"Frank!" Joe shouted, slamming the receiver back into its cradle. "Frank!" He hastily checked the address next to the phone number, in the telephone directory, as Frank cannoned down the stairs. "Come on!" Joe snapped, and headed for the front door.
Frank followed him without question, but once they were in the van, he demanded an explanation. "Okay, what's going on? Where are we going, and why?"
When Joe explained the disturbing phone call, Frank scowled. "I wonder if it's connected somehow to all the weird stuff happening at school…but nah, that makes no sense; how could it be connected?"
They arrived at the correct address, a small house in one of Bayport's newer subdivisions, and hurried from the van up to the front door. There was no response to either Joe's frantic jabs at the doorbell, or frenzied knocks on the doorframe. He felt in his pocket for his lock pick set, but came up empty-handed; he hadn't had it with him at school. He looked at Frank. "Got your lock picks?"
His brother shook his head. "Nope." He eyed the door. "I don't suppose breaking open the door would be a good option, would it?"
"Probably not." Joe reached for the doorknob, and to his amazement, it turned readily in his hand. "It's unlocked!"
They opened the door and went inside the house. "Ms. Westerman? Hello? Ms. Westerman?" Joe called. "It's Joe Hardy…."
No answer; oppressive silence met their ears. They moved slowly from the entry hall into the living room, and halted, aghast at what they saw. Lying on the floor near the windows was Danielle Westerman, a slender, athletic-looking woman in her early thirties, with long silky black hair. She was dressed as if to go out, in a black velveteen dress and high-heeled shoes, and a string of pearls adorned her neck.
Joe rushed to kneel beside her. "She's alive," he said after a moment, with considerable relief. "Maybe she just fainted. I don't see any obvious injuries."
Frank moved to check out the window, skirting the chair which was standing in his way. A few glass fragments crunched beneath his shoes as he neared it, and he noted papers scattered over the floor. "It looks like this place has been searched," he observed, "but by someone in a tearing hurry." A desk in the corner had drawers pulled out, and the chair behind it was overturned.
"Help me get her on the sofa, and then we had better search the house." Joe suggested, standing up. As Frank came over to help with the teacher, she moaned softly. "Ms. Westerman?"
She opened her eyes and stared up into Joe's anxious face, blinking in confusion. "Joe? Whatever are you doing here?"
"You screamed for help," Joe reminded her. "When we were on the telephone. We came right over." He indicated Frank, and Ms. Westerman turned her head to acknowledge the elder Hardy.
"Oh…yes. So I did." She sat up, aided by Joe, and looked around. "I heard the window break, and someone came in. I was frightened - I guess I fainted."
"Do you think you can stand up?" Joe asked her gently. She nodded, and the boys helped her to her feet, then assisted her to the couch, where she sat down gratefully.
"Thank you, both of you." She smiled at them, then looked inquiringly at Joe as she remembered something. "You called me - why?"
"It was about my English assignment," Joe explained. "My books got destroyed this afternoon, and I wanted to ask you what to do about my homework for tonight."
"Oh!" She laughed softly. "I heard about the bomb in the backpack. Not everyone has reasons like that for not doing an assignment. Well, don't worry about it, Joe. I'll give you an extension for the assignment, and you can get a new book tomorrow."
"Thanks, Ms. Westerman!" Joe grinned with relief.
"Would you like us to check the house for the intruder?" Frank asked, then.
"Oh…no, no, that's all right. I'm sure whoever it was has gone." she assured them. "I'll make sure nothing was taken, and I'll definitely call the police and report the break-in. You were very kind to come over, but I don't see any need for you to put yourselves out further."
"You're probably right," Joe concurred. "Your front door was unlocked; the intruder must have left that way."
Since there didn't seem to be anything else for them to do, Frank and Joe left, but before they got in the van they spent a few minutes looking around outside the house. Frank looked carefully at the broken window. He noticed something odd, and called Joe's attention to it.
