Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around the year 2002, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. People still used landlines! Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give all credit and heartfelt thanks.

My deepest apologies for screwing up posting Chapters 5 and 6. I won't blame anyone for ceasing to read the story, after I botched things so badly with it.

January Thaw

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Sparks JSH

Chapter 7

Six steps to the door…six steps back. Turn and do it again. Six steps to the door…six steps back. What are they going to ask me to do? What am I going to do? What have they done to Megan? And Callie? Where could they be held prisoner – anywhere!

Frank paced his bedroom, his hands clenched in fists at his sides. Occasionally he pounded one fist into the other palm in a furious gesture of frustration. But the activity did nothing to relieve his tension; he was wound as tightly as a coiled watch spring with anxiety.

Mom thought she was being so tactful and understanding! he thought. Well, it was nice of her to bring me some dinner – especially after the way I acted! Laura had waited until the rest of the family had eaten, then brought Frank a plate of spaghetti and sauce, tapping gently on the door and insisting she be allowed into his room. When Frank finally admitted her, she simply handed him the plate and pushed him toward his desk chair. Sometimes mothers don't take "no" for an answer! Despite his turmoil, Frank's mouth watered at the aroma rising from the plate, and he reluctantly sat down and began to eat.

His mother sat down on the edge of the bed and waited quietly until the plate was nearly empty. Then she began to speak, still very gently: "Frank, I don't know what has happened, and you don't have to tell me. I assume it's something having to do with Megan…." Frank had been unable to stop himself from nodding a little at this point, and Laura continued. "Honey, I know you're upset right now, and things look bleak…but believe me, your and Megan's love is strong enough to withstand it – whatever it is that's happened between you. I'm sure things will work out all right." When Frank didn't answer, she sighed and got to her feet; kissed her elder son's dark hair gently, took the empty plate and departed, quietly closing the door after herself.

She's sure things will work out all right! Nothing's going to work out all right! Mom, we didn't fight – she's been kidnapped! She's going to be killed – she and Callie, both! Unless I do something – something that I don't know about yet!

Frank paced the familiar route once more, and heard footsteps approach his door and pause. That's Joe, he thought, as the footsteps proceeded into his brother's room. Joe, I need your help so badly – and I can't ask for it! I'm sorry I threw you out of here; I know you were only trying to help…but you can't help; you can't know – or they'll kill the girls! Oh God, Megan, what's happening to you right now? Are they hurting you? Have they hurt Callie? He flung himself heavily on his bed and buried his face in his arms. Through the wall separating his room and Joe's, he could hear his brother's voice; apparently Joe was talking on the telephone. The sound continued for a few more minutes, and then Joe walked past in the hall again, and went downstairs.

He must have a date with Vanessa. Frank glanced at his clock-radio; eight-thirty-five. Late for a date, though. He had heard the van's motor earlier, but Joe had returned after only a half hour's absence; now he was leaving again? Mildly curious despite his agitation, Frank got up and walked to the window where he watched Joe backing out of the driveway. Wonder what he's up to?

Since he was again on his feet, Frank resumed his restless pacing. Six steps to the door…six steps back. What are they going to ask me to do? Has someone discovered our connection to the Network? Suppose that's happened – I could be asked for access codes, identities, file contents… What would I do? How could I tell – how could I not tell?

Six steps to the door…six steps back…six steps to the door….Revenge? Joe and I have put a lot of people behind bars – so has Dad. And occasionally some of those people are released, or escape. Or they have relatives to do their dirty work for them. Could I ask Dad if he knows about anyone being released lately? No…Dad's too busy right now with those security arrangements. Could I ask Con Riley to check? No, I can't do that! If I'm being watched, and someone saw me go to the police station… I could phone Con, maybe? Not tonight, though…tomorrow. I'll call him tomorrow and ask for a list….

Six steps to the door…six steps back….Terrorists? maybe someone wants me to sabotage something? Rob a bank? Assassinate somebody? Build a nuclear bomb? But I don't know how to build a nuclear bomb! Even as upset as he was, Frank had to laugh a little at the wild path his thoughts had suddenly taken. Don't be so stupid, Hardy, no one would ask you to do that! Six steps to the door…But maybe I'll be asked to steal parts? Steal plutonium? I don't know where I could get any plutonium! He shook himself impatiently; he was starting to sound irrational even to himself. Six steps to the door…six steps back.

##########

Joe parked the van as close to the Benders' restored farmhouse as possible; the wind chill was making it seem much colder than the two degrees registered on the van's temperature readout, and he wanted no more time in the cold than necessary. He hurried to the door and knocked loudly.

