Author's Note:

Thank you so much for the awesome reviews left on the previous chapter! I must say, some of you are figuring out a few things while others are giving some pretty darn good ideas. Things are taking off from here and we will be getting into the nitty gritty of what's going on. This is a shorter chapter than previous ones as I wanted to stop it at a certain point (which you will find out once you read). I'm pretty proud of myself for getting this one out so quickly though I did have a part of this chapter in my head and on paper for quite some time. Anyway, I hope that you enjoy this and, if you will, please leave a review to let me know what you think! Have a great day and God bless! And don't forget to see Sound of Freedom in theaters!

Chapter Nine

"Are you worried, Dad?" Joe asked, a concerned expression etched on his face. He shifted his feet, making himself more comfortable as he stood near his father. It was nearly five Friday afternoon and the two Hardys were finishing up at the office before heading home.

"About what?" Fenton asked distractedly, staring at the paper in his hand.

"What that man said yesterday on the phone. Do you think anything will happen?"

His father sighed, taking off his reading glasses. He looked at his youngest son, seeing the concern on his face. Fenton smiled. "No, I don't, Joe. If it's Frank they're looking for, they should have realized by now that he hasn't been seen around here in eight years. We have no idea where he is and we have no idea what it is they're looking for nor do we have anything of value that they could possibly want."

Joe shook his head. "I'm not so sure, Dad. They may know where Frank is for all we know and we're just bait to get him out in the open."

"Are you getting soft, Joe?" Fenton joked. "If I had known any better, I'd say you were worried about your brother."

"No," the younger Hardy said a little too emphatically. "I…I just don't want to be in the middle of something that obviously Frank got himself into. It usually doesn't turn out well in the end."

"You don't know that. For all we know, the phone call yesterday was a fluke and they moved on. By the way, did you ever get a hold of Nancy?"

"No," Joe said glumly, shaking his head, "and it worries me. She usually calls back after getting a message from me. Obviously, Owen didn't give her the message but I'm sure Hannah did by now."

"So, you were able to get a hold of at least Hannah."

"Yes. She said she'd give Nancy the message when she called the next time or stopped by at home. Hannah did say something else too that worries me."

"Oh?"

"Apparently Nancy and Owen are having a rough patch and he's being a little rough. At least that's the Hannah said it. I don't want anything to happen to her but then again, maybe Nancy finally left him for someone better and he's just not taking it well. I wouldn't mind seeing her dump him though. He deserves it." Joe sighed. "I should have been more attentive to her, Dad. She needed a friend and I wasn't there. Owen is like a parasite but she kept saying everything was fine."

"Don't beat yourself up about Nancy," Fenton stated, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "She's a grown woman and she has Carson and Hannah too. They might have been looking out for her while you've been gone. You don't know what's been going on. Maybe someone did step in and is trying to protect her."

"I know that, Dad, but Nancy has no close friends that live nearby, not even…" he stopped himself before he said his brother's name. Joe would never admit it out loud but he had a feeling that if Frank were around, Owen wouldn't stand a chance with Nancy. He also missed Frank more than he could say. His anger was only a way for him to cope with the fact that he pushed his older brother away. Now that these men were clearly looking for Frank, it concerned Joe as to where his brother might actually be.

"I understand your concern, Joe," Fenton replied, interrupting Joe's thoughts. "If you want, go see her. It sounds like Nancy needs a friend more than anything right now. I can handle things around here for a while. Plus you could crash that wedding."

Joe laughed. "That would be a sight. A guy with a gimpy leg trying to protect the honor of his best friend."

"Don't sell yourself, Joe. You're more capable of handling yourself than you think." He studied his son for a brief moment and smiled. He was very proud of both his sons, no matter what Frank is doing. "Say, why don't we get out of here and go to dinner? Get away from everything and talk between the two of us. We haven't done that in a while."

"Are you sure you're not trying to get away from Aunt Trudy?" his son quirked an eyebrow, giving him a knowing smirk.

"That too," Fenton chuckled and hugged Joe. "You're definitely right about that. I wouldn't mind having a night without Trudy. She has been a little overprotective lately since that car was found in the lake. It was really bad last night after we got home."

"Hey, I wasn't the one who told her about the phone call we had," Joe said putting his hands up defensively. "I would have kept it to myself knowing how she is."

"You're right," his father laughed again. "And her cooking leaves much to be desired. Boy, what I wouldn't give for one of your mother's meatloafs."

"Yeah," he smiled, daydreaming. "Or even Hannah's."

"One of these days, my boy," Fenton stated, wrapping an arm around him, "you're going to introduce me to Hannah so I can taste all the wonderful meals you keep telling me about."

"Sure thing, Dad. You could have tasted the food years ago if you'd gone with me to Chicago."

"True."

The father and son walked toward the lobby, turning off lights as they passed them. The two just reached the front door when it opened and a man of about 30 years of age stepped in. His intense green eyes widened when he saw them.

