J.M.J.

Author's note: Thank you for reading! Special thanks to everyone who has left reviews! The next chapter will be tomorrow. God bless!

October 4 – Wednesday

The castaways had had no luck locating Katina on Tuesday, so they resumed the search Wednesday morning. They split into pairs again, with Frank and Chet together, Joe and Tony, and Phil and and his friends were eager to help in any way they could, even if the only way they could help was to sit around and wait. It was very accommodating of them, Frank conceded, and that shouldn't have made him nervous. After all, no decent person would leave a thirteen-year-old girl stranded on an island, even if they did have to wait a few extra days to get her to safety. But there was still something about the situation he didn't trust. Maybe it was just Joe's misgivings. Still, he didn't care for Joe's idea of letting the men sail away to get help. Too many things could happen to prevent help from coming. When that cruiser left, Frank wanted to be sure he and his group were aboard.

"What are we going to do if we just can't find her?" Chet asked as he and Frank trudged through the dense vegetation in the jungle.

"We'll find her," Frank insisted. "She's got to be somewhere. It's not a very big island, and we know she's not the greatest at hiding."

"She doesn't trust those guys at all," Chet commented.

"No, but that doesn't mean she knows anything about them," Frank said. "She didn't trust us at first, and obviously we've never done anything to her. And she ran off when these guys' boat was too far off for her to see who it was. She just doesn't trust any strangers, I'd say."

"Okay, but we've got a plan for if we get on that boat and it turns out Joe and Katina are right about those guys, right?"

Frank bit his lip. "I'm still working on that."

Chet shook his head. "I wish we knew for sure what those guys are up to. Then we'd know what to do."

"If they're honest, there's no reason we can't go with them," Frank pointed out. "If they're not, and we let them just leave, we'll have missed possibly our only chance to get off this island. But there's no reason to assume they're not honest. They were telling the truth about the radio not working."

"I wish we could just call for help," Chet lamented. "Then we'd be rescued for sure."

"Yeah," Frank agreed. He didn't mention that it was terribly convenient for Longheim and his companions that the radio was out of commission and calling for help was out of the question if they were criminals. He shook his head. Honest people had their equipment break down, too. It didn't mean anything.

HBNDHBNDHB

Agent Emilia Seal tapped the end of her pencil against her desk as she listened to Fenton's story. Her eyebrows were drawn together and there was a frown on her face, but otherwise her expression was unreadable. Between Fenton, Jack Wayne, and Lieutenant Hikialani, Agent Seal was by far the shortest person in the room, but could project an attitude that made it clear that she was in control of everything that happened in that office.

"You should have reported this kidnapping to us right away," was her first comment when Fenton finished speaking.

"No doubt the local police contacted the FBI about it," Fenton replied.

"Yes, but it's relevant to our investigation here. You should have ensured that we had been apprised of it."

"Can't your own organization apprise you?" Fenton countered.

Rather than answering, Agent Seal picked up her desk phone and dialed an extension. "This is Agent Seal," she told whoever had answered. "I want to see you in my office immediately." Then she hung up and turned back to the three men sitting across her desk. "It's going to take me a little time to sort out what's happened in this case. It appears clear that there has been some mishandling of it, and for that I apologize."

Jack nodded incredulously. "Oh, so now you're sorry? That's great. That really fixes everything."

Agent Seal smiled slightly. "One of the unfortunate parts of working for the government is that none of us have quite the freedom to work as we see fit that a private investigator or even police detective would have. We have quite a few people—many of whom know nothing about investigating—putting their fingers in everything we do. This particular case has had some hang-ups that none of you would even have any idea about. If one of my agents decided to act independently, as an investigator, I couldn't blame him. However, I can't condone him, either."

She had just finished speaking when the door to her office opened and Chris Hammon himself walked in. He paused when he saw that Agent Seal wasn't alone, and his eyes lingered on Fenton longer than anyone. However, he quickly regained his composure and turned to his superior. "Yes? Is there something wrong?"

"I trust I don't need to tell you that tampering with evidence is a serious matter," Agent Seal said.

