"When do we start?" asked blond and beefy Biff Hooper, Joe's best friend since elementary school. When Chet had called an emergency meeting at his house Biff knew he wasn't going to like it. He had been upset when he had called the Hardy home and Mrs. Hardy had told him that Joe had been abducted the night of the prom. He had been angry upon discovering he hadn't been asked to help find Joe but neither emotion came close to how he felt now. Of course Frank wanted to find Joe's body! Knowing Joe was dead and had died alone was one thing but to think of him just lying out there...his spirit hovering around waiting for him to be found... Biff shuddered. No way was he going to let his friend down.
"Mr. Hardy said he would call sometime this afternoon," Chet informed Biff and the other boys who had answered his call. "Frank wants to leave today but I kind of got the impression from Mr. Hardy that we wouldn't be leaving until tomorrow."
"Frank must be devastated," Phil Cohen said, running a hand worriedly through his sandy blond hair.
"I can't believe it," Tony Prito said, his dark eyes brilliant in his olive-skinned face that was more than a little lighter than it should be. "I knew what they did was dangerous but..."
"But it's still hard to believe he is dead," Chet ended for him. "I know."
"How did Iola take it?" Phil asked Chet.
"She doesn't know," Chet confessed. "Mom said she was staying a few more days with our cousin."
"What about school?" Phil demanded in surprise.
Chet shrugged. "She hasn't missed any all year," he answered. "And as for looking for Joe, well, I don't care if it isn't excused. I'm going."
"Me too," Biff stated, scowling at Phil even as Tony nodded his agreement.
"We all are" Phil hurriedly defended himself. "I just...geez, Chet!" he continued. "Iola is crazy about Joe."
"I know," Chet acknowledged. "And that's why I'm glad she's not here. It won't be so hard if his body is here when she finds out."
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Laura sat stiffly on the kitchen stool, her gaze fixed on the picture of her youngest son that she had taken only weeks previously when he had been drinking a glass of lemonade after cleaning the attic. He had a smudge of dirt on his left cheek and his hair was mussed beyond belief. At that moment, he had looked so much like the seven year old child who used to come running in the house after playing outside for hours for a hug before continuing upstairs for a bath that she had to take his picture. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand as she realized this was the last picture she would ever have of her baby boy.
"Mom?" Frank entered the kitchen wearing his jacket. Laura looked up at him, her blue eyes, so much like Joe's making Frank's pain raw once again. "We're going to find him."
"It's too late," she whispered, tears falling down her face.
Frank flinched, only too aware of that fact. "We...we can't leave him in the middle of nowhere," he told her. "We have to bring him back to Bayport."
Laura nodded. "Fenton is in his office," she told him. "He's arranging for you and your friends a place to stay while you look." She wiped her tears and stood up, setting Joe's picture gently down on the table. "I...I had better fix you and your father some dinner," she said.
"I'm not hungry," Frank said.
"You have to eat," Laura told him, going to the refrigerator and opening it up. "You will need your strength for...for searching in the mountains."
Frank opened his mouth to speak but realized there was nothing to say. He turned and left the room, going to the one place that offered him a small measure of comfort: Joe's room.
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"We're starting our search in a little town called Cranton," Fenton informed Frank, Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil as they prepared to land. "I've arranged for two jeeps at the auto rental service at the airport," he continued. "We will have to check in with the local authorities and gather a few supplies but we should be able to start the search no later than noon."
"That's almost three hours," complained Frank.
"I know," Fenton replied. "But the airport is an hour's drive from Cranton and we can't go into the mountains unprepared." Fenton finished speaking and turned back around, a sad smile flitting around his lips. He couldn't help but notice how much Frank's attitude paralleled Joe's when it was Joe who was missing. Joe cared so much that his actions were impulsive and not thought out. Frank normally considered every factor before making his decisions, but not where Joe was concerned. Then, and only then he had noticed, did Frank's emotions rule.
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"Dad, I need some air," Frank said as the jeep they were in came to a stop behind the one occupied by his friends in front of the sheriff's office in Cranton.
"Don't go too far," Fenton said, realizing it was time Frank needed.
Frank nodded. "I'll meet you at that shop," he said, pointing to an outdoor outfitters store across the street. He got out of the jeep and walked away as Fenton and the other boys exited the jeeps.
Frank walked down the street and turned the corner, not really paying attention to his surroundings until he neared a small store with a pick-up parked out front. A blond-headed boy had just exited the store with a bag of feed lying across his broad shoulder. The boy placed the bag in the back of the truck and wiped his forehead, moving the strands of blond hair that had been blocking his eyes.
Frank froze as recognition dawned. He wiped his eyes, afraid to believe what he was seeing but the vision remained. "Joe," he rasped, his voice not even a whisper. Tears falling once again, but this time from relief and joy, he began running toward the youth. "Joe!" he shouted as the boy started back inside the store.
"Joe!" shouted Frank again, his brown eyes bulging in joy and disbelief. He quickly covered the length of the sidewalk and threw his arms around his little brother, holding him in a tight hug that had Joe's breathing constricted.
"Can't...breathe," Joe gasped, then inhaled fresh air as Frank pulled back. He held Joe's arms steady and looked into his face.
"Are you okay?" demanded Frank. "Where have you been? Why haven't you called? I've been going crazy," he continued. "I thought you were dead."
"You know me?" Joe asked curiously, his blue eyes searching the face of the stranger before him for any type of deceit. After the past few days he wasn't ready to trust anyone without solid proof.
"What?' Frank asked, his face growing even more serious. "My God, when you fell out of the chopper you must have hurt your head. But the rest of you looks okay," he added, remembering the strenuous work Joe had been doing when he spotted him.
Joe pulled away from Frank, his own boyish features creased in a scowl. "Who are you and how do you know me?" he demanded.
"I'm your brother. Your big brother," Frank added, smiling at Joe although his eyes remained filled with concern. "Look, why don't we go and sit down and you can tell me what you do remember, if anything," he suggested, taking Joe's arm again.
"Let go of me," snarled Joe, easily breaking free form the gentle grasp. "I'm not going anywhere with you."
"Look, my name is Frank," Frank said gently, trying to coax Joe into going with him. "Frank Andrew Hardy. You're my little brother, Joseph Paul Hardy."
At Joe's mutinous stare, Frank pulled out his wallet and handed it to Joe. "Look," he directed.
Joe opened the wallet and looked at the license. Frank Andrew Hardy, born July 12, 1986. 'He didn't lie about that,' observed Joe, closing the wallet and offering it back.
"No," Frank refused to take it back. "Look at the pictures inside," he told Joe softly.
Joe narrowed his eyes on Frank briefly before opening the wallet once more. He looked at the four pictures it held and Joe felt an overwhelming sense of relief wash over him. The first picture was a school picture of himself. The second was of a young blond woman whom he did not recognize. The third photograph was also of him but he was sitting to the lower left of the boy who stood before him. The last picture was of himself, Frank, and two older people: a man who resembled Frank and a woman who had the same blue eyes and blond hair, although longer, as himself.
"Those are our parents," Frank informed him. "Fenton and Laura." He moved closer to Joe and put his arms around him as Joe laid his head on Frank's shoulder. He knew Joe was crying, although he was silent, because his shirt was growing moist.
"It's okay, Baby Brother," Frank whispered into Joe's hair. "You're going to go home now. It's all over."
"No, it isn't," Joe replied, his voice muffled by Frank's shirt. "I...I can't remember anything."
