As the noise of the explosion abated, it was immediately replaced by shouts and screams and the moans of injured students who had been hit by objects or thrown into the walls or onto the floors. Pandemonium reigned in the upstairs hall of Bayport High.
At the other end of the building, Frank and Callie had been standing by Callie's classroom door, talking. When the violent KER-BLAM! resounded through the school, both of them took off running in the direction of the noise; Frank threading his way through knots of panicked students and faculty and essentially 'breaking trail' for Callie to follow. They rounded the corner into Junior Hall, and Frank skidded to a stop, appalled by the scene. Callie clutched his arm in horror.
Locker doors and metal fragments, books and papers, backpacks, sweatshirts and coats…the hallway floor was littered with them. Several students were leaning against the walls, rubbing bruised areas or brushing themselves off…but four bodies lay sprawled on the floor, and one of those bodies was Joe Hardy's!
Frank ran down the corridor toward the melee, followed by Callie. Just as he reached Joe, Vanessa appeared, running from the other direction. Faculty members were popping out of classrooms and valiantly attempting to clear the hall of frightened students, and Principal Dyson's authoritative voice could be heard in the distance, but Frank, Callie and Vanessa weren't about to be herded away from Joe. They swept down on him, and Frank dropped to his knees beside him.
"Joe? " Oh jeez, look at the blood! "Joe, stay still…" This isn't fair – first the car accident, and now this…nobody should have to go through all this, Joe least of all….
Joe was struggling to sit up. "Wh-what…happened? Did my – did my locker just blow up?" He raised a shaky hand to gingerly touch his eye, which was already beginning to swell, and encountered the blood pouring down his forehead. "I'm…ugh, I'm…bleeding?"
"Stay still," Frank repeated, gently pushing him flat again. "Yes, you're bleeding. Do you hurt anywhere else?"
"My shoulder hurts…and my head aches like hell…." Joe murmured, closing his eyes. Vanessa sank to the floor behind him, and eased his head into her lap, heedless of the blood.
"You're having a bad week," Frank observed. He felt in his pocket for a handkerchief, and gently held it to the gash on Joe's forehead. "First the car accident, and now this. Have you checked your horoscope lately?"
"Very…funny." Joe's eyes were squeezed shut in pain. "What about…other kids?"
Frank looked around. Things were settling down a little. Principal Dyson was there, and the hall was being cleared of students. Dyson was speaking to a nearby boy:
"Justin, go down to the office and ask Mrs. Gamble to call for an ambulance, and the police." He glanced at the students still lying on the floor, and added: "And tell her that we need to contact the parents of Joe Hardy, Melissa Montgomery, Andrew Baughman, and Lisa Evans. Got it?" Mr. Dyson's brown eyes bored into his listener, making sure the message was clear, and he rubbed a hand across his reddish-brown moustache abstractedly.
"Yes sir, I've got it." Justin Lyman sped away, heading towards the stairs.
"There are some other injuries, Joe, but don't worry about that right now." Frank replied to Joe's question. "You just relax and wait for the EMT's to get here."
"Paramedics again?" Joe grimaced. "I've already seen too many lately. I'm tired of this…." His voice trailed off into a pained sigh. "Make 'em go away…."
"Frank, how is he?" Callie asked fearfully, her eyes fixed on Joe's white face. "Do you think he's badly hurt?"
"I'm right here!" Joe interrupted. "You don't have to talk about me like I'm dying!"
"He'll be okay," Frank reassured Callie. "All the damage looks like it's to that hard head of his. This is starting to be dangerous – and not just for us!" He squeezed Joe's arm reassuringly, and got to his feet. "You two stay with him and make sure he stays quiet, huh? I want to check out the locker."
Frank examined Joe's locker – or what there was left of it – carefully. His possessions had been blown to smithereens, and Frank wondered what the librarian would say when Joe requested yet another set of replacement textbooks. He found powder residue on the locker floor, and touched a finger gingerly to it, then sniffed. Saltpeter….potassium nitrate, if he wanted to get technical and make his chem teacher happy…in other words, gunpowder!
Sirens sounded outside, and a few minutes later a team of EMT's and two police officers arrived. The medics set to work on the injured students, and the police began questioning the onlookers, one after the other.
