"You can still smell smoke," Vanessa observed, inhaling deeply. She looked sadly ahead as she and Joe, Frank and Megan walked along the curved sidewalk towards the remains of the college Administration Building. Clusters of other students crowded the walk, most of them headed in the same direction. The site of the devastating fire was everyone’s destination this morning.

"Once upon a time – like last year – I’d have been tickled to death to get out of school for just about any reason," Joe answered somberly. "But getting out yesterday because the Admin Building burned down wasn’t all that much fun after all."

"Things are going to take months to get sorted out," Megan contributed to the conversation. "All the student records were in the computers in the registrar’s office; all the financial aid, all the school administration’s offices gone—"

"Most of the teachers have offices in their respective buildings," Frank pointed out.

"But the president’s office was there, and the other school officials," his girlfriend reminded him. "And since it was so early in the school year, it’s not a sure thing that any records would have been transferred over to the teachers’ files. For all we know, we might not even be considered registered anymore!"

Joe gave her a horrified look. "For such a cute little girl, you come up with some really gruesome ideas, Red! If I’m not registered anymore, that means I have to start all over selecting classes, and registering! And I refuse to stand in all those lines again!"

"You’ll have to do it next term, you know," Frank reminded him, grinning.

Joe groaned. "I oughta gag you! You just live for chances to say things like that to me!"

The other three laughed; then they paused and stood staring at the reeking piles of rubble. Light drifts of smoke still rose from the still-smoldering debris, ashes scattered in the light breeze. Although clean-up crews had labored the previous day, the mess was horrendous to contemplate. It would be days – or weeks – before things were back to normal.

"Have you heard anything about how it started?" Vanessa asked quietly. "All the news reports say ‘under investigation,’ and nothing more than that."

"We haven’t heard much more than you have," Frank replied. "I was hoping someone might contact Dad, and we could find out that way. If it’s still under investigation, then they think there’s something worth investigating…in my opinion, not that it means all that much, something that burned that hot and fast can’t have been faulty wiring, or something set too close to a heater vent. It almost had to have had help!"

"Meaning that it might have been arson-caused," Joe muttered. "but so far, we’ve heard zilch. Nobody’s calling the Hardys or breaking down our door, asking for an investigation!"

"Do you know people in the fire department that you might ask?" Megan inquired. "Didn’t you guys put in some time as volunteers?"

"We did, yeah – but unfortunately, the guys we knew then aren’t around now," Frank told her. "I do know a couple people, though – I have a friend, Dani, that taught a CPR refresher class we took…"

"Oh yeah. I’d forgotten." Joe nodded. "Dani might be a place to start, bro."

"If they decide it was faulty wiring, or something, then it’s not important," Vanessa said, still staring somberly at the gutted remains of the building. "But if they think it’s human-caused – then definitely, Frank, contact Danny!"

"Although I have to admit," Joe reluctantly conceded, "we aren’t the only investigators around, and just because we think we should look into it, doesn’t mean that everyone thinks that way!"

The teens started on, for classes were in session again, after the previous day’s respite, but Frank suddenly paused and bent down to pick up something from the ground next to the sidewalk.

"What is it?" Megan craned her neck to see, and he held his hand out, showing her what he’d found. Joe and Vanessa leaned in too.

"It’s a picture—" Vanessa murmured. "Somebody familiar – who is that guy?"

Joe snapped his fingers. "It’s President Mitchell, isn’t it? M. Charles Mitchell himself!" He glanced at the rubble. "It must have been in his office. Funny how it got clear out here, isn’t it – and didn’t get burned?"

"Not really," Frank said. "The wind could easily have carried it a lot further than this."

"I think it’s sad," Megan commented, staring at the photograph. "He looks happy in this picture, and I’m sure he doesn’t feel that way anymore."

"Cheer up, Red, it’s not like he died in the fire, or anything!" Joe reminded her.

Reluctantly, they once again started on their way through the knots of gawking students, each of them quiet and sober. More than one backward glance was cast at the smoldering heap behind them.

"Someone please find something more upbeat to talk about!" Vanessa pleaded at last, breaking the uneasy silence. "It’s too horrible and depressing, otherwise!"

Joe pulled her close to his side and hugged her comfortingly, then chuckled as a thought struck him. "I’ve got some news – we had a call from Aunt Gertrude," he announced.

"This is good news?" Vanessa asked skeptically.

Now Frank was laughing too. "It’s interesting news, at least," he said. "From what Mom said, our fearsome auntie has developed a love interest, down there in Florida!"

Both girls gasped with disbelief. "Your Aunt Gertrude has a boyfriend?" Megan said incredulously.

"Are you sure she got the facts straight?" Vanessa asked. "No disrespect to your aunt, Joe, but she doesn’t seem like the type!"

"Wait’ll you hear!" Joe chortled. "He’s a writer! A mystery-story writer! She met him at a book-signing, and now she’s helping him do research!"

Vanessa peered at him closely. "Are you making this up?" she challenged, "I don’t know whether to believe you or not!"

"It’s the truth, I swear!" Joe held up his right hand, palm outward. Frank nodded confirmation.

"Is she going to bring him to Bayport so you can meet him?" Megan inquired hopefully. "And is he someone famous? A famous author, I mean?"

"I don’t know," Frank admitted. "If she’s bringing him here, Mom didn’t mention it. And I didn’t get the name – Jordan Somebody-or-Other."

"Maybe it’s a little early in the relationship to make him meet the relatives!" Joe cracked, and guffawed at his own joke.

"You’re not that bad," Vanessa giggled. "She shouldn’t be afraid of him meeting you!"

