I am back sooner than I thought I would be. Usual disclaimer about how slowly I write. (It's generally a chapter a month; I just can't make myself write the whole thing, then post it. I've tried. Believe me, I've tried...) I respond to all reviews, so please feel free to let me know what you think. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

The ringing phone jolted Joe from a sound sleep. Phone calls in the middle of the night generally meant one thing – Kara's supervisors had tried and failed to get through on her cell phone. As he rolled toward the nightstand, he had a brief flash of memory of plugging her cell's charger – with the phone attached – into one of the outlets in the kitchen.

My own fault, he thought as his fingers curled around the handset of the landline they had held onto for those random and infrequent times when cell service went down. Or when she couldn't be reached on her mobile. I knew I should have charged it here.

Without opening his eyes, he turned back toward Kara, who flinched as he poked her shoulder gently with the phone and snuggled deeper into the pillow, pulling the covers up to her neck.

Joe tapped her shoulder a second time. "Kara."

The shrill ringtone sounded again, and he felt the handset being removed from his grasp. Then pushed back toward it. "Not for me," she said, the words coming out as a whisper.

"Huh?" The word cracked in his throat as his eyes slitted open. "Of course it's for you. Middle of the night calls are always for you." Another ring.

"Not always, and not this one," she murmured as she lifted her head from the pillow and squinted at the tiny screen. "Caller ID says it's Frank. Tell him..." Her words trailed off into nothingness as she started drifting back into sleep, the phone sliding from her hand and falling to the covers.

Joe's hand fumbled across the bed, trying to locate the phone, finally grabbing it while wondering what his brother could possibly need at this hour of the night. He managed to hit the 'talk' button, just as the realization hit him that no one would call in the middle of the night unless the news was not good. He swallowed. "Frank? Is everything…?" he said, his voice gravelly with sleep. As he listened, each word that came across the line shoved him closer to fully awake. "Okay. Okay. I'll be there as quick as I can."

The tone of his voice brought Kara to wakefulness. She watched him with worried eyes, shivering as he threw the covers off without replacing them. Reaching for them, she rolled over and lifted herself up on one elbow. "Is everything all right?"

"It wasn't Frank. It was Anna." Joe sat hard on the bed, pulling on a pair of sweatpants over his boxers. "He's sick. Really sick. I have to go."

"Do you want me to come?" Her hair was tousled from the pillow, her eyes half-lidded but alert.

He leaned over, kissed her on the forehead, and tucked her back in. "You sleep. You've had a hard week. I'll bring your phone back in from the kitchen before I go and text once I know what's happening."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Despite the hour and lack of traffic, it took almost forty-five minutes for Joe to make his way across the city to Frank's apartment. Anna met him at the door looking pale and tired.

"What's wrong with him?" Joe realized he sounded harsh, but figured she would understand and forgive his bluntness.

"I think it's the flu," she said, one hand pushing the shoulder-length, dark hair out of her eyes. "He won't let me take his temperature, but he's just radiating heat. He's keeps insisting he's okay, but..."

Joe barked out a laugh. "Of course he is. Has he used the 'I'm fine, I don't get sick' line on you yet?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "Where is he? Did you actually manage to convince him he needs to be in bed?"

"He's in the bathroom." Anna played with the zipper on her sweater, shaking her head at Joe's look of surprise. "Not using it. He's been there since I got here."

"Since you..." Joe's eyes narrowed as what she was saying meshed with what he was seeing. Anna was wearing clothes – jeans and hooded sweater – not pajamas. He cleared his throat. "You, um, weren't..." He could feel his cheeks starting to burn. We're all adults here, he thought. Hell, Kara and I live together. This really shouldn't be embarrassing.

"Staying over?" She gave him a level gaze. "No. He was supposed to call me earlier and didn't. When he didn't answer his phone, I thought I would stop by after my study group finished. I found him lying on the floor in there."

"Unconscious?" Joe could feel his pulse quicken – Frank still wasn't completely recovered from their last case at Hargreaves – then slow back down as she shook her head.