Vanessa opened it almost immediately. "Come in, quick, before you freeze!" she instructed, pulling Joe inside. Once he was in the house, she quickly divested him of his parka, hanging it on the back of a kitchen chair, then turned and slipped into his arms. "Snuggle up and get warm!" she murmured.

Joe held her close for a moment. Ah, Vanessa! What would I do if I was in Frank's place, and somebody snatched you? The thought shook him from the enjoyment of hugging her. "Like I said on the phone, I need your help. Frank's in trouble."

Vanessa pulled away to look keenly at her boyfriend. Her soft gray-blue eyes met Joe's sparkling blue ones, and she noted the worried expression they contained. "Frank's in trouble? What are you talking about? What kind of trouble could Frank be in that you need my help for?"

Joe pulled her toward the family room. "Is your mom around?" he asked softly.

"She's out in the studio," Vanessa replied, referring to Andrea Bender's animation studio. "She's got a deadline to meet, and she's been working night and day lately."

Joe sighed and sat down on the couch. "Okay. Listen: Saturday night we got this peculiar phone call from Callie Shaw's mother; she was looking for Callie, and wanted to know if Frank had seen her."

"From Callie's mother!" Vanessa exclaimed. She sat down next to Joe. "Why would she think Frank would know?"

"I think she was just grasping at straws," Joe replied. "Anyway, Frank told her he hadn't seen Callie, and didn't know where she was. We didn't think anything more about it. About that time, you picked me up and we left for the movie. When I got home, everyone was asleep. Today, everything was fine, right? We took down the Christmas decorations. Megan came over and helped. I went and played basketball. Frank took Megan home – and came home as cross as a bear!"

"Frank and Megan had a fight? I can't believe it! They don't fight – ever! They don't even argue!"

"We all thought they had a fight," Joe explained. "Frank's shut himself in his room and won't talk to anyone; snaps your head off if you look sideways at him. He threw me out of his room!"

Vanessa giggled at his injured tone. "Maybe a quarrel with Megan goes too deep to share with anyone, Joe – even you," she reminded him.

"Okay, I could accept that. But I wanted to help, right? So I decided to call Megan and see if I could get the story from her. But she didn't answer the phone. I figured maybe she's too mad at Frank to talk to him; so I drove over there. Vanessa, there's no one home at Megan's house! It was all dark!"

Vanessa frowned. "She said her mother was going to be gone for a few days…" she began. Joe held up a hand to quiet her.

"No, listen! I drove back home, and I'm ready to get out, and I notice this cassette tape in the deck of the van…we don't play cassettes much; you know that. We play CDs. I wondered what it was – so I listened to it." Joe stopped and gulped, hard. "Van, it was a guy that said he had both Megan and Callie now; that there weren't going to be any more mistakes. He told Frank to wait for instructions – and that he needed to follow them explicitly – or Callie and Megan would be killed!"

Vanessa gasped. "No! Oh Joe, that can't be true, can it?"

"It's all too true," Joe said grimly. "After the guy talked for awhile, there was a second part…Callie was on that tape!"

Vanessa's fingers gripped his arm so tightly that Joe winced and gently pried them loose. "Easy, hon, easy….It was Callie all right. I recognized her voice. She verified that this lunatic – whoever it is! – has her, had a gun pointed at her head as she was speaking, and she believes she'll - they'll – be killed if Frank doesn't comply with demands…said demands to be told to him later. And one of the stipulations is that Frank doesn't tell anyone."

"But you know…." Vanessa breathed.

"Yes." Joe's tone was steely-hard. "I know. And now you know. And we've got to help Frank somehow."

"Did the tape say when he would get the instructions?"

"Nope. And if he's being contacted tonight, I'm in trouble. But I wanted to talk to you in person, not over the phone." He put an arm about Vanessa, and she slid her arms around his neck; they clung together tightly for a moment, sharing their distress. Finally Joe loosened his grip and sat back, but he kept his arm around her. "Will you help me?"

"Of course, Joe. You know that. What can I do?"

"Tomorrow I want you to contact Callie's mother. I know you wrote Callie off, last September…but you were best friends once. Mrs. Shaw would probably tell you if she knows anything about Callie's disappearance. I'm assuming she called the police, but if there's no signs of violence, they won't take any action until 48 hours has passed."

Vanessa wrinkled her nose expressively. "Mrs. Shaw and I never got along all that well – but I'll do it, of course. What else?"

"Mmmm – this is a long shot, but – do you think you could hack into Frank's computer?"

"Probably – but why?"

"Just in case they – the mysterious 'they' – contact him by e-mail. Can you get into his e-mail account?"

