It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair!

Joe threw himself down on the bed. He hadn't started the fight. He'd only jumped in to help Kris, when he'd been certain the Neanderthals were getting ready to "help" Angie — help that wouldn't have been good for the little tagalong, no matter that she was a girl. Now all that stuff that had happened at their locker was at the mercy of the teachers and Janitor Bob and Mr. Schafer…

They'd never catch the rat doing this!

Joe glared at the ceiling. To make matters worse, Aunt Gertrude had grounded him for the whole suspension, including Bell Book and Candle and the Christmas party at the Morton's. That really wasn't fair. Bell Book and Candle was a case, Mrs. Bell was counting on Joe and Frank to solve the mystery, it was work, it was a responsibility, and it wasn't any fair to Frank or Mrs. Bell. But Aunt Gertrude hadn't listened and had sent Joe to his room.

He had to talk to Dad. Okay, Joe could handle not going to the party, but he had to be able to take on the case, he had to!

Joe shoved up from the bed and went over to the window. Snow was falling again, thick and fast. There was already a solid foot of it on the ground, and the way the new stuff was coming down, it looked like they'd have several more inches by morning. Movement caught his attention, and he looked up — Kris was in her window, waving.

Joe stuck his tongue out at her. It was stupid, it was childish, but it was all her fault, after all…though…really…the way she'd taken out Angie had been killer.

But Kris was holding up a notebook. Joe squinted — between the screen, the windows, and the snow, he couldn't make out the letters, and he shook his head at her. Kris made a face, then tore out the page, scribbled, then held the notebook back up to the window:

Santa Gift Before Science

Second note:

Nothing there. NOT HER!

Okay, that was clear enough. Joe grabbed for the paper on Frank's desk and scribbled his own note:

SEE ANY ONE?

Kris shook her head, then scribbled some more:

Charlie's Picking Up Frank.

That…was unusual. Something must have happened.

Nothing Joe could do, though, but wait.

But Kris was still scribbling:

Rose OK?

Joe looked at the small Christmas Rose. He'd placed it on his own desk, on the corner where it could get lots of light from the window but still be out of the cold drafts. It still looked limp, but not as bad as it had when he'd first picked it up, and he nodded at Kris through the window.

Then Joe heard the front door open downstairs, and voices — Dad! He hurriedly scribbled another note:

DAD'S HOME!

Kris nodded and waved.

Not caring about grounding or punishment or anything, Joe ran downstairs, just as Aunt Gertrude turned.

"Get back to your room, young man."

"I need to talk to Dad," Joe said. "It's really important, Dad. We were attacked at school!" Well, okay, that was exaggerating a little — okay, a lot — but he had to tell Dad everything, before Joe forgot the details.

Dad shooed Aunt Gertrude off. "It's okay, Gert. In my office, Joe. I'll be there in a moment."

Joe slipped into Dad's office — a converted den. Bookshelves lined the walls, stuffed with all kinds of reference works and phonebooks from all over Massachusetts, Connecticut, Vermont, even New Hampshire and New York, and Dad's three filing cabinets were full to near-bursting. The desk was an old, battered thing that Dad had picked up from a church rummage sale two years ago, painted white and crammed to bursting with papers. Joe plopped down in one of the office armchairs — covered in green tweed, thanks to Aunt Gertrude — and waited.

After a few minutes, Dad came in, holding a steaming cup of black coffee. "Your aunt said you got in a fight, and that your lockers were vandalized."

"You should've seen it," Joe said, fidgeting. "Tag started it. I mean, Angie did, really, because she was calling me and Tag bad names because of the note, and Tag turned around and punched her, right in the stomach! It was killer —" Joe saw Dad's face; probably not good to sound so enthusiastic, "— um…I mean, and some of the Neanderthals were there, and they were going to take Tag apart, and I had to jump in to help —"

"We'll get back to that," Dad broke in sternly. "Now. What happened to the lockers?"