No change of expression cross Hammon's face. "I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"You freely admitted to it to a civilian investigator," Agent Seal reminded him. "Lying about it will not help you."

Hammon paused. "I'd like to talk to a lawyer first."

"If that's what you want," Agent Seal said. "I will have you know that there has been another serious turn in this case." She explained about the girls' kidnapping and the information relayed to Fenton. "If you have any information that could help in this matter and you don't disclose it, that will not help matters for you, either."

Hammon only hesitated briefly before he shook his head. "To begin with, those kidnappers are liars. I didn't take any bribes. But I do have some information about these people. It's in my report. Most of it."

"There had better be a good reason why it isn't all there," Agent Seal replied.

"There is." Hammon glanced at the other men in the room. "I would prefer to speak to a lawyer before I explain how I know any of this, but I think I might have an idea where those girls are."

HBNDHBNDHB

"Isn't this landscape incredible?" George asked as she and her companions hiked along a trail that wound among mountain ridges. More mountains were visible as far as the eye could see, and very little that was manmade appeared on the horizon in any direction.

"It looks just like Middle Earth," Bess commented, trying not to yawn. It wasn't that she wasn't impressed by the scenery. It was just that jet lag had set in and she would have rather slept in longer that morning than head straight out on a long hike.

"I know! Isn't it so cool?" George replied. "I don't think they filmed any of the movies in this particular area, but it's definitely the same kind of landscape in a lot of scenes. Later, when we're not going anywhere to work on the mystery, we can find some of the spots where they filmed. I have the guidebooks, so we'll be able to find them."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Bess asked, and the others laughed.

"We should be almost there," Nancy said. "According to the GPS, we can probably see Reynolds' property from that ridge up ahead."

The friends had agreed that they would check into the Reynolds angle of the case first. Nancy thought it would be best to hike into the back of Reynolds' property and see what they could find. Nancy had mapped it out and had found that a public hiking trail passed right behind the property. From there, they would have to cut across country, but they didn't think that would be too difficult.

Ned had taken the day off from school so that he could go with them. That was the worst part about the timing of this trip; it didn't coincide with any of Ned's breaks, so the girls would have to find things to do without him while he was in classes or doing homework. On this occasion, Ned insisted on going with the girls, even if it meant missing class.

"What do you think we'll find?" Bess asked. "If Devin Reynolds is dead, why would any of the gang still be hanging around his property?"

"I don't really know," Nancy admitted. "Maybe we won't find anything. That would be the way this case has been going."

It wasn't long before the property was in sight. It was in a secluded part of the country with a large, sprawling ranch house and grounds that were perfectly maintained. The slope down from where the four friends were looking at the property was long and steep and they realized now that it would be quite the climb to get down there.

"How are we going to make it down that?" Bess objected.

"I'd suggest carefully," George replied.

"Hilarious," Bess muttered.

"I think we can make it," Ned told them. "We have to try anyway."

They had all climbed mountains before this, and so they didn't doo too badly in picking out a path downward. The incline wasn't so steep that there any places without hand- or footholds, but it was tiring work, nonetheless. They had nearly reached the bottom before they had any problems.

At the very base of the mountain, there was a short drop-off of about ten feet. It wasn't visible until they had nearly reached it, and so they had to shift direction and try to get around it. This wouldn't have been difficult, except that the rocks and soil above the drop-off were deceptively loose. As Bess was trying to get around it, she stepped on a loose place and found herself falling. The sound of the rocks falling drowned out Bess's startled scream, but it was loud enough even without that.

"Are you okay?" Nancy asked, scrambling down to reach her.

Bess sat up slowly, brushing her disheveled hair out of her face. "I think so. If there's anyone in the house, they must have heard that."

Everyone turned to look toward the house, but nothing was stirring over there.

"If they did, they might have just thought it was a rockslide," George ventured to guess.

"I hope so," Bess replied. She stretched out both her hands. "Here, somebody help me up."

Ned and George each caught one of her hands and tried to help her stand, but as soon as she put any weight on her right ankle, she let out a little cry of pain.

"Oooh. It feels like I sprained my ankle," she complained.

"That's just great," George replied. "Now what are we going to do?"

