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 originally co-written with another person, who is not currently available to ask for permission to post it. Therefore it is being posted under one author name. Also, it was written in the late 1990s, so technology is not at a 2017 level. Please pardon that fact.

September Song

By EvergreenDreamweaver

Chapter 9

"Now we know what Crowley's thugs were after," Frank said, speaking as quietly as Joe had. "And things just got a little more dangerous."

"We need to get this tape to the police," Mrs. Wright spoke up. "Right away."

"No, we need to copy that tape and then get it to the police," Joe amended the statement. "Vanessa, my lovely, do you happen to know anyone who has equipment for copying tapes like this?" He waited a beat, then when she didn't answer, turned and looked at her. "Van? You okay?"

His girlfriend was very pale. "That man on the tape—" she whispered.

"Crowley?"

"No…no, the other one."

"Someone named Waring," Frank said. "Sounded like he's a doctor. What about him, Vanessa?"

"He – he's been killing people? Terminally ill people?"

"That's what it sounds like," Joe said. "Van, what's wrong?" He slid off the couch to a seat beside her on the floor, and gripped her hands in his. "Tell me, babe."

"I – I – you know I volunteer at the hospital once a week."

Joe nodded encouragingly.

"I – Joe, I – I know Doctor Waring! I mean, I know who he is when I see him. He has patients in critical care…I don't work there, but I've seen him around. Maybe said hello a couple of times. And he's m-m-murdering people?" Tears spilled from Vanessa's blue-gray eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

"Oh boy," Joe murmured, and put a comforting arm about his distraught girlfriend. "That's kind of a shock, isn't it? As a general rule, you don't hang out with murderers too much… Hey, it's okay, Vanessa, don't flip out on me, here!" He shook her gently.

Joe's half-comforting, half-teasing words had their effect; Vanessa gulped and swiped her hands across her cheeks. "I'm sorry. It was just such a creepy feeling…"

"Believe me, I know how you feel," Mrs. Wright commented. "I never cared too much for Ted Crowley, but he was my husband's employer. We knew each other socially. And now I know he's a murderer too – or if he isn't actually doing the deed, he's hiring to have it done."

"I can make a copy of this easily," Vanessa indicated the tape with a wave of her hand. "I'll just need it overnight."

"And then a copy goes to the police," Mrs. Wright said firmly.

"But Mom," Megan spoke up. "This doesn't prove anything about Dad's death!"

Mrs. Wright looked very unhappy. "I know, honey. And after seeing this, I know you were right about his death not being an accident. But we can't prove it."

"If you give us a little time, we might be able to find some more evidence about that," Frank said quietly. "This Doctor Waring sounds like he's unhappy about the position he's in. Maybe we can find out something about him and put some pressure on."

"First things first." Joe got to his feet and pulled Vanessa up after him. "Let's get the tape to Vanessa's house and get it copied. Tomorrow we can decide what angles we can pursue to catch Dr. Death." He ejected the tape and handed it to his girlfriend.

Joe, Vanessa and Frank bid a hasty goodbye to Mrs. Wright, and Megan walked them to the front door. She hugged Vanessa, punched Joe lightly on the arm, and then turned to Frank as the other two headed for the Hardys' van.

"See you tomorrow?"

He nodded. "I have a class at noon, but that's all." He wrinkled his nose. "Shakespeare's plays. Yuck. English credits."

Her eyes twinkled. "I like Shakespeare!" she teased. "But I have a ten o'clock, and an eleven. I'm done at noon. Want me to wait for you to get out of Shakespeare?"

"If you don't mind, I'd like it. Meet you at the student center at one, all right?"

She nodded, tiptoed to kiss his cheek, then laughed and gently pushed him out the door. Frank grinned at her, and jogged down the driveway to the waiting van.

When he got in, however, he found Vanessa and Joe in the middle of a discussion. A heated discussion. Rolling his eyes, Frank started the engine, backed out of the driveway, and headed towards the Hardy home, dividing his attention between the road and the argument.

