Officer Isaacs stayed beside the car while he radioed headquarters for backup, and waited there until a patrol car arrived. While the uniforms were checking Laura’s car, Isaacs rejoined his charges. Laura had called her husband while she waited, and Jeremy was quaking in his boots at the reception he was anticipating from Fenton Hardy!

"Do you think they’ll find anything?" Laura demanded of Jeremy. She wished that she could watch what was going on with her car, from the restaurant window, but they’d parked around the corner. That was a mistake, she thought ruefully. We never should have parked where we couldn’t keep an eye on the car!

"Well…" Jeremy hesitated. "Probably not, ma’am. It looked like a very simple operation, to me. Stab in, slice on the way out. No fingerprints, no nothing."

Laura sighed. She hoped Fenton arrived soon.

Mr. Hardy snapped his cell phone shut, glowering. He was torn between being furious and being appalled – with a healthy dose of fear stirred in, for good measure! He looked over at Michael Ranson, who was observing him curiously.

"I’ve got to go," Fenton said tersely. "There’s been another attack – someone slashed all the tires on Laura’s car while she was out shopping!"

"Huh?" Ranson’s jaw dropped slightly. "That’s too bad—" He stopped, reflecting, and then went on: "but that means that now we know who they’re after! It’s not Erica, after all!" A delighted smile crossed his face. "She’s safe!" He rose to his feet. "We can leave town! I’ve got to go tell her the good news! Hardy, thanks again for checking out Markham Glass for me – I’ll send you a check for your fee." He extended a hand to Fenton. "Hope things work out okay for you and Laura. Tell her I’m sorry to hear about her car tires. Got to go now – I think we have to pack!"

Fenton was decidedly miffed at Ranson’s cavalier attitude, but he managed to keep his temper in check. He clenched his molars together to keep from snapping rudely at the younger man, and muttered ‘goodbye’ as Michael took his leave.

And then Fenton strode from the coffee shop to his car, his jaw still tight. He needed to get to his wife!

*****

"Laura!" Fenton caught her in his arms and held her tightly for a long moment. Over Laura’s head, he met Andrea’s eyes, and smiled encouragingly at her. "Thank God you’re all right! That you’re both all right!" Relaxing his grip, Mr. Hardy turned to the rookie police officer hovering nearby. "Officer Isaacs, thank you for guarding them – what’s wrong?" he added, seeing how agitated the young man appeared.

"I – I’m so sorry – I can’t believe this happened!" Jeremy Isaacs stammered. "Mr. Hardy, I thought I was doing everything right!" The policeman’s freckled face was pale, and his hands were shaking with nerves. "I guess I should have—"

"Isaacs – Jeremy, take it easy!" Fenton tried to soothe the distraught young man, holding up his hand to stem the frantic flow of words. "You didn’t do anything wrong; calm down. You were guarding Laura and Andrea; that was your job, and you did exactly what you were supposed to do! If you had stayed with the car, who knows what might have happened to the ladies?"

"I—" Jeremy swallowed, at a loss for words. "But – but Mrs. Hardy’s car—"

"Mrs. Hardy’s car can be fixed," Laura stated, patting Jeremy’s forearm reassuringly. "Jeremy, believe me, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for!"

He doesn’t look entirely convinced, but at least he’s relaxed a bit, Fenton thought with an inward smile. "If you don’t mind staying with these beautiful women a little longer, Officer Isaacs," – he emphasized the title, hoping to get Jeremy’s focus back on track – "I’d like to have a few words with the investigators," he said aloud, and departed for the parking lot once more.

He was back in just a few minutes – as Isaacs had told Laura, there wasn’t anything to find. The tires had been stabbed and slashed with expertise.

"Let’s get Andrea home," Fenton suggested to his wife. "Jeremy, thanks again. You’re back on regular duty – but we may need you again."

*****

"Erica! We can leave!" Michael Ranson burst into the hotel suite, his face alive with delight at the news he bore. "We’re off the hook! Someone slashed Laura Hardy’s car tires – it’s HER they’re after!"

"Slashed Laura’s tires!" Erica jumped to her feet, dropping the magazine she had been desultorily leafing through. "Is LAURA all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I’m sure she’s fine," Ranson replied absently, "but don’t you get it? We can leave! You don’t have to stay cooped up any more! It’s not YOU!"

Erica smiled happily at the thought of regaining her freedom. "That’s wonderful!" she cried, and flung herself excitedly into her husband’s arms. Michael hugged her exuberantly, lifted her from her feet, and spun in a circle.

Their celebration was interrupted by the arrival of a blonde man in his mid-twenties, who emerged from one of the bedrooms, alerted by their raised voices. He was clad in khakis and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow – and he was wearing a pistol in a shoulder holster.

"Hey, Michael…you’re back," he observed quietly.

"Ethan." Ranson nodded shortly. "Looks like your job’s about over; we’re leaving."

"Without even saying goodbye to Fenton and Laura?" Erica started to protest, but her words were cut off as Ethan spoke.

"I need to talk to you first," he said tersely, and jerked his head in the direction of the bedroom from whence he had come, indicating that Michael should follow him.

Erica bristled with indignation. "Quit treating me like a child, Ethan!" she snapped. "If you want to talk to Michael, talk. Here."

Ethan glared at his cousin. "All right, you asked for it," he grunted. Focusing his attention on Michael, he said, "You got a call a little while ago – from someone who left a message. Said to tell you that you’re still in danger of losing something precious to you." Without moving his head, Ethan’s eyes shifted towards Erica.

"WHAT?" Ranson roared. Instinctively, he moved to enclose Erica protectively in his arms, but she had already slipped from his grasp to confront Ethan.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" she demanded hotly. Outraged, Erica doubled up one small fist and slugged her cousin in the bicep.

