Chapter 2: Stranger Danger

The next day, there were whispers here and there at school about Frank and Joe's most recent case. A few kids congratulated them, a few told them that they should keep their noses out of everyone else's business; the usual. As the mystery had concerned the sixth grade, Frank got most of the comments, but Joe did get a few here and there. He was, of course, more hotheaded in response to the mean ones than his brother was, but at least he avoided any fights. That night, they told their father about what had gone on, but he was very distracted, and it was Laura that ended up listening to most of their tales. Fenton excused himself from the table early to work on a case. Usually he would tell his family a little of his work, but he seemed unusually close-mouthed about this one. It wasn't as if it were top secret, more as if he were worried and more inclined to brood, rather than discuss it.

Gertrude was no help. She meant well perhaps, but the fact that she kept telling Fenton he should take break and not work so hard or he'd get an ulcer was not exactly encouraging his morale about the case.

As the end of the school year progressed, the boys saw less and less of their father, which bothered them both. Joe was rather inclined to whine about it, but Frank convinced him that it would probably just upset their dad to say anything about it. It was his job, after all, why make him feel bad for doing it? Joe eventually agreed.

Still, the younger Hardy was curious, and was not quite so rigid as his brother concerning following the rules. Not that Frank was an angel, but he was a lot less inclined than Joe to do something he knew he shouldn't. And so it happened that as their father sat one day in his office, the curious Joe crept up on the door for a bit of eavesdropping. Aunt Gertrude and Laura were out shopping, and Frank was at a Boy Scout meeting.

"...know it is, Sam," Fenton was saying. "I know it's risky, that's why I'm not doing it just yet. I may not do it at all, period. I think they're onto me already, which isn't such an encouraging thought. Whoever these people are, they're good."

Joe frowned, wondering who "they" were. Bad guys, he assumed, but he had never heard of any bad guys that could beat his father! His dad was the best! He couldn't get outfoxed by any criminal, could he?

"I'm getting close to something," Fenton said. "I just don't know what! Yeah, I've been threatened a time or two, you know the usual. Stop investigating or you'll die; back off if you value your family; things like that. And there's something about these threats..." he paused, listening for nearly a full minute to whatever Sam Radley was saying on the other end of the phone. "Oh, yeah, I've definitely gone to Chief Collig, filling him in on everything. He's stumped too, which worries me." A pause. "Nope, no fingerprints on the gun, no serial number, no records of the sale of such a firearm. Whoever the killer was, he was too careful. I think we're dealing with a real pro. Yeah. Well, no, I won't try to infiltrate them if they're already onto me, I'd have to have someone else do it – hold on a minute, Sam." Fenton's tone changed to one of puzzlement, and Joe heard him rise from his chair.

The boy's eyes widened, and he sprinted away from the study, making hardly a noise. He heard the study door open, heard Fenton murmur something, then go back into his office. That had been close! Joe dashed into his room, his eyes wide with alarm, his heart pounding. He flopped on his hammock, slowing his breathing. Fenton would have been very angry had he caught Joe listening in! He tried hard to keep his family apart from his work, mostly to protect them.

After a moment, when he could no longer feel his heart thudding behind his ribs, Joe began thinking back on what he had heard. Someone was after his dad, which made him mad! He almost hoped that whoever it was broke into their house, then Joe could help get him! He had a baseball bat, he could whack him in the knee! Or maybe a little higher.

"That would be cool," he said softly to himself. He often thought about what he would do if anyone ever broke into the house. The fantasy usually ended up with him hitting the burglar out with his baseball bat, or something equally heavy and hard.

He soon tired of this daydreaming, and turned his attention to the boys' video game unit, where he played until Frank got home from his Scout meeting. Once Joe got to a save point in his video game, he shut it off, and told Frank everything he had heard from Fenton's study. Frank scowled at Joe for eavesdropping, but he was curious enough that he didn't even try to scold him for it. The two brothers discussed for a while what it might be that Fenton was working on, and Frank said it sounded like a murder, if there was a gun involved. That particular little discussion continued until supper.

The next day, both boys had mostly forgotten about the conversation, as life went on as usual.

Finally the time came for the school year to end and the furor about Colin's money-order theft gradually died down, although Colin did try to frame Frank for some graffiti on the school wall a week before vacation. It was so obvious a frame that Frank didn't even need to investigate before it was found that Colin had done it. He was rather smug to learn through the grapevine that Colin had been sent to counseling.

