"But he's dead," argued the greasy haired Mexican. "He fell from the copter. What good is he?" Carlos insisted.
"I can still get specimens from him," Tandem pointed out. "Besides, if Hardy thinks we have his son then we can keep him off our backs," he added. "But if Hardy finds out the kid's dead, then there will be no stopping him."
"Frank got in touch with Jameson," a third man entered the conversation. He was tall and thin with graying hair and wore a three-piece suit. He looked quite comfortable sitting on a kitchen chair that had been turned backwards so he could rest his arms, crossed, on the back. "I gave him a warning," he added.
"Honestly, Jeffery," Tandem said with disgust. "Do you believe a warning will stop him?"
"No," Jeffery responded with a malicious smile. "But I do feel obligated to tell someone when I plan on killing them."
"You are a sick man," said the Mexican's partner, David. "Why not just do it?"
"It's more fun to play," Jeffery answered.
"Whatever," Tandem replied. "But remember, kill him and it will be the same as if Hardy found Joe's body."
"Relax," Jeffery said, putting Tandem's mind at ease. "Accidents do happen."
The next time Joe awoke, he was alone. The room was bathed in darkness save for the glow that emanated through the open door. Joe sat up slowly and put his feet on the floor. A robe lay on the chair occupied by Mrs. Fairbanks earlier and he reached for it before standing up.
Big mistake! thought Joe as everything began spinning. He sank back to the bed and put his hand to his head as he closed his eyes.
"I thought I heard you moving about," Spirit said, entering the room. "Are you okay?" she asked, noting how much paler he looked than before.
"Yeah," Joe answered, putting his hand down and looking at her with a wan smile. "I think I was just moving too fast too soon."
"Naughty, naughty," Spirit told him, rubbing one finger across another as she pointed at him. "You should stay in bed."
"I need to...u..um," he broke off, embarrassed.
"Oh..well, I can help you there," Spirit told him moving to his side. "Forget the robe," she said, taking it from him and tossing it back to the chair Joe had taken it from. "It will just hamper our progress," she added, wrapping an arm around him just below his shoulders.
"I can't believe your folks left me alone with you," Joe said as he limped out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom with Spirit's help.
"Like you're a big threat?" she scoffed, grinning at him. "You can barely stand."
"I could have been faking it," Joe argued.
"No, you couldn't," Spirit disagreed. "You were in really bad shape when we found you. Dad was almost ready to risk moving you but then you started getting better. And besides, I'm a black belt," she added.
By the time Joe had finished and made his way back to bed with Spirit's help, he was wiped out. He closed his eyes as his head hit the pillow and was sleeping soundly as Spirit covered him up.
Frank hung up smiling. If he was getting death threats then he was on the right track. Tandem, or at lest one of his cronies, had to be here and that meant Joe probably was as well. He left the room and raced to catch the elevator before the doors closed.
After getting directions at the front desk, Frank exited the hotel and climbed in the car, grateful Chet had opted to walk. In less than ten minutes he pulled into the parking lot of the police department. The officer at the front window looked at Frank expectantly, his black eyebrows dark against the white of his face and freshly shaved head. "Is there something I can help you with?" he asked.
Frank looked at the tag on his uniform. "Sergeant Dryer," he said, looking back at the man's face and into his brown eyes. "My name is Frank Hardy. I'm in town looking for Ralph Tandem."
"Have you tried the phone book?" the officer inquired.
"Actually, he's a wanted felon," Frank said, frowning. Obviously, the police here knew nothing about the case.
"Then why are you looking for him?" Dryer asked, looking at the teen suspiciously.
"My name is Frank Hardy," Frank introduced himself. "My father is Fenton Hardy," he continued. "He was working on a case-involving Tandem two years ago before he disappeared."
"Then why start again now?" Dryer asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Because we have reason to believe Tandem broke into our house last night and abducted my brother," Frank answered. "I can't believe you haven't received a report on this," he added with a frown.