"Are…are you the Hardys?" he asked, his voice shaking.

"Yes," Fenton kindly said, sensing the urgency. "What can we do to help?"

"I…I need your help," the man announced. "My…my name is Tannen. Walter Tannen. I'm looking for my nephew. He's disappeared."

"Please come in," the older Hardy gestured. Joe held back, his eyes scanning the man with skepticism though he didn't express it with his father. "We'll be able to help you. Do you have a photograph of your nephew?"

"N-no," Walter stammered, patting his pockets. "But…but I can give you a description."

Fenton led Walter into his office, turning on the light, giving the room a warm glow. Joe followed though he leaned against the door, keeping his eye on not only his father but the man and the office just in case. Fenton, on the other hand, gestured for Walter to sit down then he sat behind his desk. "So," he replied, folding his hands on the desk, "what can you tell us about your nephew? How long has he been missing?"

"He's been missing for a while now," the man started, his hands nervously fiddling in his lap, "but this is the first time I've been able to try to find him. His mother died a few years back and he vanished. I...I wanted to find out what happened to him."

Fenton nodded, listening to Walter's story. He pulled out a small notebook and began writing a few things down. He noticed that Joe still hung at the door, his eyes narrowing as he listened to Walter. He wondered why Joe was so skeptical about the story though Fenton shook it off and turned his attention back to the man in front of him.

"What does your nephew look like?"

"Brown hair, brown eyes, tall," the man described. "He looks like his father, not so much like me. It's important that I find him. Extremely important."

Fenton stopped writing, placing the pen down on the desk. He studied Walter, wondering if he was being truthful. "What did you say your nephew's name was?"

"I didn't."

"Then what is it?"

Walter smiled, putting Fenton on high alert. The façade soon fell and the man suddenly became more confident. "You should know by now, Mr. Hardy."

Fenton rose from his chair, his eyes never leaving Walter's. He heard the man's voice before but didn't recognize it until that moment. "Who are you?"

"I've already told you that," he smiled. "I was being truthful about my name but the question is: are you going to come quietly or are we going to have a problem?"

Joe was about to move in on Walter when he felt the presence of another person. Just as he turned to confront the newcomer, his bad leg was swept out from under him and he toppled to the floor.

"Joe!" Fenton cried though he didn't move. He watched helplessly as the man who attacked Joe pulled out a gun and trained it on him. Fenton held his hands up and glanced at Walter who rose from his chair, a gleeful look in his eye. "We don't know where Frank is so what is it that you want?"

"Oh, I know you don't know where he is," the man replied cheerfully. "I figured that out the moment I came back. See, I haven't been up to date with things lately, especially for the past seven years now. I was in jail for something else and recently, I was finally able to get out though I don't think the police liked that. When I came back here, I phoned the police about the car, to maybe draw Frank out. When I called you yesterday, I somewhat knew that he wasn't here but I thought maybe you did know where he was. Before that, I put a few notices through some channels that I was looking for him. It wasn't until after I called you that someone found him and reported it back to me. A mutual acquaintance of sorts."

"You…you know where he is?"

"Yes, I do, but I'm surprised that you don't. I think a close friend keeping that kind of information from you isn't really a friend, is she?" Fenton's eyes widened and he quickly exchanged a look with Joe. There was only one person they knew who was a female friend but why would she keep Frank's whereabouts from them?

"You lie!" Joe cried from the floor. Walter motioned to his man who answered by pulling up the young Hardy and slamming him into the wall. Within seconds, Joe was handcuffed and a small burlap sack pulled over his head. The man half-dragged him away from the office as Walter turned back to Fenton.

"What are you going to do with my son?"

"You'll be joining him," Walter replied. "I just wanted us to have a quiet chat without interruptions as we head out the door. We have a little bit of a wait but Frank will be coming soon. Our mutual 'friend' will be delivering him to us directly then we'll find out where he put the jewels. After that, I think you know what's going to happen."

"Jewels? That's what this is about?" Fenton asked incredulously. He shook his head. "Frank doesn't have anything like that. And if he did, he wouldn't give it back to you just to save us."

"You speak so lowly of him," the man replied, cocking his head. Fenton looked away, ashamed. "I think you need to put credit where it's due. He has been causing quite a stir that our mutual acquaintance wanted him gone so they called us. I think once he finds out about you and your other son, he'll be more cooperative."

"I hope he did a lot more than that if our 'mutual acquaintance' is who I think he is," he snapped.

"We'll see, Mr. Hardy," the man gestured toward the door. "Shall we?"

Around the same time, Frank was in the Drews' dining room, papers strewn about the table with notes attached to each one. He knew he had to eventually clean up but since Hannah was at her Friday afternoon bridge club and Carson was still at the firm, Frank was in no hurry to clean up. Hours earlier, Frank diligently worked on what Carson left for him to do which wasn't much. By the time he got done, it was barely noon giving him ample time to work on his investigation of Owen though nothing seemed to come out of it with exception of finding a note addressed to him in the mailbox.