"Can you walk on it at all?" Nancy asked anxiously.

"I don't think so," Bess replied. "Definitely not far enough to get all the way back to where we started from."

"Don't worry about that right now," Ned advised her. "Does anything else hurt?'

Bess paused, trying to decide. "I've got a lot of bruises and I'll probably be stiff and sore all over tomorrow, but I don't think there's anything worse than a sprained ankle."

"Okay. We'll get you out, Bess," Ned assured her. "What's the plan for investigating this place, Nancy?"

Nancy chewed her lip. "Obviously, Bess can't come and look around with us."

"I can…" Bess started to say, but George cut her off.

"You're not staying here by yourself," George told her. "If anything happens, you wouldn't even be able to run away. Nancy, you and Ned go ahead an look around. I'll stay here with Bess."

"Okay," Nancy told her. "We'll try to be fast."

"If we're not back in twenty minutes, start heading back," Ned advised them.

Bess and George agreed to that, and Nancy and Ned crept up close to the ranch house. There were trees and other options for cover all the way there, so they were able to reach the house with a high degree of confidence that they hadn't been seen. Once they had been looking around for a few minutes, they were even more confident. The place seemed to be deserted.

"I'm going to try one of the doors," Nancy said. "If there are any clues, they're probably inside."

"Probably," Ned agreed.

There was a door not far away. Nancy tried to open it, but all she could do was rattle the knob.

"It's locked," she reported in disappointment. "I suppose all the doors are locked."

Ned glanced around. "The second-floor windows probably aren't." He pointed to a tree that was growing next to the house, its branches close to one of the upstairs windows.

"That might work," Nancy agreed. "The branches near the window are a little small. I think I'd better just try it. Once I'm inside, I'll come downstairs and let you in through the door."

"Okay, but be careful," Ned replied.

Nancy caught hold of the lowest branch and swung herself up. Once she was up to the level of the window, she saw that the branches were much more slender up here than they had looked. She was a little nervous scooting out onto them, but they held her weight until she was close enough to reach the window. There was a screen on the window, and Nancy couldn't push it open without cutting it. She hesitated only a moment before she decided that she had a good enough reason to do this. She took a small multi-tool out of her pocket and slit the screen across the bottom. The window only needed to be pushed up, and it wasn't too difficult to do so. A few moments later, Nancy was inside.

The room she had gotten into was a bedroom. It was poshly decorated with a king-size bed and all the furniture made of cherrywood, except for a couch with mahogany cushions that looked decadently comfortable. The whole room was decorated with mahogany and black, with dozens of knick-knacks sitting on every hard surface. Most of these looked like idols or amulets of different kinds. The one detail that ruined the sense of a costly and luxuriant room was that it was a mess. The bed was unmade, clothes were scattered on the floor, and two of the dresser drawers were in various stages of being opened. Something about the room was distinctly unpleasant, and Nancy wasted no time in escaping into the hallway.

The hallway was just as posh, but Nancy didn't take time to look around it. She wanted to let Ned in and then they could investigate together. The fortunate thing was that the house wasn't especially large, and the stairs were visible from the room Nancy had just left. She hurried to them, but then she froze as she looked downward.

A woman was lying on the bottom of the steps, her arms and legs at awkward angles which made it clear that she had fallen. She was perfectly still and the pallor of her skin gave Nancy very little doubt of what she would find when she reached her. Slowly, Nancy descended the staircase and paused as she stood over the woman. She was probably in her forties, Nancy thought, and she had probably been very active. Nancy bent down and felt for a pulse. The woman's skin was cold to the touch.

Nancy hurried past her and found the door where Ned was waiting. She opened it and gestured for him to come in. "There's a body in here," she said in a low voice.

"A body?" Ned whispered. "You mean, someone was killed?"

"It could have been an accident," Nancy admitted. "It looks like she fell down the stairs, but she was young enough and in good enough shape that she should have been able to catch herself, even if she did trip."

"We'd better call the police," Ned replied.

They were out of reception for their cell phones, but Ned saw a phone sitting on a desk and picked it up. There was no dial tone, so he set it down again in disgust.

"We're going to have to get out of here to call anyone, Nancy," he reported.

