“Frank!” Laura screamed, rushing to his side.

Frank moaned and started to rise but Laura applied gentle pressure to his shoulder. “Stay still, honey,” she ordered. “I’ll call an ambulance.”

“No,” Frank said, turning his head to look up at her with a faint smile. “I just got the wind knocked out of me, but I’m all right.”

“Laura! Frank!” shouted Tom Anderson, one of their neighbors, as he came running up to them. “Were either of you hurt?”

“No,” Laura replied, although she did cast a glance at Frank as he got to his feet.

“I called 911,” Tom told them just before the sound of sirens ripped the night air. “Is there anything else I can do?”

“No,” Laura answered. “But thank you.”

“Mr. Anderson,” Frank said before the man could leave. “You didn’t by any chance see anyone around the van in the past half an hour or so, did you?”

“Afraid not,” Tom answered before returning to his own home.

“Frank!” Laura exclaimed, remembering why she had stopped him in the first place. “Your father’s on the phone. He wanted to talk to you.”

Frank rushed inside and picked up the phone. “Dad?”

“Son! Are you all right? What happened? I heard an explosion,” Fenton exclaimed in a frantic voice.

“Relax,” Frank said. “Mom and I are both okay. Someone put a bomb in the van,” he explained. “I guess it was triggered when the door closed. It was a good thing you wanted to talk to me,” he ended, realizing how close he had been to being in the van.

“I was going to start another case but maybe I should come home instead,” Fenton said, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Frank opened his mouth to tell him it wasn’t necessary then remembered where Joe was. “If you could, it would probably be for the best,” Frank said finally.

“What’s wrong?” Fenton demanded, picking up on the concern in Frank’s tone.

“I’ll tell you when you get home,” Frank promised. “But you aren’t going to like it,” he added.

“Tell me now,” Fenton commanded.

“No,” Frank refused. “You really need to take this one sitting down.”

“Fine,” Fenton said in defeat. “I’ll be home by the day after tomorrow,” he promised. “It will take me that long to tie up the loose ends on this case,” he explained before hanging up.

Frank dialed the Sorrel’s number and asked to speak to Joe. “Joe, I’m going to be a little late picking you up,” Frank said when Joe came on the line. “Will you be all right?”

“I’ll be fine,” Joe replied, frowning. Roxton had brought the phone into the living room so Joe had to be careful of what he said. “Why?”

“Someone planted a bomb in the van,” Frank said. “It went off when the door was shut.”

“Are you all right? Mom?” Joe demanded his face ashen.

“What’s wrong?” Marie demanded. Joe held up a hand to silence her so he could hear Frank.

“Dad called and wanted to speak to me as I was getting ready to leave,” Frank explained. “I pushed the door shut as I headed back in. Mom and I are both fine but the van is a write-off.”

“Forget the van!” Joe snapped. “Look, don’t worry about me. I’ll take a cab. I know you’ll have to wait for the police and file a report.”

“No need,” Nelson said. “I’ll drop you off, that is, if you don’t mind waiting until around eleven to leave?”

“Thank you,” Joe accepted the offer, concern for his brother robbing him of his common sense. “Just stay put,” he said to Frank. “I’ll be home a little after eleven.”

“Joe...” Frank’s voice held a hint of alarm and a heavy dose of concern as he began to object but his mother opened the door and told him the police were there.

Hearing his mom, Joe quickly told Frank goodbye and hung up. “What happened?” Marie demanded.

Joe told everyone assembled about the bomb. “Oh, no,” Marie gasped. “You seemed so proud of that van.”

“I was,” Joe admitted. “I did most of the customizing.”

***

Frank was sitting on the porch swing when a navy blue Lexus pulled into the driveway. He watched as Joe opened the passenger door and got out. He was more than a little angry when he heard Joe laughing before bidding the driver goodnight.

Joe walked up to the steps as the car backed out and drove away. “Oh, hey,” Joe said, catching sight of Frank. “Are you okay?” he asked, concerned when he saw a particularly nasty cut along Frank's jaw from where he had hit the steps when the bomb exploded.

“Do you care?” Frank snapped.

“What is your problem?” Joe demanded at the affront.

“My problem is that you’re hanging out with the people who just tried to kill me!” Frank shouted.

“Keep your voice down,” Joe hissed. “You want to wake the whole neighborhood? And for the record,” he continued angrily, “you have no proof that it was Sorrel’s men who planted the bomb. In case you had forgotten, we do have another suspect.”

“You’re just so wrapped up in Sorrel’s daughter you can’t see what’s staring you in the face!” Frank accused him. “I honestly believe you care more about her than you do me!”

“At least she doesn’t demand I choose!” Joe retorted, turning around and going inside, leaving Frank standing alone in the stale night air.

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors 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.