Inside, he found a card with only a name and a year written on it: Benjamin Worley, 1932. Frank heard the name before but wasn't sure where or when. He knew the year had to be of importance as well or it wouldn't have been included. What was so special about the year? It was 22 years before and during Prohibition. But what did that have to do with Owen Hartley? There had to be connection between him and Benjamin Worley, whoever he was.

With the encounter with Mrs. Hartley the day before still fresh in his mind, Frank's thoughts kept roaming and the note was soon forgotten. There was something more to everything which went directly through her though Frank wasn't entirely sure. He wasn't hallucinating when he saw he saw the bruises on her arm. Even Hannah said that there were rumors about abuse in the Hartley household but most people just turned a blind eye, chalking it up to Owen Sr. just putting his wife in her place. It disgusted Frank that people tended to ignore issues like abuse but it disgusted him at the thought of a man hurting his wife over trivial things. Frank wondered how long it had been going on. From what he heard of Owen Hartley Sr., he was very well respected in town though that didn't mean that he didn't abuse his wife.

Then there was Nancy to think about. She was still in the thick of it all. Frank didn't understand Owen's obsession and pursuit of her or her place in the whole story. He had a sinking suspicion that Nancy was more leverage over Carson than anything else especially after all the information he found in his investigation and what Carson had told him the day before. The only thing Frank could do though was to make sure he protected Nancy at all costs. And Mrs. Hartley.

Sighing, Frank leaned back in the chair. He looked at the papers of information spread out before him. He was so frustrated he couldn't see straight. There had to be something solid on Owen within the mess around him. Frank growled then thrust his hands out in anger, pushing the papers off the dining room table. Cursing, he kneeled on the ground and began the slow process of cleaning up the mess. As he was shifting a paper of notes, Frank noticed an opened envelope addressed to the firm. He picked it up and glanced it over before pulling out what looked like a bill. An overdue bill, that is.

"What the…" Frank mumbled as his eyes scanned the paper. The bill was actually a notice stating that if the firm didn't pay on the building, it would be repossessed.

Frank stared at the paper. How did it get mixed up with what he was working on? Also, why would the firm be behind in payments for the building? He could have sworn that Carson told him the building was paid in full since it belonged to his family for generations. Why would the man not tell him about opening up another mortgage on the building? So many questions ran through his mind but he didn't know how to answer them. Frank stuffed the bill back in the envelope then continued cleaning up, mumbling ideas along the way. He was so engulfed in his work, he didn't even hear the front door open until a voice called out.

"Dad!" came Nancy's frantic voice from the other room. Frank stopped and waited. "Hannah!"

At that, he disregarded his task and walked out of the dining room towards the foyer where the voice came from. He heard footsteps going upstairs and he called out to her.

"Frank?" she said. The moment Frank stepped into the foyer, Nancy rushed back down the stairs, practically knocking him over as she hugged him tight. "Oh, thank goodness you're okay!"

He replied awkwardly. "Nan, why wouldn't I be?" He gently rubbed her back before pushing her away. His eyes went wide the moment he truly saw her. "What happened to your lip?"

Nancy reached up to feel her broken lip that had long since dried up. She felt the swelling and tears formed at the corners of her eyes. She broke down as Frank pulled her to him again, comforting her as the sobs came through. Before long, Nancy looked up at him reaching her fingers to his face.

"They're coming, Frank," she whispered.

"Who is?"

"Owen…and…and…" Nancy rambled, most of the words coming out a jumbled mess. "They killed the building super…and tried to take me…I…I didn't know where else to go. I thought Dad would be home by now…or Hannah…but you're here. Where...where are they?"

"Nancy, calm down," Frank said soothingly. He couldn't understand what she was trying to say. "Your dad is still at the office. And it's Friday, Hannah's at her bridge club. Now, slow down a little and tell me what's going on."

Nancy sniffled, her blue eyes mournful. "Owen," she slowly said, her voice shaking. "He...he came to my apartment while I was getting ready to leave. I...I was fired from the Tribune but he knew about it. Owen wanted me to go with him. Then he...he said something about you…a-about someone looking for you. An old acquaintance of his…or his father. I…I can't remember." Nancy closed her eyes trying to think of what all Owen said to her. "I…I had to warn Dad and…and you. Dad is going to be hurt if I don't do what he wants and...they were going to come for you when they got back to River Heights."

"It's okay, Nancy," he calmly replied though his heart was pounding. Who would be looking for him and what did they want? "I'm not going to let anything happen to you or your father. Do you know who these people are?"

She shook her head, looking up at him. "N-no, I was lucky to get away."

"We'll figure this out," he assured her, looking into her eyes. "Let's call the police and get them involved."

"Now that's a good plan," replied a sinister voice. The two looked over to see Owen standing alone in front doorway. "Too bad it won't help you now."