“NO!” Jorgen yelled and shoved Lily to the side!  The gun fired but the shot went wild.

Lily turned and looked at him, questioningly.

“This is wrong!” he hissed. “It’s one thing to commit robbery but I will NOT be involved in this!  This is murder!!”  Behind them, Davis and Evan watched, amused, as a sobbing Iola sank to her knees just a few feet away.

“You are already involved,” Lily stated calmly.

“I can’t let you kill her!” Jorgen insisted, shaking his head.  He was having enough trouble dealing with being a part of what happened to Frank Hardy’s brother, he could not just stand by again and let this happen.

Lily regarded him coldly and than sighed, “Fine.  But if I spare her life you owe me big-time.”

Jorgen was nodding his head.  “Anything…anything you want.”

“Okay,” Lily said coyly and put the gun away.  Approaching Iola, she crouched down in front of her and hissed, “Count yourself luckier than your boyfriend tonight.”  And then standing back up, she motioned for the other three to follow her back to the truck.

Starting the engine, the vehicle pulled away and disappeared into the night, leaving Iola scared, hurting and alone….

* * *

“We can’t just leave her there!” Jorgen insisted as he pulled off his ski mask and fixed the beautiful brunette with an anxious look.  “Something might happen to her!”

“Something already did,” Evan grinned and both Davis and Lily chuckled before the girl reached out and patted the worried teen’s cheek.

“She’ll be fine.  She can walk home from here,” and then her face became deadly serious as she added, “if you ever think of turning on us, Jorgen, so help me God, we will finish what we started here tonight, got it?”

Swallowing hard, the blond-haired exchange-student nodded slowly.

“Good,” Lily smiled, relaxing in her seat and looking out the front window, “’cause it really is your fault anyway.”

“W-what?” Jorgen sputtered, and the girl glanced across at him.

“I’m not stupid. You like Iola – why else do you think I picked a stupid farm to hit?”  She chuckled.  “Too bad for you that the little minx only has eyes for a newer blond model…”

Jorgen scowled but never said a word.

* * *

Fenton was roused out of his sleep by the sound of the phone ringing.  Stumbling into the hall, he waved off his older teen when he saw Frank emerging from his room.  “I got it, son.”

Even as he answered, he wondered who the heck would be calling at this early hour of the morning.  Daybreak was still a few hours away!

Minutes later, fully awake, he hurried back into his room, got dressed and left – he had to get to the Mortons’ farm!  Iola Morton had been abducted from her bed, but thankfully was able to get home, with her worst injury being a sprained wrist. The police were fairly positive that her kidnappers were the same ones pulling off the bizarre burglaries!

Fenton left Laura a brief note but didn’t mention the Mortons. Knowing how close Chet and Iola were to his sons, he decided it would be better if he told them himself, once he got home.

* * *

Chet Morton hovered protectively over his younger sister as she finished giving her statement to the police. The paramedics had already treated her wrist and it now hung bandaged, in a sling. She had declined the suggestion to go for x-rays, assuring them that it actually was feeling a bit better, but would go if it got any worse.

He was seething at the people who abducted his sister; and felt incredibly guilty, and badly shaken, that she could have been taken from her room like that, and he’d slept through it!

“Are you sure you’re okay, sis?” he asked, his voice soft with foreign-sounding affection.  While Chet did love his sister, they weren’t overly close and hid most of their affection behind playful jabs and teasing. So the sixteen-year-old was amazed by the surge of protectiveness he felt for Iola right now; and he was treated, for the first time ever, to a glimpse at the powerful bond that Frank and Joe shared…this fierce protectiveness that threatened to suck the very breath out of him, as he thought of how close he had come to losing his sister.

Iola looked into his concerned face and nodded.  She reached across and tentatively touched his hand.  Immediately he grabbed hers and held it tightly in his own. The young girl smiled, almost shyly, and Chet saw the brightness in her eyes and the wetness on her cheeks.