"Look here - there's lots of glass out here on the grass…and there wasn't all that much on the carpet inside."
"That's odd," Joe commented, but since they could come up with nothing else concrete, they eventually got in the van and departed.
Driving home, Frank mused silently over the strange things which had been happening in the past two days, basically shutting Joe out, as he often did when thinking hard. Could all these things be connected? Callie's and Vanessa's houses being entered…the pictures in the lockers; the bomb in Joe's backpack…and Mom's car…and now Ms. Westerman's house ransacked…. Her place was a wreck, but Callie's and Vanessa's houses were just…entered, and things moved around, like the intruder wanted them to know someone had been there, but not cause damage. No…they can't be connected.
When they arrived home, Frank and Joe were met with curious questions from their mother, which they tried their best to answer. They told her about Ms. Westerman's broken window, but assured her Joe's English teacher was unharmed, and had intended on contacting the police about the break-in.
Since Joe had been excused from homework, he settled down at the computer in the den to catch up on his online reading, while Frank headed up to his room to finish his interrupted schoolwork. Joe decided to waive the mystery site for the night, and catch up on the science-fiction stories he'd been neglecting, and he spent a pleasurable evening reading the updated stories.
The next morning when the Hardys arrived at school, they found themselves greeted with curious looks and knowing laughter and winks. Frank, especially, was receiving this treatment, and the comments built as they proceeded towards their lockers, now accompanied by some suggestive comments and loud smooching noises from their fellow students.
Bewildered, the boys attempted to ignore it at first, but finally Frank's patience snapped.
"What's going on?" he demanded crossly of a passing freshman, who stared at him wide-eyed, and then stammered out something about the bulletin board in the main hall. Incensed, Frank stamped back down the stairs, followed by Joe, and went to the board. But when he pushed his way up to it, he halted in stupefaction.
"Wow!" Joe breathed in his ear. "Lookit!"
Posted there on the board was a photo Joe had taken a few weeks earlier. It was a shot of sunset on the beach at Barmet Bay, and featured in the foreground were Frank and Callie sharing a tender kiss, arms wrapped about each other in close embrace.
"H-how'd that get there?" Joe stuttered. "I thought you gave that photo to Callie!"
When Joe explained the disturbing phone call, Frank scowled. "I wonder if it's connected somehow to all the weird stuff happening at school…but nah, that makes no sense; how could it be connected?"
They arrived at the correct address, a small house in one of Bayport's newer subdivisions, and hurried from the van up to the front door. There was no response to either Joe's frantic jabs at the doorbell, or frenzied knocks on the doorframe. He felt in his pocket for his lock pick set, but came up empty-handed; he hadn't had it with him at school. He looked at Frank. "Got your lock picks?"
His brother shook his head. "Nope." He eyed the door. "I don't suppose breaking open the door would be a good option, would it?"
"Probably not." Joe reached for the doorknob, and to his amazement, it turned readily in his hand. "It's unlocked!"
They opened the door and went inside the house. "Ms. Westerman? Hello? Ms. Westerman?" Joe called. "It's Joe Hardy…."
No answer; oppressive silence met their ears. They moved slowly from the entry hall into the living room, and halted, aghast at what they saw. Lying on the floor near the windows was Danielle Westerman, a slender, athletic-looking woman in her early thirties, with long silky black hair. She was dressed as if to go out, in a black velveteen dress and high-heeled shoes, and a string of pearls adorned her neck.
Joe rushed to kneel beside her. "She's alive," he said after a moment, with considerable relief. "Maybe she just fainted. I don't see any obvious injuries."
Frank moved to check out the window, skirting the chair which was standing in his way. A few glass fragments crunched beneath his shoes as he neared it, and he noted papers scattered over the floor. "It looks like this place has been searched," he observed, "but by someone in a tearing hurry." A desk in the corner had drawers pulled out, and the chair behind it was overturned.
"Help me get her on the sofa, and then we had better search the house." Joe suggested, standing up. As Frank came over to help with the teacher, she moaned softly. "Ms. Westerman?"
