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).

This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.

Thank you, Cherylann and Max2013, for reviewing.

September Reprise

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 26

"So, what do you have?" Vanessa followed Joe down the stairs to the Hardys' basement, and to their cubbyhole of a darkroom. When Joe had called her and asked her to come over and 'help' develop pictures, she had laughed – Joe knew a whole lot more about developing camera film than she did – but she'd come, all the same. They hadn't had much time together today, and she was willing to take any decent excuse. At least he hadn't said he wanted to show her his etchings!

"Photographs that Jack and Dani took from the plane," Joe explained. "Photos of the campus. Including some of a guy on the roof of the gym. Well, maybe it was the gym. We'll know when we see the pictures."

"Do you think there will be something in the pictures that will help with the case?"

"I don't know, Babe – but I sure hope so! It would be nice to get a break. For one thing, if the guy Dani saw on top of the roof turns out to be anyone of importance, maybe we'll have this case wrapped up! If we don't find something out soon…" Joe paused, looking very sober. "He – and I use the term advisedly; it doesn't feel like a woman, but what do I know? – he might start killing at any time, and then the stakes will be a lot higher. And I'm not sure if President Mitchell is going to be able to hold out much longer before he gets suspended – or flat-out sacked! And I don't want that to happen. I want to get this solved."

Vanessa nodded. "It would be nice. My mom's started worrying about my going to school now." She snorted, shaking her head. "Like the school is going to all burn down around us while we're in class, or something!" They both chuckled at the image she created. "The guy's been smart enough to do the fires at night, so far. Except for the art building, they've all happened after evening classes are over."

"An arsonist with a conscience." Joe chuckled wryly. "I still think that group, Students For Earth, is involved somehow. Especially after what Dave Wahlstrom said today. Or one member, anyway. And I don't think I'm the only one who thinks so, either." He repeated what Dave had told him, about the 'weirdo' comments he had heard. "And that Kirk Moncrief guy, the one Megan knows – his name keeps surfacing for one reason or another. It's very suspicious, but we don't have a lick of proof! Even if he's the guy on top of the gym, that doesn't mean he's the guy responsible for setting the fires – not unless he's planted explosives, or set something for his next fire."

"I see what you mean," his girlfriend commented. "But Joe, I wonder if you're getting too close to something or other – just look at what happened to you today!"

"Maybe…." Joe sounded a little doubtful. "It could be, but then again, it could have been somebody with an unholy attack of road rage, I suppose – completely unrelated."

"How likely is that?" Vanessa demanded tartly. "You didn't do anything to the guy; he's the one who cut you off!" She smoothed the back of his hair, then hugged him very gently, trying not to hurt. "We're going to put a cold pack on that cheek bruise, as soon as you're done messing around with the developing, you know," she reminded him sternly. "And if there was any way to attach one across your chest, you'd be wearing one!"

"Yes, dear," Joe replied in his meekest voice – and then laughed and kissed her. He did appreciate her concern, after all.

He got out the developing fluid and trays that he needed to start developing the roll of film in Dani's borrowed camera. With Vanessa's help, he got everything set up, and then started to work. There were several good shots of the campus, he noted; nice ones that showed several different views of the torched building remains, as well as some overall views. And then came the ones of a rooftop – yes, definitely the gymnasium.

It took a while, Dani had been very enthusiastic about snapping photos; but Joe and Vanessa worked well together, and more quickly than Joe had hoped, they completed processing the roll. Joe hung the pictures to dry, and then he and Vanessa left the darkroom and went upstairs.

"Hey, bro – Van." Joe looked up to see Frank coming out of the kitchen, carrying a plate with a large sandwich on it.

"That looks good," Joe noted. He frowned. He couldn't recall having any dinner. Once he'd gotten home from work, his time had been filled with explaining what had happened to the car to his parents, watching while Fenton inspected the damage, calling the insurance agent….Somehow, dinner hadn't been included in all that. Joe suddenly realized he was starving! "Are there any more?"

"Nope, but there's always peanut butter," Frank replied, unhelpfully, and followed Joe and Vanessa back into the kitchen, where Joe started rummaging for sustenance. Frank seated himself at the kitchen table and began eating his sandwich. "What were you guys up to in the basement?"