"Joe, I will be perfectly safe driving home. Who would bother me? I drive out there every single day of my life – and a lot of nights! No one's ever—"

"Tonight you are carrying something very valuable; therefore you need to have some extra protection. Or you should just call your mom and tell her you're going to stay at our house tonight. We have a guest room!"

"I don't need to stay in your guest room. I have a very nice room at home, and I prefer to sleep there. And I want to get this tape copied right away. You don't need to escort me home, Joe, for pity's sake!" She flounced in her seat indignantly. "Quit treating me like a cream puff!"

"Baby, I know you're not a cream puff; but I'm worried about you!" Joe cajoled. "I don't want you in any danger. Frank, tell her she should stay at our house. Or else let me drive her home."

Frank was watching the rear-view mirror. A car was behind them, but it was keeping fairly far back, and he couldn't tell for sure if they were being followed or not. Frank swung off the main drag and opted to take some back streets to their home.

"Frank, don't you agree that I am perfectly capable of driving in my own car to my own house, and I don't need an over-protective, fussy, guardian—"

"Fussy! I am not fussy! There's a difference between being fussy and being concerned—"

Frank pulled into their driveway and turned off the engine.

"Joe—" he began.

"Tell her, Frank! Tell her it's not a good idea to—"

"I think—"

"…somebody could attack her, out on the highway—"

"Maybe—"

"She'd be much safer—"

"Joe—"

"You know I'm right, Vanessa—"

"JOE!" Frank bellowed, finally completely out of patience. There was a sudden silence in the van.

"Yes?" his brother asked meekly.

"You drive Vanessa's jeep. I'll follow you in the van, and bring you home. All right? Will that satisfy you? That way nobody's out on the highway alone. You'll be with her, then I'll be with you."

"It isn't necessary—" Vanessa began, then stopped. "But I appreciate it, guys. Thanks." She patted the pocket of her jacket where the precious tape rested. "I feel like I'm carrying the crown jewels around!"

She and Joe got into the Wrangler and Frank pulled the van behind them as Joe started down Elm Street. At this hour, traffic was nonexistent in their residential neighborhood, but as they headed towards Vanessa's home, they encountered more cars. Again watching his rear-view mirror, Frank noticed headlights that stayed with them, forming a three-car caravan. He kept tightly on Joe's rear bumper, not wanting to get separated from him, and kept his eye on the extra car.

As they neared the last light before the turnoff to Vanessa's road, a dark gray, battered-looking car pulled up in the lane beside the Wrangler, and Frank realized their tail was no longer behind him. He couldn't see into the car, and couldn't see the license plates from his position behind Joe. The light was still green as Joe entered the intersection, but it turned yellow when he was halfway across. Three years of defensive driving habits kicked in automatically, and Frank slowed the van. The dark gray car, however, accelerated, swerving into Frank's lane and forcing him to slam on the brakes; then the car barreled through the intersection right behind Joe. The light turned to red; cars from the other direction started across, and Frank was left at the light, furious and chagrined, watching two sets of taillights disappearing into the night.

As soon as the light changed again, he punched the accelerator toward the floor, leaving a strip of rubber across the intersection, and sped after his brother and the other car. He saw taillights in the distance, and increased his speed, hoping to catch up with them before the dark, lonely stretch of road just before Vanessa's home.

Just after the underpass, there was a sharp turn leading into a stretch that wound between fields. As Frank rounded the turn, he saw a sight that turned his blood cold: the gray car was right on Joe's back bumper – and then it accelerated, nudging the little Wrangler. Frank punched the gas pedal down, but despite Joe's tinkering with the van's engine, he couldn't catch the other two cars. The gray car banged the Wrangler once again, and then as Joe swerved to avoid the attack, his wheels hit gravel at the edge of the road. The little jeep jerked, slid, and tilted sideways.

Frank watched in horror as the Wrangler skidded on two wheels a moment, then completed its turn, rolling off the road and into the field. Its headlights cut a bright arc into the night sky as it flipped upside down. The gray car roared away, its deadly mission accomplished.