"Well," she said, blinking at her tears and trying to concentrate, "the man holding Joe's feet asked the one walking beside them where they could dump the body." She paused and frowned. "No, that's not right. He asked, 'Where did you dump the body?'"
"Did?" questioned Frank. "Are you positive that's what he said?" At her nod he continued, "That sounds like they were talking about someone else. What else did you hear? Did he say where?"
Liz sniffed and shook her head. "That's all I heard. They had reached the car by then and I wasn't close enough to hear anymore."
"Did you see anything that might help us find out who took him?" asked Frank, desperate for any kind of clue.
"Not really," Liz answered. "But some of Joe's things spilled out of his backpack when that guy threw it into the car."
"What about their voices? Did any of them have an accent?" Frank tried to prompt her memory.
"I only remember that one guy's voice,' she said. "He sounded like a," she paused, searching for the right word, "like an android. No emotion," she explained.
"A professional?" Frank wondered out loud. Liz gave a small indecisive shrug.
"Thanks Liz," Frank said, smiling thinly at her. "If you think of anything else..."
"I'll let you know," she hurriedly assured him.
Frank walked over to where his father was stooping by their van. After telling him what Liz had said, Mr. Hardy nodded. "That would explain why some of Joe's notes are scattered around," he said, sighing and standing up.
"What now?" asked Frank.
"Go home," Mr. Hardy told him. When Frank objected, he held up a hand. "Tell your mother what has happened and wait to see if the kidnapers call. I'll check with the police department and see if they've turned up any bodies recently," he added, referring to the bit of information Liz had overheard.
"Then you don't think they've killed him?" asked Frank with a pleading expression.
"No, I don't," answered Mr. Hardy after a moment of thought. "There were two witnesses present so if they had killed him they would have left his body," he reasoned.
"That's something," Frank said hopefully.
"Collig has an all points bulletin out on the red Mercury and has issued roadblocks on all roads heading out of town. Where did Joe go today besides the newspaper office?" he asked, changing the subject.
"The library for sure," Frank told him. "He was doing a research paper for a class. I don't know where else he might have gone, but he had to have at least one interview."
"What was his paper on?" queried Mr. Hardy.
Frank shrugged his shoulders. "Last night he still hadn't decided on a topic and he had left the house before I got back from my morning jog. Do you think Joe stumbled onto something this morning?'
"It's a real possibility," was the reply.
"Sure, but even if he did, how would anyone know?" Frank argued.
"You said he had to have an interview." At Frank's nod, he continued, "He may have scared someone by asking the wrong question."
"For a school paper?" Frank demanded in disbelief.
"Even a school research paper can scare someone when it's being done by a detective," Mr. Hardy replied gravely.
"Then you don't think it's an old enemy? Asked Frank, thinking of the many cases he and Joe had solved in the past.
"Not really," he answered. "Although that, too, is a possibility." He shook his head with a sense of helplessness. "Collig ran a check to see who has been released from prison recently, but the only name he came up with was a man I sent up when you and your brother were still in diapers. His present address is in Utah."
"I'll go over Joe's notes and see if I can figure out what he was working on," said Frank, holding out a hand for the cards his dad held.
"Good luck, son," said Mr. Hardy as he gave Frank the cards. "When you finish with them Chief Collig wants them back for evidence."
Frank nodded. "Is it okay to take the van?" he asked.
"Yes, it's been dusted but only two sets of prints were found."
"Mine and Joe's," guessed Frank, climbing into the van. Mr. Hardy nodded. "I'll see you at home," Frank added before driving off.
"The kid's got the rest of the stuff," said a nasal voice to the driver of a brown sedan.
"Then we shall just have to take it from him," came a steely reply from the back seat.
"He's moving," said the driver starting the engine.
"Stay back until the time is right and then..." ended Steely Voice suggestively.
"My pleasure," stated the driver, grinning as he placed the sedan three cars behind the van.
Picking up the car phone Frank called his seventeen-year-old-girlfriend, Callie Shaw. "Don't you and Joe have current events together?" he asked as soon as she answered.
"Yeah," she admitted. "Chet and Biff are in our class too," she added, naming two more of their friends. "But why didn't you just ask Joe?" she ended in a puzzled tone.
"I'd like you to come over and help me figure out what Joe's topic was," he told her after explaining about the kidnapping.
"Anything to help," she told him. "Why don't I call the gang together?" she suggested. "We're bound to come up with something if we all work on it."
"Great idea! I'll...uh-oh," he broke off, noticing a car coming up fast.
"What's wrong?" Callie anxiously demanded.
"I've got company," he told her. "We'll meet at my house in twenty minutes," he added hurriedly. "Bye." He hung up and clung to the wheel as he floored the pedal. Speeding up, he hoped to out distance the sedan, but it gained on him.
Coming alongside the van, the driver of the sedan turned the steering wheel sharply tot he right, hitting the van and making it spin out of control.
Frank released the gas pedal and eased his foot down on the brakes, fighting with the wheel in an attempt to regain control. Two miles down the road, he finally brought the van to a stop.
The sedan pulled to a halt inches from the van and three masked figures jumped out. Before Frank could react, his door was wrenched open and he was dragged from his seat.
"Where's my brother?" Frank demanded.
His only answer was a punch in the stomach and a revolver shoved against his throat. While one man held him from behind and the second kept the revolver on him, the third man climbed into the van and took the note cards. Nodding at his companions, he headed for the sedan. The man holding Frank spun him around. Frank saw one brown eye and one blue one before the revolver came crashing down on his head.
