Unfortunately I think I was slightly misleading with the labeling of this story. It is currently Frank/Callie but everything is about to change.

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Chapter Two

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Over eight hundred miles away, Callie Shaw smiled as she blinked back tears. Joe Hardy was completely incredible. He had no idea who she was or what was wrong and he was already diving in to help. Suddenly feeling safe for the first time that horrible night, the refined accent she had been putting on slipped away and she said impulsively,

"You're amazing, you know."

She heard Joe gasp in surprise. "Callie? Is that you? What's going on? Are you all right?

Her situation flooded back swamping her with fear.

"I don't know. Oh Joe, I'm so scared. I think I'm in serious trouble."

"What do you need? You know I'll do anything I can to help."

Callie sniffed, smiled and wiped her watery eyes with the heel of her hand.

"Hey, it'll be okay Callie I promise. Remember you've called the right person, danger and trouble are my middle names." Joe sounded almost completely deadpan, but there was a grin in his voice inviting her to join in the joke.

Callie coughed to avoid laughing.

"Yeah I know, it's a bad joke, bad timing, sorry."

"No, no," she said quickly, disliking his self-deprecation, "I was just wondering if you were flexing your muscles while you said it."

"Well no, but I can if you want me too," he finished eagerly. He was definitely laughing now.

Callie grinned at the image and suddenly everything didn't seem so unmanageable. She took a deep breath, feeling more in control. She'd been calling for Frank's help but she didn't think her boyfriend have made her feel better any faster than Joe did.

"Okay, first things first," Joe was now all business. "Are you in immediate danger?"

"No. Maybe. I don't think so."

"That's not very reassuring Cal. Will you be safe until we can come and get you? Just tell me where you are and I'll be there as soon as I can."

Callie smiled. Joe made everything sound so simple, so safe.

"I'm still in Chicago. I'm at the…" She glanced up, saw the cluster of staff gathered around her listening curiously, and stopped speaking abruptly. She froze in place running through what she'd just said, wondering if she'd given herself away.

"Callie? Callie? Cal!" Joe's desperate shouts finally caught her attention.

"I'm fine," she said, embarrassed.

"Good Lord, Callie, don't do that to me."

-

Joe collapsed back onto the sofa, limp with relief. When Callie stopped speaking so unexpectedly, he'd been terrified something had happened to her while he was helpless to prevent it. She had sounded so scared and the last year had predisposed him to expect the worst.

"I'm sorry, I forgot where I was momentarily." Callie was again speaking with the carefully polished voice she had first used. Thinking it over, Joe checked,

"Is somebody listening in on you?"

"I'm at the Sheraton hotel by O'Hare airport. The staff were kind enough to let me phone you."

"And are enthusiastically eavesdropping?"

"Yes." He heard her sigh and then she continued, "It was so horrible all my bags were stolen as I left the airport. I have absolutely nothing. I don't know what to do." She ended on a hopeful note.

Joe's face scrunched up as he puzzled his way through her words.

"But you've been in Chicago nearly a week. Aren't you due back on Sunday?"

"Yes."

"And something's gone wrong?" He expected this sort of call from his father and brother. It wasn't supposed to happen to Callie.

"Yes. Dreadfully. I can't…" Callie broke off and Joe could almost picture glaring at her eavesdroppers in frustration.

"Can't go back to your hostel?"

"That too."

"Can't risk being found?"

"Yes."

"You're in that much danger?"

"I believe so, yes."

"So you've what? Turned up at a random hotel and told them you're Mrs Hardy and your money and identification have been stolen?"

"Yes. I'm sorry I didn't know what else to do. I tried to call Fr- the mobile but he didn't pick up so I called your house."

"And now you need me to be your husband and pay for the room?"

"Please. I really am sorry."

"Don't be, it's a good plan. You've made it very hard for anybody to track you down." Joe spoke as confidently as he could. Inside he was deeply worried that Callie felt such extreme measures were necessary

"I hope so."

"It's okay Callie. Pass them over to me. I'll throw a fit and tell them to give you a room and you'll go to the police in the morning." Joe was walking upstairs as he spoke. He went into his father's study and started hunting through the desk drawers for his emergency, Dad-authorised, credit card. The one he was supposed to ask for permission before using.

"Okay."

"Then I'll call Frank. Coincidentally, he's already on his way to Chicago."

"Thank god."

"Lucky break huh? It's, what the hell time is it." Joe checked his watch. "Good grief. Well Frank will be there to pick you up about eightish I expect. Don't be surprised if you get a call for your chauffeur. I don't think your husband sounds like a teenager."

"No, you're right. I wasn't thinking."

"It's okay Callie. Honestly. Will you be safe until he gets there?"

"Yes. I think so."

"I don't want any I think so's. You be safe Callie." Joe stifled the absurd urge to make her promise. Clearing his throat, he said, "Now you had better let me speak to the hotel staff."

"Okay."

Joe put on a similar accent to Callie, deepening and slowing his voice. Throwing a genteel fit he insisted on the best of everything for his 'wife'. She was not, he stipulated, to be bothered by the police, he would deal with everything in the morning. Reeling off his credit card number, he cringed a little at his father's probable reaction to the bill. While his Dad would do anything for him or Frank, Joe wasn't convinced it extended to covering expensive hotel bills for a nebulous emergency of Callie's.

Demanding to speak to his wife again, he waited while they passed the phone back to Callie.

"Darling?"

"Hey Callie. Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"Yes, I'll be fine." She sounded less than sure. Joe couldn't think of anything to say that would make it better.

