Ezra Collig took a swig from his cola then sputtered it out as he caught sight of a familiar figure cutting across the street in front of him. "Riley!" he growled, his eyes not leaving his suspect.
"Joe?" gasped Con, seeing what had captured his superior's attention.
"Not Joe," Collig stated grimly. "Joe was sent to his room. Under the circumstances, I'm sure the real Joe Hardy would have stayed there. Let's get him."
Joe saw Collig and Sergeant Riley start after him and picked up his gait. He had to throw the two men off of his trail. He cut across the next road and ran down an alley, stopping and kneeling behind a trash can as a patrol car crept slowly by. Blast it! he thought. Collig must have already put an APB out on him.
He waited until the car had turned the corner then took off in the same direction, stopping and emitting a mild expletive when he saw the car had stopped and an officer was exiting the passenger side. Joe retraced his steps, passing the alley he had exited and went inside a shoe store.
"Can I help you?" asked a young man with cropped brown hair.
"I hope so," Joe replied. "Is there anyway I could use the back exit?"
"Sure, Joe," the man said, recognizing the youth from countless articles in the Bayport Times. "Working on a case?"
"Yeah," Joe answered. "And I need to lose a shadow."
"No problem," the man said with a smile. "As a matter of fact, our delivery truck is just getting ready to leave. If you want, you can ride out on it?"
"That would be great," Joe replied, relief showing in his blue eyes. "Thanks."
Joe was led through the store to the rear entrance where the last of the shipment of new shoes was being unloaded. After a few words between the two men Joe was allowed to climb into the cab and duck down.
Fifteen minutes and two miles later, Joe thanked the driver and exited the cab. He thumbed a ride to the airport where he checked departure times and found the plane Frank was going to be on. He spent the next forty minutes scouting around before finding a way to stowaway on the plane.
Frank ended his call with Callie and dialed Vanessa's number. He tapped his fingers against the table nervously as he waited for her to answer.
"Hello?" Vanessa picked up on the third ring.
"Van, it's Frank," he said.
"Is something wrong?" demanded Vanessa, not used to receiving calls from Frank unless her boyfriend was in trouble.
"Big time," replied Frank. "It wasn't Joe we brought back," he informed her. "Just someone made up to look like him."
"No way," Vanessa objected. "It's Joe."
"I know my brother," Frank said a bit crossly. "And this guy hasn't been acting like Joe at all."
"He's been through a lot," Vanessa said. "It's only natural he's acting a bit strange. Why would you even think it wasn't him?"
"Because Joe called this morning," Frank explained, running a hand through his brown hair as he tried to release the agitation and self-anger he felt. How could he have been fooled even for a second? "Joe managed to escape long enough to let us know he needed help."
"Sounds like a trap to me," Vanessa declared. "And not a very good one at that because Joe is here."
"He's not Joe," Frank stressed.
"Frank, I kissed him," Vanessa said. "And no matter how a duplicate might look, speak or act, no one can kiss like Joe."
"Maybe," Frank said, pretending to consider her words. "But either way, this Joe is confined to his room until we know for sure and that means we won't be going with you girls today."
"All right," Vanessa acknowledged regretfully. "Tell Joe I said to hang in there. You will get to the bottom of this soon."
"Okay," Frank reluctantly agreed before saying goodbye and hanging up.
Taking a deep breath he walked to Joe's door and pushed it open, not bothering to knock. "I called Vanessa..." he said as he entered. He broke off when he discovered the window open and Joe missing.
"Dad!" shouted Frank, running from the room and downstairs to where his parents were seated. The phone pealed before he could tell them of Joe's escape. Frank stopped beside the couch and waited impatiently for his father to finish with the caller. As soon as he hung up Frank blurted out: "That fake escaped!"
"I know," Fenton said, his eyes filled not with anger as Frank's, but with sadness because he had been hoping they had the real Joe. "That was Ezra," he explained. "They saw Joe downtown but when they tried to catch him he gave them the slip."
"Joe?" gasped Con, seeing what had captured his superior's attention.
"Not Joe," Collig stated grimly. "Joe was sent to his room. Under the circumstances, I'm sure the real Joe Hardy would have stayed there. Let's get him."
Joe saw Collig and Sergeant Riley start after him and picked up his gait. He had to throw the two men off of his trail. He cut across the next road and ran down an alley, stopping and kneeling behind a trash can as a patrol car crept slowly by. Blast it! he thought. Collig must have already put an APB out on him.
He waited until the car had turned the corner then took off in the same direction, stopping and emitting a mild expletive when he saw the car had stopped and an officer was exiting the passenger side. Joe retraced his steps, passing the alley he had exited and went inside a shoe store.
"Can I help you?" asked a young man with cropped brown hair.
"I hope so," Joe replied. "Is there anyway I could use the back exit?"
"Sure, Joe," the man said, recognizing the youth from countless articles in the Bayport Times. "Working on a case?"
"Yeah," Joe answered. "And I need to lose a shadow."
"No problem," the man said with a smile. "As a matter of fact, our delivery truck is just getting ready to leave. If you want, you can ride out on it?"
"That would be great," Joe replied, relief showing in his blue eyes. "Thanks."
Joe was led through the store to the rear entrance where the last of the shipment of new shoes was being unloaded. After a few words between the two men Joe was allowed to climb into the cab and duck down.
Fifteen minutes and two miles later, Joe thanked the driver and exited the cab. He thumbed a ride to the airport where he checked departure times and found the plane Frank was going to be on. He spent the next forty minutes scouting around before finding a way to stowaway on the plane.
Frank ended his call with Callie and dialed Vanessa's number. He tapped his fingers against the table nervously as he waited for her to answer.
"Hello?" Vanessa picked up on the third ring.
"Van, it's Frank," he said.
"Is something wrong?" demanded Vanessa, not used to receiving calls from Frank unless her boyfriend was in trouble.
"Big time," replied Frank. "It wasn't Joe we brought back," he informed her. "Just someone made up to look like him."
"No way," Vanessa objected. "It's Joe."
"I know my brother," Frank said a bit crossly. "And this guy hasn't been acting like Joe at all."
"He's been through a lot," Vanessa said. "It's only natural he's acting a bit strange. Why would you even think it wasn't him?"
"Because Joe called this morning," Frank explained, running a hand through his brown hair as he tried to release the agitation and self-anger he felt. How could he have been fooled even for a second? "Joe managed to escape long enough to let us know he needed help."
"Sounds like a trap to me," Vanessa declared. "And not a very good one at that because Joe is here."
"He's not Joe," Frank stressed.
"Frank, I kissed him," Vanessa said. "And no matter how a duplicate might look, speak or act, no one can kiss like Joe."
"Maybe," Frank said, pretending to consider her words. "But either way, this Joe is confined to his room until we know for sure and that means we won't be going with you girls today."
"All right," Vanessa acknowledged regretfully. "Tell Joe I said to hang in there. You will get to the bottom of this soon."
"Okay," Frank reluctantly agreed before saying goodbye and hanging up.
Taking a deep breath he walked to Joe's door and pushed it open, not bothering to knock. "I called Vanessa..." he said as he entered. He broke off when he discovered the window open and Joe missing.
"Dad!" shouted Frank, running from the room and downstairs to where his parents were seated. The phone pealed before he could tell them of Joe's escape. Frank stopped beside the couch and waited impatiently for his father to finish with the caller. As soon as he hung up Frank blurted out: "That fake escaped!"
"I know," Fenton said, his eyes filled not with anger as Frank's, but with sadness because he had been hoping they had the real Joe. "That was Ezra," he explained. "They saw Joe downtown but when they tried to catch him he gave them the slip."