Joe's head was temporarily bandaged, and he was gently loaded onto a stretcher. Frank watched as the other students were attended to; only two others, it seemed, were hurt badly enough to warrant a trip to the hospital; Andrew Baughman and Lisa Evans. Melissa Montgomery was examined and advised to go home for the remainder of the day to rest.
"He's my brother – can I go with him?" Frank demanded, as the paramedics prepared to move Joe down the hall.
"No, sorry – no room; we only brought one rig." One of the attendants replied. "You can follow us to the hospital, if you like, though."
"Frank, I'd prefer you stayed at school." Mr. Dyson was standing nearby. "Your mother has been notified, and she'll meet the ambulance at the hospital. I am sure she'd prefer you remained here for the time being."
You are, huh? I'm not sure about that! Besides, how's she supposed to get to the hospital without a car? Frank's rebellious thoughts churned. He knew the answer: Laura would either ask a neighbor for a ride, or take a taxi.
Police questioning and investigation of the explosion filled the rest of the day, at Bayport High, although the teachers attempted to go on with classes as usual, and unusually subdued and somber students tried to comply. After the police had gone over Joe's locker with a fine-tooth comb, and sifted through the debris, they departed, allowing the school custodians to begin cleaning up the mess.
Frank, Callie and Vanessa, Biff and Tony, Chet and Phil – they all waited tensely for word from the hospital regarding Joe's condition.
Surely Joe had been essentially unhurt! Mom would have contacted the school if things didn't look good…wouldn't she? Unable to concentrate, Frank fretted through his classes; and when the last class time arrived, and study hall beckoned, he gathered his books from his locker, taped a note to Callie's locker, walked out the side door of the school, and went to the van without a qualm.
Upon arrival at the hospital, Frank was directed to the third floor, and went there with haste. He asked at the nurse's station for Joe's room number, and when he was told it was #368, hurried down the hall.
The door was closed, but Frank opened it gently, and peered around the edge. "Mom?"
"Hi honey!" His mother glanced up from the magazine she was leafing through, and smiled. "Come in – but shhh, Joe's asleep right now."
"How is he?" Frank tiptoed to his mother's side and leaned to kiss her, but his attention was on his brother's still, pale face and bandaged head.
"He has a concussion," Laura told him. "and it took six stitches to close that gash on his forehead. And his shoulder's pretty badly bruised, from hitting the wall."
"And a black eye," Frank added, noting the swollen, discolored condition of Joe's right eye.
"That, too." His mother nodded. "But the doctor said he can go home tomorrow morning, assuming nothing occurs during the night with the head injury."
"How are the other kids that were hurt, do you know? They didn't tell us anything, at school."
"Lisa Evans had a broken arm, and a few stitches for a cut over her eye." Laura told him. "And Andrew Baughman needed eighteen stitches in his shoulder – he was cut by a locker door that blew off and slammed into him. They were both treated and released."
"Ouch!" Frank winced sympathetically. "Mom," he questioned, suddenly remembering. "How'd you get here, anyway?"
"Oh, Stan Axemeyer brought me. He was outside mowing his lawn when Mrs. Gamble called and said Joe had been hurt. I went out and asked him for a lift over here, and he was very nice and obliging. He stayed around long enough to find out that Joe was basically all right, and that I'd be staying here until you came…and then he went home to finish his lawn!"
Frank nodded. Stan Axemeyer had moved next door to them about three years ago. In his 40's and divorced, Stan was tall and lean, with dark-blond hair and blue eyes, and was a C.P.A., with a passion for golf and fishing.
Laura looked over at her sleeping younger son and sighed. "I wish your father would come home."
Me too, Mom…me too. Frank settled into a chair and pulled a book out of his backpack, intending to study…but his eyes kept drifting from the pages towards Joe's slumbering form.
All these attacks…they've all been aimed at Joe. Assuming that whoever cut the brake lines on Mom's car knew Joe was driving it…. Does this person have something specific against Joe, or just know him better than me? Has to be someone we both know – otherwise, why the pranks against me at school? Somberly, Frank returned his gaze to his book and tried to concentrate.
