Frank Hardy sighed with relief when he saw his father and grandfather talking with the police in the kitchen. At least they were okay. He quickly ran up the stairs and straight into his brother’s room.

Joe’s room was dark, except for the light coming from the late afternoon sun shining in the window. Frank cocked his head sideways and studied the form under the coverings. With a frown, he walked slowly up to the bed and looked at the face of the person cocooned in the blue comforter.

“Mommy?”

Laura Hardy opened her eyes at the sound of her son’s voice. She smiled gently at the child and motioned for him to join her in the bed. Frank kicked off his shoes and nuzzled in beside his mother.

“Where’s Joe?” Frank asked, gazing into Laura’s blue eyes. “Did something happen to him?”

Laura wrapped her arms around Frank and explained that the bad man who had taken Monica, now had Joe. She assured him that the police, his father and Pap Pap wouldn’t stop looking until Joe was home again.

Frank tried to be strong and brave for his mother, but after all, he was only seven. The sobs built up inside him and erupted, causing him to tremble in Laura’s arms. She held him close, for both their sakes, long after Frank cried himself to sleep.

Downstairs, the police put taps on the phones and waited. The next move belonged to the kidnapper and they would have to wait until David Conley contacted the Hardys.

* * *

The next morning was Saturday and Jack Wayne was feeling helpless. He hadn’t slept well thinking about the little boy he didn’t even know.

“He’s just a little kid, Scout,” Jack scratched his Husky’s thick fur as he spoke.

Needing to burn off the restless energy that was consuming him, Jack jumped to his feet and took off running. “Come on Scout; let’s go for a run!”

Jack and his dog started down the road, heading for their favorite trail along the bay.

* * *

Mason Henson went to the closet prison that contained six-year-old Joe Hardy. He opened the door and looked into the defiant eyes of the little boy huddled there on the floor.

“Kid,” Henson grinned, “Don’t move. I’m gonna cut your legs free.” He reached down, semi-kneeling and pulled the tape off Joe’s mouth, and then slid the knife blade between Joe’s ankles, cutting through the heavy tape.

Not thinking about the knife or what the man might do, Joe acted purely on the instinct of survival. With a growl in his throat, the child kicked out with both feet, hitting Henson in the shoulder and chin.

Joe squirmed past the stunned man and ran as fast as his cramped legs would move.

David Conley was sitting at the kitchen table drinking lukewarm coffee from a Styrofoam cup when he heard noises coming from the hall. He stared incomprehensively at the small, blond boy dashing past him and running out the back door.

Joe started for the back steps, but not having the use of his hands, he lost his balance and tumbled down the stairs. He rolled in the grass to a stop, but before he could get up, a big, gray-haired man was grabbing his arm.

Conley quickly covered the child’s mouth before the kid had a chance to cry out. They were isolated, but he didn’t like taking chances. Joe kicked out, trying to connect with Conley’s legs, but the man just pulled him closer and held Joe tighter.

Cursing, Conley threw the boy onto the kitchen floor and called to Henson.

Mason Henson walked into the kitchen, rubbing his chin and snarling. “Where is that little brat! I’m gonna kill him!”

Joe, terrified of the man’s obvious rage, scooted out of the way and scrambled under the table, just out of reach.

“What’s the problem, Henson?” Conley asked sarcastically. “Is this puny kid too much for you to handle?”

“I’ll handle him, alright,” Henson sneered, glaring at the boy. “I’ll handle him right over that cliff out back!”

“Not yet,” Conley corrected him. “Now I need him tied to a chair. Do you think you can manage it, or should I find someone else?”

Conley pushed the table aside exposing Joe to Henson. Before Joe could get away, Henson roughly grabbed him and shoved him onto one of the wooden kitchen chairs.

Joe tried to wriggle free, but that only earned him a slap across the face from Henson, almost knocking him out of the chair.

* * *

Even though he was expecting the call, Fenton Hardy felt ill when he heard David Conley’s voice on the telephone. What made it all the worse was the sobbing he could hear in the background.

“What have you done to my son?” Fenton demanded. Only his overwhelming love for his baby boy kept him from giving in to the raging anger that was building inside him.

“He was a bit too spirited, Hardy,” Conley coolly replied. “My associate had to adjust the boy’s attitude.”

“Why, you low down, scum…” Fenton seethed.

“Well, well,” Conley sneered, “I certainly see where the boy gets his temperament.

“Listen, Hardy,” Conley continued, not giving Fenton a chance to respond, “I’m not fond of children. They’re noisy, useless little creatures. The sooner you meet my needs, the sooner you can have your little pride and joy back in your arms.”

“You just tell me the place and I’ll bring you your money,” Fenton replied, “and then I will personally take you to your next destination.” He silently hoped that would be prison.

“Well, how very generous of you, Hardy,” Conley cooed.  “Perhaps I’ll go to Mexico or maybe somewhere in Europe.

“Tonight I’ll call at ten sharp with directions to the drop off point,” Conley stated. “My associate will keep the boy until I call him on a cellular phone. As long as everything is in order, he’ll leave the boy and I’ll give you directions to find him, but if anything goes wrong, the child dies.

“Remember this sound Hardy,” Conley concluded. Just before the phone clicked off, Fenton heard Joe scream. In his mind’s eye, he could see Monica’s broken arm and bleeding shoulder. The detective broke down and cried.

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.