Joe took a deep breath. "We were in science class, and the bell rung for lunch. We were all talking — me, Tag, and Tony, and Sharon, I mean — and when we went out in the hall, our lockers were a big mess. Everything was all over the floor, and there was this note taped up. It had something from the Bible on it, and Tag said it was about Babylon."

Uh-oh, Dad's expression was not good.

"There was stuff splattered all over our books and coats, too," Joe said. "It looked like blood — I think the note was written in blood, too, but I didn't get a chance to really look, because that's when Tag punched Angie and I had to help her and then Mr. Gregory hauled me to the principal's office."

"Okay," Dad said. "Your brother stayed after school. Mr. Mack arranged it as an extra credit project for Frank to deal with the crime scene, and Mar sent Charlie to pick him up. Now, you said the note had 'something from the Bible'. Get specific, Joe. What did it actually say?"

"Whore," Joe muttered, flushing at the bad word. So Frank got to do the crime scene and all the cool stuff and was going to get extra credit for it? That really wasn't fair — it was Joe's locker! But Dad was scowling now, and Joe hurried on. "And…and…um…Revelations…" Joe stopped, thought hard. "Revelations 17:16. It was on old notepaper. And they ruined my Santa gift, too — Christmas Rose." Joe looked down, remembering the little plant lying in the wreckage. "Tag said my Santa left the gift before science class, and my Santa didn't see anyone then. Tag also said it wasn't my Santa who did that. I don't think so, either," Joe added, stubbornly, "because if they were nice enough to leave a Christmas Rose, they wouldn't turn around and wreck our lockers."

"No, they wouldn't," Dad said. "I really don't think your Santa had anything to do with it. And your little tagalong seems to be a good judge of when someone's bad, so she's probably right."

"Fenton?" Aunt Gertrude stood in the doorway. "Frank's home. And Charlie's with him. He says he needs to talk to you."

"Bring 'em in," Dad said. "Let's get the whole story."

Frank came in, holding an armful of Joe's books, Joe's back pack, and a brown paper grocery sack. He set everything down in front of Dad's desk, as Charlie followed him in.

"Before Frank gets started, Fenton," Charlie said, "I figured you'd better know that someone was hanging around outside the school when we left, at the edge of the parking lot. A big man — he matched what Mama told me about Kris's father. But he was too far for me to get a good look at him."

Joe's breath hissed in. Frank had been right!

"I got all the fingerprints, Dad," Frank said, "and all the evidence is in the bag. The note and everything, I mean. Mr. Mack helped Phil test it, and the stains are blood. Not human, though." Frank looked at Joe. "Mr. Mack's on our side in all this. He's going to do a class on fingerprints so he has an excuse to get fingerprints from everyone. I have to bring the print slides back tomorrow so we can compare. If it's okay with you, Dad, I mean. Mr. Mack said you had to say okay."

"We'll get to that." Dad got up to start sorting through the bag. "Thanks for picking him up, Charlie."

"I also told Mrs. Bell that I'd be with them on Friday," Charlie said.

At that, Dad looked up, the plastic bag with the crumpled note in his hand. "Not needed, but thank you. I'm canceling that, until we get this sorted."

"Dad!"

"That's final," Dad said to Joe and Frank. "Kris's father is not someone I ever want you boys to run into. If it is him, you going to that bookstore —"

"— wouldn't be any different than them going to school," Charlie broke in. "They'd be safer, actually, because the store will be locked up, an enclosed area with limited ways to get in, and a trained military man with them keeping watch."

The expression on Dad's face — Joe held his breath. That usually meant there was stuff Dad wanted to say, but not in front of Frank and Joe.

"Sorry, sir," Charlie said, standing at loose attention. "But unless you keep them locked in their bedroom the whole time, there's no safe place. At least the bookstore won't be some place that cockroach will look — he won't have any reason to expect them to be there."

Joe opened his mouth, but Frank elbowed him and shook his head slightly.

Dad glanced at his sons, and when he spoke, his voice was perfectly calm. "From what I know, the man's military, too. Army."