"You were taking a shower," he replied defensively, fending her off. "And then…I thought – well, I didn’t want to scare you, Erica, that’s all – HEY!" He caught her hand before it could make contact with his arm again.

Michael, shocked to the core, flung himself into an armchair, scowling blackly. He was not only chagrined that his happy plans were thwarted, he was horror-stricken by the realization that Erica was still in peril. "Damn it! We’re not out of the woods yet!" he expostulated.

Erica, still glaring at the hapless Ethan, moved to comfort her husband. "We could still just leave, Michael," she ventured, stroking the crisp dark hair. "There are places we could go…."

"And be chased across the country by someone we can’t even identify?" he countered harshly.

"I suppose you’re right," she conceded, "And I’d hate to feel that we’d run out on the Hardys, anyway."

Reminded of his ally in this strange battle, Ranson reached for the telephone. He knew he couldn’t fight these shadowy enemies by himself, much as it galled him to admit it. He needed Fenton Hardy’s assistance. As he dialed the recently-memorized number, he glanced at Ethan. "Go down and keep an eye on the car," he instructed.

Ethan departed, pulling a jacket on to conceal the shoulder holster.

"Hardy? It’s Michael Ranson." As he spoke, Michael thumped the table with a pen, flipping it back and forth between his fingers nervously.

"Michael." Fenton’s voice was quiet, and wary. Or was that nervous?

Michael, knowing he was in for a rough few minutes, sighed and squared his shoulders – and plunged ahead.

"Look—" he said, "I’m sorry I ran out on you, earlier. But…well…I’m very protective of Erica. I just—"

"I understand very well, Michael," Mr. Hardy snapped impatiently. Ranson frowned at the harsh tone of his voice – a tone that belied the words the other man uttered. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m rather busy—"

"Wait! Listen!" Michael stopped thumping the pen, and looked somberly at Erica for a moment. Only for her would he humble himself like this! She smiled encouragingly at him, and squeezed his hand. "I – all right. It’s like this. Someone called the hotel while I was gone, and left a threatening message. It looks like they – whoever ‘they’ are – aren’t after just one of the women after all. It isn’t either Laura or Erica…it’s both."

Fenton was quiet long enough to make Michael wonder if they’d been disconnected, or if the other man had hung up on him. He waited, holding his breath, and finally heard Fenton exhale, very slowly.

Michael had no idea what that meant. Okay, thanks for telling me? Okay, now I know? Okay, you told me, but I’m no longer interested? Okay, that’s great, get lost!? He frowned and took a deep breath.

"Look," he broke the awkward silence, "I want in. I want whoever is behind this, and I don’t think I can do it alone. I want this – I want these creeps in the worst way. Fenton…don’t shut me out."

This time, the breath he heard wasn’t controlled. It was explosive – with good reason.

"NOW you want back in again?" Fenton demanded angrily. "It’s okay for you to leave town, back out, if it’s just MY wife who’s being threatened, as long as YOUR wife is safe, right? Get Erica involved again, and you’re all hot to be in on the action! And I’m supposed to let you, not knowing if you might just pull out again if it suits you – maybe when it’s more dangerous! You can’t do it alone, you say – you need my help…but when I might have needed your help, you weren’t interested!" Fenton pulled in another breath and continued the tirade, his voice escalating in volume. "We’re not playing a game here, Michael! This is a life-and-death situation! This is about as important as it gets – no matter which wife is involved! At this point, I wouldn’t pull out even if Laura wasn’t being threatened. But that doesn’t seem to be the way you operate!" The scathing tone was unmistakable.

Michael Ranson was not used to having people yell at him. He responded in kind.

"Look, Hardy, I’m not all noble, like you! I’m not Mr. Feel-Good, Do-Good, upholding Right for Right’s Sake! I might wish I was – maybe – but I’m not," he snapped. "All I know is that I love my wife very much, and I want to keep her unharmed. I’d rather jump in front of a car, brave a hurricane, take a bullet, even, if it meant keeping her safe. You might say it’s selfish, but I LOVE Erica, and I’m not ashamed of it – nor of anything I might do to keep her from being hurt."

A tense silence ensued, both over the telephone and in the hotel room. Erica sat in her chair, mouth agape as she stared at her husband, amazed by his outburst. Waiting for a reply – any reply – Michael sagged in his chair, breathing hard.

"Well." Fenton finally spoke, but that was the only thing he said. Ranson heard him sigh deeply.

Grudgingly, Ranson heeded his wife’s advice. "Fenton?" he murmured, "I’m…sorry. I’m very sorry. I apologize for my actions – and the things I said. I was way out of line. I promise, I won’t let you down after this."

Another deep sigh came through the receiver. "And I’m supposed to believe that?" Fenton muttered. After another lengthy silence, he continued slowly: "Okay. It’s – I’m sorry too. I was a little hasty. I can’t blame you for wanting to protect your wife. And you’re right – I can’t expect you to take on crime-fighting as a career, Michael."

Relieved beyond measure at the older man’s concession, Ranson lit a cigarette and dragged on it softly, trying to regain his composure. "Where do we go from here?" he asked, when he could speak normally again, "The plan we came up with?"

"Yes," Mr. Hardy replied. "The same plan. I’ve already spoken to Ezra – Police Chief Collig. He’s going to lend me eight officers, including two detectives. He’ll make a statement to the press tonight – privately, I don’t mean he’s calling a press conference, just issuing a press release – that there are suspects in custody. The plan is for Laura to attend a bake sale on Sunday, at Hinsdale Lake Park, and then go for a walk by the lake. There should be plenty of opportunity for these guys to try to grab her, especially as they don’t seem to be too concerned about witnesses. If you want Erica to be there, fine. If YOU want to be in on it, you’ll need to be out of sight – or rather, you’ll need to blend in."