The camping trip was scheduled for that very weekend, and Frank could not stop talking about it. Joe, who got out of school the following Wednesday, could not help being envious that his brother got to go. He didn't come right out and say so, but it was evident that he was upset.

Frank was usually fairly sensitive to his brother's moods, as they were as close as any identical twins ever were. But he was an eleven year old boy, and could not wait to go on this adventure. The boys were both in Scouts (Joe having just earned his Arrow of Light out of the Cub Scouts), but neither had done much camping yet. And this was different than a scout camp. And so, Frank was too excited to see his brother's envy.

Fenton and Laura noticed though. And so when Joe said he would rather stay home when they brought Frank to the school where everyone was meeting, they both understood. Frank noticed, but again was too excited about his trip to dwell much on it.

When the boys' parents came back home, they had a little talk with Joe, waiting for this until Aunt Gertrude had retired for the night. They did not scold him, or make him think he had done wrong; the Hardys were not like that. They simply got him to speak about what was bothering him, and did what they could to reassure his feelings.

"I just...I'm just getting left out again," Joe said, scowling down at his shirt. His hands were in his pocket and he looked like he could either growl, or cry. He seemed to be deciding on one or the other.

Fenton put an arm around the boy. "I understand, Joe. It's perfectly natural to feel left out. I have an older brother, myself, along with Aunt Gertrude." He chuckled at Joe's surprised look. "Yep, he'd be your uncle. But he lives on the opposite coast, so you and Frank have never met him. And Lord, did I ever feel left out when he was around."

"How old was he?" Joe asked, interested in spite of himself.

"He was a bit older than Frank; five years older than I was," Fenton said, smiling a bit. "And he did not want some pest-ish little brother hanging around him all the time. He always got to do things before I did, such as Scouts -" he noted Joe's look of understanding at this, "-and privileges, and skills..." Fenton chuckled and gave his son a gentle shake. "Trust me, I understand how it feels. Frank tries to include you, and he enjoys your company. But sometimes he forgets."

Joe sighed. "Okay, okay, I know... I just..."

"I know." Fenton stood, stretching. As the crisis was being averted, Laura excused herself to go to her room, kissing Joe on the forehead. "Come on," said Fenton to Joe. "Let's go into the basement, and look for the photo albums. I'll tell you about my brother."

"Okay!" Distracted now from his upset, Joe followed his father downstairs, happy to be paid the attention. He and Frank had seen too little of him as of late.

When Frank returned, Joe did go along to pick him up. He was eager to see him, despite his former anger. And so Sunday afternoon, they picked Frank up from the school, where he stood, looking somewhat tanner than he had upon leaving, and looked like he had had a blast. He chattered on about his weekend, which had included all of Friday and Saturday, and half of Sunday. He told them about the cabins, and of the teams they had been put in. His had been called Tomahawk. He told them about the campfire, where they'd had a storyteller come that had introduced himself to the group by firing an old-fashioned six-shooter; blanks, of course. Everyone had gotten scared by that!

Joe began looking a little sulky as Frank told his tales, but tactfully said nothing. This time, however, Frank noticed.

When they got home, Frank looked at Joe. "Hey c'mon, come help me unpack, will you? I'm sure glad to be home, tell you that. I missed you." He caught Fenton's pleased smile as Joe's expression brightened. "And after that, we can go up to the playground if you wanna."

At this, Joe grinned. "Okay!" He ran upstairs after Frank.

School ended with the usual chaos of activity; desks that had accumulated papers, pencils, dust, and other assorted odds and ends had to be cleaned out. The classes were given their normal packet of summer activities in horrible purple mimeograph ink. The booklists were handed out, and the children were told the date that school would start the next year. Those going to summer school were given schedules.

And finally, the last bell rang. The air-conditioned halls of Bayport Elementary emptied amazingly quickly, leaving them silent and bare. The students spilled out into the hot summer air, eagerly breathing their first gasp of freedom.

"Boy, I can't think of anything better than the first day of summer vacation!" Joe enthused as the boys started home. His backpack was heavy with his papers, books, and belongings, as was Frank's.

"It's not really vacation, yet," Frank pointed out. "It's the last day of school. It's just that school didn't last all day." It had let out at noon, as it always did on the final day. The administration was wise enough to know that the children would never sit through a full day of school!

