Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around the year 2002, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. People still used landlines! Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit and thanks.

January Thaw

EvergreenDreamweaver and SparksJSH

Chapter 1

It was early January. The northeastern United States was in the grip of a clear, cold snap; although the sun was shining brightly, the daytime temperature hovered just above ten degrees, and at night was falling to well below zero. Snow thickly blanketed the ground, and any standing water had become solid ice. The ponds and smaller streams near Bayport were frozen to a thickness of four or five inches, and ice edged Barmet Bay.

Inside the large gray stone house on Elm Street, it was warm and quiet and bright; the winter sun streamed through the windows. Nineteen-year-old Frank Hardy lay stretched on the family room couch, his 6'1" frame encompassing its full length. His head rested comfortably upon a pillow in Megan Wright's lap, and his brown eyes were closed. Occasionally however, he opened them to glance up at his girlfriend's face, and he smiled in deep satisfaction.

"This…" he murmured now, "is nice."

"Mmm-hmm." She smoothed a strand of dark hair back from his forehead. "Enjoy it while it lasts…we start school again soon."

Frank scowled without opening his eyes. "Did you have to bring that up? I was trying to forget it."

"I thought you needed reminding. It's back to criminal justice studies and Shakespeare again," she teased gently. "Although why you decided to go for another term of Shakespeare is beyond me, after the "C" you got last term."

Frank opened his eyes and stared up at the piquant face above him. "It's because I got a "C" in it that I'm taking another term," he growled. "I'm going to get at least a "B" this time or die trying."

"I feel like it's my fault your grades weren't what you wanted." Megan smoothed his hair again, but gazed at the wall instead of looking down at Frank. "If I hadn't asked you to investigate my father's death—"

"If you hadn't asked me to investigate your father's death, I wouldn't have met you," Frank interrupted her. He raised a lazy hand, grasped a tendril of red-gold hair and tugged gently until Megan bent her head and met his gaze. "…and meeting you was more important than any grades." He tugged again, pulling her nearer. "Much…more…important…" he repeated, punctuating his words with kisses, each one lasting longer than the one before.

When Megan finally raised her head again, her cheeks were flushed pink, and there was a dreamy look in her blue-green eyes. Still, she attempted to resume her argument. "But if you hadn't gotten hurt, you wouldn't have missed school—"

"I only missed a couple of days!" Frank protested. "And I wasn't hurt, exactly – it was just that smoke inhalation thing – that, and some bruises. Besides, that was clear back in September." He snuggled deeper into the pillow, making himself more comfortable. "So stop trying to blame yourself for my bad grade in Shakespeare. If it'll make you feel better, you can help me with all my assignments this term – how's that?"

Megan's laughter bubbled up, and Frank was again enchanted, as he always was by the soft, rippling sound. "It's a deal," she declared. "But I expect a return favor – I want tutoring in chemistry."

The sound of a slammed door and rapidly-approaching footsteps interrupted the conversation. "Joe's home," Frank sighed.

"Hey, guys!" Joe Hardy announced his presence from the doorway. A senior at Bayport High School, Joe was six feet tall, with thick blonde hair and blue eyes; he was the opposite of his older brother in coloration, but their features were enough alike that their relationship was evident to all

For the past several years the brothers had worked as an investigative team, solving cases and various mysteries, not only in Bayport, but in surprisingly far-flung corners of the world. Sandwiching in detective work while attending school was sometimes a problem, but somehow the boys had managed so far.

Now Joe bounced on the balls of his feet, blue eyes twinkling as he surveyed Frank and Megan.

"The weather is awesome out there!" he exclaimed. "Biff and Karen and Vanessa and I are going to go ice skating on that little pond near Vanessa's house. And we want you to come with us."

"I like it right here, just fine," Frank replied lazily. He settled himself into his pillow again. "It's nice and warm and comfy…no cold wind, no hard ice, no wet socks—"

"Oh come on," Joe coaxed, "this sunshine isn't going to last forever – and you haven't done anything except lie around on the couch all day!" At that remark, Megan narrowed her eyes and frowned at Joe, who grinned cheerfully in return. "Just for a while," he added. "A couple of hours, that's all…."

"In case you might not have noticed—" Megan reminded him gently, "I don't happen to be dressed for skating…and I don't usually carry my skates in my pockets."

"Well heck, you lug that backpack everywhere." Joe indicated the deep purple pack leaning against the wall. "It's big enough…for all I know, you could have skates in there – or a sled – or one of those little scooters – or a motorcycle – Ouch!" He broke off his teasing with a yelp, as Megan's hand swung sharply and connected with a smack against his hip. "Why, you— !" He made a dive toward her, but Frank fended him off with an upraised arm.