"Okay." Nancy paused, still looking at the victim. She noted that the woman was dressed fir boating and she recalled that Devin Reynolds' yacht had been brought back to New Zealand. "Ned, do you think she was planning on going out on the yacht?"

"I have no idea," Ned replied. "All I know is that we need to get out of here before whoever killed her gets back."

Nancy had to agree with that, and they started for the door. They had no sooner reached it than the door opened and three men appeared in the doorway. Two of them were unfamiliar to Nancy, but she recognized the third right away: Brock Garret.

"What's this?" Brock demanded as soon as he saw the two intruders. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

He hadn't finished asking his questions before his two companions pulled guns from under their jackets. Nancy glanced at Ned, and then back at the three men.

"I'd like to know the same thing about all of you," she said. "You're supposed to be dead, you know."

"And I suppose you're the ones who tried to arrange that," Brock retorted, taking a step back.

"Hardly," Nancy said, "but you've got a few things to explain, including about what's at the bottom of those stairs."

Brock moved his head just enough to see past Nancy. His face paled and he made a startled exclamation. Then he pushed past Nancy and Ned and rushed to the woman. "What did you do?"

"We didn't do anything. We found her like that," Ned replied, starting to follow Brock.

One of Brock's companions held his gun up. "Don't either of you move. What are we going to do now, Brock?"

"He must have found out we came here," Brock said, still staring at the victim in horror. "There's only one thing we can do."

"If you think someone's after you, you should go to the police," Nancy told him, a little uncertainly at this turn of events.

"No, no. I can't go to the police," Brock insisted. "I'm not in the country legally. They'll send me back to the U.S. and the media will be all over it. I'd just be making it even easier for him to find me. That's why you want me to go to the police, isn't it? To make it easier for him?"

"I don't even know who you're talking about," Nancy replied.

"We need to get out of here, Brock," one of the men said. "We'd better get back to the yacht and get out of here before it's too late."

"No, not the yacht," Brock said. "They'll know about the yacht. It'll have to be the plane. That's faster, anyway. Once we're off the ground, they won't be able to catch up to us."

"What about these two?" the other gunman asked. "They could sound the alarm before we even get to the airstrip."

"We'll have to take them along," Brock decided after a moment's hesitation. "They might know something useful, anyway."

"We're not working for whoever you think we're working for," Nancy protested.

"Maybe not, but you'll excuse if I don't want to take that chance," Brock replied. "Come on. Let's go."

Nancy didn't move. Her mind was reeling, trying to sort out what was happening. She didn't trust Brock, but from the way he was talking, he sounded more scared than guilty. As she considered this, Nancy glanced toward the woman lying at the bottom of the stairs. "Who is she?"

Brock looked over his shoulder at the body as well. "That was one of the things I was hoping you could tell me. The only name I've ever heard for her was Dallas Ermington, but after everything that's happened, I'm fairly confident that's not her real name." He turned back toward his companions. "I've got to grab a few things. I'll be right there."He stepped around the body and darted up the steps.

Ned moved closer to Nancy and leaned down to whisper to her. "What about Bess and George?"

"Hey, no talking, either of you," one of the gunmen warned him.

Nancy glanced at him and then at Ned. She shook her head. The only thing clear in all of this was that Brock intended to force her and Ned to come along with him. Whether he was dangerous or just paranoid, it would be best if Bess and George could stay out of his reach.

HBNDHBNDHB

The mortar between blocks chipped away with appalling slowness, but Iola kept digging at it with the nail she had found while Callie watched tensely, sure that her friend was going to fall any moment. Iola had come up with this idea as soon as she had found that nail. There was one window in the room, but it was too high up to reach, even if one girl could stand on the other's shoulders. The walls were made of cinderblocks, mortared together and beginning to chip on the edges themselves. Iola thought she could dig out enough handholds between the blocks that she would be able to climb up to the window. At the very least, she wanted to try. So far, she was having good luck. She was most of the way up the wall, with only another foot or two preventing her from reaching the window. The biggest problem was that clinging to her hand- and footholds and trying to reach up to gouge out another was very tiring, and she had to climb down several times to rest.