Acting on pure instinct, he slid down on the couch next to her and put a protective arm around her slender frame.  He felt her shake and he whispered, “It’s okay, sis…you’re safe now.”  And then suddenly, she turned, buried her face into his strong chest and broke down; great sobs racked her young body as her older brother held her.

In the doorway, he saw his father draw his mother close, and they watched silently, their own faces weary with the grief of almost of losing their daughter.

And then a familiar voice flooded the kitchen and the senior Mortons turned to greet the new-comer.  Chet didn’t have to ask who had come in; he recognized the voice of his oldest friend’s father – Fenton Hardy was here.

* * *

As soon as Joe opened his eyes, he knew he had a problem.  He’d already had a horrible night plagued by nightmares and pain, and as he lay in his bed, right now, he realized he’d never be able to pull this off. There was no way he could act like nothing had happened; Frank would take one look at him and know, as his body had grown incredibly stiff, during the night and protested even the slightest movement with an almost debilitating pain. He vaguely wondered again if maybe he was hurt more than he was supposed to be….

And then he had an alarming thought: Biff!

He had totally forgotten to call his friend last night and warn him about the Gettys!  Crap, he had no choice, he had to move!

Hearing the shower go on in their bathroom, Joe thanked his lucky stars and bit his lip to stifle an outcry of pain as he slowly slid off his bed and let his feet touch the carpet.  Frank was usually in the shower for about fifteen minutes, and the younger boy hoped that was enough time for him to make his call and get back in bed.  He’d already decided to tell his parents he was sick so he could stay home from school today…and it really wasn’t that far from the truth; there was just no way he could go right now, no way at all.

Carefully, he made his way to his bedroom door, unlocked it and then reached for the phone, thankful it was a cordless one.  Panting from this brief exertion, he made his way back into his room and sat down gingerly on the bed.

Giving himself a moment to steady his voice, he rapidly dialed Biff’s house and waited for the phone to be answered.  Mr. Hooper quickly picked it up and then told Joe to hold on while he got Biff for him.

[Hey Hardy] Biff greeted a few moments later, sounding very cheerful.

“You need to stop hanging out with Davis, right now,” Joe said, not even bothering with a greeting, “It’s too dangerous.”

[What are you talking about?] Biff asked.

“Just trust me on this,” Joe begged his friend, “Okay?”

[Joe, did something happen?] Biff demanded; concern in his voice.

The young teen sighed before responding, “Biff, please….Tell Davis that your father found out or something, but you gotta get away from them…today.”

[You never answered my question] Biff said softly and than added [What happened?].

“I gotta go, Biff,” Joe just said, in a hurry to get off the phone.  “I need you to just trust me on this one.  Sit with Chet and Tony at lunchtime, okay? I’ll talk to you later.”  And then he hung up before his friend could press him any further about this.

Hoping that Biff took him seriously, Joe put the phone back on its base and had just gotten back in bed and under the covers when he heard the sound of the shower going off.  Closing his eyes wearily, he waited.

* * *

Frank was perplexed.  He had spend a horrible night tossing and turning, torn between wondering what was up with Joe and whether or not what his brother believed had any merit.

Stepping out of the shower, he decided there was only one way to find out…starting with returning Lily’s car.  While Frank did love driving the BMW, and it had been nice not having to always borrow one of his parents’ cars, he still wasn’t fully comfortable about it…or the coat....

Regardless of the fact that Lily was rich, Frank wasn’t, and he couldn’t let her lavish expensive gifts on him when there were no hopes for him to do the same for her!  If he was right, and Lily did like him for who he was, she’d understand why he couldn’t accept things like this.

Lunch was a bit more of frustrating quandary.  He understood that Lily would not want to disobey her father, and the senior Getty had apparently insisted that, no matter what else, his children ate together at school.  Frowning, Frank thought that was a bit odd but Lily was this man’s daughter, so he really had no frame of reference on exactly how out of place this request might actually be….

