Their journey to the police station had been a complete failure. Joe sat in the passenger's seat while their mother drove back to Aunt Gertrude's.

Joe slammed his fist against the door. "They can't do this! We have to at least be able to see him. Mom, can you turn around?"

She looked very small at that moment. Her face was pale and her eyes were bloodshot. "We did everything we could, Joe. They said we could visit him tomorrow."

"But what if they try something? What if they hurt him?"

Laura's knuckles whitened on the wheel. The evening was dark, and it had started to rain. Their headlights cut through the night like a knife. "Hopefully Sam Radley can help. Maybe they'll take him more seriously, I don't know."

"They'll be at Gertrude's?" Joe asked anxiously.

Joe's mother just nodded, not moving her eyes from the road ahead.

Joe stared out, watching the drops of water slowly roll down the window. How many more people would die because of this folder? Surely that's what Stokes was after. But why kill Clarke Neil? What had he done? Had Eunice confided in him?

Joe ran an anxious hand through his hair. Could he take the folder to Washington himself? Succeed where his father had failed? Not likely.

They arrived at Aunt Gertrude's. An unfamiliar car was parked out front. Joe hoped beyond hope it was the Radleys, and that they would prove helpful.

Joe and Laura rushed through the rain across the yard. They entered the house loudly.

Gertrude called for them as soon as the door closed behind them.

They strode into the kitchen where Gertrude was holding court in front of two young people. The man, Sam Radley, was tall with a large nose and fluffy hair that made him seem even taller. His face was amicable and he immediately portrayed trustworthiness. His wife, Ethel, sat next to him. She was brunette with kind eyes and she held a hand over her stomach- clearly she was expecting.

Gertrude wasted no time. "These are the Radleys. Sam is here to help. But before we devise a course of action, you should know. Anne is gone, and so is little Charlie. Their stuff is cleared out, and she left no trace they were ever here."

Laura sat down, clearly almost at her breaking point, with a hand over her heart.

Joe reeled back. "Why would she leave?"

Gertrude snipped, "Well, I don't know. Did you learn anything at the police station?"

Joe nodded grimly. "We spoke to your lawyer. The last he saw, Frank was waiting in some sort of interrogation room. However, no one else was allowed to see him. They haven't posted bail or said when or if he's going to trial. We don't even know who supposedly saw him fleeing the murder scene!"

Gertrude rubbed her eyes in exhaustion. "This does not bode well. Ernest ('My lawyer' she explained to the Radleys) called me a short while ago. He said the police are acting strange and secretive. Usually they explain things to the lawyers more or less work together. Today they awarded Ernest no such respect."

"But why did they only arrest Frank?" Joe asked.

Sam piped up, fiddling with the ring on his finger. "I've been thinking about this. Forgive me for butting in, but your Aunt told me everything she knows." He asked Joe, "Is there any time in this case where you two have acted separately?"

Joe racked his brain. "Only yesterday. Only at the speakeasy."

Sam frowned. "Someone yesterday must have either recognized him or seen him talk to Anne. Maybe they were keeping an eye on her, and they followed them home."

Joe's head hurt. "That well may be. I'm going to call Callie; see if she's okay."

He left them at the table. His mom started whispering to the Radleys- no doubt introducing herself to Sam and offering her condolences to Ethel. That was Laura's way.

Joe rang the number and lifted the earpiece. It took a few moments, but a man answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Hello," Joe offered, "My name is Joe Hardy. Is Callie Shaw there?"

The voice on the receiver growled. "Callie's grounded. Seems like she had the bright idea to gallivant about town in my Dad's car."

Joe didn't quite know how to respond. "But she's okay, right?"

"Are you the guy she went out with? I didn't see him, but I'm sure there was guy involved."

Joe inhaled sharply. "No sir, I was not. Please make sure she stays safe. Goodbye."

He hung up quickly. He addressed the rest of the kitchen. "Well, Callie is grounded. Hopefully that keeps her safe for the next few days."

Sam spoke. "You said Shayne wasn't successful asking for help from the governor, right?"

Joe stuck his hands inside his pockets. "As far as I know, yes. That's why Dad went to the FBI."

"Why didn't he just call?"

Joe stared at him quizzically. "Can you do that? Just call the Bureau of Investigation?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Logically, yes. But your father would have known to do that. I'm sure he had a good reason for not doing so."

Joe sighed. He was tired of his father's mysteries. None of this would have happened if he had just confided in Frank and Joe before he left. However, Joe's irritation was greatly overshadowed by his concern for his Dad and for Frank.