After a time, Laura rose from her chair. "I'm going to go get a cup of coffee, and maybe take a little walk. Joe certainly doesn't need us both sitting here and watching him sleep," she whispered, smiling. "He was awake earlier, but his head was aching so much, he was kind of cranky company."
"Okay, Mom." Frank murmured, raising his eyes from the lines of print. "Have a nice walk…and keep your eyes open! We're still not positive that Joe was the target, with that cut brake line." He tilted his head back against the chair and surveyed Joe, as his mother quietly left the room.
Perhaps five minutes later, Joe suddenly sighed deeply, shifted in the bed, and opened his eyes. Frank set his book down and leaned forward attentively.
"Joe?"
Joe turned his head, wincing a little. "Hey…didn't know you were here." He blinked, looking around the room. "Rats…I'm still here. I was hoping I'd dreamed the whole thing."
"Afraid not, baby brother. It really happened. How are you feeling now?"
Joe wrinkled his nose expressively. "Headachy and my shoulder is really sore, but not too bad, considering."
Before Frank could continue the conversation, there came a soft tap on the door, and then it opened to reveal blond hair and blue-gray eyes.
"Can Joe have visitors?" Vanessa inquired, smiling.
"I sure can!" Joe replied for himself. "Get in here, now!"
Vanessa entered, followed closely by Chet, Biff, and Phil. She went to Joe's side and leaned over the bed, kissing him warmly.
"You just love scaring me to death, don't you?" she gently scolded. "We ran into your mom downstairs, and she told us you were being kept overnight." A caressing hand smoothed his hair back from the bandage, then delicately touched his swollen eye. "You are going to look awful tomorrow!"
"You're such a comfort," Joe retorted wryly. "Hey, where's the rest of everybody? Where're Callie and Tony?"
"Tony had to work, and Callie was writing a report she said she absolutely had to finish. She sent her regards." Phil announced, perching on the end of Joe's bed, as Chet plopped himself into the other chair. Biff leaned against the wall, trying without much success to make himself smaller, as the room was beginning to feel downright crowded.
The teens chatted for a while, telling Joe what all had transpired at school after he had been taken to the hospital. Joe was brought an early dinner, which he merely stirred around on the plate, not having much appetite. Laura returned. Chet made a quick run for hamburgers for everyone, and later Frank excused himself to call Callie and give her an update on Joe's condition. When he returned to Joe's room, he heard a soft chime echoing through the halls, followed by a mellow voice announcing that visiting hours were over, and requesting that all visitors leave.
"Goodnight, Joe." "Hey pal, sleep well." "See you tomorrow, maybe…." Various farewells were spoken, and the boys trooped out. Vanessa bent to kiss her boyfriend goodnight, then exited, leaving Laura and Frank.
"Goodnight, sweetie." Laura hugged Joe gently, and dropped a kiss near his hairline. "I'll be here in the morning to pick you up – probably about ten o'clock."
"Take it easy, kiddo." Frank laid a careful hand on Joe's bruised shoulder. "See you tomorrow after school."
In the morning, Frank rode to school with Callie, leaving the van for his mother. When she picked him up, Callie was anxious for news of Joe, and apologetic for not coming to visit him the previous evening, but Frank assured her that Joe had had plenty of visitors, and understood completely that she had had other priorities.
"Don't worry about it, beautiful – he was cool with it. You can come over after school and hover over him, if it'll make you feel better."
Picked up by Laura, Joe found himself weary after nothing more strenuous than the ride home. He settled down on the family room couch for a nap while his mother busied herself elsewhere in the house. As he drifted off to sleep again, Joe thought: When I wake up…I want to check out the new chapters in those stories on the Internet….
At school, Frank had hurried to inspect Joe's locker once again, just in case either he or the police had overlooked something vital the previous day. Only bits and pieces of it remained, however; and the custodian was cleaning the area once more. It had been tidied up the day before, but curious students had evidently made a mess again.
"Mr. Norquist, could I ask you a couple of questions?" Frank leaned against the lockers nearby and addressed the janitor.
"Sure," Mr. Norquist nodded. "But first, how is Joe?"
"Black and blue, and he took a pretty good knock on the head, but he'll be okay after a couple days' rest." Frank replied, then launched into his questions. "Has anybody been around here that shouldn't have been? Anyone that looked out of place?"
