“We like it,” Pete agreed, leading the way up the walk. He pulled out his keys and unlocked the front door. Ushering Joe and Russ inside, he closed the door behind them.

“You seen the new Gundam series yet?” Russ asked, flipping on the television in the spacious living room.

“No,” Joe replied. “But I loved the GW Mobile Suit series. Duo was radical!”

“No man, Heero was tops,” Pete argued. “He had that whole loner thing going.”

“True, but Duo was outgoing and witty and,” Joe added smiling broadly, “he had that super long braid and called himself the God of Death.”

“He’s got you there pal,” Russ said.

“So he does,” Pete admitted. “I’ll grab some brownies and soda,” he said. “The show doesn’t start for a few more minutes.”

Half an hour later, Joe was laughing uproariously. “That was the worst Gundam I’ve ever seen,” he sputtered.

“I have to admit, it was pretty bad,” Pete said. “But it sure was funny.”

“You ain’t just whistling Dixie, my friend,” Russ agreed, reaching for the last brownie.

“Hello,” came a new voice in the mix. Joe looked over to where the speaker stood. He wasn’t very tall, topping out at five foot six, but he was stout, weighing in at about two hundred pounds. He had a kind of presence about him that demanded respect and Joe stood up as he came further into the living room.

“Joe, this is my dad, Walter,” Pete introduced him. “Dad, this is Joe Hardy. He’s in one of my classes at school.”

Walter looked at Joe through wire lenses that clearly showed his beady green eyes. His hair was thin and straight and combed over to the left side although several locks fell down to almost cover his forehead. “It’s nice to meet you, Joe,” Walter greeted him. “Hardy, huh?” he asked, tilting his head to one side as he gazed at the flushed youth before him. “Any relation to Fenton Hardy?”

“He’s my father,” Joe admitted.

Walter’s lips tightened a fraction and he nodded his head in acknowledgement of the answer. “I’m just going to go start dinner,” Walter said. “Would you two like to join us?” he asked Russell and Joe.

“Yes,” Russell agreed at once.

“I’ll have to call home,” Joe said.

“Fine,” Walter said. “Pete, why don’t you help me with dinner?”

Pete followed his father into the kitchen. “How could you?” Walter hissed at Pete as soon as they were safely out of earshot. “That is Fenton Hardy’s son!”

“I know,” Pete said. “But I heard he was in rehab over the summer.”

“What?” Walter demanded in surprise, then shook his head. “He was probably working on a case for his dad,” he continued.

“No,” Pete insisted. “He was kidnapped and while he was held captive, he was given heroin. He became addicted.”

“I still don’t like it,” Walter said. “It’s too dangerous.”

“You said I should look for guys who seemed like loners or who were having problems with their family,” Pete pointed out. “Joe and his brother had just had a fight. He was really down.”

Walter scowled. He had told Pete that but this was one of Hardy’s sons for crying out loud! “Look, he’s already had about a dozen brownies today,” Pete continued. “All laced with weed,” he added. “He’s high and he doesn’t even realize it. It won’t take much to get him into something else that will make him come back for more.”

“No,” Walter objected. “I refuse to take that kind of risk.”

“Then what are we going to do?” Pete asked his dad. “Joe will get suspicious if I just stop being his friend after I’ve tried so hard today.”

“We’ll feed him,” Walter decided after a moment’s thought. He looked Pete in the eyes. “Did he drive here?” Pete shook his head. “Good, he’ll be walking home. We’ll give him a little something to play with his mind and then have someone take him out on his way home.”