Joe Hardy sat upright in his bed. He ran a hand through his tosseled blond hair and turned to look at the alarm clock on his nightstand. ‘What woke me?’ the 17-year-old questioned himself, ‘It’s only 3:15 in the morning!’ Joe rolled out of bed and stretched to his full 6-foot height before pulling on a black, NASCAR t-shirt, white athletic socks and navy sweat pants over his boxer shorts. He silently made his way down the back stairs and into the kitchen of their century-old home. Without bothering to turn on the lights, Joe walked to the refrigerator and took out the carton of milk. He grabbed a clean glass from the dish rack in the sink and poured the milk. He returned the carton to the refrigerator, picked up his glass and turned around. Joe’s sapphire blue eyes, now accustomed to the dark, locked on to the figure seated at the far end of the kitchen table. 

"Hello Joseph," an emotionless voice said softly. The glass of milk in Joe’s hand fell to the floor with a crash, drowning out the hissing sound of the gun as it was fired point-blank, into the boy’s chest. 

* * * * *

Frank Hardy pulled his hunter green comforter over his dark, brown hair in an attempt to muffle the sound of his brother’s alarm clock ringing in the next room. Frank was usually an early riser, but it was only 6 a.m. and he didn’t have anything pressing to do this morning and planned to sleep until 7 o’clock. He knew that Joe was going to get up earlier than usual so he could help his friends, the Pritos, do inventory at ‘Mr. Pizza’. Tony and Nicky Prito, worked at ‘Mr. Pizza’ and Joe would occasionally fill-in, when they needed extra help.

After waiting patiently for several minutes, Frank sat up in his bed. ‘Why isn’t Joe shutting off that alarm?’ Frank thought.

"A-a-r-r-gh!" Frank growled, tossing back the comforter and walking into the bathroom that separated the boys’ bedrooms. He opened the door to Joe’s room and looked at the bed. It was unmade, but Joe wasn’t in it. Frank walked to the nightstand and picked up the ‘Spiderman’ alarm clock. He finally found the right button and turned the alarm off. Frank shook his head and smiled at the condition of his younger brother’s room. It always amazed him that Joe could find anything in his room. It presently looked as if it had been struck by a tornado. Frank returned to his own tidy room to get dressed when he heard a piercing scream come from downstairs.

Frank bolted for the front stairs, almost crashing into his father, world-famous private detective, Fenton Hardy. Laura Hardy, Fenton’s pretty, petite wife, followed her husband into the hall, pulling closed her pink, chenille bathrobe.

"Stay here," Mr. Hardy admonished his wife, "The boys and I will check things out." Mrs. Hardy nodded and stopped on the top step. Fenton and Frank made their way down the steps and into the front hallway.

"Frank, where’s your brother?" Fenton asked, suddenly realizing that Joe wasn’t with them.

"At ‘Mr. Pizza’," replied the teenager. Dark haired Mr. Hardy, knowing of Joe’s plans to help do inventory, nodded in acknowledgement. Deep sobbing could now be heard from the kitchen as Mr. Hardy cautiously pushed the swinging door open. Standing just inside the door in her green bathrobe, was Gertrude Hardy. The tall, dark-haired older sister of Fenton often stayed with her brother’s family for extended periods of time.

"Gert?" Fenton asked, approaching the woman slowly. He noticed broken glass and spilled milk on the tile near her feet. "Are you hurt?" he questioned. A sobbing moan escaped her lips and she pointed toward the refrigerator. Fenton raised himself to his full height of 6’ 2" and let his gaze follow his sister’s finger. His knees became weak and he suddenly felt nauseous. On the middle of the refrigerator door was a blood smeared handprint. Just above it was a chilling message, written in blood, which read:

 

THE HARDY’S HAD A LITTLE LAMB

WHO THEY NAMED LITTLE JOE;

BUT WHERE IS THEIR LITTLE LAMB?

HIS FAMILY DOESN’T KNOW!

 

Frank now gazed at the bloody message, and feeling sick to his stomach, turned and started to leave the kitchen. He saw his mother coming down the hall and heading for the kitchen.

"Mom!" Frank cried, running to her, "Don’t go in there!" Laura Hardy felt panic and sidestepped past her son, pushing open the kitchen door. She glanced at Fenton and Gertrude, following their eyes to the refrigerator door. Frank reached his mother’s side just as she silently slumped toward the floor.

* * * * *

After the women had been taken upstairs and put to bed, Fenton called the police. Chief Ezra Collig, and officers Riley, Packer and Ramsie arrived in just minutes. While they had waited for the police, Frank also called the Pritos at ‘Mr. Pizza’, hoping that Joe was with Tony and Nicky. Tony told Frank that Joe had never shown up and that his boss was pretty upset with the younger Hardy boy. Frank, not wanting to let them know the details of the morning, explained that the family had an emergency and Joe wouldn’t be able to help with the inventory. Tony, knowing the kind of work Mr. Hardy and his sons were often involved in, said that he understood and would explain things to their boss.

"Fenton," Collig questioned, after examining the scene, "did anyone hear anything?"

"I never heard anything," interjected Frank, "and I know I would have heard Joe getting up. He’s never quiet when he gets going in the morning. I just don’t understand how this could have happened. How could we have not heard anything?" 

"Ezra," Fenton added, "You know me; I practically sleep with one eye open and I never heard a sound!"

 

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors 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.