"Careful!" Callie said as she noticed one of Iola's feet slip.

Iola had caught herself with her hands and her other foot, but in her effort to hold on, she couldn't reply right away. When she finally could, all she said was, "Thanks for the warning, Cal. Could you hand the nail back up to me? I dropped it."

Callie retrieved the nail and tried to hand it to Iola, but Iola was already too far up on the wall to reach it. She sighed, thinking she would have to climb down yet again. She glanced up toward the window and decided to try reaching it. Her fingers could just barely brush the windowsill. There was no way she would be able to pull herself up from here, so she wearily climbed back down.

"Next time, I should be able to make it," she said.

"What do you suppose is on the other side of that window?" Callie asked.

Iola glanced up at it. "Hopefully a ledge or something so we can climb out."

She rested a few minutes and then she started climbing again. Her prediction was right that she was able to make it up to the window. As soon as she could get a good enough grip on it, she pulled herself up and sat on the sill. She had been a bit worried about broken glass, but all that was gone now. It was just an empty much of a relief as that was, what was on the other side of the window was even better. The flat roof of an industrial building spread out in front of her, with only about a two-foot drop to reach it.

"We can get out!" she reported to Callie.

"Maybe you can," Callie replied uncertainly. She didn't have much of a head for heights, and she didn't think she would be able to cling to the tiny handholds that Iola had made.

Iola jumped down on the other side of the window. "Come on. You can make it!"

Callie didn't share her friend's optimism at all, but she realized she had no choice but to try. If Iola escaped without Callie, she could possibly get help, but most likely, their captors would have moved Callie before that help could come.

With all the tenacity that she could muster, Callie grasped the lowest handhold and began pulling herself up. However, before she could get high enough to even start feeling dizzy, the door swung open. Iola gasped as the two captors rushed forward and pulled Callie down.

"Run, Iola!" Callie shouted, thinking that her friend could save herself, at least.

Iola hesitated, but she realized that the best way should could help Callie now was to try to get help. She took off running across the flat roof. Now that she was up here, she could see that the building was a short distance out of town and that trees and brush had grown up all around it. That would make it easier to hide once she was on the ground. She ran to the edge where she found a ladder. It was two stories down and it felt like it took forever to get down that ladder. Iola expected any moment for the kidnappers to appear at the base.

The ladder stopped about ten feet from the ground. Ordinarily, Iola would have thought twice about jumping that distance, but under the circumstances, she didn't this time. She dropped to the ground and her ankles got a painful jolt. Almost before she could process that, she had gotten back up and was limping toward the brush. She glanced back just as she reached it to make sure she wasn't being chased. No sooner had she done so than she felt someone grab her and clap a hand over her mouth.

HBNDHBNDHB

The search for Katina was looking like it was going to be fruitless once again. At any rate, Joe and Tony hadn't seen any trace of the girl.

"She must keep moving around," Tony said. "We should have found her by now."

"She could be hiding deep in the jungle, where we haven't explored yet," Joe replied. "But wherever she is, I don't think she's going to let us find her."

"I'm afraid you're probably right," Tony agreed reluctantly. "What are we going to do now?"

Joe stared down a path which he knew would lead them back to the cabin. "I'd like to find out for sure whether those guys really want to help us or not."

"How can we do that?"

"We might get lucky if we try a little old-fashioned spying," Joe said. "Come on. We've got nothing to lose."

Tony wasn't so sure about that, and he waited a moment or two before he followed Joe down the path. Joe stopped just before they came in sight of the cabin.

"We'd better get off the path now," Joe whispered. "You go to the left, and I'll go to the right. We'll circle around. If nobody's there, just come into the clearing and we'll take a look around. If there is anyone, try to listen to anything they say without being seen yourself."

Tony nodded, and they began circling. They didn't see anyone in the clearing, but they could hear the faint sound of talking. Tony guessed that the men must be in the cabin, so he crept closer. If truth be told, he didn't know what to make of the theory that these men were a danger to the boys, but his feeling was that they weren't. That was why, in a rare exception to the rule, Tony was bolder about spying on these men than Joe was. He went right up to the window and paused underneath it. He didn't look inside, so he wasn't sure how many of the sailors were in there, but there were at least two, because he could hear them talking plainly.