Joe gave his brother a dirty look. "Boy, are you a spoilsport," he said.

Frank shrugged, and grinned. "That's my job!"

"I thought your job was being a huge pain in the butt," Joe retorted, smirking. Frank slugged him one in the arm for that, and Joe laughed. "I'm gonna tell Dad you beat me up on the last day of school," Joe said, making it sound like a vicious crime.

Frank snorted. "Go ahead. He probably knows you deserved it, anyways."

"I do not!"

"You do too!" Frank grinned at his brother's look of indignation, and made a face at him.

"Sheesh, big brothers are the pits...the armpits!"

This mostly lighthearted bickering continued as the boys walked home in the summer heat. It was a hot one, one the adults called a scorcher. If one were to look down at the sidewalk, he would see heat distortion waves rising up from it. There were dark clouds to the west, but they had not yet covered the sun, which continued to bake the town of Bayport.

About halfway between school and home, the boys had to pass a construction site, where old apartments were being torn down to make way for newer ones. The old ones had broken down enough that they were eventually unable to withstand further patching. Frank and Joe would sometimes stop and watch the construction. Across the street was a park, separated from the street by a six foot privacy fence.

As they approached it today, Joe grinned at his brother. "Race you!" he said, and took off running.

Frank sputtered for only a second before tearing off after him, shouting that he was a cheater, and that he had gotten a head start. And that was usually how Joe did it too, he mused with a smirk. That little twerp! He was the faster of the two, too, what did he need to start off like that for?

He caught sight of the towheaded boy rounding the corner, around the fence on the edge of the park. Frowning, he lowered his head and increased his speed, determined at least to catch up. But then he heard something that made him feel cold, even in the day's stifling heat. An alarmed yell, not a play yell, from his brother. "Hey!" he heard Joe cry. "Lemme go, Frank, help! Heeeelp, lemme go!"

As Joe's voice rose in what sounded like panic, Frank forced a bit more speed from his legs. What had Joe gotten into? Had he fallen? Did someone grab him? Did...

As he neared, he heard the sound of a fight, and heard an adult voice he didn't recognize growl, "Stop it, you freakin' brat!" He heard the sound of a fist on skin, and heard the adult grunt, and then hiss in anger. By this point, Frank was there, and as he rounded the corner, his eyes widened in shock. Someone did have his brother! A scrawny man with long, greasy brown hair held Joe around the waist, and the younger boy was fighting like the devil himself, yelling at the top of his lungs. The adult tried several times to cover his mouth, but after getting bitten twice, he stopped.

"Hey!" Frank screamed, after a moment of shock. "Hey, leave him alone!" The older boy scowled furiously, stripping his heavy bookbag from his back as the adult spun to look at him. He swung the bag as hard as he could at his brother's assailant, knocking him off balance so that he staggered. He did not let go of Joe, however, who was kicking his feet as hard as he could.

"Jake, I could use some friggin' help!" the adult growled, as Frank picked up the bag for another swing.

"No names, moron!" came a hissed reply from on the street. Neither boy had noticed the car parked by the side of the road; Frank only now realized that it was there, and he looked in time to see another man exit the car. This one's brown hair was cut short, and looked more or less clean, unlike the man who had grabbed Joe. Frank backed up a step, angling his attack with his bag towards this new threat, but this one was ready for it. He grabbed the bag and flung it aside, grabbing Frank's arm as he did. He pulled sharply, making Frank gasp with the sudden pain of a sprained wrist. "Get the brat in the car!" the new man, presumably Jake, snarled.

The first man obeyed, lunging for the car, where he could pin Joe to the seat. He did so, breathing hard, and simply stayed like that while Jake got a better grip on Frank. "No!" Frank cried, now afraid. "No, help!" he screamed. "Heeeelp! Poliiiice! Help! Stranger!" It seemed childish, but it was what he had been taught to scream if someone ever tried to take him. But unknown to him, the construction crews were not working that day in the record heat, and the park was deserted for the same reason. By sheer misfortune, no other children walked the same way Frank and Joe did.

Frank got little chance to say more, as he too, was forced into the car. By that time, a now-tearful Joe's hands had been tied behind him, and his kicking feet were bound as well. His assailant dumped him unceremoniously on the floor, while Jake gave Frank and same treatment. "Keep them down!" he hissed at the first man, as he exited the car. He picked up Frank's pack, and Joe's, which had been flung into the street. He tossed these into the trunk, then slid into the driver's seat.

