"Yes," Fenton said, pausing in his task of buttoning his shirt and looking at his son. "Frank," he said, taking a deep breath. "I want to find Laura."

"You want to...." Frank started, his eyes going wide. "Dad, think about it," he said. "It's been seventeen years. She's probably married with kids of her own by now."

"I know," Fenton replied, sighing heavily. "But I have to see her. I have to apologize for walking out on her like she was nothing. I have to explain..."

"Explain what?" Frank demanded. "That you had to return to your pregnant wife?" He didn't understand his father. What he had done was wrong. He should never have chosen a lover after such a short time when he didn't even know who he was or if he was married.

"Frank, we didn't know," Fenton insisted.

"You still love her," Frank accused him. Fenton wanted to deny it, but he couldn't. When his memory had returned yesterday, so had all the feelings he had felt for the lovely blond-headed girl.

"Yes, I do," Fenton admitted, looking at Frank with haunted eyes. "Frank, I loved your mother more than life itself. I still do and she's been dead for eight years. But I am alive and I need..."

"You need! What did mom need while you were whoring around?" Frank retaliated.

"That is enough!" Fenton thundered. "Laura, nor I, did anything wrong. If either of us had suspected I was married we never would have gotten intimate." Fenton moved over to Frank and put a hand on his shoulder. "I know this is hard for you. But I owe it to Laura to make sure she is all right. I have to explain to her why I walked away and never looked back."

Frank took a deep breath. He was trying to be understanding, but it was hard when he thought about how his mom would have felt had she known. "What about mom?" he asked. "Would you have told her if she were still alive?"

"Yes," Fenton stated without hesitation. "I never kept anything from your mother. She knew everything about me, the good and the bad."

"And she would want you to find this..this Laura and see that she was okay," Frank said, knowing that is what his mother would have wanted. "Do you want some help?" he asked, looking up into his father's eyes.

"Are you sure?" Fenton asked, his brown eyes searching his son's.

"I'm sure," Frank answered. "I...I kind of want to meet her."

Fenton nodded, not sure he understood, but he was glad to have the company.

***

Later that afternoon, Fenton called Sommersville and checked to see if a Laura Quinn still resided there. He pretended to be a lawyer who was seeking her for one of his recently deceased clients. Once Fenton had informed the sheriff he was seeking Ms. Quinn because she was the beneficiary in a will, the sheriff had become helpful and had given him her phone number.

Fenton used his contacts to get a street address to go with the name and he, Frank and Gertrude, who also insisted on going, packed for the trip. The next morning, the three flew into Los Angeles and rented a car to go the rest of the way.

They saw the Sommersville sign and the miles left they had to travel. "Fifteen more miles," Frank said. "Are you ready?" he asked his dad.

"As ready as I..." he broke off as the car hit a deep pothole and the wheel jerked in his hands. The car spun briefly and came to a rest by the side of the road. "Great," he groaned. "Just great."

All three Hardys got out of the car. Aunt Gertrude tsk-tsked and frowned as Fenton pulled out his cell phone and tried to call for a tow. "We must be too far out," Fenton said. "It's not working."

"I guess we walk," Frank stated the obvious. They had walking for about ten minutes when a navy blue van with a rainbow painted on the side came to a stop a few feet in front of them. The driver jumped out and stood waiting as the threesome neared.

"I take it that was your car a little ways back," said the young man with blond hair and sunglasses.

Frank nodded. "We hit a fairly large pot hole," Fenton said.

"Yeah, this road is the pits but the D.O.T. is planning on widening it and won't fix it in the meantime," the young man said. "I can give you a lift into Sommersville," he continued. "You can call for a tow and someone to give you a lift to wherever you're going."

"That would be great," Fenton thanked him.

"That is very kind of you," Gertrude echoed, climbing into the back seat when he slid the van's rear door open. "A ride to the next garage would be greatly appreciated."

Frank took the seat beside his aunt and Fenton took the front passenger seat. "How far are we from the nearest garage?" Fenton inquired.

"A little less than two miles," the boy replied, starting the engine. "It's run by a guy named Jimmy Miller. He's ornerier, but he's honest," he assured his passengers. A few minutes later the van came to a stop at the pumps outside of a small garage.

"Hey Jimmy!" the boy shouted as he jumped out of the van. A clean shaven man with white hair and a white mustache sporting a tattoo of an eagle onhis left arm came out of the garage.

"Hi, Kid," Jimmy said, coming out to see what he wanted. "What's up?"

"These folks busted an axle on one of the holes," he told Jimmy. "Can you take care of them?'

"No problem," Jimmy said and went to talk with Fenton as he exited the van.

While Joe filled up the van, Frank and Gertrude climbed out of the van. Gertrude went inside the little station to find a restroom and Frank joined the youth as he filled his tank. "You live around here?" Frank asked the friendly boy.

"Just outside the city," he answered. "Visting relatives?" he asked.

"No," Frank replied. "We're just on vacation"

"In Sommersville?" the boy demanded in disbelief, looking at the brown headed boy who was an inch taller and about ten pounds lighter than himself.

"You sound like that's impossible," Frank observed.

"Well, yeah," the boy admitted. "There aren't any tourist attractions. We're just a small, quiet town," he added, hanging up the pump. At that moment Fenton and Jimmy came over to the two boys. Fenton glanced at the total on the pump and paid Jimmy.

When the youth objected, Fenton insisted. "As a thank you for your help," he said.

'That isn't necessary," the boy replied. "But thanks," he added, his smile lighting up his face. Frank wished the boy would take off his sunglasses. He didn't like it when he couldn't see a person's eyes. You never knew what they were thinking.

"The car won't be fixed until tomorrow," Fenton informed the two boys. He looked up as a bell rang and Gertrude exited the station. "We'll have to find a hotel," he said as she neared.

"There aren't any hotels around here," the boy interuppted. "But there is a decent motel about five more miles down the road. I can give you a lift?" he offered.

"Thank you," Fenton accepted. "That would be wonderful." He smiled at the youth. "You have been so helpful and we haven't even introduced ourselves. I'm Fenton Hardy and this is my sister, Gertrude and my son, Frank."

"Nice to meet you," said the youth, lifting his glasses so Fenton could see his deep blue eyes. "My name is Joe Daniels."