"Not that I've seen," the man replied. "Lots of kids, but what else could you expect; this is a high school, after all."
"Anyone been around at a time they shouldn't have been?" Frank persisted.
"No…but I did see a car here night before last, awfully late," Norquist admitted. "A green Chevy Corsica."
"Any idea who it belongs to?" Frank asked hopefully.
"Sorry, no." Mr. Norquist shook his head.
"Well, thanks, Mr. Norquist! That helps." Frank brightened, and decided to check out the student and faculty parking lots…just in case.
On his way, however, he ran into Biff and Chet. When Frank told them what he had learned from Mr. Norquist, Biff raised his eyebrows.
"Green Chevy Corsica? That's Mr. Bartlett's car!"
"Do you really think Mr. Bartlett's involved in this?" Chet asked incredulously.
"Maybe," Frank conceded. "I'm not ruling anything out right now."
The three went out to the faculty parking lot, but there was no sign of Mr. Bartlett's car.
"Maybe he felt guilty, and stayed home – decided he'd gone too far." Biff suggested, dubiously. They all liked Mr. Bartlett, and didn't want to think of him as a suspect in this nasty business.
"I'm going to drop by his house after school." Frank decided. "I want to talk to him."
Biff and Chet exchanged glances, knowing Frank would suspect everyone until he found the person responsible. They had been friends with the Hardys long enough to know that Frank had the tenacity of a bulldog. And just in case he was right, neither Biff nor Chet wanted him to go alone. Both volunteered to accompany him.
After school, the boys piled into Biff's beat-up Blazer and headed for Mr. Bartlett's home, Frank having requested the address information from friendly Mrs. Gamble in the office earlier in the day. But when they arrived at his house, and knocked on the door, there was no answer.
"No one home…wonder if he skipped town?" Chet hazarded a guess.
"Let's look around a little." Frank suggested. He went towards the garage, which had a side window, cupped his hands about his eyes, and peered in through the dust and cobwebs.
To his shock and horror, he saw inside the garage a green Corsica – and in the front seat sat Mr. Bartlett…eyes wide open and head lolling to one side!
At the other end of the building, Frank and Callie had been standing by Callie's classroom door, talking. When the violent KER-BLAM! resounded through the school, both of them took off running in the direction of the noise; Frank threading his way through knots of panicked students and faculty and essentially 'breaking trail' for Callie to follow. They rounded the corner into Junior Hall, and Frank skidded to a stop, appalled by the scene. Callie clutched his arm in horror.
Locker doors and metal fragments, books and papers, backpacks, sweatshirts and coats…the hallway floor was littered with them. Several students were leaning against the walls, rubbing bruised areas or brushing themselves off…but four bodies lay sprawled on the floor, and one of those bodies was Joe Hardy's!
Frank ran down the corridor toward the melee, followed by Callie. Just as he reached Joe, Vanessa appeared, running from the other direction. Faculty members were popping out of classrooms and valiantly attempting to clear the hall of frightened students, and Principal Dyson's authoritative voice could be heard in the distance, but Frank, Callie and Vanessa weren't about to be herded away from Joe. They swept down on him, and Frank dropped to his knees beside him.
"Joe? " Oh jeez, look at the blood! "Joe, stay still…" This isn't fair – first the car accident, and now this…nobody should have to go through all this, Joe least of all….
Joe was struggling to sit up. "Wh-what…happened? Did my – did my locker just blow up?" He raised a shaky hand to gingerly touch his eye, which was already beginning to swell, and encountered the blood pouring down his forehead. "I'm…ugh, I'm…bleeding?"
"Stay still," Frank repeated, gently pushing him flat again. "Yes, you're bleeding. Do you hurt anywhere else?"
"My shoulder hurts…and my head aches like hell…." Joe murmured, closing his eyes. Vanessa sank to the floor behind him, and eased his head into her lap, heedless of the blood.
"You're having a bad week," Frank observed. He felt in his pocket for a handkerchief, and gently held it to the gash on Joe's forehead. "First the car accident, and now this. Have you checked your horoscope lately?"