Joe wrenched a chair away from the table and was about to sit down and complain, but the phone rang, causing Laura to jump.

Joe rushed to answer it. "Yes?" He asked eagerly.

A very familiar, friendly voice answered. "Frank? Or is this Joe? I can't tell you guys apart by voice."

Joe grinned reluctantly. "Hey Chet, it's Joe. We're a bit busy for a bit. I don't think we'll be able-"

His chum interrupted, "There are men in your house! Iola and I were driving past, and Iola saw flashlights moving in the window! You guys didn't go back, right?"

"No!" Joe replied. "When was this?"

"About 5 minutes ago. We're at a payphone right now."

"Thanks for telling me," Joe expressed. "Don't tell anyone else, go home, and keep your head down."

"Are you guys okay? You're acting more squirrelly than normal."

"I can't explain right now. See you soon, pal. Give my love to Iola."

"Wait, what?! Did you-"

Joe hung up, and immediately turned to Sam, who stood without being directed.

"I heard," he said. "Let's go."

Joe followed Sam out to the front where his car was parked.

"Be careful!" Laura, Gertrude, and Ethel called behind them in unison.

Sam pressed the ignition and they were off in a flash. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but the streets were still wet and slick. Joe directed Sam down thoroughfares and alleyways. As they drove, Sam spoke. "Open the glovebox, will you?"

Joe did so, and was met with a glistening black revolver. He pulled it out, keeping his finger off the trigger.

"You know how to safely work one of those?" Sam asked.

Joe spun the cylinder in the semi-darkness and saw that all chambers were full. "Yes, sir."

Sam nodded with satisfaction. "Good. You use that one. I'll use this one."

He pushed his jacket back, revealing a holster with a different gun at his side. "We'll use them only if necessary."

Joe nodded, studying the gun in his hand. Fenton had always drilled into his son's heads that guns were never to be called weapons. For the Hardys, they were tools, never to be used against humans unless the situation was truly dire.

The car stopped down the street from the Hardy residence. Joe saw the smallest flash of light in the window of his home. Someone was in there. His grip tightened on the gun. The situation was dire.

They quietly exited the automobile and crept down the street. Neighboring houses' lights flickered out. The town was going to sleep.

There were no cars in front of the Hardy house. If the intruder had come by car, they had parked at a distance.

"How many doors?" Sam whispered to Joe as they crossed the lawn.

"Two." Joe whispered back. "Front and back."

Sam nodded. They had reached the house. Sam looked through a gap in the parlor curtain for a moment. He stepped back, and Joe looked. There was one man in the parlor. He was paunchy, but Joe couldn't see his face. The man was rifling through the bookcases, throwing books to the ground. Joe felt a surge of anger. Those bookcases were his parents' pride and joy. This had to stop.

Of course, there could be more intruders than this one. Sam pointed to Joe then towards the back. "Flush 'em out." Sam breathed, barely audible.

Joe nodded, then stealthily made his way around the side of the house. Sam would man the front, and catch whoever tried to flee.

Joe decided to startle the intruders. He hopefully wouldn't alert the neighbors, who would no doubt call the police. That was the last thing Joe needed right now.

He pulled the back screen door open. It slammed against the side of the house. He loudly pushed the back door in, and Joe saw the figure of a very man flee the kitchen. The man was heading for the front. Good. So far, the plan was working..

Joe heard a shout as he crossed the kitchen with his gun held out in front of him. He heard the sound of a punch and a grunt as he entered the parlor.

In the front entryway at the bottom of the stairs Sam was locked in hand-to-hand combat with the paunchy man. He was winning easily. However, the tall man Joe had seen was aiming a gun directly at Sam's heart.

With a cry, Joe lunged at the man's arm, forcing the gun away from Sam. It went off with a deafening bang.

In horror, Joe saw both the paunchy man and Sam fall to the ground. The shooter stepped out of the house, leaving his cohort behind.

"No!" Joe exclaimed. He started to approach the two bodies, but Sam was moving, pushing the paunchy man off of him.

"I'm okay!" Sam said, struggling to extricate himself. "Go get him!"

Joe didn't need to be told twice. He lunged out the front door and lept down the front steps.

The shooter was already across the yard and headed down the street. His strides were incredibly long, but Joe's were faster. The man looked back at Joe, and his round glasses confirmed what Joe already guessed. It was 'Specs' Torini.

Joe put up a burst of speed, and began to close the gap between them.