"No. He said he felt like he was going to throw up and decided it was safer to stay there instead of going back to bed." She let out a breath and started fiddling with the zipper again. "Joe, he feels like a furnace."

He nodded. "I'll go check on him. Do you want to stay?"

"I don't think he wants me here. I mean, I'm pretty sure he'd rather I didn't see him like this. Not so soon after… Well, you know..." She left the words hanging and simply looked at him, her eyes clear, her expression calm.

Joe was impressed to see she spoke without any appearance of the hurt feelings there had been in the past. Good. He cleared his throat. "That may be what he wants, but what do you want?"

Anna smiled for a moment at his words, and Joe remembered they had been one of the lines in the play she was doing when they all met. "I'll be in the living room. Holler if you need anything."

He gave her a two finger salute then turned toward the bedroom. "I'll let you know what I find."

Frank's apartment had two bathrooms, one half bath off the living room area with just a toilet and a sink, the second full bath attached to the bedroom. As he got closer, he could hear a faint clicking sound. His laptop? Joe shook his head. That didn't make sense; If Frank was feeling sick, he wouldn't put his computer in the line of fire.

He shook his head and walked through the bedroom, his pace quickening as he took in the small, out-of-place details others wouldn't think important – the pillow turned sideways on the bed, the book splayed open on the floor by the nightstand, the disarray of the bedclothes, the bedspread gone.

The bathroom door was half closed, and he pushed it open with his fingers. "Frank?"

His brother was sitting on the floor, wrapped in the missing bedspread, his face flushed, his eyes glassy. "J-J-J-Joe?" His teeth were chattering so hard, it was difficult to understand him.

Joe dropped to his knees, one hand reaching for his brother's forehead. "Jesus, Frank. Have you taken anything?"

"I-I'm f-f-f-fine." The words sounded faint, but there was a note of defensiveness in them.

"And I'm a fairy princess." Joe snorted and shook his head. "My flying unicorn's in the kitchen making rainbow cookies and hot cocoa." He figured it was a sign of how sick Frank felt that there was no sarcastic response to this, not even a raised eyebrow. He hooked his arms around Frank's torso and lifted him up. "Come on, 'bro, let's get you back to bed."

Frank shook his head. "Th-Th-Think I m-m-m-might th-throw up."

"I'll get you a bucket. You can't stay here on the floor." He half-walked, half-dragged his brother back to the bedroom. "Anna!"

Within seconds she was in the room. "What do you need?"

Joe shot her a grateful look. "A tall glass of water. Better yet, fill a pitcher. And the bucket he keeps with the cleaning supplies."

She nodded.

"Then get me the acetaminophen and a thermometer from the medicine chest." Joe got his brother back into bed, straightened out the sheets, and covered him up. When Anna returned with the water pitcher, glass, and bucket, he filled the glass, supported his brother's head with one arm, and held the glass to his lips, watching with satisfaction as some of the liquid slid down his throat.

Anna put the rest of the supplies on the nightstand, gently touched Frank's shoulder, then slipped out of the room, Frank's eyes following her as she left.

"Frank, look at me." Joe waited until his brother's gaze turned toward him. "Have you taken any medicine? Anything at all?"

Frank looked up, his eyes unfocused. There was a long pause as he shivered and tried to stop his chattering teeth. Finally, he shook his head.

Joe let out an aggravated breath. "For G-d's sake… Why not?"

"D-D-Don't n-n-n-need..."

Joe counted to ten before responding. "Yes. Yes, you do." Frank tried to lift his head to protest and couldn't. "So, here's what we're going to do. You're going to take two of these pills with some more of that water," he pointed to the pitcher, watching as Frank's gaze sluggishly followed his finger, "and then I'm going to take your temperature."

Frank shook his head. "I'm f-f-f-fine."

"'Bro, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. The easy way is you cooperate. You take your medicine and open your mouth for the thermometer." Joe flashed an evil grin. "The hard way is I pour the water down your throat, then roll you over and take your temp the other way. Your choice." He paused to let his words sink in. "I'm good with either option."

