Chapter 7

Con Riley stood in his front hall, frowning. Sam Radley had been very vague on the phone. He had told Con that he needed him to come to Fenton Hardy's house, that it was urgent and could he please not wear his uniform.

Con shook his head. Was this to do with the Hanley case they were working on? Surely it was Chief Collig they were looking for? No, that wasn't right either. Sam had been very insistent about Con coming alone.

Con sighed as he quickly changed his clothes, then grabbed his car keys and jacket. It was nearly three in the morning, he had just finished work and he was tired. He really didn't want to go.

Opening his front door, Con stepped into the cold night air.

He had been a little shocked when Sam Radley called him. Sure, he liked the guy and he had gotten to know him pretty well over the last few months while Sam had been in and out of the station working on the Hanley case…but then there was his partner, Fenton Hardy.

Fenton Hardy seemed like a good man and an excellent investigator, but there was something a little stand-offish about him. He was a little too professional…too distant. Con's impression of him was that he was a bit of a cold fish; too busy being perfect to be human.

And now Sam was calling from Fenton's house in the early hours of the morning.

Strange, thought Con as he climbed into his car. Very strange.

Con had no idea what to expect.

As he turned on the engine and reversed out of the driveway, it suddenly occurred to Con that this could be a very long night.

Laura was stiff and cold when she awoke, and her body ached. She opened her eyes and gasped. Where am I?

Turning on her side, she nearly rolled right over a small figure.

Joe.

And it all came rushing back to Laura; the masked men, the kidnapping. Laura sighed and sat up. Her head was pounding hard and she felt a little shivery, almost flu-like.

What time is it? Laura wondered. It didn't feel like she had been asleep for very long.

She massaged her temples, willing the pain to go away.

"Mom? Are you okay?"

She turned and smiled at a sleepy-eyed Frank, who was sitting up and looking at her.

"I'm fine, honey, just a little stiff. Did you sleep alright?"

He shrugged. "Okay, I guess. My head doesn't hurt anymore."

"That's good. You don't feel cold or anything?"

Frank shook his head.

Suddenly, the door to their prison was thrown open and one of the masked men strolled in with a bag in one hand and a gun in the other.

"Breakfast time," he grunted at them and threw the bag at Laura. "Any of you need to go, now's the time to ask!"

Laura glanced at her boys. Joe was emerging, yawning, from beneath the blankets and Frank was biting his lip. She knew the boys would need to use the bathroom, but she was afraid to let them out of her sight.

Another man came down the stairs. He addressed the first man. "You want to stay here and I'll bring them up one at a time?"

It was the young voiced man. Laura relaxed a little. Something told her that this man was different to the others. It wasn't that he had helped them the evening before, or that he seemed less cruel, it was something she couldn't put her finger on.

"Can they go together?" Laura asked, feeling that the boys would be less scared if they were with each other.

The second man nodded, but the first man glared at her through the slits in his balaclava. "You're one pushy lady, you know that? What do you think this is, a hotel?" It was the man with the harsh voice.

"Leave it," said his comrade wearily. "If two of them go together, it'll make things quicker for us."

The first man looked at him then grunted his acquiescence.

Laura whispered to her sons. "You're going to the bathroom with that man. Don't say or do anything, and come straight back to me, okay?"

The boys nodded and slipped out of the bed.

"Hold it!" the first man ordered suddenly and faced the boys. "I've got your momma here, boys, remember that 'cause if you misbehave in any way, I'll kill her, understand?"

Mute and scared, the boys nodded.

They were hustled up the stairs and out of the basement into an old fashioned kitchen that looked as though it hadn't been used in years. Frank barely had time to take in their surroundings when the man pushed them through a door into a drafty old bathroom. The man pulled the door behind him but didn't close it fully. Frank knew he was standing right outside.

"You go first," he said to Joe who was squirming a little.

Frank's eyes roamed around the bathroom and fell on a rusty looking teaspoon lying by the sink. Putting his finger to his lips so that Joe wouldn't say anything, he quickly slipped the spoon into his pocket.

Frank didn't know what good a spoon was to him, but it might come in useful.

He then took his turn while Joe tried to wash his hands. Unfortunately, Joe's right hand hurt whenever he moved it and so he gave up and only washed his left hand.

"Does your hand still hurt?" asked Frank, as he washed his own hands.

"Just a bit," answered Joe, not wanting to seem a baby.

"Are you two finished?" the man outside called in.

Frank and Joe came out of the bathroom and were brought back to the basement.

When it was Laura's turn, she tried to get the young voiced man to talk to her but he refused to utter a word.

Once in the bathroom, with the door not pulled fully shut, Laura examined herself in the cracked mirror and was surprised by how ill she looked. Her face was pale and drawn, and there were dark shadows beneath her eyes. Laura hoped she wasn't going to get sick. Her boys needed her.

When she was finished, she was led back to the basement. The men then left, leaving the Hardys alone with their breakfast.

"I can't believe you just called Con Riley!" Fenton yelled at Sam. "The kidnappers warned me not to involve the police!"

"We're not involving the police, we're involving Con and the kidnappers don't need to know that," Sam responded coolly.

"They could be watching me, did you think of that?" said Fenton angrily. "When they see Con…

"Then all they'll see is Con," interrupted Sam. "He'll be in plain clothes, they won't have a clue!"

"It's too risky, this is my family's lives we're talking about."

"What do you suggest we do then?"

Fenton fell silent.

"Fenton, we need Con's help. We're flying blind here."

Fenton slumped forward in defeat. "I'm sorry, Sam. It's just…I've never felt so useless! I've worked difficult cases before, but I've never had to gamble with my own family's lives."

Sam stared at him in pity. "I know, Fenton, but if you want them back, then you're going to have to think like an investigator and not like a father or a husband."

"It's my lack of thinking like that that's landed them in this," said Fenton bitterly. "If I'd just gone on the trip then they'd never have been targets because I'd have been off the damn case!"

"You've been working the Hanley case for months," Sam pointed out. "You've cracked more leads on that case than the police and the FBI combined. Do you really think they would have ignored that?"

Fenton had no answer, what Sam said made sense. He shrugged unhappily. "Maybe I should never have left the New York Police Department."

Sam decided not to comment, saying instead, "why don't I put on a pot of coffee? I have a feeling we're all going to need it."

Fenton nodded. "Thanks, Sam. I really appreciate all you're doing here."

Sam smiled and went into the kitchen to make coffee. He returned to find Fenton slouched in a chair, brooding over a picture of his family.

"Put that away, Fenton, and have some coffee," said Sam firmly, handing him a cup. "Remember what I told you, stop thinking like a father…"

"I know, I know," Fenton cut him off wearily just as the doorbell rang.

They looked at each other and Sam went to answer the door. Fenton followed him slowly.

Sam pulled open the door to find Con Riley on the porch.

"I'd say good evening, Sam, but for the fact that it's some ungodly hour of the morning," said Con grumpily. "Mind telling me what this is all about?"