"He got away," Fenton said, running down the basement stairs. "A blue..." he broke off when he saw Joe lying still on the cold, cement floor.
"Call an ambulance," Frank ordered his father who had already started back up the stairs to do just that.
Frank's eyes scanned the basement that Joe had turned into a darkroom when he had taken up photography over two years ago. Except for the absence of photos hanging up to dry, nothing looked disturbed. Even the second door leading into the basement from the kitchen was untouched, largely because of the various boxes of items marked rummage sale his mother was storing just inside the entrance, he was sure. He bit his bottom lip and checked Joe's pulse again. He knew there hadn't been time, but still he wondered why the ambulance wasn't there. Every second his brother was unconscious seemed to tick by in slow motion.
"How is he?" Laura asked, coming down the steps.
"His pulse is weak, but steady," Frank replied, looking at her with an encouraging smile.
"Fenton is on the phone," she told him. "He said the intruder got away."
"He actually saw the guy?" Frank asked, his eyes lightening up. Laura nodded.
Fenton joined them at that point. "He hopped into a blue forerunner," he informed Frank. "He was a little over six feet tall with a muscular build," Fenton continued. "He seemed to be in good shape."
"Hair color?" asked Frank, wondering if the intruder had been Larry Swan.
"He had a hat on," Fenton answered with a shake of his head. "I'll go turn the paramedics in," he added, returning up the stairs as a siren echoed in the distance.
"I don't want to stay here," Joe complained later that night as he lay on a crisp clean sheet attached to a thin uncomfortable mattress in a hospital bed. "I've had bumps on the head before."
"But this bump took eight stitches to seal," Frank pointed out, giving his younger brother a stern look. "You are staying and I am going to be right here to make sure you don't even try to leave."
"No, you're not," Fenton countered quickly. "Laura is staying with Joe. You will be coming home with me," he stated firmly.
"But..." Frank began his objection, his brown eyes flashing angrily as he spun to face his father.
"No buts," Fenton interrupted sternly. "You have school tomorrow and you will have to call your friends and arrange for them to keep an eye on you while your brother is indisposed."
"But..." again, Frank tried to object.
"It's either that or protective custody," Fenton issued the ultimatum.
Joe sniggered. Usually he was the one in Frank's position and couldn't help but enjoy having the roles reversed because Frank always sided with their father in security matters. "And go straight home after school," Joe couldn't help but resist putting in. "I should be out of here and at home by then and we can hit Stoney's Gym."
Knowing he had no one on his side and fearing his father might carry through on his protective custody threat, Frank gave in. "Fine, but I'm not leaving until visiting hours are over," he declared defiantly.
"Whish is now," Laura said, smothering a grin, holding up her arm so Frank could see her watch.
Grimacing, Frank turned to Joe. His eyes narrowed on his little brother. "You're enjoying this!" he accused him.
"Welcome to my world," Joe returned, laughing outright but stopping quickly and moaning as the movement made his head pound.
"Time for you to leave," Laura said quickly. "Joe should be resting."
"Okay," Frank agreed, not wanting to be the reason his brother was suffering. "Take care and I will see you after school," he added, reaching out to ruffle Joe's hair out of habit but freezing briefly before letting his hand fall to his side when he realized he couldn't because Joe's hair was being held in place by the bandage circling his head.
"Can we come in?" asked Sergeant Con Riley from the door of Joe's hospital room the next morning.
"Of course," Laura answered, smiling at the curly-haired officer who was a good friend of her sons.
"Did you find anything?" Joe asked hopefully. Frank had already confided in him that the darkroom had been stripped of all the photographs it had contained.
"Actually, it wasn't our call," Con replied in an apologetic tone, entering the room with Officer O'Neil in tow. "We just came on duty but the chief said it would be okay if we stopped by to see how you were doing."
"How are you feeling?" Officer O'Neil asked Joe, looking at him through concern filled hazel eyes.
"Not too bad," Joe replied, smiling at the officer he had come to know very well over the past two years.
"How is Frank?" Con asked from beside O'Neil, his five foot eleven frame dwarfed by his six foot three partner. "Any idea who is stalking him?"
"Stalking?" O'Neil asked, turning to look at Con in surprise. "I must have missed something. I thought we were doing a basic breaking and entering the day before yesterday at the Hardys'."
Joe shook his head. "No," he said. "Someone is definitely stalking Frank."
"I thought you were always the one in the thick of things," O'Neil said, eyeing Joe in disbelief.
"There's a first time for everything," Con told him, grinning wickedly.
"Oh, ha ha," Joe replied sourly. "But this time, the culprit is after Frank," he added. "He was just stealing the pictures in my darkroom and I got in the way."
"Why would he take your pictures if he's after Frank?" Con wondered in puzzlement.
"Because I had scads of photos," Joe answered. "I've been developing pictures for mom and our friends. I'm sure there were a lot of Frank in them." Joe stopped speaking and a thoughtful look took hold of his features. "If the stalker is someone Frank just met then how would he know I have my own darkroom?" he wondered aloud. "Maybe Reynolds was right," he continued. "Maybe the stalker is someone we have known for some time."
"Reynolds?" O'Neil inquired.
"He gave a lecture that Frank attended over the weekend," Joe informed him and Con who was also paying close attention. "We went to see him yesterday at Bayport University and he said stalkers were usually someone you have known for a little while."
"Or someone who knows you," Con put in. He had dealt with stalkers before.
Joe nodded. "Maybe we should pay Reynolds another visit," he said. "Frank and I could pick up some pointers."
The doctor arrived at this point and the two officers left so Joe could be checked before being released.
"Are you sure you feel up to this?" Frank asked Joe later that afternoon as they exited the house. They were headed to the university to speak with Reynolds again before going to Stoney's Gym.
"Yes," Joe insisted. "I'm good as new. Well, almost," he added, gingerly touching the back of his head. "Just relax. I won't do anything strenuous," he promised.
The two boys arrived at the university and headed straight for Reynolds' office. "Identify yourselves," they were ordered as they reached the floor his office was located on.
"I'm Frank Hardy and this is my brother, Joe," Frank informed the university's police officer, removing his wallet and showing the man his driver's license. Joe did likewise.
"What business have you on this floor?" the officer demanded, looking at them suspiciously.
"We are here to see Dr. Reynolds," Frank answered.
"Why?" the officer demanded, his hazel eyes narrowed and his expression stern.
"That's between Reynolds and us," Frank replied, not turning his eyes away from the intense stare he was receiving.
"Cordy!" called out a young woman with long black hair that was swinging behind her back in a braid. "They are okay," she said to the officer, joining them after a brief jog down the hallway.
She looked at the boys through pale blue eyes and gave them a faint smile. "Craig told me about your visit yesterday," she told them.
"Is something wrong, Ms. Meyers?" asked Frank, noticing the sad way she looked at them and the strained smile she was wearing.
"Craig's missing," she answered. "One of his students said she saw him being forced into the back of a blue forerunner."