Eyes narrowing, Frank said, "Y-y-you w-w-wouldn't..."

"Why do you always have to be difficult?" Joe sighed, then raised an eyebrow and just looked at his brother, a sliver of ice glinting from his blue eyes. "Try me."

Frank glared at him for a long minute, then opened his mouth for the medicine and the thermometer without further argument, which more than anything told Joe exactly how badly his brother must be feeling. When the three minutes were up, he took the thermometer carefully out of Frank's mouth and tilted it, squinting at it to see where the dark line fell.

A shadow fell over his shoulder. Anna had come back in the room and was eyeing the thin, glass tube.

"What is it?" Frank's voice was raspy but already the shivering had abated, the medication starting to so its work.

"Um..." Joe rolled the thermometer between his fingers, trying to find the red temperature indicator line and failing miserably. "You'd think as a technology geek you'd have a digital one of these things."

"Oh, give it here." Anna plucked it from his hand. "The old-fashioned ones are more accurate." She held it up to the light, her eyes narrowing, the look of concern on her face becoming even more pronounced. "One-oh-two point two," she said.

Frank closed his eyes. "S-S-Sorry." He seemed to diminish slightly, the shivers overtaking him again.

She knelt down by the side of the bed. "You don't need to be sorry. Just less stubborn."

"She's got you there." He was only partially surprised when Frank didn't open his eyes again to glare at him. He sighed again. "Just get some rest, 'bro." He sat on the edge of the bed, motioning for Anna to join him. She did, leaning against his shoulder.

Once Frank had fallen into a fitful sleep, Joe turned to Anna. "You look exhausted. Why don't you head home and get some sleep. I'll stay here and keep an eye on him." When she started to protest, he raised a hand. "You don't need to come down with whatever this is, too. Take some vitamin C, get some sleep, and call in the morning. Later in the morning." He stopped, a thought occurring to him. "You don't have rehearsal or anything, do you?"

Anna shook her head. "Just classes right now. The online variety. I don't start my next show for a couple of weeks."

"Where are you off to this time? And how long?"

"It's an off-Broadway play, so I get to stay local." Her lips quirked into a smile, her gaze shifting toward Frank. "And no, I haven't heard about the pilot yet."

"Good." Joe rose and walked her to the door, giving her a quick hug as she put her hand on the doorknob. "Call a cab, go home, and get some rest. He'll be fine."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Frank woke a few hours later. His shivering had stopped and while his face was still flushed, his eyes were more alert, and his temperature had gone down two degrees.

"How you feeling?" Joe rubbed his eyes and shook out two more of the acetaminophen tablets, handing them to his brother along with the glass of water.

"Like I've been hit by a truck." Frank blinked, then swallowed down the pills. "It's funny. If I think I have temperature, I can function. Once I know for sure, I completely fall apart."

Joe laughed. "That was functioning?"

"I didn't say I functioned well." Frank looked around. "What time is it? You've got the clock buried behind the tissue box."

"Seven-thirty." Joe looked at his watch. "Give or take. Why?"

Frank started to shiver again, and Joe covered him up with another blanket. "B-B-Biff is supposed to stop by." His eyes widened. "J-Joe... the case..."

Joe planted his face in the palm of his right hand. "You can't go. You've got a classic case of the flu. There's no way you'll be healthy enough." He closed his eyes and sighed. "I'll talk to Biff. It'll just have to wait..."

"No." Frank's voice sounded surprisingly forceful, given how weak he looked. "You'll have to go. I'm sure there's enough notice for them to get the tickets changed."

"'Bro, numbers are your thing..."

"You read people pretty well. You can do it." Joe shook his head. "We can talk on the computer every day," Frank continued. "You show me what you've found, and I can help."

"We'll see," Joe said. "Look, you go back to sleep, and I'll call Biff. Anna should be here soon, and I can go meet with him. Okay?"

Frank nodded and closed his eyes again. Within minutes he was fast asleep.

He really is sick, Joe thought as he put his head back in his hand. Oh, G-d. Why me?

