When Frank awoke the next morning he went into Joe’s room to apologize for his outburst the night before. Joe didn't know it had been one of Sorrel’s men following them the previous day and his accusation at Joe had been completely unfounded. He knew in a pinch that Joe would choose him over Marie. Forcing Joe to choose without all the facts was beneath him and Frank felt like an utter heel.

Frank stopped in the doorway of Joe’s room in surprise. The bed was rumpled, proving Joe had made it in a hurry, but other than that, there was no evidence Joe had even been here last night.

Frank headed downstairs. “Good morning,” Laura said as Frank entered the kitchen. “Sit down,” she instructed. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

“Where’s Joe?” Frank asked, taking a seat.

“He had a bowl of cereal earlier,” his mother informed him. “He said he needed to get to school early.”

Frank tried to find Joe at school but he kept missing him. He was starting to think that maybe Joe was avoiding him. Can you blame him? his subconscious asked.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Callie demanded, catching him with a guilty look on his face.

“What isn’t?” Frank replied with a sigh. “The van’s gone; Joe’s mad at me; and the person who stole the Renoir has Joe in his corner.”

“You’ll have to explain that one, pal,” Phil commented as he, Chet, and Biff joined Frank and Callie at the lunch table.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Phil begged when Frank had finished telling them about what was going on. “But even though we all know a pretty girl can turn Joe’s head, he’s never allowed that to interfere if he thought her family might be involved in something.”

Frank thought back to a case they had solved down south where Joe’s girlfriend’s father had murdered someone and even lured Joe to the House of Mirrors during a downpour to kill him. Joe still kept in touch with her even though Joe, and he, had given testimony to send him to prison. “I guess it’s possible Sorrel could be innocent of this crime,” Frank finally admitted.

***

Joe had arrived at school early so he could go to the computer room. Frank was sure Sorrel was guilty but Joe was equally sure he wasn’t. Apparently, he was going to have to prove it by finding the real thief. Joe ran a search on Langley. As far as he knew, Langley was their only suspect. Or was he? Joe asked himself. Who had access to the painting besides the guards and cleaning staff? “Benson,” Joe said the name out loud.

“Blast it!” Joe cursed a few minutes later. He wasn’t getting anywhere. He needed his father’s passwords. He logged off and headed for his homeroom.

“Joe!” shouted Mr. Temple as he was heading to lunch three hours later. Joe stopped and turned around. When the path had cleared of the multitude of students, Joe made his way to his trigonometry teacher.

“Is something wrong?” Joe asked.

“Yes,” Mr. Temple replied. “I gave a quiz last week and I can’t find yours.”

“The one on chapter three?” Joe asked.

“That’s the one,” Temple acknowledged. “I know you were in class that day but...” he spread his hands.

“You want me to take the test again?” Joe asked, frowning.

“I’m afraid so,” admitted Temple.

“Maybe it got stuck to one of the other tests,” Joe suggested, not wanting to suffer through another exam. “You did have a hard time separating the sheets.”

“Would you mind helping me look for it?” Temple asked.

“Beats taking the test again,” Joe agreed at once.

“Here it is.” Temple called out twenty minutes later. “It was stuck to Shelia’s exam. I’m sorry to have put you through this.”

“No problem,” Joe said, giving the teacher a laid-back smile. Joe departed, thinking it was a miracle Temple didn’t lose more exams. Instead of keeping the material separated by classes as he had seen other teachers do, Temple kept an entire week’s worth of material for all his classes in a single section. Of course, he was new. Joe had heard Lonnie Temple had just gotten his degree and become certified to teach over the summer. He obviously had some learning of his own to do.

The bell announcing the end of lunch rang and with a grimace, Joe headed for his locker to get the book he needed for his next class.

Joe took his seat in study hall, his last class of the day, and pulled out his trig book. He hated homework and always did his best to get it finished during study hall.

“Hey,” whispered Jeff Turner. Joe looked up at his fellow teammate who was leaning toward him while the teacher was talking with one of the students. “Practice is canceled,” Jeff told Joe. “I saw the coach twist his ankle before last period.”

“Is it a bad sprain?” Joe whispered back.

“Don’t know,” Jeff replied softly. “But the vice-principal was taking him to the hospital for an X-ray.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” Joe whispered.

As the class neared its end, the PA system came on with the usual end of the day announcements. The last announcement canceled practice but said it would be held the next day.

Good, Joe thought. I want to talk to Langley about Benson. Joe frowned. He wished Frank weren’t mad at him but until he could prove Sorrel didn’t steal the painting he doubted Frank would be in a cooperative mood which meant he wouldn’t want to follow up on Joe’s new suspect. But still, Joe thought. I can’t just take off without telling someone where I’m going.

After the final bell rang, Joe headed for the payphone in the cafeteria. He called home and told his mother he was going over to Langley’s but would be home in time for dinner.

Laura realized Joe and Frank must have had a falling out but Fenton had always insisted on letting the boys work out their own problems. So, with a heartfelt sigh, Laura told Joe to be careful before hanging up.

Joe rode his bike out to Langley’s house but although his car was in the driveway, no one came to the door. Frustrated, Joe returned to his bike and headed home.

Maybe it was a good thing Langley wasn’t home, Joe thought as he hit the highway. He really needed Frank to help him with the questioning. Frank could keep him occupied while he looked around. But how am I going to get Frank to stop suspecting Marie’s dad long enough to help?

Joe glanced behind him as he heard a car approaching. His eyes widened when he saw the driver wearing a ski mask. Joe pushed his bike to the limit and prayed he could make the next exit before the driver could force him off the road and over the guardrail.

Yes! Joe thought as he took the exit at a steady clip. The pale green coupe slowed as it took the exit ramp giving Joe a little space.

Back on a country road, Joe turned east. If he could reach town, he could lose his attacker, he thought, glancing back. Joe rounded the next curve at high speed. “Oh crap,” he muttered as he turned his bike sideways and slid into a roadblock. He had been paying too much attention to his attacker to notice the warning sign before the curve.

The driver of the coupe had slowed down but when Joe tried to sit up the driver decided to finish Joe off. Pinned beneath his bike, Joe watched helplessly as the car came straight at him.

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.