"Developing film," Joe told him, spreading peanut butter with a lavish hand. "Dani took a bunch of pictures of the campus from Jack's plane, and gave me the film to develop. We're waiting for them to dry now. How was the car-shopping?" He raised a questioning eyebrow at Vanessa and gestured toward his sandwich. Want one? She shook her head and sat down beside Frank.

"They didn't buy anything yet," Frank admitted, "But I'm pretty sure Megan's picked out the car she wants. I hope she'll get off that 'red' kick she picked up from Kirk Moncrief!" he muttered, almost inaudibly, then continued more loudly: "She just wants to make sure there's nothing she likes better, at a couple of other car dealerships around town. So we get to go again."

"Is she going to get something nice?" Vanessa asked.

Frank grinned. "I promised not to tell ahead of time," he said. "But she's getting more from her insurance than they'd thought she might, because apparently her air bag only partially deployed. That, and the offer President Mitchell made to help with replacing the car – well, she's got more leeway than she thought she did." He took a large bite of his sandwich, chewed briefly, then went on: "She went on home with her mom; Carolyn came with us. I think she likes the same car Megan does, so that's good. What sort of pictures did Dani get?"

"She got something very interesting," Joe reported through a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly. "There was a guy on top of the gymnasium roof, and she took some shots of him. It might be nothing important – but then again, it just might be the arsonist!" He snapped his fingers. "Nuts, I meant to call her and see what she found out from the authorities. Even if we see the pictures, that might not tell us what we want to know."

"Maybe I'll give her a call—" Frank made a move as if to reach for the phone.

Joe grinned. "She's probably still out with Jack, and I'll tell you this, neither one of them would appreciate being interrupted. Right now, I'd bet they couldn't be pried apart with a crowbar!"

Frank chuckled. "Maybe not," he conceded, "but as long as they're both happy…." He returned to his belated dinner.

###

Finally the pictures were dry enough to spread out on the dining room table for examination. The three teens sorted them into categories: individual buildings, campus shots, the ones of the roof, with the figure on top.

"Well…she tried." Frank sighed as he realized that they couldn't get a good look at the person on the roof. It was a man, he was pretty sure of that, but otherwise…. All the photos were taken down at him, and his face was shadowed in every one. "It looks like he's wearing a gray cap and outfit of some kind – almost like a uniform." By comparing photos, they could see the man was moving across the roof. In one, he was stooped over, but they were unable to discern what he might have been doing.

"Does it look like he's carrying something? Can you tell what?" Frank indicated the picture in question. Joe and Vanessa both looked, but although they agreed it appeared as if he was, they couldn't identify the object.

"It looks sort of roundish…a kind of lump," Joe offered. Frank gave him a jaundiced look; that much was pretty obvious! What if it was plastic explosive, or something?

"These aren't much help, are they?" Joe continued morosely. He had hoped for better things.

Both Vanessa and Frank shrugged. "Dani didn't guarantee results, you know," Vanessa reminded Joe gently. "And although they don't seem to help right now, maybe they will yet, in the future. And perhaps she has found out who this guy might be."

"I wonder if I should risk calling her yet?" Frank voiced his thought. "Then again, I'm sure she'll call when she knows something. She wouldn't forget something that vital, would she, even if she is out with Jack?" He rubbed at his left arm absently, thinking...pondering. "Tomorrow," he said then, "I really think we should go and check out Kirk Moncrief more thoroughly. He keeps popping up into this, more and more. And that Corin guy…Vanessa? Do you suppose you could find him and talk to him?"

She laughed ruefully. "You want me to track down a guy I saw once, at night, during a fire, whose last name I don't know, and who was highly insulted with Megan and me when he left us! Well sure, Frank, why not?! It ought to be a snap!"

"Okay, okay, I know it's a long shot," Frank admitted with a chuckle.

"I can but try," Vanessa asserted, although she rolled her eyes dubiously.

"If you find Corin – assuming you find him and he'll talk to you – see if you can get any kind of a better idea about who he saw," Frank instructed her. "It's too bad we don't have a picture of Moncrief to show him; he might recognize him right away."

