Chapter 10

The next morning, Frank awoke to a lot of yelling and shouting. Yawning, he rubbed his eyes and looked at the alarm clock next to his bed. It was nearly nine am.

As he got out of bed Frank wondered what was going on. It had been late when he and his mother had gone to bed the night before, and he knew she had slept as badly as he did because he had heard her sobbing into her pillow when he had got up to use the bathroom during the night.

Cautiously, Frank opened his bedroom door and headed for the stairs. The yelling seemed to be coming from the hall. Halfway down the stairs, Frank peered over the banister and got a shock.

His mother, her face contorted in anger, was yelling into the phone. Ethel Radley and his Aunt Gertrude stood beside her making consoling gestures as if to calm her down.

But Laura Hardy was having none of it.

"I couldn't give a crap about your livelihood!" she yelled at whoever was on the other end of the phone. "What I care about is my family! And right now, they're going through enough without your muck-rag adding to that!"

It was then Frank caught sight of the paper on the hall table. Moving quietly down the stairs, he picked it up and glanced at it. His mouth fell open in shock.

Splashed across the front page was the headline; FENTON'S SON RUNS RIOT. Beneath it was a picture of Frank in Con's patrol car, his hands over his face. Quickly, Frank scanned the article. It was about how Frank and some school friends had cut school, then beat up an old woman. The article was sensationalised and Frank was the only one mentioned by name.

"You just listen here to me, you little snake," Laura Hardy spat venomously into the phone. "If there isn't a front page retraction in this evening's paper, you can expect a phone call from our lawyer! I'm sure you've heard of the word 'slander'?"

Laura scowled and listened for several seconds, then snorted. "No! I don't think that's being a little hasty! Do you even bother to check your facts before printing? What kind of a newspaper are you?"

Just then Laura caught sight of Frank standing frozen in the hall and her expression switched from anger to worry. "I don't want to hear it," she said firmly into the phone. "Your excuses don't interest me. Print that retraction or else."

Laura hung up the phone and started towards Frank. "Honey, are you okay?"

Frank stared blankly at her. "They make it sound like I did it!"

"But we know you didn't," Laura consoled him. "And after they print that retraction tonight, everyone else will know too."

Frank wasn't reassured. "What if they don't print it?"

"Oh, they'll print it, believe me," said Laura grimly.

"Let's not think about it," interrupted Ethel gently. "Come on, Frank. I've made you some breakfast."

Frank followed Ethel and Gertrude into the kitchen. He could hear his mother picking up the phone to make another call and strained his ears to listen. But Ethel saw him and quickly closed the door. "Eggs scrambled or fried, Frank?" she asked pointedly.

Frank sighed. "Scrambled, please."

XXX

The day passed with an agonizing slowness for the Hardys. The phone rang non-stop; friends calling to enquire about Fenton and Joe, newspapers to ask about Frank and Joe.

But no word from Joe or his kidnapper.

Around late afternoon, Fenton Hardy arrived home with Sam Radley, having discharged himself from the hospital against the doctor's wishes. Frank disappeared onto the front porch to avoid the argument that followed when Laura discovered that piece of information.

As Frank sat on the porch swing, rocking back and forth, his thoughts turned to his brother. He wondered where Joe was, and if he was scared or hurt.

Please be okay, Joe. Please come home safe.

"Frank?" the voice interrupted his troubled thoughts and Frank looked up. He was surprised to see Chet Morton standing there.

"Hi, Chet. What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," his friend responded sitting beside Frank on the swing. "I heard about Joe."

"Who hasn't?" Frank muttered.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"Not unless you can find Joe."

Chet fell silent and Frank turned to him. "Why are you here, Chet?"

Chet looked offended. "I came to offer support to a friend in need. We might not have spent much time together lately, but you're still my oldest friend."

Frank looked at him guiltily. When he and Chet had started Junior High in September, Frank had been dismayed at first to discover that they didn't have a single class together. But then he had met Paul and he had sort of forgotten about Chet. "Chet, I'm sorry. I've been a real jerk lately."

"No, you haven't…well, yeah you have actually. But that's okay, we all have bad days. I wasn't the nicest person in the world the summer before last when I broke my leg!"

