"Frank? You awake?"

An incomprehensible croak from inside the room answered him, and he involuntarily winced at how sore the grunt sounded. After a few seconds he heard shuffling footsteps approaching the door.

"Sorry, but Con said—" his brother began to apologize as Joe entered.

"I know, I know…." Joe plopped down on the bed. "How you feeling now?"

"Better." Frank admitted, slumping down into the armchair. "But tired of being cooped up here. Tired of being in bed. Tired of feeling useless. Tired of—"

"Enough!" Joe protested, laughing. "I get the message, already!" He noted that although Frank still looked somewhat pale, his brother appeared to be on the mend, his eyes bright and alert once more. "Here." He tossed the plastic bag he’d been carrying in Frank’s direction. "Don’t say I never buy you anything."

"What’s this?" Frank automatically caught the sack – there was nothing wrong with his reflexes now – but frowned in bewilderment. Curiously, he reached into the bag and withdrew the contents. Joe watched him, blue eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Oh, man…." Frank stared at the two soft turtleneck shirts in his hands. One was black, the other charcoal gray. Unconsciously, one hand sought out his bruised throat. "Joe…thanks…."

"Don’t get all sappy; I intend on borrowing them." Joe quipped, and then leaned forward, anxious to share his news. "Wait till you hear what happened to me today!"

Frank laid the shirts in his lap, and tried to give Joe his full attention, but his eyes occasionally strayed back to the unexpected gift.

"I had a very strange encounter at one of the surplus stores, bro!"

"Such as?"

Joe proceeded to recount to his brother the conversation he’d had with the store keeper, and the sudden appearance of the tall stranger – the stranger who had been wearing Frank’s baseball cap! This announcement caused Frank’s eyes to widen with renewed interest, and he temporarily forgot about the turtlenecks. "I lost him, when he jumped on a bus, though." Joe mourned. "There’s no telling where he went!"

"Did you get a better look at him this time?"

"Kinda…actually…now that I think about it, not really. I only saw his face in one of those circular security mirrors – the kind that stretch reflections in order to show the whole room." Joe stood up and began to pace, restlessly. "I don’t know what it was, his eyes – the way he held himself – something about him seems…familiar to me!"

Frank raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Are you imagining things again? First the phantom figure in the thunderstorm, and now you know this guy? I’m the one who took the knock on the head, and you sound loopier than I do!"

"Don’t look at me like I’m nuts!" Joe said defensively. "Trust my instincts once in a while, huh? – not everything is facts and figures!"

Frank didn’t reply in words; he merely kept his speculative gaze fixed on Joe, who finally realized he wasn’t going to concede the point.

"Okay," he admitted, "maybe not ‘know’ exactly, but …" He sat down again, and thought for a while. "I don’t know…" he said finally. "I’m not sure why, but I feel like I’ve met him somewhere before." He shrugged. "Doesn’t matter, it’ll come to me." Suddenly, he slapped his thigh in frustration. "Darn it! I forgot to get the name of the engraver! The store guy said he’d tell me – darn it!"

"Call him and ask." was Frank’s rasped advice.

Joe nodded, and reached for the telephone directory in the nightstand drawer. He’d just located the number and was dialing when another tap sounded on the door.

"Who is it?" Frank asked guardedly, and dropped the pullovers on the dresser before cautiously approaching the door.

"Con Riley." came the reply. Frank quickly swung the door wide and admitted the police officer. Joe waved a hand and returned his attention to the phone, which had just been answered. The familiar voice of the man he’d spoken to earlier rang in his ears.

Con and Frank sat down quietly and listened in on Joe’s conversation. For a few minutes, the only things they heard Joe say were "uh-huh," and "yes," and "oh, really?" Then he said: "Uh – uh, is that right? He did? No – um, I’m not sure, but – I’ll ask him, when I get a chance…." Joe’s eyes flicked across the room to Frank, and he raised an eyebrow. "The reason I called is, he forgot to get the name of the engraver for me…yes, that’s right. Yes, go ahead—" Joe was scribbling rapidly on a piece of paper as he listened, the receiver encased between his chin and shoulder. "—right. Got it. Thanks very much….Yes, if I find out, I’ll let you know. Goodbye."

The younger Hardy slowly hung up the phone, an extremely bemused expression on his face.