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Joe heard Biff enter the office before he saw him.

"Chet! How're you doin'?" he boomed. "Hey, I've been meaning to ask... How's Marisol's salon doing? And the wedding planning?"

"Good on both counts. Her mother's taking over a lot of the planning. We're looking at least a year out. Right now they're checking out venues. And colors. All I have to do is nod my head and give opinions on the colors. It works for me." He flashed a quick smile. "I'd be happy with a courthouse ceremony, but they have a big family, so I'm letting them take charge. Oh, Marisol said to say thank you for the investment advice," Chet said, turning to the coffeemaker. "And she wants you to come over for dinner sometime soon so she can thank you properly."

"Feeding me is always appreciated," Biff chuckled. "Next time I'm in town for more than two days, I'll let you know." There was a pause. "Hold on. How come Frank's light isn't on? He knew I was coming. He never forgets an appointment."

"And he didn't forget this one." Joe walked out of his office and leaned on the door frame. "There's been a slight change in plans. He's sick. You get me instead."

"Really?" There was a note of disbelief in Biff's voice. "Frank's sick?" He shook his head. "He never gets sick." His head swiveled between Chet and Joe.

"Not true," Chet said, pointing one finger in the air, "he just saves it all up and gets really sick every few years rather than getting a cold every few months like the rest of us."

Joe nodded in agreement. "And how… He wanted me to ask if there's time to change the tickets."

"That shouldn't be a problem." Biff stretched the last word out, the set his jaw. "Look, Joe, I don't mean this the way it's going to come out, but are you sure you can do this?"

Joe let out a breath. "Honestly? Not as well as Frank. But unless you want to put this off, I'm the option right now." Looking at his friend's pursed lips, he continued. "I'll have Frank as backup online. Between the two of us, we'll get the job done. I promise." He watched the expression on his friend's face, unable to tell what Biff was thinking.

After a moment, Biff said, "We don't really have a choice. The office staff is going to be changing in a few months, so it's kind of time-sensitive." Then he smiled, "And, as it turns out, I've got a rotation in there coming up in a couple of weeks. We can work on it together. It'll be just like old times."

Chet handed him a cup of coffee. "Great. Now, you two go meet somewhere else," he said, "like the office that has his" – he pointed at Joe – "name on it. Some of us have work to do." He grinned and shooed his friends toward Joe's open door. "And shut the door. The two of you together tend to get loud, and I don't want the noise scaring off any potential clients." As if on cue, the phone rang. Chet picked it up with one hand and waved the other two men off with the other. "Hardy Investigations. How may we help you today?"

Joe raised his eyebrows at Biff and jerked his head toward his office. "C'mon," he said with a smile, "before we really annoy him."

Biff's grin mirrored Joe's. "Some people. You make them a partner, and the power just goes to their heads." He stifled a laugh as Chet turned and stuck his tongue out at them before smoothly continuing his conversation with the person on the phone.

Once they were in the office with the door closed, Biff's expression grew more somber. He pulled a flash drive from his pocket and indicated Joe's laptop with his chin. "Okay to plug this in?" At Joe's nod, he tried inserting the device, sighed, flipped it around, and tried inserting it again. When it didn't work this time either, he turned it in the original direction, and grunted as it slid right into the USB slot on the side of the computer. "I'm waiting for someone to tell me why it can't just go in the first time," he said with a rueful smile. "It would make life so much easier."

"At least they're easier to carry than floppy disks," Joe said with a shrug. "Although I do keep sending mine through the washing machine." He chuffed out a laugh. "It makes Frank crazy." The smile faltered. "Speaking of which…" He pulled his phone from his back pocket and swiped his hand across the screen. The phone rang once, then a second time. Joe's foot started tapping a nervous staccato beat on the carpet, stopping when the call was finally answered. "Anna?"

There was a coughing sound. "You called my phone, little brother. Not hers. What do you need?"

"You're supposed to be asleep."

A sigh sounded clearly though the phone's speaker. "I was," Frank said. "Then the phone rang."