"I wonder if President Mitchell would have let me borrow the one he had," Joe murmured, but shook his head, answering his own question in the negative. "Vanessa, Kirk Moncrief has messy brown hair and a scraggly goatee, and he's short and kinda pudgy," he offered.

"Frank, I'm not sure he saw a face," Vanessa countered doubtfully. "It seemed like more of a general backside description. And he said the guy had a sweatshirt hood pulled up. If we knew what the backpack looked like, we might have a better chance. Well, I'll try. I'll get on it right away. There can't be too many Corins in the student directory, after all. Maybe I'll luck out."

Vanessa kissed Joe goodnight warmly, reminded him to put ice on his face, then went out to her jeep and headed home.

#####

The doorbell ringing after ten o'clock at night wasn't a common occurrence – even in the Hardy household. However, both boys and their parents were still up, seated in the family room and discussing things of interest both familial and professional – in other words, Aunt Gertrude's latest phone call from Florida, Joe's opinion of the Bayport Community College's football team, and drivers who took out their aggressions on innocent motorists; and Fenton's frustrations with his investigation of Markham Glass.

"It's clean – totally and undisputedly clean. I didn't see any signs of fund fluctuation. I don't know where Michael Ranson gets his funny ideas, if he thought there was something going on there!"

Fenton had just uttered these words when the doorbell's chime intruded on the conversation. Frank reacted faster than anyone else, and hurried to the front door. He peered through the peephole and saw a man and a woman standing there – someone he didn't know. Cautiously, he opened the door.

"Yes?"

Mr. Hardy had followed his elder son into the entry hall, and looked over his shoulder. "Michael! Erica! Come in!" he boomed, and pulled the door wider. The couple stepped inside; as they did so, Joe and Laura appeared in the hall too.

"I don't believe you've met our sons," Fenton said. "Michael, Erica, these are our sons, Frank…and Joe. Boys, Mr. and Mrs. Ranson."

"How do you do," Frank shook hands with Michael Ranson, and Erica, who smiled at him charmingly. He was struck by her fragile loveliness and youth.

"Make it Michael and Erica, please," she requested, turning the smile on Joe. He grinned in appreciative response.

"We met your folks in Tahoe," Michael volunteered, "but we didn't get to meet you two – because of your accident, I believe." He grinned engagingly. "I think I saw your little redheaded friend once, though, Frank – from a distance. I'm glad to see you're doing okay now – the arm getting better?"

Frank smiled a little, and nodded. It seemed there were a lot of things about that trip to Lake Tahoe that he didn't know, or remember.

"I'm sorry to come here so late," Ranson apologized. "I was feeling restless, and edgy – and I hoped you were still up. If the lights hadn't been on, we would never have rang the bell, of course," he assured the Hardys.

"Well, we are up, so that's fine," Laura told him. "Come on into the family room and sit down. I'll get a snack." She turned and headed for the kitchen, leaving her husband and sons to conduct their guests to the family room.

Erica, however, followed Laura. "I'll come with you, Laura; let me help, please?"

The men seated themselves, and after removing his leather jacket, Michael almost immediately launched into the reason for his unease. "Fenton, I've been thinking about what happened on Sunday, and I've just about come to the decision to take Erica and get out of town, for her safety. I've found out what I came here to find out, thanks to you – that Markham Glass is on the up-and-up, and I'm going to go ahead and buy the company…."

He paused, looking torn. "But I don't want to leave you and Laura hanging, if those damn fool attackers were really after her, and not Erica. And I certainly never planned on anyone getting hurt over this – your dip into the ocean was definitely not on the agenda!"

"It was the bay, not the ocean," Fenton murmured, his eyes twinkling a little. Once he'd gotten over his mad about being dumped into Barmet Bay, he had gotten a slight kick out of reporting the incident to Michael over the telephone…and padding his bill somewhat!

"I'm hoping that if Erica and I leave Bayport, whoever attacked Erica and Laura will move on to greener pastures, and leave both of them alone!" Ranson finished up, without seeming to hear Fenton's dry comment.

"I don't know that it's going to be all that easy, Michael," Mr. Hardy commented thoughtfully. "That might be exactly what whoever is behind this wants: to cause a splintering effect and spook us into doing something stupid."