"Speaking of meeting people," Frank added, "Mom and Dad also got a call from some people they met in Tahoe. Apparently they’re in Bayport, or they’re going to be. Mom invited them over for dinner this weekend."

"The Claremonts?" Vanessa asked. "When we left, they seemed to be friendly enough…after all the trouble!"

Frank shook his head. "It’s not them," he denied. "I didn’t catch the name, but I’m sure Mom would have said, if it was Mr. and Mrs. Claremont."

"Who else did they meet there?" Joe wondered, then shrugged. "Oh well, their business! They didn’t specify that we had to be there and be polite, did they?" he inquired of his older brother, who shook his head again. Joe heaved an exaggerated sigh of relief.

"Frank, did you and Jack settle on a time for you to try flying?" Megan changed the subject once more.

The elder Hardy boy nodded. "Yeah – tomorrow afternoon. I don’t have class after two o’clock, so I’m going to meet him at the airfield." He paused, and swallowed. "And then I guess we’ll see whether I’m washed up as a pilot or not."

"Don’t be silly!" Megan laid her red-gold head against his shoulder. "You’re not washed up as a pilot and you know it!"

"Yeah, bro, it’s not like you forgot how to fly, or anything!" Joe chimed in. Vanessa nodded emphatic agreement.

"But I can’t do very much," Frank said forlornly, refusing to be comforted. He glared at his left arm in its cast and sling. "Jack seems to think he’ll be able to tell what I’ll be able to do by what I’m able to do…" He broke off, shaking his head, chuckling in spite of himself. "That confused even me!"

Megan looked searchingly into her boyfriend’s dark eyes. "Don’t be scared," she murmured, too low for Joe or Vanessa to hear as they walked on ahead, and squeezed Frank’s arm.

"I’m not really scared," he replied softly. "But I’ll be the first one to admit to being awfully nervous!"

*****

Late that evening, flames erupted again on the campus – this time the athletic center and the stadium. And when the fire had been reduced to ash and rubble, and the investigators began their routine the next day, evidence showed that in this instance, there was no question: arson was the cause.

This time, the school didn’t close. Classes were not seriously affected by the loss of the stadium and the athletic center; even the physical education and swimming classes used the gymnasium instead.

Joe Hardy, however, was nearly inconsolable.

"Our new athletic center!" he lamented, over coffee and doughnuts with Vanessa in the Student Center. "And the stadium! Now we have no place to play! And our uniforms and equipment! And the field’s all torn up by the fire engine wheels, what didn’t burn. They’d just put down all new turf, too!"

"Joe, won’t they just use one of the high school fields?" Vanessa inquired reasonably. "I’m sure the athletic director can work something out—"

"It’s not the same!" he groaned. "That athletic center was NEW! And even if the team sucked, I wanted to play college football…I wanted to play it here, on our own home field!" Joe’s blue eyes darkened dangerously. "I want to find this joker that’s setting these fires. It’s not just an abstract problem any more. Now, it’s getting personal!"

*****

FRIDAY AFTERNOON

"Jack, are you sure you want me to do this?" Frank said nervously, climbing into the cockpit of the little blue-and-white plane. "I really don’t have much mobility with my left arm; I can’t work the controls, I can’t reach the switches—"

"—but you can hold onto the yoke, and you can steer, and there’s nothing wrong with your ability to work the pedals." Jack Wayne assured him. "And that’s why we’re going up, anyway. I want to see just what you can and can’t do. You’ve been fretting your life away in the office, doing paperwork while April and I fly the runs. I realize you’re limited in what you can do, but that cast isn’t going to be on forever, and I want you back in practice. When April’s arm was broken, I didn’t let her sit around feeling sorry for herself, after all!"

The tall, dark-haired pilot watched Frank struggle briefly with his safety harness before managing to buckle the belt, and then he snapped his own. "And anyway, I’ll be right here; it’s not like I’m sending you up all by your lonesome! If you get in a bind, I’ll save our necks," he grinned. "Okay, assume you’re the pilot for this run," he instructed Frank. "Do the pre-flight check-off as well as you can. If there’s something you can’t do, tell me."

Frank set about the once-familiar routine carefully. He found that he could do a lot of things by using just his right hand, even though he had been accustomed to hitting switches and turning knobs with his left. It was slower, but do-able. Finally, he sat back and looked at his boss, his expression mingling frustration and satisfaction.

"Okay, done." he announced. "All the pre-flight checks completed."

"Good." Jack nodded approval. "I’ll get us into the air, and then let’s see how you do being a sky jockey again."

*****

Megan pulled out of the supermarket parking lot and into the late-afternoon traffic. She glanced into the back seat of her Accord, making sure the brown grocery sack was going to stay where she’d placed it. With her mother out of town for a business conference, she had decided to buy dinner at the store deli, rather than warming up a can of soup.

I wonder how Frank’s doing, she thought, smiling a little. He was awfully jittery about trying to fly again, after all this time. But Jack was right; he needs to get back into the air as quickly as possible…besides, Jack and April need him! He’ll probably be absolutely bouncing off the walls tonight…. Her smile widened as she thought of what Frank’s phone call might sound like; he loved to fly so much, and if it went well, he would be exuberant. I like it when he’s happy….

She flicked on her left turn signal, saw the traffic light change to green, and started into the intersection. Watching the other cars moving along with her, Megan never noticed the large brown sedan which crested the slight rise just before the intersection and bombed down the hill towards her. Her first warning was the screech of brakes and squealing of tires, and then the strident blare of a car horn, as the driver, evidently not expecting his light to be red, frantically tried to slow his vehicle – to no avail.