Vanessa whistled disapprovingly. "Joe, are you sure you're not just being nosy? Frank's probably got a lot of personal stuff in there!"

"You think I don't know that?" Joe snapped. "You don't have to read everything, for Pete's sake! And it wouldn't be anything he got before tonight, at the earliest, anyway!"

"Okay, okay, I'll try," Vanessa soothed him. "And what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to bug the telephone," Joe announced with a somewhat shamefaced grin.

"What?" Despite the seriousness of the situation, Vanessa couldn't help laughing.

"I mean it!" Joe insisted. "Dad has devices that go on the line where it comes into the house. I'm going to install one tomorrow morning, and have it trigger a tape recorder in my room."

"Can you do that?" Amusement still tinged Vanessa's voice, but now there was disbelief there too.

"I know how to do it," Joe assured her. "It only takes a few minutes. And I'll just toss some clothes on top of the recorder. As long as there's nothing actively growing in there, Mom leaves my room alone. And Frank's in no shape to be looking, right now." He sighed, imagining Frank's despair and tenuous grip on his emotions. "If he's contacted by telephone, I'll know about it."

##########

"Callie – do you think Frank will do it?" Megan's voice was very soft. The two girls were lying side by side on the wide bed; each with a wrist cuffed to a bedpost. The lights were off, and the only illumination in the room came from the moonlit windows.

"He's got to!" Callie replied. "Frank loves – loves you," she corrected hastily.

"He wouldn't do what that horrible Sullivan guy wants him to; he wouldn't; he won't!" Megan sounded near tears. "He's too honorable…." Oh Frank, please find some way! She ached with the need to see Frank; to find refuge from her terror in the sanctuary of his arms.

"He's honorable, that's true—" Callie admitted. "But Megan, he wouldn't let something happen to you, if there was anything he could do to prevent it. If you're under his protection, he'll do anything to save you." Her voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible even to Megan. "I'm not so sure he'd do it for me, though."

Megan turned her face away, and her reply was merely a silent movement of her lips. "And whose fault is that?"

##########

Monday morning dawned, bitter cold but with the winter sun shining bleakly. Joe was up early – despite the fact that he had lain awake a long time the night before. He had been unable to sleep, for he could hear Frank's footsteps in his room – footsteps that paced and turned, paced and turned. At long last, however, Frank had apparently succumbed to exhaustion, for the footsteps ceased…and Joe, too, fell asleep.

Joe slipped silently down the stairs, his athletic shoes silent on the carpeting. The door to his father's study was shut, but Fenton hadn't locked it when he had retired the night before. He didn't think he'd have any reason to lock us out! Joe thought, guiltily, as he cautiously entered the study. He knew where Fenton kept the phone-tapping devices, and soon had pocketed the desired item.

Joe shivered with cold and apprehension as he knelt at the side of the house, brushing the snow away from the box where the phone lines entered. Attaching the device took only a few minutes, but he was chilled through by the time he reentered his home. Joe quietly laid his coat over the back of the family-room couch, deciding not to risk opening and closing the closet door again.

He tiptoed up the stairs, and had almost reached his room when suddenly Frank's door opened. Joe leaped back with a muffled yip of surprise, and Frank jumped, too.

"Jeez! You scared me half to death!" Joe hissed, automatically. He caught sight of Frank's face and bit his lip in consternation. There were dark circles under Frank's eyes, and his face was gaunt and pale with exhaustion and worry.

"What were you doing lurking in the hall anyway?" the elder Hardy snapped in a whisper.

Joe's heart contracted with pity. "I'm sorry," he whispered in return. "I was just – I was worried about you, bro." He reached out a hand and gripped Frank's shoulder. "Can't I help at all, pal?"

Frank shook his head miserably. "No," he murmured. "No one can help." He met Joe's questioning gaze, and tears stood in his brown eyes. "but thanks, Joe, for the offer. I won't forget it."

"You'd better not," Joe chided him, trying to keep his tone light. He shook Frank's shoulder gently. "Remember, I'm here if you need me. Okay?" Frank nodded, eyes on the floor. "Come on, let's get some breakfast. Mom and Dad aren't up yet, but I'm hungry."

"I'm not—" Frank began, but his uncooperative stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. Despite his mental anguish, Frank couldn't help grinning a little. "Okay," he agreed. "Breakfast it is."

"I'll be right down." Joe released his shoulder and headed into his room. "Go on, I'll be there in a minute." Frank obligingly headed down the staircase, so he didn't see Joe as he bent over the little tape machine next to his extension phone.