"Well, goodbye then."

"Goodbye."

Joe sighed and put the phone down. He didn't want to lose contact with Callie; it felt like he was abandoning her. She had sounded so lost, which simply wasn't right for Callie. Joe thought about the creeps who'd upset her and grinned menacingly. Maybe Frank would like a little help dealing with them.

He punched in Frank's mobile number, he and his brother needed to plan.

-

Frank shifted irritably. He had managed to wedge himself semi-comfortably into the tortuous airport seating and didn't want to move. He was furious with Joe for his attitude, for his recklessness, for the cost of airport parking and for being stuck at Newark for two hours waiting on a flight. While, rationally, he knew the last two were more than slightly unfair, he still blamed Joe.

So when his mobile trilled he ignored it until it clicked through to the answerphone. After about five minutes it rang again. Frank continued to ignore it.

The third and fourth times it rang, he could feel his temper reignite. But he kept on it ignoring it, hoping Joe would give up and go away. He was beginning to get dirty looks that turned into outright glares when his phone started up a fifth time.

Exasperated, Frank sat up and grabbed his phone. And when he saw, as expected, that it was the house phone, he was furious.

"What!" he snarled.

"Hey Frank," came the annoyingly chirpy voice of his little brother. "Listen, something's come up."

"What?" This was pushing it, even for Joe. "How can anything possibly have 'come up'? You've been on your own for less than two hours. It's the middle of the flaming night!"

"Frank, shut up and listen to me."

"Why-"

"Frank! This is important."

"Are you being threatened with death right now?"

"No but-"

"Then sort it out yourself."

"Frank would you please listen to me for three minutes?"

"No. Call Biff. Call Chet or Tony. Hell, if it's that urgent, call Con Riley. Call anybody but your long-suffering brother. I am going to have a relaxing fortnight, with Nancy. You are not going to bother us."

"Callie-"

"Shut the fuck up," snapped Frank, furious that Joe was bringing his girlfriend into this.

"Fine then. Be like that you stupid, selfish moron."

Frank wondered how Joe managed to make the click of a button sound like a slam of a phone. For a moment he contemplated calling back to find out what the emergency was this time. Then he stuffed his phone back in his pocket.

"Oh no little brother. I'm not conceding so easily. You can sort this crisis out on your own. It will be good practice for when we're off at college.

For some months now Frank had been having disloyal thoughts of going to a different college to Joe. A week ago he'd received an acceptance letter from Princeton offering a place with full funding. There was no way Joe could match that with his academic record. Frank didn't see how he could turn down Princeton for community college with Joe.

He wanted to talk it over with Nancy. He knew she'd applied as well and he was keen to know if she had been accepted. As he half dozed, waiting for his flight, he daydreamed about attending college with Nancy Drew.

-

Joe threw the handset across the room, incensed with his brother. He couldn't believe Frank had taken so long to answer his phone and then blown him off. Not only was he ignoring Joe but he was also ignoring Callie. He was supposed to be Callie's boyfriend; he was supposed to look out for her.

Joe was well aware that it was his brother's guilty conscience over his attraction to Nancy that had him swearing. It didn't mean he had to put up with it though.

"Fine big brother, you don't want to rescue Callie? Well I will." Retrieving the phone, he started to make some calls.

Since Frank had taken the van, the first thing Joe did was book a taxi to Newark. He would use the wait to get organised. Calling the airlines, he tucked the phone in the crook of his neck so he could pack while working his way through the automated response.

Two changes of clothes for himself were thrown into a small holdall. Searching through the back of his wardrobe he pulled out a smaller pair of jeans and couple of t-shirts that Callie could borrow if she needed to. Also from the back of his wardrobe, he dredged up a smart blazer and cap from a previous masquerade as a chauffeur.

Impatiently insisting on the earliest possible flight to Chicago, he hurried downstairs and grabbed a selection breakfast bars and candy as well as some bottled water. He wasn't sure but he suspected he'd have to hit the ground running when he arrived in Chicago. Hurrying back upstairs, he added the first aid kit to the holdall and his emergency detective kit, which held such essential items as a small torch and a set of lock picks.

Finally accepting a six am flight, Joe gave them his credit card details. He really, really, didn't want to be there when his father received the bill.

If he was going to be in trouble, Joe decided he might as well go all out. Breaking into his father's lockbox, he liberated the cash Fenton Hardy kept there for emergencies. Separating the four thousand dollars into three wads, he slipped one in his wallet, one in his pocket and one in the bag. He also grabbed one of the fake credit cards with an alias.

Looking back at his father's office, Joe had to admit it looked like a whirlwind had swept through it. Grabbing a note pad, he quickly scrawled 'Sorry' across the top page.

He considered leaving a longer note but he didn't really know all that much, certainly nothing that would soften his father's heart. Joe said a feverent prayer that Callie was genuinely in danger. Then he felt horribly guilty. Even if it meant his father reconsidered his position on corporal punishment, he would rather Callie was safe.

He was going to do his very best to blame everything on Frank. As a tactic though, that very rarely worked. Somehow Frank always seemed to have credibility on his side. He concluded his only chance was if he could arrange to get shot it. A bullet or broken would ensure his father was in a much more forgiving mood.

Joe giggled at the silliness of the idea. Mind you, if he spoke nicely to Callie maybe they could pretend he got shot.

Outside his taxi honked its horn. Grabbing his holdall, Joe ran downstairs and out the house.