Joe jotted down the facts from the article in the margin of his notebook and sighed in relief because he now had enough sources for his research paper due on Monday.
Shaking his blond head ruefully, he thought about his brother and friends who were out enjoying the sunshine while he had been forced to spend the day questioning people, working at the library and at the morgue of the Bayport Times.
"No one to blame but myself," he mumbled, thinking about the two weeks notice he had been given but had kept ignoring.
Gathering his notebook and note cards, he stuffed them into his backpack and returned the slides to the desk. Stepping out into the dimming light and walking toward his van, his thoughts were on the dinner he knew would be waiting for him at home and not on his surroundings.
As he neared the van, two figures in black lunged at him. He moved to swing his backpack at his attackers, but a third figure grabbed it in mid-swing and, whirling Joe around, landed a fist on his jaw. He felt himself falling, then felt hard cement on his back as the breath was knocked out of him. Before he could recover, he felt a jab in his right arm. Trying to reach over and ease the pain with his left arm, it fell back heavily onto the ground. The last thing Joe saw were three figures in ski masks, one holding a hypodermic needle, standing over him.
"Dinner ready yet?" asked eighteen-year-old Frank Hardy, poking his six-foot-one frame through the doorway.
"Almost," answered Laura Hardy, smiling fondly at her brown-headed son. "I was trying to give Joe time to get home."
"Have you ever known Joe to miss a meal?" kidded Frank, his blue eyes twinkling. "Relax," he added, "his stomach will have him home any time now."
"Here," said Fenton Hardy, an older version of Frank, handing him a stack of plates piled with silverware. "Set the table."
Frank grimaced and headed toward the dining room muttering something about his brother's procrastination. He had just placed the last fork when the phone rang. "I'll get it!" He shouted to his parents as he picked up the receiver.
"Hello," he answered.
"Frank?" Asked a desperate female voice.
"Yes?" He responded with a crease in his forehead as he tried to place the voice.
"You'd better get to the Bayport Times office right away. The police are already here," the voice blurted out in a single breath."
"Slow down Liz," calmed Frank, finally placing the voice as belonging to a friend of his who worked at the paper. "What's wrong? Why are the police there?"
"Joe was attacked by three thugs outside," she told him huskily. "As I started to leave I saw them carrying him to their car," she added in a strained whisper.
"We'll be right over," Frank promised and hung up.
"What's wrong?" asked Mr. Hardy, as he and Mrs. Hardy came into the room and saw Frank's drawn face. Frank told his parents what Liz had said and soon he and his father were on their way to the newspaper office.
They pulled into a space beside one of the two police cruisers on the scene and hopped out. "Ezra," Mr. Hardy greeted Bayport's tall and graying chief of police, as they walked over to where he stood.
"Fenton," acknowledged Chief Collig. Normally, Chief Collig disliked private investigators but Fenton Hardy was the exception, having been an officer on the New York City Police Department before resigning to become internationally known and respected in his field. "We were just about to question the witnesses."
"There's more than one?" asked Frank, his eyes narrowing on the Chief.
"A young man was waiting for a bus and claims he witnessed the entire kidnapping," Chief Collig informed them. "Liz said she had called you," he added, looking at Frank.
Frank nodded and looked over to where a red-headed man in his early twenties stood nervously twisting a bandanna.
"Steve Blevins," introduced the Chief, "these are Fenton and Frank Hardy. The boy's family," he added, referring to Joe.
"Howdy," Steve said, putting the handkerchief into his back pocket and shaking hands with them. "I'm mighty sorry we have to meet in such a bad way," he added with his hillbilly accent.
"Tell us what you saw," Chief Collig instructed, his brown eyes hard as he gave the man his full attention.
"Well, I was waiting for my bus, which is always late, when this guy comes tearing out of the newspaper office and nods his head at these two guys who were sitting in a car beside that van," he added, pointing to the Hardy's van.
"Then what happened?" inquired Mr. Hardy, wishing to hear a full account of the event before honing in on the details.
"The two guys in the car put on ski masks and then got out and hid behind the van. When the kid got close, they jumped him. The kid was quick. He started to fight back but before he could do anything this other guy comes up behind him, swings him around and decks him! Then one of the other guys puts a needle in him," he paused and shook his head sadly. "That's when i ran into the restaurant and called the police. When I came out, they were gone."
"Did you see their car pull into the lot?" asked Frank.
Steve shook his head. "It was there when I got to the bus stop."
"How long were you waiting for the bus before the attack happened?" Mr. Hardy asked.
"About twenty minutes. Like I said," he added, "it's usually late."
"It sounds like Joe's abduction was planned," Mr. Hardy said, looking at the chief.
"Huh?" asked Steve, confused. "I thought a kidnapping had to be planned."
"If Joe had found anything out at the morgue then the kidnapping would have been a spur of the moment thing," explained Frank. "But from what you've told us, it sounds too well-executed not to have been arranged in advance."
"Can you give us a description of the kidnappers?" asked Chief Collig.
"The first one, the one that came from the office, was a little over six feet tall and had brown hair and a dark tan. All three of them were dressed in black. I didn't get a good look at the two in the car before they put on their masks."
"What about the car?" Frank and Chief Collig asked at the same time.
"It was a red Mercury. The license plate was covered with dirt."
"No help there," snorted Frank in disgust.
"Would you mind telling us again everything you remember starting with your arrival at the bus stop?" asked Chief Collig, hoping to pick up a clue that may have been missed the first time.
Frank touched his dad's arm and nodded in Liz's direction. Mr. Hardy gave an acknowledging nod, then returned his attention to the first witness.
Frank walked over and sat down beside Liz. "What did you see?" he asked, looking at her bent head.
"Three guys dressed in black were carrying Joe to a red car. He had his eyes closed," she added softly. "He wasn't moving," she said as she started to cry.
"Liz," Frank said, gently taking her chin in his hand and lifting her face so he could see into her green eyes. "What's wrong? You've been involved in some of our cases before but you haven't been this upset."
"That's because I've never heard one of the bad guys ask another where they could dump the body!" she told him, crying harder.