Joe felt his cheeks flush. "Yeah. Sorry. I thought Anna might have stopped by. I was going to ask her to write you a note. Have you call me when you woke up."

"Well, I'm awake now," Frank said, his voice sounding weak but somehow still slightly annoyed.

"Are you feeling any better?"

"A bit. The acetaminophen helps." There was a pause. "Thank you."

"Any time." Joe cleared his throat. "Biff's here. Was there anything in particular you wanted me to ask him?"

Frank cleared his throat. "Not really." His voice was fading. "Just… Just get whatever details you can and email them to me." He took a breath. "I'll take a look… later. Anything else?"

"No. Go back to sleep, 'bro. Sorry for waking you."

The call disconnected.

Joe looked up to find Biff smiling at him.

"He really is sick, isn't he?"

"Yeah." Joe blew out a breath. "It happens so infrequently, I forget how bad it hits him." He chuffed. "I think he forgets, too… Anyway, can you fill me on on the people I'll be working with? Or rather investigating?"

Biff tapped at the keyboard the turned the laptop toward Joe. He clicked on a folder, then pointed at a picture that appeared onscreen.

"This is Victor Stevens. Vic. Currently, he's in charge of the Singapore branch." The image on the screen showed a man about their age with light brown hair, grey eyes, and a five o'clock shadow scattered over his pale cheeks. "He's the one who told upper management something seemed… off." Biff's lips quirked downward.

Joe scanned the words under Victor's picture. "No idea what, though?"

"No."

Shrugging his shoulders, Joe looked back at the screen. "Okay, who else is there?"

One by one, Biff opened the files to show his friend the pictures and brief bios inside. In addition to Victor, there was Imogen Taylor, a sandy-haired woman from Australia with hazel eyes and a wide smile, who worked in the finance division. Kenneth Leung, a British citizen who had been raised in Hong Kong by his Chinese mother, also worked in finance. A lanky, dark skinned Indian man named Viraj Signh was the office manager, although Joe thought he looked more like a teenager than an adult capable of working in an office. The last photo was of Gerhard Müller, a serious looking dark-haired and dark-eyed man wearing a bow tie and small, oval glasses who was the office lawyer.

Joe cocked his head to one side. "That's it? Your office here has like three hundred people in it. The Singapore branch only has five? That seems odd."

"You said it," Biff said. "It's a branch. There are a handful of us around the world who rotate in and out for a few weeks at a time. It helps with continuity."

"And none of them have noticed anything?"

Biff shook his head, his blue eyes troubled. "None of us have picked up on anything. But we're not there all the time. Vic mentioned it to me because we're friends. We started at the company at the same time. Trained together." He waved a hand at the computer screen. "I know these people, Joe. I've worked with them off and on for the past few years." Letting out a breath, he ran a hand through his hair. "I'm having a hard time imagining any of them are doing something… nefarious."

A smile twisted the edge of Joe's mouth. "Nefarious?"

Biff punched him lightly on the shoulder. "You know what I mean." When Joe nodded, he let out a sigh. "I'm hoping Vic is imagining things."

"Does he seem the type?" Joe asked.

"No." Biff's shoulders sagged. "He doesn't. That's the problem." An alarm started beeping from his pocket. He pulled out his phone and glanced at it. "Didn't think that much time had passed. I have a meeting I have to get to."

Joe reached for the computer, his hand brushing the flash drive.

Biff put up a hand. "No, that's for you to keep," he said. "We weren't going to send Frank," he nodded his head toward Joe "– or now you – off to meet everyone without any background information. Hold on to it." He waved at Chet as he walked out of the office.

Once the door had closed behind him, Chet walked over to Joe. "What does it look like?"

"A complete unknown. I guess I'll see when I get there." Joe shrugged his shoulders. "With any luck, it'll be a total nothingburger, and I get to play tourist."

Chet tilted his head to one side. "You don't honestly believe that… Do you?"

Joe rolled his eyes. "I can always hope, right?"

A grin spread over his friend's face. "Sure. Hope does spring eternal, after all."