"Maybe they're not still in danger?" Ranson asked hopefully. "It's been four days now – since Sunday. Well, two since you were tossed into the bay, but…but nothing's happened to either Erica or Laura. Maybe they've given up – decided it's impossible?"

"I'm not so sure about any of it, to be quite honest," Fenton shook his head. "I don't think it's over. And if either of us, Michael, lets our guard down, the women could end up paying the price!"

Frank, who had been listening silently to the exchange, now offered a comment. "Dad, is there anything Joe and I can do to help?"

Fenton smiled at his elder son gratefully. "Just keep on doing what you've been doing, Frank, only if you can, try to be home a little more, or available to go places with your mother, if she needs to go out. I don't like her being home alone so much right now – and unfortunately, it's driving her nuts, having to stay at home!"

"She's not the only one," Michael Ranson muttered softly.

Fenton smiled at that. "I'm trying to stay home as much as possible, but it's difficult to draw an enemy out if everyone stays in the house all the time!" He looked keenly from Frank to Joe. "And you two boys keep a sharp eye out, too, please. The kidnappers may try to go for one of you, if they decide it's too difficult to get to your mother."

"We can take care of ourselves—" Joe asserted, while Frank added quickly, "But we'll keep our eyes open, Dad."

The arrival of Laura and Erica with hot chocolate and a platter of cookies halted the conversation, and after the refreshments had been distributed, an uneasy, strained silence came over the room. Laura, settling herself beside Fenton on the love seat, glanced around at the gloomy-appearing menfolk, and pointedly addressed a comment to Erica.

"So, have you been as cooped up as I have, Erica?"

Erica, with a teasing smile at her husband, replied. "Even more so. I haven't been out of Michael's sight more than little while since Sunday – and that little while wasn't very long! Michael's the overprotective type."

"And I'm going to stay that way until I know you're safe," Ranson grumbled in an undertone, but he smiled sheepishly at the same time.

"I know the feeling," Laura said clearly, and although she smiled, she gave a look to Fenton that informed him she would only put up with it for just so long…and no longer! "Fenton's a bit on the overprotective side himself."

"Overprotective, huh," Joe commented, sotto voce, to Frank. "Sound familiar, bro? Maybe it's genetic…."

Frank gave him a dirty look – and reddened.

Michael Ranson gazed attentively at his lap, and brushed infinitesimal specks of lint from his trousers, careful not to say a word. He wasn't about to brave the combined wrath of Laura Hardy and his wife!

Fenton raised his eyes to the ceiling, as if seeking inspiration from the heavens. Finally, he put an arm about Laura and hugged her close. "Honey, I promise, I'll try to make sure we find the guy responsible as soon as possible!" he pleaded.

Michael Ranson looked up at last, somewhat shamefaced. "Maybe we ought to stick around Bayport a while longer. Fenton's right; we may as well stay until we know what's going on. So I'll just have to keep on being overprotective…right?" He joggled Erica's arm, quite evidently hoping to win a smile or a laugh from her.

Erica sniffed at that. "There's a limit to that, you know," she murmured, but her words were accompanied by a gentle smile, and Michael relaxed.

After finishing their cocoa and cookies, the Ransons got up to leave. Laura and Fenton accompanied them outside to their car. Frank and Joe followed as far as the door, intending to stay inside…and then Joe caught sight of the Ransons' vehicle.

"Mr. Ranson? Is that your Mercedes convertible?" he breathed.

Ranson glanced from the car to Joe, and grinned boyishly. "Yes, it is. You like it?"

"Do I? Wow…can I take a closer look at it?" Joe asked, yearningly.

"Be my guest." Ranson waved him towards the car. Joe needed no second invitation; he headed for the driveway. Frank, grinning, watched his brother from the porch. He's absolutely drooling over it….

Fenton and Michael were quietly discussing plans to get together the following day, to go over the case and maybe do some checking around, as they walked down the driveway.

"We can settle it tomorrow; I'll call you," Ranson said decisively, reaching to open Erica's car door for her.

Fenton, who had been watching several cars driving down Elm Street past their home, suddenly yelled "GET DOWN!"

….And his voice was drowned out in multiple blasts of gunfire!