"What is it?" Con asked.

"He said my friend came back to ask about the lighter. The guy liked his coat – he wants to find one for his son—"

"Huh?" Frank scowled at this rambling commentary. "What are you talking about?"

Joe sighed and started over. "The owner of the store – he has a son who’s tall, like my ‘friend,’ and he wondered where my ‘friend’ got the full-length coat he was wearing….My ‘friend,’ who returned to the store after we both left, and was asking about the lighter for me…."

"What friend?" Riley demanded, but Frank, remembering Joe’s unexpected meeting with the tall stranger, gasped in comprehension.

"The guy Joe chased last night, that dove into the Bay." he translated to Con. "Joe encountered him today, at the army surplus store; the guy ran away when Joe tried to talk to him." He turned to his brother, needing clarification. "Are you saying that he went back to the store after you left, and questioned the clerk about you and the lighter?"

Joe nodded, and then growled at Con: "…and he was wearing Frank’s baseball cap, the one he was wearing yesterday when he was attacked – he must have followed me back to the woods last night, after he jumped into the water!" An angry scowl contorted his features.

"Why would he be checking up on you two?" The lieutenant frowned in thought. "No one knew you would have an interest in the Applegate homicide until two days ago, when Fenton was arrested."

"Maybe it’s someone who’s also interested in the murderer…?" Frank hazarded a guess. He sighed. "That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, does it?" he admitted. "Whatever the reason, now he probably knows as much as we do about the lighter." He turned to Joe. "Maybe we should go back to the woods and check it out?"

"That’s a good idea."

"It makes as much sense as anything else about this case does." Riley said gloomily. Standing up and reaching into his coat pocket, he withdrew a squareish silver object. "I have a proposition for you, Frank. I’d like to take some photos of those bruises on your throat, if you don’t mind."

Frank grimaced. "Now that’s a strange request. Why would you want pictures of my neck?" He glanced over at his younger brother, who was grinning evilly. "Don’t go there, Joe…." he warned.

"I want to compare them with the bruise patterns on Hurd Applegate’s throat in his autopsy photos." Riley stated bluntly. "If they’re similar – well…"

Joe had stopped grinning. "That’s gruesome – but really smart." he observed.

Frank sighed, but moved to take his t-shirt off. "I agree with Joe; it’s gruesome, but let’s go ahead and do it." He sat patiently while Riley squatted and snapped several digital photos from various angles and distances. When the lieutenant finished, he returned the camera to his coat pocket and picked up the packet of papers he had brought with him.

Riley waited for Frank to pull his t-shirt on again, so as to have his full attention before outlining the second reason for his unexpected visit. "I have everything lined up for your ‘work experience,’ Frank." he said. "You can start tomorrow, or Monday, whichever you’d prefer. Here’s all the information I could get about it, to give you some background."

Frank accepted the envelope and slipped it under his pillow. "Thanks, I’ll take a look at it later." he said.

Joe, meanwhile, was dialing on his cell phone. "I wanted to check in with Mom—" he told Frank, who had lifted an enquiring eyebrow at his actions. "Mom? Hi, it’s me – we just wanted to make sure everything was okay over there."

After a few minutes of conversation, Joe ended the call and turned to the other two. "Mom wants us to have dinner at home," he said. "She said Andrea and the girls are there; Andrea’s spending a few days with Mom."

"Sounds good; I’m starved." Frank said. He reached for the black turtleneck. "I can wear this to cover up the bruises."

"You won’t be able to keep last night from Mom or Megan, you know that," Joe chuckled.

" ‘Andrea,’ " Con said. "Is that Andrea Bender?"

"That’s right," Frank said absently, removing the price tag from his new shirt.

"She’s nice – I mean…that’s nice of her, to stay with your mother." Con commented. He got to his feet. "I’ve been thinking, maybe I should swing by your place and see how An – how your mother’s doing. Maybe I’ll do that, on my way home. Glad you’re feeling better, Frank. I’ll talk to you both later." He was out the door before either Frank or Joe could say anything more than a startled ‘goodbye’.

"Con! Wait a minute!" Joe shot out the door in pursuit, and caught up with Riley at the top of the staircase. "Tell Mom we’ll be there in about an hour, okay? We’re going to go over to the woods and see if we can find any clues, where Frank was hit last night."

