"Dear, everything will be all right. Frank can handle this, and he has the police ans his friends for moral support," Laura comforted him.

"Frank is strong, but I hate for him to have to shoulder this burden all by himself. I just hope that under pressure, he doesn't do something rash. It could mean Joe's life--and his."

Joe gritted his teeth and began to eat the carrots Lewis had forced on him. He couldn't understand why Lewis was giving him so much food. If anything, Joe had thought Lewis might starve him.

After Joe forced the carrots down, Lewis resealed his mouth with a strip of duct tape. "Time to get you ready for beddie bye, Joe. You've got a big day ahead of you tomorrow." Lewis pulled out his knife again and feinted at Joe, who flinched in the chair he was bound to. Lewis chuckled and grabbed the collar of Joe's tee shirt. Taking the knife, he began to cut Joe's shirt off his body. "This will make another nice present for your big brother. I'm enjoying playing with him almost as much as I am with you. Say, maybe I can get him to join us. Would you like that, Joe? Would you like your brother to come and say goodbye to you?"

Frank nervously paced back and forth in the living room, desperately hoping to hear from someone--his parents, Chet, Tony and Phil, even Lewis. He hoped the phone would ring and it would be Joe, laughing and telling him how he had escaped. Officer Daedium continued to examine the van for fingerprints. Frank heard a car pull into the driveway and opened the front door without waiting for the doorbell to ring. Phil and Tony piled out of Mr. Hardy's car.

"Did you see Callie?" Frank asked, tension in his voice.

"No one was home at the Shaws'," Tony responded.

Frank sighed deeply. Phil put his hand on Frank's shoulder. "Don't worry, Frank. I'm sure she will understand when you talk to her."

Officer Daedium walked up to the boys, having completed his task. "Nothing much in the way of prints, Frank. Sorry I can't give you better news."

"Thanks, Officer," Frank replied. The officer climbed into his cruiser and drove away.

Suddenly, Frank struck his forehead with his open palm. "I just remembered! I need to check the odometer!"

Phil and Tony looked at each other, puzzled at why Frank would suddenly be concerned about the van's mileage. "I've been on Joe's case lately because he never remembers to reset the odometer when he gases up. I like to know how many miles per gallon of gas the van is getting. Anyway, he was at the Speedmart putting gas in the van when Lewis grabbed him. If Joe reset the milage, that will let us know how far the van has been driven since it left the Speedmart. That could give us a lead to where Joe might be!"

"Great!" Phil exclaimed. "Let's check it out!"

Frank raced outside and to the front seat of the van. "Joe came through this time! Look--16.2 miles. That's how far the van has been driven since I last spoke with Joe!"

"But what if Lewis drove farther away and reset the indicator himself?" Tony interjected.

"Unlikely," Phil responded. "I don't think anyone would drive the van farther away and remember to reset the odometer while returning to Bayport. The more logical assumption is that Joe reset it when Frank wanted him to, and then Lewis drove the van 16.2 miles since grabbing Joe. Frank, why don't we go inside and look at some maps?"

"Good idea, Phil," Frank agreed.

The three boys entered the Hardy home and went up to Frank's room. Frank went to his desk and pulled out a large map of Bayport and the surrounding area. Frank unfolded it on his bed and began to examine it.

"Guys, here we are right in Bayport. The Speedmart is two miles outside of town. Lewis could have driven eight miles north to Troy, then eight miles south, back to Bayport. Or he could have driven seven miles west to Oxford and nine miles back. Or he could have driven eight miles south to Middletown, and eight back. He couldn't have driven east of course, because of Barmet Bay."

"Joe could be anywhere in this area," Phil added, tracing with his finger a semi-circle around Bayport. "And we have to allow for the fact that Lewis had to follow the roads and not drive in a straight line."

"Right," Frank affirmed. "So Joe could be held within a mile or two of that arc you just traced, Phil."

"Not much to go on, is it?" Tony added glumly.

"No, but it's a start, and we have to start somewhere," Frank replied.

