Oh God! After the first shocked reaction, Joe swiftly laid his hand against the side of Frank’s throat, and was reassured to feel warm skin and a strong heartbeat beneath his fingers.

"Frank? Can you hear me? Come on, Frank, wake up, huh?" Very gently, the younger Hardy slipped a hand beneath his brother’s head, tilting it slightly in the flashlight’s beam, searching for further injury. To his consternation, he found a bloody, rapidly-swelling lump on the back of Frank’s head. Somebody knocked him out and then tried to finish him off by strangling him! Or tried to strangle him, and when I interrupted, smashed him in the head!

Joe’s fury and guilt nearly choked him, but he fought down the emotion, knowing Frank needed him. Strangling him—! Suddenly the implication became clear – if this unknown person went around strangling people, it was an almost sure bet that Frank had nearly caught Hurd Applegate’s murderer – caught or had nearly been killed by him! I should never have left him alone to go after that other man – I should have let that guy go – stupid, STUPID, Hardy! He punched the ground hard, next to Frank’s elbow.

After a few seconds, Joe put aside his personal feelings and got practical. His first impulse was to call for an ambulance. He jerked the cell phone from his pocket, where he’d shoved it automatically, and began punching in 9-1-1, but suddenly realized he didn’t dare make the call! He and Frank were working undercover, and were fresh from breaking into a sealed-off crime scene, on a case in which they had been expressly forbidden to interfere. If any information got back to Chief Collig – Joe gritted his teeth in frustration and made a growling sound. What could he do? He gripped Frank’s forearm and kneaded it in his hand. Frank, please wake up! he thought desperately. Wake up, so I know you’re okay!

He noted that Frank was shivering now, even though he was unconscious, so Joe shrugged off his own jacket and tucked it tightly around his brother, trembling himself as the cold breeze danced around his shoulders, stabbing with little pins through his thin pullover shirt. I think he’s going into shock, he thought dismally.

What’s the best plan? Carrying Frank all the way back to their rooms was doable, but not the easiest thing to accomplish. Moving him – especially lugging him in a fireman’s carry – might not be a good idea, and what if someone saw him? I could move the car down here! Joe thought exultantly. I’ll just drive the Saturn as close as possible, and put him in the back and take him back to the bed-and-breakfast….

A second sobering thought halted him. He felt in his pocket, hoping against hope that he really did have his set of car keys with him – and came up empty. Then he lifted his jacket and checked Frank’s pockets – no keys. It would take too long, he realized, to walk back to the B&B, get the keys from Frank’s room, drive the car back – and he didn’t dare leave Frank alone there in the dark woods – helpless, should the attacker decide to return.

After another moment’s thought, he opened the cell phone again and scrolled down the list of numbers, looking for inspiration – and inspiration was what he found. Thank God I programmed Con’s number in! He punched the buttons with shaking fingers.

"H’lo?" Con’s crisp voice answered on the third ring.

"Con? It’s Joe – we’ve had some trouble." His hand strayed downward to rest on Frank’s arm again. "Can you come?"

*****

Ten minutes later, Joe heard the low thrum of a car motor approaching on the street nearest the little woods. The headlights swept over the trees, and the younger Hardy heard the car stop, then the engine was turned off.

He’d never been so glad to hear a car coming in his life! Twice while he was waiting he’d been convinced that someone was watching him – them. He even thought he’d heard a twig snap under someone’s foot at one point. He’d grabbed a sturdy branch that was just within reach, and laid it across his lap, just in case he needed it in a hurry.

While he waited, Joe had anxiously tried to rouse his brother, but his whispered encouragements seemed to have little effect. Although Frank’s eyes had flickered open a time or two, he’d almost immediately lapsed again into unconsciousness.

Quickly, he got to his feet from where he had been crouching beside Frank, and walked to the edge of the beltline of trees. He flicked on his flashlight and waved it towards the parked car.

"Where are you, Kiddo?" Never had Con Riley’s voice sounded so welcome.

"Over here!" Joe called, and beckoned with the light once more. In just a few moments, the policeman’s sturdy figure was beside him. "He’s right back here," Joe said, and led the way.

"He’s still unconscious?" Con asked, surprised and shaken. He dropped quickly beside Frank and looked him over with considerable concern, in the soft beam of Joe’s flashlight.

"He’s been drifting in and out for the past few minutes." Joe explained wearily. "But he hasn’t really come to, completely."

"Whew!" Riley whistled softly as he surveyed Frank’s discolored throat. "It looks like you got to him just in time!"

"I know." Joe shuddered at the thought of what would have occurred, had he been just a little slower in returning to find his brother. He felt like a kid again, being bailed out by a responsible adult. Retrieving his jacket, he quickly pulled it on over his cold arms.