Joe backed up a step or two, but his blue eyes glinted mischievously, and he made beckoning gestures with both hands. "Come on, little girl, bring it on!" he teased. "let's see what you can do if you quit hiding behind that big lazy guy…."

Frank aimed a half-hearted kick in Joe's direction; unfortunately, he did it at the same moment Megan lunged toward Joe, dumping Frank off her lap. Overbalanced, the elder Hardy flipped over and rolled off the couch, to land sprawling on the floor between his brother and his girlfriend. Megan shrieked, Joe whooped with laughter, and Frank cast disgusted looks at them both before admitting defeat and joining in.

"I give up," he said, when he caught his breath. "Megan, do you want to make a dash home for your skates?"

She dimpled. "They're in the car," she admitted, still laughing. "But I really don't have skating clothes with me."

"I'll bet Mom has something you could borrow," Joe suggested. He reached a hand down to pull Frank to his feet. "Come on, huh?" he urged them again. "You two never have time to play, anymore!"

"That's not true," Frank denied. "We spent the whole of Christmas vacation playing."

"But school will be starting again." Joe said. "And then you'll be studying all the time."

Megan and Frank exchanged rueful glances. It was all too true.

"Okay, okay." Frank let himself be coaxed. "For a couple of hours. That's all." He started towards the stairs. "Megan, I'll ask Mom if she has something warm, that would fit you, and then I'll change."

"A couple of hours skating," Joe amended. "Not counting prep or travel time. Megan, want me to put your skates in the van?"

She nodded. "Thanks, Joe. My car is unlocked; they're in a bag on the floor in the back. Frank, if your mom has snow pants, that would be great; those over my slacks will work. Oh – and maybe some heavier socks?"

"Right on." Frank disappeared up the stairs, and Joe grabbed his coat and exited the house. Megan was left alone, feeling as if she'd suddenly turned into Dorothy and had been picked up and flung down by a tornado. Hanging around with the Hardys was seldom dull!

She was standing beside the large windows, staring out at the white expanse of lawn, when a sound behind her made her turn. Expecting Frank, she jumped at the sight of another tall, dark-haired figure: Fenton Hardy, the boys' father.

"Oh – Mr. Hardy! You surprised me!" Instinctively, Megan backed up a step.

"I'm sorry, Megan, I didn't intend to startle you. I heard the boys heading in about six different directions, and I wondered what was going on." Fenton's dark eyes glinted with humor – but Megan didn't notice.

"They – we – we're going to go skating," she said hesitantly. "For a little while." She felt her color rising, and looked down at the floor, hoping to hide her blushes.

As much as Megan liked and got along with Laura Hardy; as fond as she was of Joe; as much as she dearly loved Frank…it made no difference in her feelings toward Fenton. She was in awe of the famous investigator; she turned shy and silent whenever she encountered him; in fact, she was nearly frightened out of her wits by him. Nothing Frank said made any difference; Megan simply froze up whenever Frank's father appeared on the scene.

For his part, Fenton was himself a bit uncomfortable with the little redhead who had so suddenly become an inseparable part of his older son's life. He was accustomed to the long-standing relationship Frank had held with Callie Shaw, and their breakup the previous autumn had surprised him. He looked upon Megan as he might have looked at a new kitten Frank had brought home: something pretty to play with, but surely nothing serious. To be fair, Fenton had no idea he frightened Megan, but he sensed her discomfort and unconsciously reacted to it.

"Skating, hmm? Well, that sounds like fun," Fenton remarked now, more stiffly than was his wont. He turned as Frank came catapulting down the stairs, obviously relieved at the interruption.

"Here, Megan, Mom said to use this sweater, too." Frank thrust a bundle of clothing at her. She took it with hasty thanks, and headed for the downstairs powder room to change.

"Hi, Dad." Frank perched on the arm of the couch. "How're the security arrangements going for that conference?"

"Fairly smoothly," his father answered. His reserve disappearing now that Megan was no longer in the room, Fenton sat down too. "Of course, there are several contingency plans; and the final arrangements are top-secret." He smiled at his older son. "Even from you. Setting up security for heads-of-state conferences is a major headache," he admitted. "Even if it's just our own president, the Secret Service requirements are stringent. Add in the chancellor of Germany, England's prime minister, and all the others – and their security people and their requirements…." He shook his head ruefully. "There have been times lately when I wished I'd politely declined the job."

"Well, it won't be for too much longer," Frank reminded him. "When do people start arriving? A week from today?"

"Unless plans change," Fenton answered, the rueful look still evident on his face. "Something tells me not to plan on getting much sleep for the next few days."

The arrival of both Joe and Megan put an end to their conversation. Frank went back upstairs to change, and the three teens soon departed, piling into the boys' van for the drive to Vanessa's house, which was located several miles outside the city limits.