"I don't think those kids are going to buy it," was the first complete sentence that Tony heard. It was Weston speaking. "They're not dumb, you know, and they're probably getting pretty desperate to get off this island."

"It doesn't matter if they buy it or not," Longheim replied. "If they buy it, they're a little easier to deal with. If they don't, we'll just have to do what we'd have to do eventually anyway. It's just a few days earlier like this."

"Yeah, about that," Weston said. "You know what he's going to say when he gets here."

"Yeah. So?"

"He's sick," Weston retorted. "And he's stupid. We've got enough problems without letting him run things."

"Like you said, he's sick and stupid," Longheim told him. "He might not accept it if we decide he's not running the show, and he's already got some support to back him up."

"Then let's not tell him."

"I'm not following."

"I say we leave. Now, while we have the chance. He might think he's really something after what he did to Reynolds and Dallas, but he's not. Everything's fallen apart. All that's left is us and those guys with him. We'll have a better chance of keeping from being caught without him. And thanks to Coswell and Sherman, we've got a pretty nice insurance policy right here."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Those Hardy kids. If we take them with us, their old man might give us a hand flying under the radar in exchange for us not finishing what those two idiots obviously failed at."

"It'll never work," Longheim declared. "We'd be better off leaving them all here."

"Then let's do it and get out of here."

"You think Ream and Ingram will go for it?" Longheim asked.

"If they don't, they can stay here."

There was a long pause. Then Longheim asked, "Why don't we leave them here anyway? We don't need them and we'll have a much better chance of getting away if we don't have them tying us down."

"Now you're thinking," Weston said approvingly. "We'll have to get them away from the cruiser and then…"

He was cut off by a shout around the side of the cabin. Tony peered around the corner and was just in time to see that Joe was darting back into cover of the jungle. Ingram had just been coming down the path from that direction and must have seen him. In any case, he started chasing him and pulled a gun from under his shirt. Thanks to the castaways' efforts to clear the area around the cabin, Joe had a long way to go to get to cover, and he probably didn't have enough time to get there. As Tony leaned forward farther to see what would happen, his shoulder brushed against Chet's "church bell." A sudden idea to distract Ingram and buy Joe a few extra seconds came into Tony's head, and he seized the string on the chime and began to ring it.

The plan almost backfired when the sound of the chime startled Joe as much as it did Ingram. He skidded to a stop and shouted, "Tony!"

The warning came a second or two too late. Tony saw something whizzing toward him and the next instant, there was a sharp pain in his hand. He looked up and saw a small throwing knife embedded in his palm where he had been holding the stared at it in shock for a few seconds before he heard a shot. He tried to look in the direction where it had come from, but he never remembered if he managed to turn his head before he passed out.

HBNDHBNDHB

Iola struggled against her captor. The man had a hand firmly over her mouth so that she couldn't make a sound, other than a few desperate grunts, but that left her hands free to claw at him.

"Calm down, Iola," a familiar voice told her quietly. "It's me. Sam."

Immediately, Iola relaxed, and the hand was removed from her mouth. She turned around and saw Sam Radley and Jerry Gilroy standing there.

"How did you find us?" she asked in a whisper.

"We had a tip," Sam replied. "We'll explain later. Where's Callie?"

Iola turned back to the building that had been her prison. "She's still in there. We almost escaped, but they caught her. I…I kept running."

"You did the right thing," Sam assured her. "You couldn't have helped her if you'd let yourself get recaptured, but you can help her now. We've got police and FBI getting in position around the place right now. If you tell us everything you know about the situation in there, it will be a big help."

Iola nodded and then she suddenly clutched Sam's arm. "You're going to get her out, aren't you? I…I can't lose another friend."

Jerry put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry. They'll get her out."

"They're setting up a command post a little way from here," Sam said. "Jerry, why don't you take Iola there? I'll keep watching from here."

"Come on," Jerry said to Iola.

She followed him reluctantly, every instinct in her telling her to go back and get to Callie. "I shouldn't have left her," she said.

