A minute later he was back. “There’s just enough room to wiggle past this first part,” He panted to his brother. “Then, it kinda opens up like a clearing in the middle of the rocks. It’s open, though . . . won’t keep us out of the cold, but it will keep us out of sight.”

“Alright,” Frank said. “I’m right behind you.”

The boys scrambled into the space between the rocks, huddling down against the wind.

They crouched side by side to preserve what little warmth they had.

“So,” Frank began after they had been silent for a while, “What happened back there? How’d you get so beat up?”

Joe looked over at his brother and grimaced. “Goons Number One and Two found me, decided I’d be mighty useful as a punching bag,” he answered ruefully. “Fortunately for me, when Goon Number Three tripped on a root and sent Goon Number Two sprawling, I was able to break away. I guess, somewhere, I must have fallen and hit my head.”

Joe was referring to three of the five men who had grabbed the brothers as they were heading back to their van in the Bayport Mall parking lot. The boys had been forced into a second van at gun point, while two of the five men drove off in their own. After a brief, but spirited, skirmish with their kidnappers, the boys were bound and gagged. They had jounced in the back of the van for what seemed like hours before the vehicle stopped and the two men deputized to take care of the brother’s van hopped in. Another minor eternity later, they were at last hauled out and carried into a wooden cabin somewhere east of the forest. It hadn’t taken long for the boys to free themselves and escape.

“That gash at the back of your head had me pretty worried for awhile,” the older boy confessed. “Heck- you had me pretty worried for awhile. I don’t know how long I’ve been tromping through this forest, but you were out cold for a long while, brother.”

Joe leaned up against his brother and rested his head on Frank’s strong shoulder. “I bet,” he said softly. “I know it scares the living daylights out of me whenever you get hurt.”

Frank gave his brother a tight hug. “Yeah.”

***

A riot of bright, tiny lights sparkled on the tall Christmas tree set up in the corner of the Hardy living room, a mountain of gifts nestled at its base. The air was fragrant with a day’s worth of baking, the house warm and festive.

Laura Hardy sat on the living room sofa, a recent photo of her sons in her hand. Her blue eyes were ringed with red, her cheeks tear-stained. She felt a hand drop gently onto her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Laura,” her husband said softly, as he leaned over and brushed her forehead with his lips.

She put down the picture as Fenton came over to sit beside her, his arms outstretched. Leaning gratefully into his embrace, she said: “Oh, Fenton. Who would have thought that a simple last-minute shopping trip would end up like this? It’s not your fault.”

Fenton drew her even closer and held her tight. “No,” he agreed. “But I still feel pretty guilty all the same.”

“What did the police have to say?” She asked after a moment of silence. “Could they tell what happened? Why the van was in the lake?”

Fenton released his wife enough so that he could look at her as he spoke.

“They seem to think that the van was planted there. Apparently, there was some sort of steering mechanism attached to the undercarriage of the van.”

“So the boys weren’t necessarily in there when it crashed?” Laura’s voice was more hopeful now.

“That’s what the Chief and Officer Riley are thinking.”

Laura settled back against the sofa cushion and sighed. “Well, that’s good news, I guess.”

They sat in silence as the lights twinkled prettily on the tree.

Suddenly Laura stood up and crossed over to the tree. She bent down and turned it off, plunging the room into darkness.

Fenton quickly switched on a nearby lamp, his heart breaking at his wife’s distress.

“I’m sorry, Fent,” she whispered shakily. “But I just can’t sit here and pretend everything’s alright when we don’t know where the boys are.”

The tall investigator stood up and joined his wife by the darkened tree.

“I know it’s Christmas Eve,” she went on, “And I tried so very hard; but I just don’t quite feel up to all this . . . festivity. I’m sorry.”

Fenton wrapped his strong arms around her and laid his head against her own.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, love,” he stated softly. “And there’s no need to pretend that we feel other than what we do.”

“I keep thinking they might be out there, somewhere, hurt or . . . .” The petite blonde gulped as she bit her lip at the thought that something dreadful might have befallen the boys.

“Hush, Laura, hush,” Fenton soothed, as he ran his fingers through her hair. “At least we can be fairly certain that the boys weren’t in the van. That means that they’re out there somewhere.”

Laura nodded her head gently.

“And, love, the boys are very resourceful. We’ll hear something soon enough.”

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.