"I’d really rather not move him, but we don’t have a choice in the matter." Con muttered. "Where are we taking him?" he asked then, bending down and slipping his hands beneath Frank’s shoulders.

"To that little bed and breakfast just across the road and up the block a little way."

Very gently, the two men lifted Frank’s limp body and carried it between them towards Con’s car, where they laid him on the back seat. Joe hunkered down on the floor next to him, and Con drove as rapidly as possible to their lodging.

Luckily, at that hour, no one was about to notice their arrival; Con and Joe, supporting Frank between them as if he’d been dragged home from a fraternity ‘kegger,’ made it to Frank’s room without incident. Joe realized they were tracking mud from the woods into the house, but could do nothing about it then; he hoped Mrs. Bennett wouldn’t mind too terribly much.

They stretched Frank out on his bed, and Joe removed his brother’s boots and jacket, then covered him with a blanket. He kicked off his own sneakers in a belated attempt to stop tracking dirt around. Con pulled a chair close to the bedside and sat down, watching the elder Hardy with concern.

Frank turned his head slightly and groaned. His eyelids fluttered a bit, then were still again.

"Frank?" Joe leaned over him, and spoke in a hesitant voice. "Frank, it’s Joe – wake up, bro…come on back to us."

Frank’s lips twitched, and a frown creased his forehead. "Joe…." he whispered, the single word rasping and barely audible. He didn’t open his eyes. "Joe?" he repeated, then groaned again. "It hurts…."

"What does?" Joe gripped his brother’s hand firmly, trying to will him back to full awareness. "What hurts, pal?"

"My…head…and…." Frank tried to swallow and grimaced in pain. "…my throat." Slowly, the dark eyelashes lifted, and the elder Hardy gazed upwards at his brother. "What…happened?" he asked.

"You got hit on the head," Joe explained gently. "And whoever hit you also tried to choke you to death. Your throat’s pretty badly bruised. That’s why it hurts."

"…don’t remember…." Frank’s ragged voice trailed off into painful silence. Joe cast an anguished look at Con Riley. This was more serious than a simple knock on the head!

"What do you remember?" Joe tried again. Frank blinked at him dazedly for a moment, then squeezed his eyes shut, as if the action would help his memory.

"Crouching in the utility room – about to go through…window." he murmured, finally. "After that – nothing." He winced and put a hand hesitantly to his throat. "I don’t know who—"

"Do you remember the guy at the window?"

Frank’s eyes opened wide. "A guy? No, don’t remember – what guy? Who?" He was starting to get agitated.

"It’s okay," Joe hastened to reassure him and squeezed his hand. "It’ll come back to you, maybe – and if it doesn’t, that’s okay too. Just take it easy." He threw another worried look in Con’s direction.

"Killer headache—" Frank croaked. He gingerly turned his head on the pillow, and started in shock at the sight of Con Riley sitting beside the bed. "Con? What’re you doing here?"

"Joe called me," the lieutenant replied quietly. "He couldn’t get you back here by himself. And I think it’s a good thing I came – whoever you went up against, he plays rough! You were unconscious for a long time; that head injury might be serious, Frank."

"I’ll be okay," the elder Hardy muttered. "It’s just – one more knock on the head – that’s all." He made a feeble effort to sit up, which Con hastily forestalled by placing a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"Need bathroom – now!" Frank insisted weakly, and attempted to get up again, pushing in frustration at the blanket covering him.

"Okay, okay – I’ll help you." Joe said, and helped the elder Hardy up onto his unsteady feet. They had only taken a few steps, however, when Frank’s knees gave way, nearly bringing them both to the floor. "Whoa!" Joe exclaimed; he staggered, caught his balance, and tightened his arm about Frank’s waist.

Con ran around the bed and took Frank’s other side.

"I’m okay, just get me to the bathroom," Frank insisted softly, and forced his shaky legs to obey his will.

Joe and Con finally got him through the door and into the small room. No sooner were they in front of the toilet bowl than Frank released his hold on them, sank onto his knees, and vomited violently.

Joe turned angrily on Con. "I don’t care about your stupid reputation or whether you’ll get into trouble!" he snarled. "If my brother gets any worse, I’m calling an ambulance!"

Con stared back, shocked. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

Frank coughed painfully a couple of times and sat back. "Water – can someone get me some water?" he rasped.

"Sure, Frank." Con answered, finding his voice again. He filled a glass that was next to the sink, and held it to Frank’s lips while he sipped.

Still glaring at Riley, Joe interposed a question. "Do you think you could manage to swallow some aspirin?" He had rummaged through Frank’s shaving kit, and now held up a small bottle of pain reliever.