"It's like Mr. Radley said. You wouldn't have helped her if you had gotten recaptured," Jerry told her. "Sometimes the best way to help someone isn't to do what feels right in the moment."

"Maybe," Iola conceded reluctantly. "But if anything happens to her…I feel like I've let down all my friends."

"You've never let me down," Jerry replied teasingly.

"You might not want to keep on being friends with me," Iola said. "It hasn't ended very well for anyone else."

"Maybe that's just because it hasn't ended yet."

"Maybe not for Callie." Iola glanced over her shoulder. "I hope."

HBNDHBNDHB

"It's been almost thirty minutes now," George reported, checking the time on her phone. "Do you think we really should start back without them?"

Bess shook her head uncertainly. "I don't know. I mean, I wouldn't be any help right now if they're in trouble, and I'm just going to slow us down getting out of here, so probably started back would be the best thing I could do."

They had been too far away to hear the engine as Brock and his companions had arrived, and so they didn't have any idea what kind of trouble their friends had run into. Knowing Nancy, they both realized that it could be something serious. On the other hand, it could just be that it was taking longer to look around that house than they were expecting.

George watched her cousin's face for a few seconds. Bess looked miserable, sitting there and rubbing her ankle. It wasn't going to be any picnic getting her back to the car. Then George glanced back toward the house.

"I'm going to go and see what's taking them so long," George decided finally. "I'll be right back."

"Just don't disappear yourself," Bess told her.

George darted across to the house, just in time to hear a car pulling away. She tried to run around to the front, but all she saw was the cloud of dust as the car made its escape. This didn't bode well at all. Frowning, George turned back toward the house. The front door was standing open and so, a little nervously, George slipped inside.

The first thing she saw was the body lying at the bottom of the stairs. That made her want to turn around and run out of the house, but she forced herself to make a search. She rushed around the house, moving faster as she became more confident that there was no one here who was still alive. She didn't find a trace of Nancy or Ned anywhere. She tried the phone, but like Ned, she found that there was no dial tone. Finally, she headed back outside and ran to where Bess was waiting.

"You didn't find them?" Bess asked in concern.

"No. Right when I reached the house, I heard a car leaving. I think someone must have captured them. And that's not the only thing." George lowered her voice as she told her cousin about seeing the woman's body.

"What are we going to do?" Bess asked, her eyes widening.

"I tried to call for help from inside, but the phones are all dead," George replied. "It looks like our only choice is to hike back out."

"Ugh." Bess grimaced. "I guess if that's our only choice, we'd better not waste time."

HBNDHBNDHB

The castaways had agreed on a meeting spot before going back to the cabin, in case anything came up that they wanted to discuss without Longheim and the others listening. Joe hoped that they would all be there as he ran toward it. His left arm stung and burned where Ingram's bullet had grazed it, but Joe didn't think it was very deep. In any case, he couldn't stop to worry about it. He needed to get back to where his friends were hopefully waiting.

Katina was still missing, but the other four castaways were waiting in the designated spot. They all hurried forward when they saw Joe coming.

"We heard a shot," Frank said. "Did you see what happened?"

"Yeah. Our friendlier rescuers were shooting at me." Joe waved at his injury with his opposite hand. While the others were still asking him if he was all right, he cut them off. "That's not all that happened."

"Where's Tony?" Frank asked intently.

"I think they've got him. I didn't have time to see what happened exactly before they started shooting."

"So you just left him there?" Biff asked incredulously.

"They were shooting at me! What was I supposed to do?"

"Why did they suddenly start shooting at you?" Frank asked.

Joe quickly explained the whole story to groans of frustration from all his friends.

"Seriously, Joe," Frank said, shaking his head. "What were you thinking, going in there by yourselves? You should have asked us for help."

Joe opened and closed his mouth a couple of times in disbelief. "I did!" he finally managed to protest. "How many times have I said there was something wrong here and I didn't trust those guys? But you guys were all like, 'Oh, no. We've got to get rescued at all costs. Those guys are totally trustworthy.' But now I suddenly should have asked for help!"

"That's not the way it was, and you know it, Joe," Frank retorted.