"Very…funny." Joe's eyes were squeezed shut in pain. "What about…other kids?"
Frank looked around. Things were settling down a little. Principal Dyson was there, and the hall was being cleared of students. Dyson was speaking to a nearby boy:
"Justin, go down to the office and ask Mrs. Gamble to call for an ambulance, and the police." He glanced at the students still lying on the floor, and added: "And tell her that we need to contact the parents of Joe Hardy, Melissa Montgomery, Andrew Baughman, and Lisa Evans. Got it?" Mr. Dyson's brown eyes bored into his listener, making sure the message was clear, and he rubbed a hand across his reddish-brown moustache abstractedly.
"Yes sir, I've got it." Justin Lyman sped away, heading towards the stairs.
"There are some other injuries, Joe, but don't worry about that right now." Frank replied to Joe's question. "You just relax and wait for the EMT's to get here."
"Paramedics again?" Joe grimaced. "I've already seen too many lately. I'm tired of this…." His voice trailed off into a pained sigh. "Make 'em go away…."
"Frank, how is he?" Callie asked fearfully, her eyes fixed on Joe's white face. "Do you think he's badly hurt?"
"I'm right here!" Joe interrupted. "You don't have to talk about me like I'm dying!"
"He'll be okay," Frank reassured Callie. "All the damage looks like it's to that hard head of his. This is starting to be dangerous – and not just for us!" He squeezed Joe's arm reassuringly, and got to his feet. "You two stay with him and make sure he stays quiet, huh? I want to check out the locker."
Frank examined Joe's locker – or what there was left of it – carefully. His possessions had been blown to smithereens, and Frank wondered what the librarian would say when Joe requested yet another set of replacement textbooks. He found powder residue on the locker floor, and touched a finger gingerly to it, then sniffed. Saltpeter….potassium nitrate, if he wanted to get technical and make his chem teacher happy…in other words, gunpowder!
Sirens sounded outside, and a few minutes later a team of EMT's and two police officers arrived. The medics set to work on the injured students, and the police began questioning the onlookers, one after the other.
Joe's head was temporarily bandaged, and he was gently loaded onto a stretcher. Frank watched as the other students were attended to; only two others, it seemed, were hurt badly enough to warrant a trip to the hospital; Andrew Baughman and Lisa Evans. Melissa Montgomery was examined and advised to go home for the remainder of the day to rest.
"He's my brother – can I go with him?" Frank demanded, as the paramedics prepared to move Joe down the hall.
"No, sorry – no room; we only brought one rig." One of the attendants replied. "You can follow us to the hospital, if you like, though."
"Frank, I'd prefer you stayed at school." Mr. Dyson was standing nearby. "Your mother has been notified, and she'll meet the ambulance at the hospital. I am sure she'd prefer you remained here for the time being."
You are, huh? I'm not sure about that! Besides, how's she supposed to get to the hospital without a car? Frank's rebellious thoughts churned. He knew the answer: Laura would either ask a neighbor for a ride, or take a taxi.
Police questioning and investigation of the explosion filled the rest of the day, at Bayport High, although the teachers attempted to go on with classes as usual, and unusually subdued and somber students tried to comply. After the police had gone over Joe's locker with a fine-tooth comb, and sifted through the debris, they departed, allowing the school custodians to begin cleaning up the mess.
Frank, Callie and Vanessa, Biff and Tony, Chet and Phil – they all waited tensely for word from the hospital regarding Joe's condition.
Surely Joe had been essentially unhurt! Mom would have contacted the school if things didn't look good…wouldn't she? Unable to concentrate, Frank fretted through his classes; and when the last class time arrived, and study hall beckoned, he gathered his books from his locker, taped a note to Callie's locker, walked out the side door of the school, and went to the van without a qualm.
Upon arrival at the hospital, Frank was directed to the third floor, and went there with haste. He asked at the nurse's station for Joe's room number, and when he was told it was #368, hurried down the hall.
The door was closed, but Frank opened it gently, and peered around the edge. "Mom?"
"Hi honey!" His mother glanced up from the magazine she was leafing through, and smiled. "Come in – but shhh, Joe's asleep right now."