"Dad's got a lot of worries about that bigwig conference," Joe remarked as he carefully piloted the vehicle along the road. "I'm just as glad he's not allowed to let us help, though…arranging security for heads of state is downright scary."

"It would be exciting to actually see all those famous people, though," Megan commented from the back seat. She gazed out the window at the snowy landscape. "I'm glad it's been so dry the last day or so; the roads aren't slick any more."

"Uh-huh," Joe grunted. He slowed, and turned off the highway onto a smaller road. "I see Biff's and Vanessa's cars; we're the last ones here," he grumbled, glancing over at Frank, "Because some people took so much time getting ready to come."

Frank eyed him coolly. "You could have gone without us," he reminded Joe. "This was your idea, remember?" Noting Joe's chagrined expression, he let a smile creep onto his face. "I'm kidding, little brother."

Megan reached to pat Joe's shoulder comfortingly. "Joe, I'm glad to come skating with you," she reassured him. "And if Frank is going to be a party-pooper, he can just sit in the car by himself." At that, Frank whipped his head around, startled, and she dissolved into giggles at the dismayed look on his face. As always, Megan's giggles were contagious, and all three of them were laughing when Joe parked the van next to Biff's somewhat dilapidated black-and-gray Blazer. They got out and walked to the edge of the pond.

"Consider yourself challenged to a race," Frank grunted as he tugged on his skates. "You and me, little brother, right here, right now."

Joe snorted derisively. "It won't even be a contest, big brother. You're way out of shape." Frank eyed him speculatively, but made no further comment.

In a few minutes, all six of them were rapidly gliding about the frozen pond, sometimes singly, sometimes in pairs; occasionally three or four would link hands for a time. Since they were on a pond, rather than a rink, there were some rough spots on the surface, but these were easily avoided. Frank and Joe staged their race – and although Joe managed to win, Frank was so close on his heels that Joe didn't dare boast about his victory. The time seemed to fly; Frank's allotted two hours stretched to nearly three. The winter sun was beginning to sink toward the horizon when Biff gathered them all into a huddle.

"Let's do crack-the-whip a few times before we stop," he suggested. "I'll be anchor for everyone – except when it's my turn to be on the end." Frank grinned. He liked crack-the-whip.

Megan wrinkled her nose a little in distaste. "Crack-the-whip isn't one of my favorite games," she admitted. "I always spin so far…"

"That's because you're so little," Frank teased her. He pulled her close and kissed the tip of her nose. "Come on, we won't spin you hard. It'll be fun. Megan gets to go first," he announced to the group, adding quietly to his girlfriend, "that way you get done with it."

Reluctantly, she took her place at the end of the line. Biff was at the other end, holding his girlfriend Karen's hand; she gripped Joe's hand tightly as he stood between her and Vanessa. Next came Frank, and finally, Megan. They began skating again, increasing their speed as they went around in a circular pattern. When he felt they were going rapidly enough, Biff dug in his skates, jerked to a stop, and yanked hard on Karen's hand. The line of skaters swung round, with Megan at the end. Frank let go of her hand, she spun off, shrieking with excitement, and was nearly to the end of the little pond before she slowed down.

The teens repeated the procedure again and again; Karen, then Joe, then Vanessa, and Biff. Finally it was Frank's turn. He took his place in line, holding Vanessa's hand. She grinned cheerfully at him, her blue-gray eyes sparkling beneath the blue hat she wore.

"How far do you want to go?" she teased.

"As far as you can send me," he responded. "Farther than that wimpy ride you gave Joe," he added to Biff, who nodded.

"You got it," he rumbled. "All the way to the end of the pond, guys, okay?

This time, Biff let more speed build up before he dug in his skates. The yank he gave Joe's arm was harder than any before, and the momentum carried down the line, through Megan and Karen, to Vanessa. She waited until the last possible moment before releasing Frank's hand, and when she did so, she gave an extra snap to her wrist, starting him whirling almost immediately. He spun towards the far end of the pond, fighting for his balance on the slippery surface.

Exhilaration at the experience flowed through Frank's body; adrenaline pumping high. He glimpsed the shoreline seeming to approach him, rather than the other way around, and waited for his momentum to slow. Just as the revolving began to ease off, however, Frank felt one of his skates catch on a rough patch of ice. Going the speed he was, there was no way he could maintain control of his feet. Frank stumbled, arms windmilling wildly as he tried uselessly to regain his balance. He saw a snowbank looming in front of him, and had time for one wild thought, I hope that snow's soft! before he fell heavily onto the ice. He skidded forward, and felt the impact as he hit the crusted snow at the edge of the pond. There was an instant of sharp pain as his head bounced on the ice, swirling sparks filled his vision…and then there was nothing but soft blackness.