Toweling dry, he wondered if maybe they could compromise and sit at a table by themselves, but then shrugged that idea off, as that would be making it seem too much like they were shutting their friends out.

This is becoming increasingly complicated, the teen thought as he finger-combed his wet hair and then stepped back into his own bedroom to get dressed.

A few minutes later, he headed into the hallway and paused by Joe’s room door.  He knew the one to the bathroom was still locked….

Sighing, Frank raised his hand and rapped lightly on the door. Something was up and he was determined to find out what.  “Joe? You awake?”  He wasn’t sure if he was expecting an answer or not but he was a bit surprised when he heard his brother’s voice.

“Yeah.”

He hesitated, suddenly feeling an unfamiliar awkwardness, did he just open the door or should he ask first? Frank decided to ask. “Can I come in?”

There was a slight pause and then Joe answered, “It’s unlocked.”

Slowly turning the doorknob, Frank opened the door and then saw his brother for the first time since he had left Mr. Pizza’s yesterday.  And he was shocked – Joe looked terrible!

The younger teen was still lying in bed, covered up.  When he looked at Frank, his vibrant blue eyes stood out in stark contrast to his pale face, accentuated by the dark circles under them.  Joe looked plain exhausted, and something else the older boy couldn’t put his finger on.  Instantly Frank moved to the side of his bed and reached out to touch his forehead.  Joe sighed but didn’t try to stop him.

Frank’s voice was soft and laced with concern; Joe didn’t feel warm, but he certainly didn’t look well either!  “Hey kiddo, you okay?”

“I don’t think I’m feeling very good,” Joe admitted, really just wanting to go back to sleep.

“What’s wrong?” the older boy asked, eyeing his brother critically but not seeing anything overtly out of place.

“I dunno,” Joe said, “I just feel kind of achy and sick.” Close enough to the truth, the younger boy decided.  “I think I’m just going to stay home today.”

Frank bit his lip as he regarded his brother and than nodded.  “Sounds like a good idea, and it certainly explains why you weren’t hungry last night….You’ve probably come down with the flu or something.”

“Yeah,” Joe agreed, “or something.”  He closed his eyes for a moment as he asked his brother, “Can you tell Mom and Dad for me? I really feel too miserable to get out of bed.”

“No problem, do you need anything?” Frank said.  “Some juice, maybe?”

“No, I’m fine,” Joe answered, not ready to try to eat or drink anything yet.  He did know that there were some ibuprofen in the bathroom and he planned on getting himself a couple after Frank left.  He needed to use the bathroom anyway so he figured he’d do a combo trip.

“Okay then, little brother,” the older boy looked at Joe for a couple more moments, “if you’re sure…”

“Yeah, I am.”  Joe opened his eyes and looked at his brother again. He managed a weak smile.  “Thanks, Frank.”

“I never did anything,” Frank smiled. “Take it easy.  I’ll get your homework for you.”  And then he gave Joe’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze before turning and leaving the room.  He never saw the pained grimace that crossed Joe’s face at the contact.

As he heard the door shut, the blond youth let out a weary sigh and got out of bed.  He really needed to pee and take a couple of painkillers….

* * *

Laura was the only one in the kitchen when Frank came downstairs.

“Where’s your brother?” she asked as she gave her older son a quick good morning hug. She was expecting him to say ‘in the shower’.

“Actually Mom,” Frank admitted, “Joe’s still in bed.  He’s not feeling very well.”

“He’s sick?” Laura confirmed, a bit surprised.

“Yeah. He’s not warm or anything but he doesn’t look well at all,” Frank said, sitting down at the table and picking up a piece of toast.  “I offered to bring him some juice or something, but he says he’s okay.”

“Probably the flu or something,” his mother speculated as she poured two glasses of orange juice.  “I’ll let him sleep for a bit and check on him a little later.”

“Good idea. I don’t think he slept very well last night,” Frank said and then, noticing the table had only been set for three, asked, “Where’s Dad?”