The long-haired man put his hand around Joe's throat, and squeezed. "I swear, you little brat, if you don't stay quiet I'll throttle you; we only need one of you, you know!"

Joe made a small sound of fear and nodded frantically, as the car started, and headed down the street. Jake did not speed, as that was one good way to attract attention. Satisfied that he had intimidated the boys into silence, at least for the time being, the first man sat back and glared.

Frank and Joe huddled together on the floor of the backseat, their eyes riveted on the man who sat there. There were tears on Joe's face, and Frank was struggling to avoid crying, himself.

The car rode for a good distance, at least across town, so far as Frank could tell. Despite his fear, he was trying as hard as he could to remember the details of the greasy-haired man's face, his clothing, his hair and eyes. While Joe's fearful glance was concentrating on glaring at him, Frank was seeing him. Remembering every detail his observant eye could catch. He noticed that he had a small scar on the left side of his mouth, and as he looked over the rest of his body, noticed his left hand also had a similar scar. Frank wasn't sure what made the scars, but they appeared to have been from the same sort of thing. Knife wounds?

After ten minutes or so of this, the greasy man seemed to be aware that Frank's gaze was more than casual. As he narrowed his eyes, peering closer at the boy, he could see that his eyes were not just gazing, but noticing him. He growled and backhanded Frank across the face, making his yelp in pained shock. He leaned close and grabbed the boy's shirt. "Keep your eyes on the floor, brat, less you want a hood shoved over your head. I see those eyes rise once, and that's what you'll get. Got it?"

Swallowing hard, shaken, Frank nodded his head, and turned his glance to the floor. When Joe was threatened with the same thing, he also looked down.

Now, Frank was crying quietly, but he also seemed very angry. "It's okay, Joe," he whispered. His voice was steady. "They...the police'll come." But at a light kick and a hissed order to shut up, the boys quieted. There was nothing to do but wait out the ride.

The ride itself took nearly an hour, and at the speed limit, that took the little group far into the outskirts of the city. Frank tried to keep track of the twists and turns that the car took, but after a while, he couldn't keep track, or remember. He did remember a name, though: Jake. He would remember what they looked like, and what color the car was. He would be able to help the police when he got out of this.

If he got out.

The elder Hardy swallowed hard, trying not to think along those lines. He glanced at his brother, who looked miserable. Frank didn't feel all too terrific, himself. His wrist throbbed, and his face was sore from being smacked. Still, he nudged the younger boy and managed a sort of sick grin. When Greasy-Hair wasn't looking, he stuck out his tongue at him. This got a tiny smile from Joe, who gave Frank a grateful look.

The ride ended after the car had been on a very bumpy road for at least ten minutes. As the boys realized this, they looked up, but from their vantage point, could see nothing but sky, and the leaves of trees. Jake got out of the seat, and the boys looked up to see Greasy-Hair glaring at them. It was then that Joe noticed the man's hand was red and a bit swollen. That was where I bit him, he thought with some satisfaction. I wish I'd broken the skin!

Once Jake was out, he came around to one side of the car, and opened the door. He nodded to Greasy-Hair, who got out on the other side, which blocked the boys from trying anything. Not that we could, Frank thought with some annoyance. They tied us up!

The two men brought the boys out of the car, and they got a glimpse of trees, and a dirt road. Frank looked around to where they were being carried, and saw that it looked like a little, one-story house. It might have been white once, but the dust of the road had covered it enough to make it look grayish tan. But then they were borne inside, too quickly to catch more than a glimpse.

It was dark in the house, and there was some bumping around until one of the men turned on the light. Joe was trying to fight again, but it was very awkward, and he was tired and sore from being tied up for so long, and his struggles got him exactly nowhere. He soon ceased.

"Who are you guys?" Frank asked.

"Quiet," one of the men growled, as they carried the two young captives across a tiny living room. The place was fairly clean, if a little cluttered and small. Apparently it was being used by someone, presumably the two men that had kidnapped the boys.

Frank and Joe were dumped rather ungracefully on the cement floor of an unfinished basement, and then left. The light was turned off as the men climbed the stairs, and both boys heard the door close and lock.

Frank and Joe fighting
Fight

Part 3

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