Frank laughed. "I don't think you quite reached my level of 'jerk,' but thanks for understanding."

"Hey, that's what friends are for!" Chet's expression sobered. "Frank, what was the deal with that story in the Bayport Tribune this morning?"

Frank grimaced and told Chet what had happened. When he was finished, Chet shook his head. "Figures, I knew it was something to do with Ryan Aston."

"You did?" said Frank surprised.

"Of course." Chet shrugged. "Frank, everybody in school knows it was Ryan Aston and that the papers just picked on you because you're Fenton Hardy's son. Which really sucks 'cause you guys have enough to worry about at the moment."

Frank didn't answer.

"Has the kidnapper contacted you yet?" asked Chet softly and Frank shook his head in frustration.

"No. And it's been nearly forty eight hours now! I don't know what this guy is playing at!" Frank gulped and shot Chet a terrified look. "I'm just so afraid that he won't contact us and we'll never see Joe again!"

Chet didn't know what to say. Instead he patted Frank awkwardly on the arm.

"Chester Morton?" Both boys turned to see Aunt Gertrude standing in the front door. She had come to see where Frank was. "Well, this is a nice surprise. I haven't seen you in quite some time, young man. I was beginning to think you didn't like my pie anymore!"

Chet chuckled. "That's not possible, Aunt Gertrude. You make the best pie in Bayport!"

"Only in Bayport?" she teased.

"Well, I'm afraid my culinary expertise doesn't extend beyond Bayport limits yet!" Chet retorted mischievously. "And I think I might be starting to forget what your pie tastes like, it's been so long since I had a piece!"

Gertrude laughed. "Well, that's definitely a hint if ever I've heard one. Come on, let's get you a piece of pie."

As the boys followed Gertrude into the kitchen, Frank heard the raised voices of his parents coming from the living room and winced. "Is Mom still mad at Dad?" he asked.

His aunt glanced at him. "Yes, Frank. It was a very foolish thing to have released himself against doctor's orders." Frank sat down beside Chet at the kitchen table. He hoped his father wouldn't collapse again.

Gertrude seemed to guess a little of what he was thinking. As she placed a piece of pie in front of Frank and Chet, she said quietly, "Frank, don't worry. Fenton's promised to rest. He won't get sick again."

Frank nodded. He fervently hoped she was right.

XXX

Fenton placed the papers he was reading on his desk and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Laura had finally agreed to letting him stay at home, but only if he promised not to overdo it.

"I'm not sure how many more scares I can take," she had told him softly.

Fenton swallowed guiltily at the memory. He hated upsetting his wife, but this wasn't about her. It wasn't even about him.

It was about Joe.

Fenton ran a hand through his hair in frustration and glanced out the window into the gathering dusk. There had been no word from the kidnapper or Joe, and the waiting was starting to shred the Hardy family's nerves. The torture of not knowing was far worse than any call from a kidnapper.

A knock sounded at the door of his study. "Come in!" Fenton called as he looked up. The door opened and Sam Radley edged into the room.

"Hi, Fenton," he greeted him.

"Sam! Come in, sit down."

Sam closed the door and dropped into the chair in front of Fenton's desk. "I see Laura got her retraction printed," he said, holding out the evening edition of the Bayport Tribune. "I bet the Gazette wouldn't have printed that rubbish!"

Fenton took the paper. Under a less sensationalised headline was an article apologising to the Hardy family and explaining what had really happened. It also mentioned why Frank had been in the patrol car and expressed a wish for Joe's speedy return towards the end.

"Laura really put the fear of God into them, didn't she?" said Sam, with some satisfaction. "Serves them right."

Fenton nodded. "Did you turn up anything?" he asked.

"Not yet, but I'm still looking."

Fenton buried his head in his hands. "This isn't good, Sam. The kidnapper hasn't contacted us and we've found no indication that the kidnapping is in any way connected to me. Either this guy is the most patient person in the world or we're looking at a random kidnapping! If that's the case, we might never see Joe again!" Fenton choked a little.

"No way!" Sam told him. "It has to be related. We just haven't found our link yet."

"What if we don't find one?" asked Fenton. "The police have found nothing. And it's been over forty-eight hours now, with no word from the kidnapper or Joe. Unless something turns up soon it might be too late!"

