“Delivery for Laura Hardy,” said the lanky youth at the front door.

Fenton Hardy lifted a brown eyebrow in surprise but turned his head and called for his wife. A few seconds later a beautiful, petite blond with azure blue eyes was standing beside the tall, lean brown headed man who had answered the door. “It seems someone is sending you flowers,” Fenton informed her with a twinkle of curiosity in his eyes.

“If you’ll sign here?” asked the delivery boy holding out a clipboard and pen.

“Thank you,” said Laura signing her name and taking the box he held out to her. After the boy had left, Laura led the way into the living room and sat down on the sofa placing the box on the coffee table in front of her.

Frank and Joe, the couple’s two teen-aged sons, entered the room as Laura lifted the lid and looked at the treasure inside. “Oh, Fenton,” she cooed. “They’re lovely! Thank you,” she said looking from the exotic bouquet to her husband.

“Don’t thank me,” denied Fenton glancing questioningly at his sons who shook their heads.

“Read the card,” urged seventeen-year-old Joe going to sit beside his mother. Although curious as to who was sending his wife flowers, Fenton felt a stirring of pride when he looked at his youngest son who looked so much like the woman he loved with his blond locks and deep blue eyes.

Frank, whose brown hair and brown eyes left no one in doubt he was indeed his father’s son, was unaware of his dad’s gaze as it shifted to him with the same pride showing through that had at first gone to his year younger brother. “What does it say?” asked Frank as his mom opened the card.

Joe pulled it from her fingers, his face turning red with anger as he quickly shut the box. “What did it say?” demanded Fenton seeing how pale his wife had become. He hurried to her side and pulled her up into a warm, comforting embrace.

Joe shook his head and gave his dad a hard look. He didn’t want to remind his mother of the words she had only gotten a faint glimpse of.

“Tell him,” rasped Laura gripping Fenton’s shirt.

Joe handed the card to Frank. He couldn't bring himself to say the words that were causing his mother such grief. Even if they weren’t true, the message was unmistakable.

Frank held the card up and read it aloud. “Although the loss of your family seems a great hardship, you will rest easy eventually.”

“Bastard,” snarled Fenton.

“Mom needs to go to a safe house while we catch this guy,” said Joe.

“No,” Laura vetoed the suggestion. “This psycho is planning on killing you three first.”

“Or not,” reasoned Frank. “Mom, if we have to worry about you then we can’t watch our own backs as much as we should.”

“Fine,” Laura relented. “But Joe comes with me.”

“Why?” demanded Joe. “I can help Dad and Frank.”

“I know you could,” acknowledged Laura. “But you know Frank is always watching out for you and if he is doing that then he won’t be as careful as he should.”

“Your mother is right, Joseph,” Fenton quickly put in. “Though no fault of your own, you do tend to attract the most attention.”

“Because I’m the youngest!” objected Joe, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice.

“I’m sorry, Son,” Fenton replied not giving in.

Joe never responded. “Come on,” said Laura, patting Joe on the shoulder. “Let’s go pack and let your father make the arrangements.” She kissed Fenton on the cheek and headed upstairs.

“Dad, that was a load of garbage,” said Frank after his mother had exited the room.

“I know. I know,” acknowledged Fenton, holding up both hands in a defensive gesture. “But I don’t want Laura left alone. Safe houses aren’t always safe. You both know that. And even if the card implied we would die first it also listed your mother as a target,” he added looking at Joe beseechingly.

Joe could see the agony in his dad’s eyes. His dad was obviously terrified this person, whoever it might be, would go after Laura. “I know you want to be able to help find this guy,” Fenton continued. “But I need you to take care of your mother. Make sure no one gets through the security I arrange. But if someone does, get your mother out of there and go into hiding. Call Frank on his cell the first chance you get if something goes wrong. Otherwise, no contact.”

“Understood,” acknowledged Joe. “I won’t let anything happen to mom.”

“Or you!” added Fenton, putting a hand on Joe’s shoulder and squeezing.

“I’ll be careful,” promised Joe. “And you two,” he added, looking from his dad to Frank, “had better find this bozo and stay in one piece!”

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency 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.