Frank Hardy turned away from his computer as he heard the door to the bathroom that separated his room from his brother’s open. Blond, blue-eyed Joe Hardy walked in looking very frustrated.

 

"Frank? Can you help me here, please?" the 17-year-old asked, trying to secure a plastic bag over his left arm. Dark haired, brown-eyed Frank gave his brother a compassionate smile and rose from his chair to give Joe a hand.

 

Joe’s arm and collarbone had been broken in a plane crash several weeks earlier. Though the collarbone was pretty close to being as good as new, Joe still wore a neon blue, fiberglass cast on his left forearm. He needed the plastic to keep water off the cast so it wouldn’t seep between the cast and his arm.

 

"Thanks, Bro," Joe said with a grin, watching Frank secure the plastic with a rubber band. "Hopefully, this thing will be off next week!"

 

Frank gave Joe a cocky grin, "We’ll see." Frank turned back to his computer and missed seeing Joe sticking out his tongue in Frank’s direction.

 

Joe quickly shaved and showered. He entered his bedroom and pulled on a pair of favorite, faded jeans and a bright blue t-shirt. A red surfboard donned the breast pocket of the shirt and the words, "Surf’s Up!" were stitched across the shoulders in back in red and black thread.

 

As he pulled the t-shirt over his cast-clad arm, Joe was grateful that he no longer had to wear a sling; the cast was inconvenient enough.

 

As Joe finished dressing, he heard the sound of brakes squealing in front of their two-story home. He glanced out the window, and then dashed down the front steps of the century old house.

 

Joe beat the deliveryman to the front door, opening it and startling the man who was about to knock.

 

"Sorry," Joe chuckled, as the man in a brown uniform stepped back in surprise.

 

"No problem," grinned the man, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement, "I’ve got a package for a ‘Mister Joseph Hardy’."

 

"It’s for me?" Joe asked, reaching to sign the clipboard the man was holding toward him.

 

"If you’re Joseph Hardy, it is," replied the man, handing Joe the package. Joe closed the door after thanking the man and carried the large, padded envelope into the hall.

 

"Who was that, Sweetie?" Laura Hardy asked, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel as she walked toward Joe. She was a pretty, petite woman who looked far too young to be the mother of teenagers.

 

"The UPS guy," Joe answered distractedly, peering at the return address on the package, "It’s from Sheriff Tanner."

 

"Oh, the sheriff that helped rescue you and your father in Wyoming," the blue-eyed, blond woman reflected, "Your father really likes him. He says Sheriff Tanner is going to be helping you with the Whitefeather case." Colt Tanner had organized the rescue party that brought Fenton and Joe Hardy off the mountain after their plane crashed.

 

"What’s that, Joe?" Frank Hardy asked, referring to the package Joe was juggling on his cast while trying to open it with his good hand. Frank came down the stairs and took the package from Joe so his brother could open it better. Joe gave Frank a quick smile of gratitude before tearing the package open.

 

"These are copies of the police report filed for Jimmy Mc Curdy’s murder," Joe stated, leafing through the contents. "Check out this so-called confession that Carl Whitefeather supposedly made." Joe handed the copy to Frank.

 

Carl Whitefeather’s mother Maddie had saved Joe and Fenton Hardy’s lives after Joe collapsed just inside of Maddie’s log cabin. Joe had pulled his father close to the cabin after their plane crashed. During their time at the cabin, Maddie had told Joe and Mr. Hardy about Jimmy Mc Curdy’s murder and Carl’s involvement. Maddie and Carl were hiding in the mountains of Wyoming after running from the police in Colorado. Both Fenton and Joe were convinced that Carl, who was deaf, mute and mentally challenged, had been coerced into a confession of murder. They had both vowed to help Maddie find out the truth after they recuperated from the injuries they sustained on the mountain.

 

"Hey, Joe," Frank spoke after leafing through the report, "There’s something else in this envelope." Frank had been about to toss the package into the trash when he noticed something in the bottom of the envelope.

 

Joe reached inside and drew out a small, white box. Joe’s name was written on the top in a childish scrawl.

 

"It’s got to be from Carl," Joe said with a smile, thinking about his friend. Frank held the box as Joe opened the lid. Joe pulled out the tissue paper and felt tears coming to his sapphire eyes. Wrapped in the tissue was a cherry red, 1965 Mustang Matchbox car.

 

Frank’s handsome face took on a perplexed frown and Laura Hardy placed her hand over her mouth in wonderment. "What’s with the toy, Joe?" Frank asked, surprised to see Joe’s eyes tearing up.

 

"It’s Carl’s car," Joe said, his voice cracking with emotion, "He showed me his car collection when I was there. He showed me his favorite, and then asked me to pick my favorite. I picked this car. I can’t believe he sent it to me!"

 

"There’s a note with it, Sweetie," Mrs. Hardy said, putting an arm around her son’s shoulder. "Let me read it for you." Joe nodded his head and wiped the tears from his eyes as his mother read the note to them.

 

‘DEAR JOE,

CARL WANTED YOU TO HAVE THIS CAR. HE SAID IT WAS YOUR FAVORITE. HE TALKS ABOUT YOU OFTEN AND CALLS YOU, "MY BEST FRIEND JOE". I HOPE THE INFORMATION FROM SHERIFF TANNER WILL BE A HELP TO YOUR INVESTIGATION. WE ARE ANXIOUS TO HEAR FROM YOU.

 

LOVE, MADDIE’

 

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.