"And I'm recent, active military," Charlie countered. "He's former, and a drunk, which doesn't argue for having been a good soldier. I'm not being cocky. I'm being realistic. And, bluntly, I'll have Mama's .45 with me."

Joe sucked in a shocked breath; even Frank's eyes had widened. The man was that dangerous?

"Not loaded," Charlie added. "But he won't know that. And I'll have the clip with me, just in case."

Finally, Dad sighed. "Let me think about it. That's not a yes," he said, to Joe and Frank. "That's a very definite think, because I'm not convinced.

Joe and Frank looked at each other. Somehow, it didn't feel like a victory. What had started out as a fun, real case that meant Frank and Joe were real detectives was turning into all the stuff Dad griped about whenever he'd had a bad day…and all the horrible stuff that Frank and Joe had nightmares about whenever Dad didn't make it home on time. A duty, an obligation…

Charlie was watching them. Joe felt his jaw tighten, and he met that look with his own determined scowl — and Charlie nodded, ever so slightly.

"I need to look something up." Even Frank's voice was hushed. He went out to the living room, came back with the big coffee-table Bible that Grandma Hardy had given them for Christmas last year. Frowning, Frank turned to the back of it, paged through. "Revelations 17:16. That's on that note." Frank started reading, his voice shaking, just a little. "'And the ten horns which thou sawest upon the beast, these shall hate the…the…whore, and shall make her desolate and…and…naked, and shall eat her flesh, and burn her with fire.'"

Joe swallowed, hard.

"I really don't think it's Angie, Joe," Frank said. "Even if all those stupid cheerleaders left their prints on your locker, Angie wouldn't know the Bible that good."

"That well," Dad corrected him. "And I'd call that a pretty clear threat. That decides it. Bell Book and Candle's off. I'm calling Chief Collig, and —"

"Dad!"

"Don't, Frank," Dad said. "Mar'll be right with me on this. You kids —"

"You'll just make it worse," Joe said. "It won't fix it, and you'll just mess it up more!"

"He's right, Dad," Frank said. "And Charlie's right. We won't be safe at school, either — it won't matter where we're at —"

Dad rubbed a hand across his forehead. "Boys…"

"It's just like the bullies, Dad," Joe said. "When they were after me, and me and Frank jumped 'em. You and Mom grounded us, but they stopped bugging me. I bet Angie'll leave Tag alone now — I mean, that's the way bullies work. You act scared, they keep after you because you're making them feel big. You hit back, you're showing them you're not scared and you're willing to hurt 'em worse, no matter what, and they leave you alone. Tag's dad — that…that…"

"Cockroach," Charlie supplied.

"Yeah, that," Joe said. "Maybe we can't hurt him, but if we keep running away and stop doing stuff because of him, that's giving him what he wants and it makes him feel big. And I don't want to give him what he wants. Neither does Tag, I bet."

Dad just looked at Joe.

Joe was ready to say a lot more, but somehow clamped his jaw shut and just looked right back. He felt solemn, shivery, scared, but scared in a way that meant he wasn't about to back down, like he had with those bullies. This was important. This was real.

"I don't want you boys hurt," Dad said. "And that man can hurt you really bad."

"But…" Frank said, "…we're your sons. There's a lot of folks out there who can hurt us really bad. We know that. You didn't teach us to hide. You said we have to face it."

But Dad's gaze was still on Joe. "There is the matter of you getting in that fight."

"Bell Book and Candle isn't for fun, Dad," Joe said, trying to mimic Charlie's loose attention. "It's a job. We promised Mrs. Bell that we'd find out what's going on." Joe shut up at that point. Too much, and Dad would just get stubborn.

Finally, Dad sighed. "I'll talk it over with Mar."

Frank inhaled sharply; Joe clamped his jaw against the sudden rush of war-whoop that threatened to break out. Now wasn't the time.

Dad nodded at the grocery bag. "Get all that sorted, boys, and start writing out notes on what you found. I'll be back before dinner, and I expect a complete report." Dad sighed, looked at Charlie. "Okay, soldier. Take me to your C.O."