“Your father got called out to a crime scene, a couple of hours ago,” Laura said, sitting down in her usual spot at one end of the table, “and I have no idea when he’ll be back.”

“Do we ever?” Frank teased, knowing that how long his father was gone was completely dependent on what happened once he got to a scene, and there was no way to predict it!

“Too true, “his mother agreed before she sighed and commented, “Why couldn’t I have married a banker?”

Frank laughed, having heard his mother bemoan his father’s chosen occupation before.  “What?  And miss out on all this excitement?”

Laura chuckled and shook her head.  “I have to admit there is nothing more exciting…than dining alone!”  She loved her husband, and was very proud of him, but still, sometimes she did wish he was at home a lot more, or at the very least, reasonably predictable!!

“Well you’ll have Joe home today to keep you company,” Frank offered.

His mother laughed.  “A sick Joe, oh wonderful.  You know your brother makes the world’s worst patient!”

The teen laughed, and stood up, giving his mother a consolation hug.  “I’m so sorry.  Maybe I should drag him to school with me, to save you the experience.”

“Oh shoo, go to school,” his mother scoffed, brushing him away lightly and laughing.  “I managed to raise him this far, I think I can handle him for one full day.  No, get going before you’re late!”

“Love you too, Mom!” Frank called back as he grabbed the car keys and headed out.  He was going to ask Tony or Phil if they could give him a lift home after he dropped the BMW off at Lily’s house, after school; or maybe Lily would just let Evan drive it back for her and save Frank the trip…either way, he needed to give her back her car, today.

* * *

Callie Shaw waited outside the school for any sign of Iola Morton. She hadn’t slept well at all, worried about how Joe was; and hoped that the pretty young brunette might know. She saw Frank Hardy drive up and scowled as he walked over to Lily and gave her a quick hug and kiss after she got out of her Mustang.

An only child, she felt a tremendous sense of loss as she thought about Frank and Joe.  She had always envied the thought of a sibling; a built-in best friend who knew you better than anyone else…a person who could laugh with you, cry with you and most importantly, the one person that you could rely on and trust to always be there, even on the darkest days.

As she saw Lily laugh at something Frank said, Callie turned away; it was too hard to watch.  Walking into the school, she wondered if the older Hardy brother even knew there was anything wrong with his brother, or if he would even care….

* * *

“Hello, anybody home?”  Fenton Hardy’s voice rang out as he unlocked the front door of his house and went inside.

“In the kitchen, darling,” Laura’s voice rang out, and moments later he was embracing his wife as she met him halfway and they walked together into the kitchen.

“Something smells good,” the detective commented as he picked the lid up off the large pot that had just started boiling on the stove.  Laura laughed and swatted his hand away:

“Your expectations of my cooking ability are flattering if you think the smell of me boiling water is good,” she teased and he smiled and shrugged.

“Well, maybe I’m just predicting the future, then, as I know that whatever you’re cooking is going to smell fabulous,” he backpedaled as he opened the fridge.

“Hungry?” his wife speculated, as she watched him lean in and take a look at the contents.

“Nothing gets past you,” he smart-alecked, risking a playful swat on the bottom.

Gently she pushed him out of the way and closed the door.  “You’re going to defrost the thing.  Sit down, and I’ll see if we have anything around to keep you from withering away to nothing.  A crust of bread or something…”

“The something sounds good,” Fenton admitted and then rubbed his eyes.  He was tired.  Laura poured him a cup of coffee, tossed a couple of strips of bacon into a frying pan and then sat down across from him.

“You look tired,” she appraised her husband and he nodded.

“Yeah, it was an early morning,” he admitted.

“You wanna tell me about it?” she asked, listening to the bacon starting to sizzle.

The detective sat back in the chair and sighed, “The Mortons’ house was broken into last night.”

“Ohmygosh!” Laura said, her face paling.  Catherine Morton was a good friend of hers.  “Are they okay?”

