and a sheepish Joe.

"Your brother knows how to pick 'em, doesn't he?"

Frank grinned. "She was a last minute replacement, because he couldn't ask the girl he really wanted to go with."

Collig nodded. "Gives me hope." He grabbed the chair Joe had been sitting in and faced it forward before taking a seat. "Okay, now I need to know everything that happened tonight from your perspective."