The Hardy’s plane landed in Los Angeles a little before six that evening and while Jack Wayne, their pilot, hung around to refuel and get the plane ready for their next flight, Fenton rented a car and he and Frank drove straight to the police station.

“Fenton,” greeted Chief Langley, a tall man with curly brown hair and green eyes. He stood up from his desk as Fenton and Frank entered his office and took Fenton’s hand in a brief, but firm, grasp. “And this must be Frank,” he said, shaking Frank’s hand.

“I ran a background on Gary Rogers after you called,” said Langley motioning for the two Hardys to be seated. “And you were correct. He and Stanley Axemeyer do go back. They were Fraternity brothers. I’ve put a shadow on Rogers and have Henlow and Roberts checking out the current location of Dr. Rogers’ patient as we speak. They should be reporting in any time.”

“Where does Rogers live?” asked Frank.

“On Blackenridge Avenue,” Langley answered. “About two miles outside the city limits.”

“The local sheriff?” asked Fenton.

“Tad Rogers,” Langley informed them. “He’s Gary’s brother,” he added with a scowl. He hated to see a bad cop but from what he had heard, the sheriff knew about Axemeyer.

“That would explain how Gary could fake the reports,” commented Fenton looking over at Frank. “Each report requires a statement from the local authorities to authenticate it. The sheriff is also required to verify the physical location of the patient on each report.”

“Well, if Axemeyer isn’t where he is supposed to be, then neither brother will be in a position to file any kind of report again,” Langley declared. “I just hope you’re wrong and Axemeyer isn’t behind this.”

“I’m sorry,” Fenton told him with a trace of apology in his voice. “But I hope it is Axemeyer.”

Langley looked confused so Fenton explained. “Axemeyer won’t hurt them,” he said. “He’s delusional. He thinks Laura and Joe are his family.”

There was a rap at the chief’s door before Langley could comment. “Sir,” said an officer opening the door. “Podem just radioed dispatch. Rogers caught him following him and initiated a confrontation.”

“Great,” growled Langley.

“Rogers confessed,” the officer continued, surprising Chief Langley and the Hardys. “Podem’s bringing him in and suggested we get a warrant for Sheriff Rogers.”

“Do it,” Langley instructed as the phone rang. The officer left as the chief spoke into the phone. When Langley hung up his face was grim. “Apparently Axemeyer spent only three nights at the facility before Rogers released him. There isn’t anything of Axemeyer’s left on the premises.”

The Hardys stayed in the chief’s office until Podem arrived with Rogers. After Rogers gave a formal statement and signed it, he was taken to an interrogation room where the Hardys and the chief of police joined him.

“Who are they?” Rogers asked Chief Langley, looking at the two men who were eyeing him with open hostility.

“They are the family of the woman and boy that Axemeyer kidnapped,” Langley informed the anxious man. “They want to ask you some questions.”

Rogers swallowed nervously. “You...you’re not going to leave me alone with them, are you?”

“No,” Langley answered. “Not yet at any rate,” he amended.

“Why did you let him go?” demanded Frank as he stepped closer to Rogers. His brown eyes were hard and his nostrils flared as he tried to control the anger he felt. “He kidnapped my mother and my brother and you let him go so he could do it!”

“He...he wasn’t crazy,” Rogers stammered. “He isn’t crazy. The report said he believed they were his family. That isn’t true.”

“Oh, no?” Fenton asked, arching an eyebrow in disbelief.

“No,” Rogers asserted. “Stan didn’t think you were a suitable husband and father. He said he only wanted to protect them from you,” Rogers said.

“So you released him and had your brother help you forge reports of his progress knowing he was sane and had intentionally abducted two people?” Langley demanded.

“Yes...no!” Rogers erupted in a panic. “He told me he realized he had gone about it the wrong way. He admitted he was wrong. He told me he was sorry. He’s not crazy,”

he added again defensively.

“And that makes him even more dangerous,” declared Fenton. “He’s been watching my family for some time,” he informed Rogers. “He took my son two nights ago and yesterday he broke into our home, drugged a FBI agent and kidnapped my wife. Do you have any clue how much trouble you are in right now?”

