“Hey,” Joe said when Frank entered his hospital room. “I didn’t expect you this morning. What happened to school?”

Frank confessed about trying to get a job at Sampson’s but failing. Joe burst out laughing. “No one can say prayer doesn’t work,” he said once he had quit. “I knew you would try to do something stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid,” Frank argued.

“Without back up it is,” Joe replied with a measure of maturity Frank hadn’t expected from Joe. He was glad to know his brother felt this way. If the situation were reversed, he now knew Joe would not do something stupid. Frank blushed as his thought process registered with his actions of the morning.

“Okay, okay,” Frank said. “It was dumb,” he admitted. “But it’s moot now. Sampson’s not hiring and I’m not sure what to do next.”

“How about just asking Sampson about the knife?” Joe suggested. “If it didn’t come from there he may at least know where it came from.”

“I’ll do that,” Frank said, grinning and getting ready to leave.

“Hold up there, big boy,” Joe halted him. “Not by yourself. Take one of the guys with you.”

“You’re incredibly bossy when you’re an invalid, you know that?” Frank said, scowling at Joe.

“It’s the only time I can get away with it,” Joe retorted, not denying the accusation.

“Where’s mom?” Frank asked. “I thought she would be here.”

“She is,” Laura said, entering the room. “I went to get Joe a magazine in the gift shop. What are you doing here?”

Frank told her about the failed undercover assignment. “Then there is no reason why you shouldn’t be in school today,” she told him.

Frank grimaced. “You’re right,” he agreed as Joe snickered. “I’ll see you this evening,” he promised Joe before leaving.

***

Frank arrived at school before third period. He told Phil about the knife and asked him to accompany him to the hunting and supply store after school. “Sure,” Phil agreed at once. “By the way, I haven’t seen Russell all day and his locker is right beside mine.”

“He can’t hide forever,” Frank stated, his brown eyes hard.

“Chill, man,” Phil cautioned. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“You’re right,” Frank said. “I just wish it wasn’t taking so long.”

“There’s more to it than that,” Phil guessed. “Want to tell me what?”

“It’s my fault this happened,” Frank said. “I should have gone after Joe as soon as he walked away at lunch Friday.”

“Uh-uh,” Phil said, shaking his head. “I want to know what is really bugging you.”

“When Joe was addicted to the heroin, I thought that was the worst that could happen, apart from him dying,” Frank began.

“But?” Phil prodded.

“It’s the LSD,” Frank admitted. “It could come back on him at any time. He could be fifty years old and still have a trip. Russell, Pete and his dad really messed Joe up for good.”

“The odds of a recurrence aren’t all that great,” Phil told him reassuringly. “Only five percent.”

“But the possibility is still there and it scares me to death,” Frank admitted. “I can’t lose Joe,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I need him.”

***

At five till four, Phil and Frank entered Sampson’s Hunting and Supply. “I’ll look around while you ask about the knife,” Phil said.

Frank walked up to the counter. “Can I help you?” asked the young man behind the counter whose nametag identified him as Frankl.

Frank pulled the photograph of the knife from his pocket. “Yes,” Frank replied. “I am trying to find where this knife came from,” he said, handing the picture to Frankl and watching his face closely.

“Afraid I can’t help you,” Frankl said with only a cursory glance at the photo.

“It didn’t come from here?” Frank asked, as Phil walked over to them.

“No. Sorry,” Frankl said. “Is there something else I can help you with?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Phil answered for Frank. “Thank you.”

“I wasn’t finished,” Frank hissed as Phil pulled him away. “I know he has to be involved.”

“And he is,” Phil stated, stopping in front of a display. “He lied.”

Frank looked at the display case in front of them. In it were several different knives with all kinds of handles and sheaths but one area specifically captured his attention. It was a small display that had room for six knives exactly like the one that had been used to stab Joe except one of them was missing!

“Can I help you?” asked Sampson, coming over to where the two youths stood gawking at the knives.

Frank looked up and started to speak but instead of the friendly man of earlier, Sampson’s eyes were hard as he took in the two boys. Phil tugged on Frank’s sleeve to get his attention. Frank turned and looked behind him. Frankl stood behind them with a two-gauge shotgun in his hands. Behind him, Frank could see the sign on the door had been flipped so that the store was now closed. He turned back to the owner.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Sampson said.

“You stabbed my brother,” Frank accused him.

“That would be me,” Frankl bragged, grinning.

“You...” Frank started to jump him but Phil held onto him until Frank calmed down enough to realize if he did, they would both be dead.

“What are we going to do with them?” Frankl asked. “The drug-induced suicide thing won’t work on them.”

“It didn’t work on Joe either,” Frank replied smugly.

“Yet,” Frankl goaded the boy.

“We’ll have to take them with us,” Sampson said. “The guys already have one hostage to dispense with. Two more won’t make that much of a difference.”

Frank and Phil were forced into the back of the store and their hands were tied behind them and gags put over their mouths. “Should we pick up Pete and Walter?” Frankl asked. “It’s kind of obvious they know Joe didn’t try to kill himself.”

“Yeah, dunderhead. I got that,” Sampson said. “Walter is at the docks with the other one,” he continued, referring to the other prisoner. “Let’s pick up Peter and head over there.”

Almost thirty minutes later, Frank and Phil were forced out of the back of Sampson’s van at gunpoint and led onto a boat. Going below, Frank expected to see Russell. He had come to the conclusion that since he had not been mentioned and he was missing, Russell was the other captive Frankl and Sampson had mentioned. The door to the lower cabin opened and Frank stepped down inside, his hands still firmly tied behind his back. Frank froze when he saw the bound and gagged figure of his father lying against the far wall.

“Move it!” Walter ordered, shoving Frank on down. Walter followed Frank into the cabin and Phil and Sampson brought up the rear. “Well, now Hardy. Looks like my son and some friends brought you a present,” he sneered, pushing Frank to the floor beside Fenton. He tied Frank’s feet as Sampson did the same with Phil.

“This has turned into a mess,” Sampson commented.

“I know,” Walter admitted. “All because Joe and his brother had a fight at school.”

“I thought it was because your boy was trying to get Hardy hooked,” Sampson said.

“Why do I bother?” Walter asked, rolling his eyes at Frank. “Yep, kid. It was your fault,” he said, ignoring Sampson and taking great pleasure in seeing the guilt filling Frank’s eyes. “After what Joe went through this summer, I’m surprised you let him hang out with just anyone. Oh yes, Pete told me all about Joe’s being in rehab. Doesn’t take much to get them hooked again, you know?” he continued, his gaze encompassing Fenton now. “Of course, since he was your son, I wanted to put a stop to it. Pete didn’t realize the trouble having your son hanging around could cause, but I did. And I was right. If only Frankl had made sure Joe was dead instead of just stabbing him and taking off, you wouldn’t be here now and we wouldn’t be having to close up shop.”

He stood up. “Bayport had such nice possibilities,” Walter said. “But little Joey ruined that for us. I must remember to thank him,” he added, giving the Hardys and Phil a malevolent smile.