"How is he?" Frank tiptoed to his mother's side and leaned to kiss her, but his attention was on his brother's still, pale face and bandaged head.
"He has a concussion," Laura told him. "and it took six stitches to close that gash on his forehead. And his shoulder's pretty badly bruised, from hitting the wall."
"And a black eye," Frank added, noting the swollen, discolored condition of Joe's right eye.
"That, too." His mother nodded. "But the doctor said he can go home tomorrow morning, assuming nothing occurs during the night with the head injury."
"How are the other kids that were hurt, do you know? They didn't tell us anything, at school."
"Lisa Evans had a broken arm, and a few stitches for a cut over her eye." Laura told him. "And Andrew Baughman needed eighteen stitches in his shoulder – he was cut by a locker door that blew off and slammed into him. They were both treated and released."
"Ouch!" Frank winced sympathetically. "Mom," he questioned, suddenly remembering. "How'd you get here, anyway?"
"Oh, Stan Axemeyer brought me. He was outside mowing his lawn when Mrs. Gamble called and said Joe had been hurt. I went out and asked him for a lift over here, and he was very nice and obliging. He stayed around long enough to find out that Joe was basically all right, and that I'd be staying here until you came…and then he went home to finish his lawn!"
Frank nodded. Stan Axemeyer had moved next door to them about three years ago. In his 40's and divorced, Stan was tall and lean, with dark-blond hair and blue eyes, and was a C.P.A., with a passion for golf and fishing.
Laura looked over at her sleeping younger son and sighed. "I wish your father would come home."
Me too, Mom…me too. Frank settled into a chair and pulled a book out of his backpack, intending to study…but his eyes kept drifting from the pages towards Joe's slumbering form.
All these attacks…they've all been aimed at Joe. Assuming that whoever cut the brake lines on Mom's car knew Joe was driving it…. Does this person have something specific against Joe, or just know him better than me? Has to be someone we both know – otherwise, why the pranks against me at school? Somberly, Frank returned his gaze to his book and tried to concentrate.
After a time, Laura rose from her chair. "I'm going to go get a cup of coffee, and maybe take a little walk. Joe certainly doesn't need us both sitting here and watching him sleep," she whispered, smiling. "He was awake earlier, but his head was aching so much, he was kind of cranky company."
"Okay, Mom." Frank murmured, raising his eyes from the lines of print. "Have a nice walk…and keep your eyes open! We're still not positive that Joe was the target, with that cut brake line." He tilted his head back against the chair and surveyed Joe, as his mother quietly left the room.
Perhaps five minutes later, Joe suddenly sighed deeply, shifted in the bed, and opened his eyes. Frank set his book down and leaned forward attentively.
"Joe?"
Joe turned his head, wincing a little. "Hey…didn't know you were here." He blinked, looking around the room. "Rats…I'm still here. I was hoping I'd dreamed the whole thing."
"Afraid not, baby brother. It really happened. How are you feeling now?"
Joe wrinkled his nose expressively. "Headachy and my shoulder is really sore, but not too bad, considering."
Before Frank could continue the conversation, there came a soft tap on the door, and then it opened to reveal blond hair and blue-gray eyes.
"Can Joe have visitors?" Vanessa inquired, smiling.
"I sure can!" Joe replied for himself. "Get in here, now!"
Vanessa entered, followed closely by Chet, Biff, and Phil. She went to Joe's side and leaned over the bed, kissing him warmly.
"You just love scaring me to death, don't you?" she gently scolded. "We ran into your mom downstairs, and she told us you were being kept overnight." A caressing hand smoothed his hair back from the bandage, then delicately touched his swollen eye. "You are going to look awful tomorrow!"
"You're such a comfort," Joe retorted wryly. "Hey, where's the rest of everybody? Where're Callie and Tony?"
"Tony had to work, and Callie was writing a report she said she absolutely had to finish. She sent her regards." Phil announced, perching on the end of Joe's bed, as Chet plopped himself into the other chair. Biff leaned against the wall, trying without much success to make himself smaller, as the room was beginning to feel downright crowded.