Rogers shook his head in disbelief. His hands trembled as he clasped them together. “I...I had no idea,” he rasped through lips that stood out in heavy contrast to his increasingly pale face. “I...I didn’t think he would go after them again.”

“Well, he did,” snarled Frank. “And we want to know where he took them.”

“I don’t know,” Rogers said.

“You have no way of contacting him?” Langley demanded.

“A cell phone number,” Rogers said and gave it out. “That’s all.”

“You have no idea where he is?” Fenton demanded. Rogers shook his head. “What about money?” he asked. “Do you know if he is working?”

“He doesn’t have to,” Rogers replied. “He got a hefty sum from the insurance company when his wife died. He never used any of it until he was put in my care. He had me make the arrangements so he could get at it.”

“Where?” Frank demanded. “And how much?”

“Half a million dollars,” Rogers answered. “Well, a little more because of the earned interest through the years. It was transferred to the First Camden Bank in New York. He had me put it under the name Stanley Fillmore. Fillmore was his mother’s maiden name.”

***

“Good morning, Joe,” Stan said the next morning as he entered Joe’s bedroom. “Your mother had a headache and asked to sleep in this morning.”

Joe’s brow furrowed in concern. “What did you do to her?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Stan replied with indignation. “I thought we had gotten past this yesterday. I will not harm you or your mother.”

Joe glared at him for another minute then looked down at the books in Stan’s hands. “More?” he asked. “What about breakfast?”

“You won’t eat what I fix,” Stan reminded him. “So we will have brunch when your mother awakens.”

“Fine,” said Joe. “At least I got yesterday’s work finished; no thanks to you.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Stan, affronted.

“I mean, I had trouble with the English and some of the math. Mom helped me last night but since home schooling is your idea you should be the one to help me,” Joe told him. “Mom’s not very good at Algebra.”

“Not her fault,” said Stan in her defense. “Algebra is one of those things that if you don't use it on a regular basis you’re apt to forget it. And,” he continued, “you are absolutely correct. I should help you. I apologize. My only excuse is that I was worried about your mother.”

“I guess I can’t object to that,” Joe returned with a smile.

“Tell you what, let’s go over yesterday’s assignment and then we’ll walk through today’s,” Stan suggested. “Your mother should be awake by then.”

Although a wiz at math, Joe managed to keep Stan occupied until almost eleven a.m. “Finally!” breathed Stan, standing up and stretching. He glanced at his watch. “Hmm. I had better go and check on Laura,” he said with a slight frown. “It’s getting late. I hope she isn’t getting ill.”

Joe heard Stan go to his mom’s room and knock. He heard the door creak open and seconds later saw Stan hurry past his open door on his way downstairs. A few minutes later, Stan returned to Joe’s room. His blue eyes ablaze, Stan glared at Joe. “Where is she?” demanded Stan furiously.

“Gone,” answered Joe.

“You kept me busy while she took off,” accused Stan. Joe nodded, knowing it would be pointless to lie. “You are a good son,” Stan congratulated him with a smile that vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared. “But I thought Laura was a better mother than that. Maybe Hardy does deserve her,” he ended.

Joe breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe Stan wouldn’t chase his mom down after all. “Too bad he’s probably dead by now,“ Stan continued, sending rivulets of fear down Joe’s spine. “Thanks to Laura’s bodyguard and Frank, I was able to let Tarlton know Hardy was after him.”

“You what?” gasped a horrified Joe.

“Don’t worry,” Stan told him. “Laura may have let me down but you haven’t. She actually left you behind. But I won’t. No, I will take good care of you. But first, we have to leave. I’m sure Laura will call the police the first chance she gets.”

“Leave?” objected Joe. “This is home. You said so.”

“We have another,” Stan told him. “A vacation house. But I guess it will be our permanent home now.” He looked at Joe with a sad smile. “I’m afraid I will have to put you to sleep again. It will be easier.”

Thirty minutes later, Joe was sound asleep and on his way to yet another unknown destination.

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.