Just then, Sam's cell phone rang loudly. He glanced at the number. "Sorry, Fenton, I have to take this."

Fenton nodded and turned to look out the window as Sam answered the phone.

"Hello?…..Yes, it is…..That's right…..What! When?…..But why wasn't I told earlier…..I see…..Well, thanks for calling. I really appreciate it."

Sam hung up and Fenton glanced back at him. Sam looked disturbed.

"Something wrong?" Fenton asked.

"Yes and no," said Sam. "We've found our link…"

"What? Where?" exclaimed Fenton, springing from his chair.

"It's not exactly a 'where,' it's a 'who.' And his name is James Moore."

XXX

A loud wailing tore Joe from his sleep and he groaned.

Whoever was on the other side of the door had been playing the screaming music on and off all day, meaning that the boy had no sooner fallen into a restless doze than he was jerked awake.

The God-awful pain in his head had returned with a vengeance and Joe was desperate for some sleep, if only to escape this waking nightmare. Gritting his teeth, Joe pulled the meagre blanket over his head and tried to block out the noise.

Go away! Please, go away! he begged silently.

The child shivered. He ached with cold, and the only thing his body craved more than sleep was heat. Joe had never thought it was possible to feel so cold. His whole body was frozen and he found it difficult to move.

Suddenly, the music was switched off and Joe sat up terrified. Usually the man left the music on for at least an hour, why was it being switched off so abruptly now? Joe sat waiting breathlessly in the dark.

"Joeeeey!" the voice called. "What cha' doing? Are you crying for Mommy and Daddy?"

Joe clenched his fists at the sound of that hateful voice, but didn't answer. He was too afraid.

The voice laughed softly, sending shivers down Joe's back. "You're not very good at making conversation, are you, Joey? Maybe it's the dark that's keeping you quiet?"

Light flooded the room suddenly and Joe cried out, shielding his eyes from the dazzling brightness. The boy didn't know it, but he had been in darkness for more than twenty-four hours now and this sudden light hurt his eyes.

"Now who's good to you, Joey?" the evil voice continued, as Joe crouched forward and put his watering eyes against the mattress. "I put the light back on, and I've even left you a present! Go on, look and see!"

It was several minutes before Joe could drag his eyes from the mattress and look towards the door. On the floor beside the trail mix was another glass of water and his jacket! Quickly he eased his stiff body from the cot and hurried over to the door.

As he snatched up his jacket, something black and furry fell out, squeaking as it hit the floor.

A rat!

Joe screamed in terror and jumped back, while the man on the other side of the door laughed uproariously. "Trick-or-treat, Joey! Trick-or-treat!" he taunted. "Don't you like your present?"

Shaking with fright and shock, Joe saw that the rat was only a toy. Trembling, he sank heavily onto the cot. The cruel prank had frightened him terribly.

"You still haven't thanked me for my present," the man told him. "That's rude, Joey, very rude. I thought Fenton raised you better?"

Joe didn't answer and the man continued. "You might want to improve your manners, Joey, or I'll have to teach you some. How would you like it if I put a real rat in there with you in the dark?"

The light went out again and Joe heard the man's footsteps walking away, leaving him alone in the dark once more.

Still shaking, Joe put on his coat and his hand groped in the dark for the glass of water and the trail mix. He was starving. His hand brushed the toy rat and Joe shuddered, quickly withdrawing his hand.

It's not real, he reminded himself as he continued to grope for the water and the trail mix. Finally his hand closed around them. Slowly and carefully, Joe brought his pathetic meal back to the cot where he sat in the darkness eating it.

He wondered if the man had contacted his family yet; it hadn't escaped Joe's notice that the man knew who his father was.

Stomach growling, Joe finished the trail mix and drank the water. His coat offered a little more protection against the cold and he rubbed his arms in the hope of warming himself some more. He wondered if it was night or day; Joe had lost all concept of time in this black room.

Sighing miserably, the boy lay back down and wished for the millionth time that he was back home with his family. As his eyes closed, Joe hoped that the man wouldn't come back.

He was desperate for some sleep.

A/N: Okay, there they were, 3 chapters as promised...hope you enjoyed them! I'll be back from my travels in a month and I'll post the rest of the story then!