Chapter 12

He's coming in here! Oh my God, he's coming in here!

Joe's heart pounded painfully and his breathing quickened. Slipping off the bed, the boy edged towards the wall and put his back to it.

Slowly the door opened and Joe threw up his hand against the sudden brightness.

"My, aren't we a sight for sore eyes?" the man taunted. "What's the matter, Joey? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

Joe lowered his hand and squinted against the light, terror rising sharply in his chest. He knew the man had been in his cell while he slept, how else could he have left the trail mix and the water in there? But now he was coming in while Joe was awake, and Joe guessed that meant trouble.

"Wha-what do you want?" Joe stuttered.

"A souvenir," the man responded cheerfully, moving towards Joe.

As the muscular figure moved towards him, Joe tried to move around him. While the door was open, maybe he could try to escape!

The man stepped in front of him. "I don't think so, Joey."

Joe tried to edge the other way but the man grabbed his arm. Quickly Joe reacted. He stomped on the man's foot and kneed him in the groin. As the man bent forward with a grunt of pain, Joe smacked him in the face then pushed him hard. Darting around him, Joe made for the door. He had just reached it when a hand snaked around his ankle and pulled hard. Joe tumbled forward with a cry of fear. As he hit the floor, the man yanked him back into the room, wrenching his ankle and causing him to cry out in pain.

"That was very stupid, Joey!" the man yelled, hauling the boy to his feet and slamming him against the wall. "Very stupid! You hurt me and you're going to have to pay for that!"

Joe's panicked breathing caught in his throat as the man shook him hard. "I…I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Too late for that!" The man put his face close to Joe's and Joe saw his captor clearly for the first time. He had light brown hair and a nondescript face, ordinary in every aspect except for the eyes. Joe repressed a shudder. Those eyes were dead.

"I only wanted your jacket," the man continued. "Just as a little memento, but now I'm going to have to take something more as well."

Slowly, deliberately, the man withdrew a knife from his belt and Joe's eyes widened in horror at the sight of it. "N-no!" he cried as he struggled against the man's grip. "No!"

"You have no one to blame but yourself!" the man hissed, twirling Joe around and pulling him back against him, arms encircling the child. "Bad boys need to be punished!"

His back pressed against the man, Joe could no longer see what he was doing and that terrified the boy beyond belief. Tears began to slide down his face. "P-please!" he begged. "I'm sorry! I'll be good! Please don't hurt me!" His sobs caught in his throat as he felt the knife press against his right arm.

"This is going to hurt," the man laughed as he pushed the knife in.

Joe heard his jacket tear. Then a sharp, piercing pain tore through his arm just below his elbow and the boy screamed in pain. The knife didn't plunge too deeply, no more than half an inch, but the pain burned relentlessly. Cruelly, the man dragged it down until it reached his wrist.

"STOP! STOP!" Joe screamed as the man withdrew the knife. Arms still around the now violently shaking child, the man whispered in his ear, "let that be a reminder to you of what happens to bad boys!" Then he released him and Joe slumped to the floor, cradling his arm.

The man stood over him for several minutes, watching him cry with some satisfaction. Then he knelt beside Joe and said, "give me your jacket, Joey."

Trembling and unable to look at the man, Joe tried to take his jacket off. But his right arm was now screaming in pain and slick with blood. The man laughed in amusement as he watched Joe struggle with his jacket. "Here, Joey, let me help you."

He reached over and Joe shuddered at his touch as the man carefully eased the jacket off him.

"Well, that's me finished for this afternoon," said the man cheerfully as he stood up. "I have some errands to run. Talk later, Joey."

Joe remained slumped on the floor long after the door had closed and the footsteps had died away.

XXX

Frank and his father stood in horrified silence for several minutes after the tape ended.

Fenton didn't know how to react. His son's desperate pleading had cut through him like a knife; Joe had sounded so near on the tape that Fenton had needed to remind himself that he wasn't there. That he couldn't help him…and it made him sick to his soul.

Frank's stomach was churning. This is all my fault! he moaned silently. Frank knew he would never forgive himself.

Finally, and with difficulty, Fenton spoke. "Frank? I thought…I thought you said Tony gave you that tape?"

"I thought he did," Frank whispered. "It was in the mailbox with the books Tony dropped off."