"Calm down," Dryer ordered. "There may be one. I just came on duty. Let me check." He spent a few minutes looking over the latest bulletins. "Ah here we go," he said, looking back up at Frank. "You really think this Tandem guy is here?"
"I'm sure of it," Frank replied and told him about the warning he had just received.
"Take a seat," Dryer instructed Frank. "Someone will be with you in a bit," he added, picking up the phone on his desk and punching in an extension.
Five minutes later a door opened and an officer with short, curly brown hair and green eyes motioned for Frank to join him. Frank followed him back past an empty conference room to a corner office with the name Mark Wisenthol on the door.
"Have a seat," Detective Sergeant Wisenthol instructed Frank. Frank sat down in the solitary chair in front of the desk as Wisenthol took the chair behind the desk. "Now, tell me everything you can about Ralph Tandem."
Frank filled him in in what he knew. "Let me ask you something," Wisenthol said when Frank had finished. "Do you think Tandem is hiding out in this area?"
"I don't know," Frank admitted. "But I do know someone working for him is here so it's a good bet he is."
"Your father must have a lot of confidence in you to have placed you in charge of this investigation," Wisenthol commented.
"I'm not in charge," Frank corrected him. "My father is. He's following up on a different lead."
"And you want us to arrange for you to question Ms. Jameson?" Wisenthol inquired.
"No. I have already arranged a meeting with her," Frank informed him. "What I need is a list of the most probable locations for someone to set up a private lab in the area."
"You have never been in this area before, have you?" Wisenthol asked, leaning back in his chair and looking at Frank thoughtfully.
"No," Frank answered, looking at the sergeant curiously.
"You drove in from Greensboro, right?" Wisenthol asked. Frank nodded. "Tell me," Wisenthol continued. "What did you see?"
"A lot of curves, hills and trees," Frank answered.
"And a lot of territory not easily accessible even by helicopter," Wisenthol added. "There are countless areas where Tandem could set up shop here. Not to mention that this area has its fair share of caves that he could conceivable convert into a makeshift lab. Also, if he has been in hiding here for the time he has been missing then he may have set up a new identity."
"You could..." Frank began but Wisenthol shook his head.
"This is a growing town," Wisenthol continued. "Our population has almost doubled in the past ten years." Frank's face fell. "But I will issue a BOLO for Tandem."
"Thank you," Frank said, standing up and shaking the detective's hand.
"If you need anything, let me know," offered Wisenthol.
"I will, thank you," Frank said again before leaving.
When Frank returned to the hotel room he found Chet had beaten him back. "Any luck?" asked Frank, quirking an eyebrow at his friend.
"No," answered Chet with a scowl. "And walking around here isn't such a good idea," he continued. "Most of the hills here are like the steepest ones back home. How about you?"
"I'm meeting Sarah later," Frank informed him. "And the police can't help with finding Tandem although they are going to issue a BOLO for him."
"What's a BOLO?" inquired Chet.
"It stands for be on the lookout," explained Frank. "It's one step down from an all points bulletin."
"When are you meeting Sarah?" asked Chet.
"In another hour," replied Frank after checking his watch. "Just enough time for a shower."
Joe opened his eyes and sat up. Unlike the last time, he felt no dizziness. The door was open but all was quiet and he wondered if perhaps Spirit had gone to bed. He got slowly to his feet and picked up the robe from the chair. Putting it on, he went to the doorway and listened. He could hear Dr. Fairbanks talking, but the voice was so quiet he couldn't make out the words.
He followed the sound to the end of the hall where he gazed warily down a set of stairs. Someone else was speaking now and although Joe still couldn't make out the words, the tone was unmistakable. Joe grabbed the railing and slowly went down the stairs. He followed the voices until he was standing just outside of the spacious living room.
"Your troubles are just beginning," snarled a man dressed in a heavy plaid shirt wearing dirty, faded blue-jeans. "Just sign the papers and save yourself, and your family, a whole heap of problems."