“Yes. Iola was abducted but then let go. She’s got a sprained wrist, but physically, she’ll be fine,” he said as he held his wife’s hand and absently rubbed his thumb across it, knowing she’d be upset.

Laura didn’t say anything for a moment, as she digested what he had just said, and then she asked, “What do you mean, physically she’s okay?”

“She’s pretty shaken up,” the detective admitted, “apparently they threatened to shoot her and came pretty damn close.  If it wasn’t for one of the kidnappers losing his nerve…” his voice trailed off; he didn’t need to say anything else.

“I have to call them,” Laura said, trying to stand up but Fenton held onto her hand and gently pulled her back down to her seat.

“Give them some time,” he said.  “Iola had just fallen asleep before I left, and the police are still there.”

Laura sighed, and shook her head sadly.  “At least Iola’s all right.”

“Yes, and she was able to give us our first lead on this case,” Fenton admitted.  “Four people, three males, one female. The female seems to be in control and, according to Iola, the voices sounded young.  So it looks like we’re looking for a group of teenagers.”

Laura snorted softly.  “That’s a horrible way to get a lead.”

Fenton nodded his head, agreeing with her whole-heartedly as she got up to check on the bacon.

“Neither she nor Chet are going to school today,” the detective mentioned when his wife sat back down. 

Laura sighed.  “I wouldn’t imagine,” and then she added, “speaking of teens not in school today, Joe’s home; he’s not feeling very well.”  She looked towards the boiling pot of water.  “That’s what the water’s for…I’m making him some chicken soup.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Fenton asked, sipping his coffee.

“I don’t know,” Laura admitted, honestly.  “When I checked on him a few minutes ago, he was burrowed down under the blankets, asleep. Probably the flu or something…he didn’t eat anything last night.”

“Probably,” the detective agreed.  “After I eat something I’m going to grab a nap for an hour or two before I go back to the precinct.  I’ll check on him, again, when I go upstairs.”

“Thanks, darling,” Laura said as she got up once again; this time to toss some eggs into the frying pan and to chop up an onion for the soup.  She just hoped Joe would be feeling well enough to try some.

* * *

Biff Hooper saw Davis Getty and Evan Pratt standing next to Davis’ locker in the hallway. Taking a deep breath, he forced a smile on his face.  “Hey Davis.” And than before he lost his nerve, he just blurted out, “I can’t hang with you guys anymore.”

Davis raised an eyebrow, an amused look on his face.  “Really?  And why not, pray tell?”

Biff looked a bit sheepish as he admitted, “My dad found out.”

“His dad found out?” Davis snorted as he looked at Evan.  “His dad found out?  Ah poor baby, can’t have his daddy all mad at him, now can he?” And then his look turned murderous and he grabbed Biff’s shirt and slammed him against the locker.  “No one is out of my gang unless I say they’re out.”

“Look,” Biff said, trying not to let himself be intimidated again, “go ahead and beat me to a pulp if you have to, but it ain’t going to change anything.  I’m out!”

For one long moment, the muscular teen was afraid that Davis was going to call his bluff, but than Davis gave a snort, and let Biff go.  He looked at Evan and sneered, “There’s no room for whiny-nosed, daddy-ass-kissing, little bits of ‘Biff’ in a Getty world anyway.  Come on Evan, we’ve wasted too much time on this piece of crap already.”

He turned to leave but not before pointing a finger directly at Biff.  “Watch your back, Biff, I don’t brake for losers like you…or your friends.  Just ask Joey…he knows!”  And then he was gone, disappearing in the mass of students moving towards their first period.

Biff let out a huge sigh of relief and was amazed at how much better he felt now. It was as if a huge burden had been taken from him…and now he was anxious to see Joe.

Hurrying towards their shared first period class, he couldn’t help but frown.  What the heck had happened to Davis’s hands?  His knuckles were skinned and badly bruised....

Brushing it off, he sat in his usual seat and glanced around, looking for Joe.  But a few minutes later, when the teacher came in and started the lecture, his frown turned into a look of concern – where was Joe?