"Fenton's mind started to race. The man had been to the house! He must have dropped the tape in the mailbox some time that morning or the night before, which meant that Joe must still be in Bayport somewhere!

"Frank, don't touch the tape or the envelope again. I'm going to call Chief Collig!"

Less than thirty minutes later, Chief Collig, Con Riley, Sam Radley and several other members of the Bayport Police Department were gathered in the Hardy home listening to the tape.

Laura Hardy was also there. Despite Fenton's best efforts to persuade her otherwise, she was adamant that she wanted to hear her son's voice.

Frank had disappeared. There was no way he could listen to his brother begging and pleading like that a second time; the first time had been more than enough.

No one spoke as the tape finished playing; the terrified voice of the child on the tape had affected them all.

It was Laura's sobs that broke the silence. Fenton put his arm around her and addressed Chief Collig. "Ezra, only Frank has touched the tape and envelope. Do you think we might be able to get a print off them?"

"We can try," said the Chief grimly. "And I'll have the CSI's print the mailbox too. This guy has to get sloppy somewhere!"

While the forensics team were dusting for prints, Fenton went in search of Frank. It was only when he had heard the tape a second time that he fully understood the kidnapper's words to his eldest son. And if he knew his son, he was off beating himself up somewhere; nobody could guilt trip like Frank.

He found Frank in the back yard, swinging idly on the old swing that hung on the tree at the end of the garden.

"Frank? You okay?"

Mute, Frank shook his head.

Fenton reached out and put his hand on Frank's shoulder. Frank looked up at him and Fenton saw that he was right. Frank was blaming himself. "Frank, this isn't your fault, you know."

"Sure it is, you heard him," said Frank bitterly.

"I heard a raving lunatic who kidnapped an innocent child try and put the blame for his actions on another innocent boy," Fenton told him firmly.

"He heard what I said to Joe," said Frank dully. "That's why he took him."

"No it's not! This guy was obviously watching you! He…" Fenton stopped speaking abruptly as his words to Frank hit him. The man had been watching the boys! He'd been watching them closely enough to hear their argument!

"Oh good God!" whispered Fenton aloud. "Frank, you need to take us back to where you and Joe had the argument! Exactly where you had the argument! This guy was watching you there and obviously followed Joe from there! He might have left a trail!"

Reluctantly, Frank agreed. He had no desire to go back to where he'd had his last bitter confrontation with his brother, but if it meant they might find something that would lead them to Joe then he was all for it.

Within twenty minutes, Frank, his father, Sam, Con and one of the forensic team were at the last place Frank had seen his brother. Frank stood very still while the men searched the area around him.

Finally, Con yelled out, "I've found something!"

The other men rushed to where he was crouched down. It was just inches away from the tunnel that Frank and the other boys had exited from.

"Look at this," said Con, as he carefully held back a branch. "A footprint, a very clear one. It looks like somebody crouched here for sometime."

"I'll make a cast of it," said the man from forensics. "It should give us an indication of height and weight."

"And there's some material too," added Fenton, as he caught sight of some checked flannel fluttering in the breeze. Maybe the guy cut himself on the bush and left some blood?"

Sam said nothing. It was only while the forensics man was busy and Con had gone to radio Chief Collig, that he turned to Fenton. "You sound like you're still trying to ID the guy. I thought we'd agreed it was James Moore?"

Fenton glanced at the ground. "I'm hoping to find some indication that it's not," he said softly. "I know what Moore did to his victims. I…I just can't handle the thought of what he might do to Joe."

Sam looked away. He had no idea what to say to reassure Fenton; there was no doubt in his mind that Joe was in that lunatic's hands.

XXX

The man remained in the bushes watching the house. He didn't dare go closer for fear of being seen. There were a lot of police officers around and he didn't want to risk getting caught. Not now, not when he was so close.

An unmarked patrol car pulled up and Fenton Hardy himself stepped out. Another man and a tall, dark-haired teenager joined him. As the trio made their way to the house, Fenton put his arm around the teenager's shoulders. The man's lips curled in a cold smile. It wouldn't be long now.

Soon, Fenton, soon you'll lose everything that matters to you!

A/N: This chapter was pretty hard to write so I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks to the people who reviewed.

The Silent Rumble: Glad you're happy I'm back!

Paperdaisies: Aslo glad that you're happy too, and that you enjoyed the chapter!