The sound of the doorbell interrupted the boys' conversation. "I'll get that," Frank said as he hurried back downstairs.

"Tony," Phil whispered, "try not to sound so discouraging. Frank's going to need all the help he can get--and that includes a positive attitude. He's going through the wringer right now!"

"Sorry, Phil, I'll try to do better. But I don't mind telling you, I'm not feeling so hot about all this myself!"

Frank came back up the stairs with Chet in tow. "You've got the photos?" Frank inquired.

"Right here. I didn't open them yet," Chet said, handing over ther packet to Frank.

Frank hesitated, then opened the packet. He bit his lip as he examined the photos Lewis had taken. He saw his brother bound with the lit cigarette protruding from the hole in the tape covering his mouth. Another snapshot showed Joe staring in wide-eyed horror at the camera. Yet another showed the trickle of blood down Joe's neck. Another was of Joe's left hand, a red spot showing on his pinky.

Frank wordlessly tossed the photos onto his bed and walked to the window. He stared outside while his three friends examined the horrible evidence of Joe's ordeal. "I'd like to get my hands on this bum!" Chet stated.

"This is just the beginning," Frank muttered. "He's going to kill my brother, but he's going to make him suffer as much as he can first.."

Phil walked over and put his arm around his taller friend. "We're going to get Joe back home where he belongs. Remember what you always say, Frank. Criminals always make a fatal mistake. Lewis is going to make a mistake. And we'll be ready for him when he does." Phil turned to Chet and Tony. "Guys, I'm going to spend the night here with Frank. Are you up for staying here too?"

"Sure thing," Tony responded.

"You bet!" Chet added.

"Guys, you don't have to do this," Frank replied. "I'll be all right."

"Of course, you'll be all right," Phil retorted. "And we'll be here with you. Don't argue. It's settled."

A small smile traced Frank's lips. "No, I'm not going to take the three of you on. Thanks, guys. You're the best."

"Okay," Phil said. "Tony, why don't you and I bunk out in Joe's room and Chet can bunk in here with Frank?"

"We better get a set of the pictures to the police," Frank said after everyone had agreed to Phil's room assignments. He went to the bed and picked up the photos.

"I'll run them down to headquarters," Tony offered as Frank seperated the pictures. Frank handed a set to Tony who left immediately in Mr. Hardy's car.

"I'll go make dinner," Chet volunteered, moving toward the doorway.

"I'm not hungry," Frank said, sitting down on the bed and looking at the pictures. He tried to see what was in the background but all the pictures were too dark except for the one taken at the Speedmart of Biff and Joe together.

Phil took Frank's arm and hauled him to his feet. "You're not going to be any good to Joe if you don't keep your strength up," Phil told him sternly.

Frank sighed. "You're right, of course. I just..." he shook his head, his brown eyes bright as he saw Joe's look of abject terror staring up at him from the photograph in his hand.

Phil steered Frank downstairs behind Chet who headed into the kitchen. Fank and Phil were about to follow when the doorbell rang, followed almost immediately by the jangle of the phone. "I'll get the phone, you get the door," Phil said, going over to pick up the receiver.

Frank hurried to the front door and opened it. Sixteen-year-old, blond-headed, green-eyed, Callie Shaw threw her arms around Frank's neck, nearly knocking him off balance.

"I'm sooo sorry," she cried, squeezing him tight. "Have you heard from Joe's kidnapper? Do you have any leads?" she fired questions as she held onto him tight.

Frank wrapped his arms around her and gave her a tight squeeze, drawing comfort from her nearness. "How did you find out?" he inquired, not answering her immediately.

"Mrs. Hooper called mom to cancel their bridge date for tonight because Biff was in the hospital," Callie explained, finally releasing Frank. "We went to visit him and he told us about Joe getting kidnapped."

Frank took her arm and led her into the living room where Phil was waiting tight-lipped. "What's wrong?" Frank demanded in alarm. "Was it Lewis?"