She opened her eyes and stared up into Joe's anxious face, blinking in confusion. "Joe? Whatever are you doing here?"
"You screamed for help," Joe reminded her. "When we were on the telephone. We came right over." He indicated Frank, and Ms. Westerman turned her head to acknowledge the elder Hardy.
"Oh…yes. So I did." She sat up, aided by Joe, and looked around. "I heard the window break, and someone came in. I was frightened - I guess I fainted."
"Do you think you can stand up?" Joe asked her gently. She nodded, and the boys helped her to her feet, then assisted her to the couch, where she sat down gratefully.
"Thank you, both of you." She smiled at them, then looked inquiringly at Joe as she remembered something. "You called me - why?"
"It was about my English assignment," Joe explained. "My books got destroyed this afternoon, and I wanted to ask you what to do about my homework for tonight."
"Oh!" She laughed softly. "I heard about the bomb in the backpack. Not everyone has reasons like that for not doing an assignment. Well, don't worry about it, Joe. I'll give you an extension for the assignment, and you can get a new book tomorrow."
"Thanks, Ms. Westerman!" Joe grinned with relief.
"Would you like us to check the house for the intruder?" Frank asked, then.
"Oh…no, no, that's all right. I'm sure whoever it was has gone." she assured them. "I'll make sure nothing was taken, and I'll definitely call the police and report the break-in. You were very kind to come over, but I don't see any need for you to put yourselves out further."
"You're probably right," Joe concurred. "Your front door was unlocked; the intruder must have left that way."
Since there didn't seem to be anything else for them to do, Frank and Joe left, but before they got in the van they spent a few minutes looking around outside the house. Frank looked carefully at the broken window. He noticed something odd, and called Joe's attention to it.
"Look here - there's lots of glass out here on the grass…and there wasn't all that much on the carpet inside."
"That's odd," Joe commented, but since they could come up with nothing else concrete, they eventually got in the van and departed.
Driving home, Frank mused silently over the strange things which had been happening in the past two days, basically shutting Joe out, as he often did when thinking hard. Could all these things be connected? Callie's and Vanessa's houses being entered…the pictures in the lockers; the bomb in Joe's backpack…and Mom's car…and now Ms. Westerman's house ransacked…. Her place was a wreck, but Callie's and Vanessa's houses were just…entered, and things moved around, like the intruder wanted them to know someone had been there, but not cause damage. No…they can't be connected.
When they arrived home, Frank and Joe were met with curious questions from their mother, which they tried their best to answer. They told her about Ms. Westerman's broken window, but assured her Joe's English teacher was unharmed, and had intended on contacting the police about the break-in.
Since Joe had been excused from homework, he settled down at the computer in the den to catch up on his online reading, while Frank headed up to his room to finish his interrupted schoolwork. Joe decided to waive the mystery site for the night, and catch up on the science-fiction stories he'd been neglecting, and he spent a pleasurable evening reading the updated stories.
The next morning when the Hardys arrived at school, they found themselves greeted with curious looks and knowing laughter and winks. Frank, especially, was receiving this treatment, and the comments built as they proceeded towards their lockers, now accompanied by some suggestive comments and loud smooching noises from their fellow students.
Bewildered, the boys attempted to ignore it at first, but finally Frank's patience snapped.
"What's going on?" he demanded crossly of a passing freshman, who stared at him wide-eyed, and then stammered out something about the bulletin board in the main hall. Incensed, Frank stamped back down the stairs, followed by Joe, and went to the board. But when he pushed his way up to it, he halted in stupefaction.
"Wow!" Joe breathed in his ear. "Lookit!"
Posted there on the board was a photo Joe had taken a few weeks earlier. It was a shot of sunset on the beach at Barmet Bay, and featured in the foreground were Frank and Callie sharing a tender kiss, arms wrapped about each other in close embrace.
"H-how'd that get there?" Joe stuttered. "I thought you gave that photo to Callie!"