“I feel like such an amateur!” Fenton Hardy complained the following morning in his hotel room. “I let Conley walk away, and now the police can’t find him anywhere. It’s like he just vanished!”

“I know you’re frustrated Fent,” Franklin assured his son, “but you got Stewart away from Monica and she’s with her parents again. That’s a great thing, son. Although, I still think it was impetuous of you to go charging into that room! ”

Fenton looked at his father and changed the subject, “So, what’s it going to be like with Owen now?”

Franklin sighed. “Owen said ‘thanks’, but he kind of was saying ‘so long’ too. Camille, however, promised to be in touch. She wants Monica to know the rest of the family.

“I’m hoping she’ll bring Monica down to see us after the child heals up a bit and Conley’s safely locked away,” Franklin added. “I offered to pay their way to Bayport.”

“I think that would be great,” Fenton agreed. “I’d like for Frank and Joe to meet Monica. She seems like a sweet kid.

“Is Owen looking at any jail time? I mean, he was smuggling drugs for Conley,” Fenton asked, throwing his extra socks into his suitcase.

“He’s going to testify against Conley,” Franklin answered. “I’m sure he’ll get off if he helps bring Conley to justice.

“Meanwhile, the local boys-in-blue have assured me that Owen and his family will be well protected.”

“That’s good to hear,” Fenton nodded.

“I’ll call the Waynes and see if Jackie-boy can come get us,” Franklin stated. “Then we’ll go home and see how things are there.”

* * *

David Conley smiled as he watched the pretty blond woman get out of her car and carry a bag of groceries into the large house on the corner of High and Elm streets.

He was glad the older, dark-haired woman had left. That meant Fenton Hardy’s young wife was all alone in the house. “Not for long, sweetheart,” Conley whispered, licking his lips. “I’m comin’ to keep you company.”

* * *

A few streets away, David’s thug patrolled the block where Oak Street Elementary School sat. The old building had been recently renovated and the playground equipment glistened under a fresh coat of paint.

At noon, Joe Hardy stood on the curb outside of the school holding onto his backpack, waiting for his ride home. He impatiently kicked at a small stone, wishing his mom would hurry so he could eat his lunch. 

He was hungrier than usual, and figured it was because his teacher made him write his name on the chalkboard six times, just because he made his “e” backwards.

Mason Henson recognized the small blond boy on the curb from the photos Conley had shown him earlier. Conley had grabbed the pictures of Fenton Hardy’s children from Owen and Camille’s bedroom before flying to New York.

‘Too many people around,’ Henson mumbled, passing the child and heading around the block again. Assuming a cop’s kid wouldn’t go easily with a stranger, Henson knew he’d have to do a ‘grab and run’ to get Hardy’s boy.

He parked and waited patiently down the street from where Joe stood until the crowd had thinned down. Now, there was no one else on the street. Just a woman and her two small children were inside the fenced playground area, not even noticing the lone child at the curb. He pulled out and circled around the block once more.

Joe glanced up as a brown car pulled up beside him. He quickly stepped back away from the curb, but before he could move any farther, the driver’s door swung open and a pair of strong arms grabbed the boy.

* * *

“It really is my pleasure, Mr. Hardy,” young Jack Wayne grinned as he opened the side door of the plane for his passengers. “Dad is in Washington, so he said it’d be okay for me to miss school and come up and get you.”

As they climbed aboard, Franklin’s cellular phone rang. 

“Hardy here,” he said as he buckled his seatbelt.

“H-he has Joe!”

“Whoa! Laura?” Franklin asked, hearing his daughter-in-law’s panicked voice. “Slow down, honey. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Franklin’s face drained of all color as he listened. He glanced at Fenton who was frantically trying to figure out what was wrong.

“Laura,” Franklin replied with a calmness he didn’t feel, “call the police and tell them everything you’ve told me. Fent and I are on our way.” He turned off the phone just as Jack started down the runway.

“What, Dad? What’s happened to Laura?” Fenton asked.

Franklin faced his son, “Conley’s in Bayport. He just paid a visit to your house.”

“Did he hurt Laura?” Fenton demanded, feeling his blood begin to boil. If Conley hurt his wife, he’d tear the scum apart, piece by piece.

“No,” Franklin continued. “Apparently, he found out you’re a detective.” He ran his hand wearily over his face. He’d been careless. He should have known Conley would have been watching Owen’s house. He must have seen them go to Owen’s and had them checked out.

“I’m sorry, son,” Franklin continued. “I’m afraid I’ve traded one grandchild for another.”

Fenton paled, “W-what are you talking about?”

“Conley told Laura that he has Joey,” Franklin replied. “He’ll kill the boy if we don’t pay off Owen’s debt and provide him with an escape from the law.”

Fenton felt nauseas. Not Joey. Not again.

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.