Frank winced again. "Maybe. I’ll try."

Getting the pain pills down his ravaged throat was torture, but the elder Hardy managed to swallow a couple, and submitted to having a cold compress applied to the swollen bump on the back of his head. Then his eyes slowly closed and his head dropped forward.

Joe immediately panicked. "All right, that’s enough. I’m phoning for an ambulance." He started for the door.

Frank lifted his head again and glared as best he could towards his brother’s retreating back. "No!"

Joe stopped in his tracks.

"I’m okay, I’m just resting a minute; this headache’s a killer." Frank growled. "Now stop firing off at the hip. If you phone an ambulance, all sorts of questions will be asked – we’ll all get in trouble – we couldn’t help Dad then." He swallowed hard and winced at the effort it had taken to make that short speech, putting his hand to his throat. "Help me get back to bed." he finally requested, and pushed himself to his knees.

A few minutes later he was settled in relative comfort against the pillows again. Joe and Con drew chairs close the bed, and the three of them turned their attention to the evening’s events.

*****

"We noticed that there was something missing; something that had been sitting on the fireplace mantel…." Joe was relating their discoveries at Hurd Applegate’s house to the attentive lieutenant. "…like a picture, or something. And then we found this, caught in the hem of one of the drapes." He reached into his jacket pocket and produced the Zippo lighter. It’s a good thing I had this, instead of Frank! he realized suddenly. Whoever hit him and choked him would have surely found it!

"Let’s see it," Riley requested, extending his hand for the little object. Joe handed it over, and while Con examined the lighter, turned his attention to Frank.

The elder Hardy was tucked into his bed, propped up on two pillows. He had taken little part in the recent conversation, giving Joe the opportunity to tell what had happened to him, as well as what had taken place at the actual crime scene, but he had been listening. When he noticed Joe’s anxious stare he smiled reassuringly, but his eyelids drooped heavily, and he appeared to be on the verge of falling asleep.

"You okay?" Joe murmured. "Maybe you shouldn’t go to sleep just yet, if you can manage to stay awake…they say with head injuries—"

Frank yawned widely, then flinched at the resultant pain. "Can’t help it – can’t seem to keep my eyes open." he replied huskily. "I know what you’re thinking…but I’m not slipping—" he yawned again. "—into a coma. I’m just tired."

"Joe, did you two look closely at this?" Lt. Riley looked up from his examination of the lighter. "It’s got some sort of emblem on it – and what looks like initials, scratched on the bottom."

Joe leaned to take a closer look, and even Frank evinced some interest, although the older boy’s eyes slid shut again almost immediately. "What emblem? I mean, what’s it of?"

"Well, I’m not up on this stuff, but it looks like some sort of military crest." Con indicated the graceful swirled wings, surmounted by a star within a circle. "I can probably find out by checking around, though."

Joe glanced at his brother again, a little disconcerted to find him apparently asleep. "Do you think he’s okay?" he whispered.

Riley gave him a reassuring nod. "He has some concussion symptoms – you probably know them as well as I do – the dizziness, nausea, short-term memory loss…but I think he’ll be a lot better after a night’s sleep." He gazed thoughtfully at Joe. "You could do with some sleep yourself, you know."

"I don’t want to leave him alone." Joe admitted with some slight embarrassment.

The police officer sighed and smiled. "Okay, how’s this? I’ll stay here and keep an eye on Frank, and you go catch a nap in your own room?"

Joe shook his head stubbornly. "I’ll stay with him." He glanced hopefully at Riley. "You could sleep in my bed, if you wanted to." He found himself yawning just as Frank had, and jerked himself back to wakefulness. "Do you have to get to work early?"

"No, I’ve got tomorrow off." Con said. He grinned a little and continued: "I didn’t come planning to spend the night, you know!"

"I know." Joe agreed. "But if you do, maybe Frank will be more alert in the morning, and we can go over things again, with his input. So go ahead." He pointed towards the door. "Take my room; it’s right across the hall, and it’s unlocked. I’ll stay here with Frank. I can catch some Z’s in this chair."

Riley stood up, still fingering the lighter with its distinctive crest. "I think I’ll spend a little time checking on this, if you don’t mind me using Frank’s computer." He gestured towards the laptop Frank had set atop the dresser. "I’ll take it into your room, though."

"Go ahead." Joe gave permission. He grinned, one of the few smiles which had touched his lips since he’d found Frank in the woods. "Don’t stay up all night playing on the Internet, Con!" he warned.

The lieutenant gave him an eloquent look, but merely said "See you in the morning," and exited the room, taking the laptop with him.