"Wasn't it?" Joe snapped. "Did any of you seriously consider not getting on that boat? The plan I outlined would have avoided all the potential problems, but you guys wouldn't even listen!"

"That plan wouldn't have gotten us rescued," Frank insisted.

"Oh, well, if that's the only thing that matters, you're welcome to go and ask those guys if they'll give you a ride," Joe said. "Personally, I'd rather stay alive, even if it means being stuck here."

"Yeah, you want that so much that you left Tony in the lurch to save yourself," Frank snapped.

Joe didn't respond to that. At least, he didn't respond with words. Instead, too quickly for Frank to get out of the way, he balled his fists and smacked Frank in the jaw. Frank quickly moved to defend himself and they both had delivered several blows before their friends jumped in to pull them apart.

"Knock it off, you guys!" Phil scolded them as he held Frank back by the elbow. Biff had grabbed Joe, and Chet was standing in the middle, ready to jump in if either one of them made another move. "We don't have time for this!" Phil went on. "We've got to rescue Tony and figure what we're going to do about those crooks."

There was a momentary pause, and then Joe tried to shake Biff's grip off him.

"Okay, okay," he said. "That is the most important thing right now."

Uncertainly, Biff released his hold on Joe, and Phil let go of Frank. Neither of them tried to renew the fight, although both their faces were still flushed with anger.

"Do you have any ideas, Phil?" Chet asked.

Phil ran his hand through his hair as he thought. "We've got to make sure they don't leave, first of all. You and Biff should go down to the boat and make sure they don't take off in it. But don't let anybody see you."

"What do we do if they do try to leave?" Biff asked.

Phil shrugged helplessly. "I have no idea."

"We'll go watch anyway," Chet said. "Come on, Biff."

"What are the rest of you going to do?" Biff asked before they started off.

"Frank needs to go cool off," Phil said. "Joe's coming with me and I'll see if I can get that wound cleaned out and bandaged. We'll all meet on the north end of the beach where they've got their boat later."

The others did as Phil said. Even Frank reluctantly walked away to calm down. Phil led Joe to first to where they had hidden some of their supplies, including a few heavy pots, one of which Phil brought with them. Then they went to one of the streams and filled the pot. Phil built a fire—they all carried a few matches with them in case they needed them—and started heating the water. Joe didn't say a word the entire time.

"I don't think it's too bad," Phil reported as he examined Joe's injury. "It got a little dirt in it, but I think I can get it cleaned out."

"Yeah," Joe replied without looking at him.

Phil sighed. "Look, Joe, if it makes any difference, you did the only thing you could. Sometimes running is the right decision. And just because Frank's right ninety-nine percent of the time, it doesn't mean he's right all the time."

Joe rubbed his forehead like he had a headache. "Does it really matter? Does anything matter at this point?"

Phil paused, his own doubts and fears from the last several months coming back to him. "It matters," he said finally. "It all matters. If being alive at all means anything, then it matters."

HBNDHBNDHB

Callie's captors wasted no time in hustling her out of the room where she had been imprisoned. At first, she thought that they were going to pursue Iola, but then she realized that they were taking her down into the basement. She struggled against them, afraid of what they might be planning to do, but they were too strong for her to escape them. Once they were in the basement, Two opened a panel in the wall. There was a small space behind it, and when the panel was in place, no one would have suspected that it was hiding anything.

"What are you doing?" Callie demanded as she was pushed toward the space.

"We spotted a lot of police gathered around the building," One explained. "They're probably going to search the building. We made this spot to stay in if such a thing happened."

"That panel isn't sound-proof," Callie said defiantly. "Once they start searching, I can just scream and they'll find us. You won't hurt me, either. If you do, you won't have anything to keep them from arresting you."

"True," One conceded. "In that case, it would only hurt us to kill you. However, if you scream, you'll never learn the final piece of information that we were going to reward you and Mr. Hardy with."

"I don't think I really care who killed Devin Reynolds that much."

"Not that. There was another piece of information that would be of more interest to you."

"What?"

"Your boyfriend. He's still alive." Callie froze at the words, and One continued, "If you cooperate with us, we'll tell you where he is."