Riley nodded. "Okay, I will." He turned hurriedly to depart once more.

"And—" Joe put out a detaining hand to halt him again. "Con, remember to go into the back door, at the house, huh? You don’t want to be seen."

"Oh – good thought." the lieutenant admitted. "Okay, I’ll see you later."

Joe returned to Frank’s room, and found his brother had changed into clean jeans as well as the black turtleneck, which successfully hid the purple marks on his throat. He was examining his mud-caked boots with some distaste, picking leaves out of the tread on the bottoms before donning them. Finally dressed, Frank set about carefully combing his dark hair before the mirror, wincing as the action disturbed the bump on the back of his skull.

"A funny thought just occurred to me," Joe began, perching on the edge of Frank’s bed. "Did you think Con acted awfully odd when Andrea’s name was mentioned?"

"Didn’t think about it," Frank mumbled absently.

"Frank – you don’t suppose Con – well – likes Vanessa’s mom, do you?"

Frank stopped brushing, the comb still embedded in his hair. Blue eyes met dark ones in a long look in the mirror. Then, two voices sounded as one:

"Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

*****

Frank was digging through the pockets of his jacket with frustration. "Where the hell are my car keys? I know I put them here; I didn’t imagine it – Joe, did you take my keys?" he asked, finally.

"Nope, I brought my own set." Joe answered him. "Did you check your overnight bag?"

"Yes, but I know I had them in my jacket pocket." Frank frowned, and brushed ineffectually at the muddy streaks covering his jacket. "Yuck, this needs to be washed." he muttered, and hastened toward the bathroom.

"Thinking about it, I couldn’t find them in your jacket last night." Joe recalled. "I figured you’d left them here."

"No, I had them with me," Frank asserted firmly from the doorway, as he rubbed at the dirt patches on his jacket with a dampened washcloth. "But they’re gone now." A thought struck him, and he dropped the cloth to rummage hopefully through his shaving kit, shaking his head when no keys were found.

Joe scowled in thought. "Maybe they fell out of your pocket when you were attacked in the woods." he ventured.

"Or perhaps they were taken by the guy who banged me over the head – or your ‘friend’." Frank offered, somewhat gloomily, as he switched off the bathroom light and returned to the bedroom.

"Either way, all the more reason to go back to the woods."

Wasting no more time, the two locked their rooms, then hurried down the stairs and outside.

Using Joe’s keys to the Saturn, the Hardys drove as close as possible to the little woods, then got out and paced into the trees, trying to find the exact spot where Frank had been attacked. As the trees were away from Mr. Applegate’s house, they saw no reason for any attempt at concealment.

Although they were there to search the area, Frank stood and stared about blankly in confusion for the first few minutes, trying to remember being there the night before, but coming up blank. It took a reminder from Joe as to why there were there, to get him down to work.

Although Joe was certain this was the place, fifteen fruitless minutes of searching turned up absolutely nothing in the way of car keys. At last, Frank leaned thoughtfully against a tree. He was beginning to feel fatigued again, but ignored the sensation. "Joe, do you realize that not only am I missing my car keys and my hat, my penlight’s gone too?" he noted. "I always keep it in my jeans pocket, and it wasn’t there when I changed."

Joe stared at him a moment, then suddenly looked at the ground again, evidently in search of something else.

"Last night I picked up a stick," he muttered. "It was fairly good-sized, and I wanted it for protection while I waited for Con. It ought to be here – and it isn’t. I’m sure I’d recognize it if I saw it."

"Why would a stick be gone?" Frank queried. "I guess I can see someone taking my hat, and my light, and my keys – but a stick?"

Joe frowned in thought. "A person who hit you over the head with a stick might come back and take it away." he said at last.

"Now that’s an unsettling thought," his brother replied. "We should make a quick stop by Hurd’s house and put the window screen back up before someone notices. Maybe I dropped the stuff when I went out the window."

"Okay, but let’s stay out of sight as much as possible. It’s still light."

Accordingly, the two proceeded back to the Applegate house, and stealthily made their way to the utility room window. A hasty search turned up no sign of Frank’s hat, keys, or penlight anywhere around, and to their complete amazement, they found the window was tightly shut, and the screen had been replaced!