"No!" Phil hurriedly assured his friend. "It was your parents. Their rental broke down and the part for the car won't be in until sometime tomorrow," he informed Frank. "They're in the middle of nowhere and they can't get another rental or even find a bus station."

"Great!" Frank moaned, sinking into a chair.

Callie sat down on the arm of the chair and put a hand on Frank's shoulder, squeezing it. "We're here," she told him. "We'll do everything we can to help."

Frank gave her a wan smile. "You don't know what we're up against," he warned her.

"So tell me," she invited. Frank told her everything he knew about the case. He held up the pictures he still held in his left hand. She began crying as she looked at them. "What are you going to do now?" she asked him, sniffing.

"There's nothing we can do," Phil answered for Frank. "Lewis has to make the next move."

Chet came into the living room a few seconds later. "Oh, hey, Callie," he said. "Are you staying for dinner?" he asked her.

"No," she said, standing up and giving the pictures back to Frank. "Mom and Dad are waiting on me in the car." She looked down into Frank's eyes. "Call me if there's anything I can do," she told him.

"I will," he promised.

Tony got back not long after Callie had left. Phil told him about Callie's visit and the four of them sat down at the kitchen table to eat.

Frank just picked at his food, each bite feeling like a lead weight inside his stomach. Tony, Phil, and Chet tried to draw Frank into conversation, but his thoughts were all on Joe.

"Morning, Joey," Lewis' voice broke into Joe's uneasy dreams. Joe had slept fitfully. Last night's feeding frenzy and the ordeal he was being put through had combined to cause Joe to awaken every few minutes. Now, he opened his weary bloodshot eyes and looked up into Lewis' smiling face.

"I know, I know," Lewis said. "It's still early. But I wanted to get started on today's festivities so I could leave your family a few more pictures with your shirt."

He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. "As I said yesterday, you've just got to have that wake-me-up smoke." He reached out and pulled the tape from Joe's mouth. Then he took his knife and cut through the tape binding Joe's wrists and ankles. "Same rules apply," he continued. "If you scream, your dad gets your tongue. Now, do you want to smoke this like a normal person, or do we have to repeat yesterday's initiation?"

Joe paled but whispered, "I'll smoke it." At least he would be able to breathe between puffs, or he hoped so at any rate.

Lewis lit the cigarette and handed it to Joe. "Inhale," he ordered. Joe took a small puff. "I said, inhale," Lewis repeated, and punched Joe in the stomach, causing him to take a deep drag. Joe began coughing and dropped the cigarette onto the floor.

"Tsk, tsk," Lewis said, walking over and crushing the cigarette beneath his shoe. "That's okay, Pretty Boy," he told Joe. "It's time for breakfast anyway."

"I'm not hungry," Joe told him.

"I didn't ask," Lewis said, going behind Joe and coming back with a bag of food.

"Don't you know you're supposed to starve prisoners?" Joe demanded. He believed he could handle being hungry a lot better than being stuffed.

Lewis erupted into laughter. "Don't be in such a rush, boy," he told Joe. "You'll get that, too," he promised. "Here you are," he said, pulling out a sausage biscuit and unwrapping it.

Almost an hour later, Lewis threw the last wrapper away. He took the camera and snapped a picture of Joe who looked like he was going to be ill. "I guess you're ready for something to wash that down with," Lewis said. He walked behind Joe and picked up a cup of soda. He poured over half of it out, then set the cup down. Then he picked up a bottle and unscrewed the top. He peeled off the protective seal and poured half the contents into the remaining cola. Then he picked up the cup and came to stand in front of Joe.

Lewis grabbed Joe's hair and forced him to look up at him. "Enjoy your soda, boy," he said. "Cause you ain't getting another swallow of anything for the rest of the day."

Lewis handed the cup to Joe, who began to drink. It tasted a little bitter so Joe thought it must be a diet cola. When it was all gone, Lewis tossed the cup aside.

Joe wondered what Lewis had planned and started to ask when a wave of nausea washed over him. "Uhhh," Joe moaned, feeling extremely sick.