The teens chatted for a while, telling Joe what all had transpired at school after he had been taken to the hospital. Joe was brought an early dinner, which he merely stirred around on the plate, not having much appetite. Laura returned. Chet made a quick run for hamburgers for everyone, and later Frank excused himself to call Callie and give her an update on Joe's condition. When he returned to Joe's room, he heard a soft chime echoing through the halls, followed by a mellow voice announcing that visiting hours were over, and requesting that all visitors leave.
"Goodnight, Joe." "Hey pal, sleep well." "See you tomorrow, maybe…." Various farewells were spoken, and the boys trooped out. Vanessa bent to kiss her boyfriend goodnight, then exited, leaving Laura and Frank.
"Goodnight, sweetie." Laura hugged Joe gently, and dropped a kiss near his hairline. "I'll be here in the morning to pick you up – probably about ten o'clock."
"Take it easy, kiddo." Frank laid a careful hand on Joe's bruised shoulder. "See you tomorrow after school."
In the morning, Frank rode to school with Callie, leaving the van for his mother. When she picked him up, Callie was anxious for news of Joe, and apologetic for not coming to visit him the previous evening, but Frank assured her that Joe had had plenty of visitors, and understood completely that she had had other priorities.
"Don't worry about it, beautiful – he was cool with it. You can come over after school and hover over him, if it'll make you feel better."
Picked up by Laura, Joe found himself weary after nothing more strenuous than the ride home. He settled down on the family room couch for a nap while his mother busied herself elsewhere in the house. As he drifted off to sleep again, Joe thought: When I wake up…I want to check out the new chapters in those stories on the Internet….
At school, Frank had hurried to inspect Joe's locker once again, just in case either he or the police had overlooked something vital the previous day. Only bits and pieces of it remained, however; and the custodian was cleaning the area once more. It had been tidied up the day before, but curious students had evidently made a mess again.
"Mr. Norquist, could I ask you a couple of questions?" Frank leaned against the lockers nearby and addressed the janitor.
"Sure," Mr. Norquist nodded. "But first, how is Joe?"
"Black and blue, and he took a pretty good knock on the head, but he'll be okay after a couple days' rest." Frank replied, then launched into his questions. "Has anybody been around here that shouldn't have been? Anyone that looked out of place?"
"Not that I've seen," the man replied. "Lots of kids, but what else could you expect; this is a high school, after all."
"Anyone been around at a time they shouldn't have been?" Frank persisted.
"No…but I did see a car here night before last, awfully late," Norquist admitted. "A green Chevy Corsica."
"Any idea who it belongs to?" Frank asked hopefully.
"Sorry, no." Mr. Norquist shook his head.
"Well, thanks, Mr. Norquist! That helps." Frank brightened, and decided to check out the student and faculty parking lots…just in case.
On his way, however, he ran into Biff and Chet. When Frank told them what he had learned from Mr. Norquist, Biff raised his eyebrows.
"Green Chevy Corsica? That's Mr. Bartlett's car!"
"Do you really think Mr. Bartlett's involved in this?" Chet asked incredulously.
"Maybe," Frank conceded. "I'm not ruling anything out right now."
The three went out to the faculty parking lot, but there was no sign of Mr. Bartlett's car.
"Maybe he felt guilty, and stayed home – decided he'd gone too far." Biff suggested, dubiously. They all liked Mr. Bartlett, and didn't want to think of him as a suspect in this nasty business.
"I'm going to drop by his house after school." Frank decided. "I want to talk to him."
Biff and Chet exchanged glances, knowing Frank would suspect everyone until he found the person responsible. They had been friends with the Hardys long enough to know that Frank had the tenacity of a bulldog. And just in case he was right, neither Biff nor Chet wanted him to go alone. Both volunteered to accompany him.
After school, the boys piled into Biff's beat-up Blazer and headed for Mr. Bartlett's home, Frank having requested the address information from friendly Mrs. Gamble in the office earlier in the day. But when they arrived at his house, and knocked on the door, there was no answer.
"No one home…wonder if he skipped town?" Chet hazarded a guess.
"Let's look around a little." Frank suggested. He went towards the garage, which had a side window, cupped his hands about his eyes, and peered in through the dust and cobwebs.
To his shock and horror, he saw inside the garage a green Corsica – and in the front seat sat Mr. Bartlett…eyes wide open and head lolling to one side!