Fenton Hardy sighed as he shut the car door and hurried towards the house, not too eager to get wet as the thundershower showed no signs of slacking off. He’d gotten in town late last night, managed to get in to see Frank for a few minutes at a rather unorthodox hour –thanks largely in part to running into Dr. Bates, their family physician, in the hallway – and then came home; only to have to get up early this morning for a debriefing with a client.  He was tired and very happy to have nothing more taxing on the rest of his agenda for today, than a nap; and it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet!

He had just unlocked the door to go in when he heard another car pulling over next to the curb in front of the house, and saw his younger son hop out and hurry up the walkway towards him.  He frowned as he saw the state Joe was in, and vaguely wondered what his rush was, since he was already drenched anyway!

“Hey Dad, you’re home,” Joe greeted, stating the obvious, as he ducked past his father, into the house and headed for the stairs.  All he wanted to do was have a hot shower and change into some clean clothes, but his father’s voice stopped him.

“Yeah…Joe?  Son, can I have a word?”

The teen paused, grimaced, and then turned around and shrugged, “Sure Dad.”  He should have known his father, an astute investigator, wouldn’t let him off that easily.

“What happened?” Fenton asked, appraising his son’s appearance. His eyes narrowed with concern as he specifically took in the various little cuts and nicks on Joe’s face and neck.  None appeared too serious, but concerning, nevertheless.

The blond teen sighed and pushed his wet hair out of his eyes.  “Biff gave me a ride to Chet’s this morning…” his voice trailed off, as for the first time he noticed how empty the living room was.  “Hey, where’s Frank?”

Fenton looked around and then shrugged.  “I don’t know.  We’ll deal with that mystery in a moment.  Now getting back to you….Biff gave you a ride?”

“Yeah, and when we got a couple of miles from the farm, some jerks in a black truck ran us off the road!”

The detective paled.  “Ran you off the road?  Are you sure?”  He didn’t like the idea that someone might be targeting one of his sons.  In his line of business, anything like this had to be taken more seriously than just brushing it off as ‘joy-riders’ with a nasty attitude.

“No mistaking it for anything else,” Joe said casually, shifting on his feet.  “We saw the truck coming up behind us…pretty darn fast, too! So Biff pulled over, and the stupid truck had more than enough room to pass, but instead it rammed right into Biff’s car!  And we went right over the embankment.  Jerks didn’t even bother to help us out!”  He left out the part about the car rolling over and landing upside down, why worry his father when neither he nor Biff was seriously hurt.

“Are you okay?” Fenton demanded, taking a closer look at his son now.

“Yeah, pretty much what you see is what you get.  A few glass cuts and a nasty seat belt bruise…same as Biff.  But the car wasn’t so lucky.”

The detective nodded, satisfied for now.  “What did the police say?”

Joe gave his father a peculiar look.  Actually in the fright of the accident, and then ensuing ‘conversation’ with Biff, the blond teen had not even thought about the police – he wondered if Biff would remember to report the incident.  “Actually Dad…I…um…well, it didn’t occur to me to call them, yet.”

Fenton frowned.  That wasn’t like Joe.  Both his sons knew something like this needed to be reported, and right away.  Although the boys were fine, it was still a ‘hit and run’ and could have very well ended up a lot more deadly.

“I’d better call and remind Biff,” Joe continued, already moving towards the kitchen to use the phone.  “He’s at Chet’s.  In all the commotion, it kinda slipped our minds.”

His father stopped him.  “Go upstairs.  Shower and change.  I’ll call the Mortons and talk to Biff myself.”  And then he added, thinking about the empty living room and folded-up blanket on the easy chair, “If Frank isn’t upstairs, then chances are Chet called him when you guys didn’t show, and he probably went looking for you.”

“Probably,” Joe admitted fondly, thinking of his brother.  Even if he was still feeling a bit off, Frank wouldn’t just sit around if someone called and said he was missing.  He started towards the stairs.  “I’ll check.”

“If he isn’t, I’ll try the cell,” Fenton said.  Frank had gotten a cell phone for his sixteenth birthday.  Both the investigator and his wife felt he was responsible enough not to use it ridiculously – besides which, it gave them some peace of mind, particularly as the boys, from time to time, did help their father out on cases; even solving a few on their own!

A few moments later, Joe shouted down that Frank wasn’t upstairs, and Fenton called him first.

* * *

Frank could not remember ever feeling so contented before.  He was lying back in his seat, with his eyes closed, listening to the sound of the rain on the roof, interspersed with rumbles of thunder or a flash of lighting.  Nestled against him, her breathing so soft he wondered if she was sleeping, was Lily.

A little smile graced his lips as he realized he had his brother to thank for this.  If Iola hadn’t called to tell them Joe and Biff never showed up at the farm, then this opportunity would have never happened.

I owe you, little brother, he thought, his mind drifting into a pleasant drowsiness, and then he heard his cell phone ring.

* * *

“So what’s up?” Chet asked Biff as his friend changed into some dry clothes that Mr. Morton loaned him.  Although they didn’t fit properly, they fit much better than Chet’s would have, particularly as Biff was so much taller than his stout friend.

“Some guys ran us off the road,” Biff supplied vaguely.

“I know that part,” Chet said, rolling his eyes.  “What’s up between you and Joe?”  He hadn’t missed the look Joe had given the muscular teen when he’d gotten out of the car.  He couldn’t place it, but it was unsettling, and he knew there’d been some sort of trouble between them.

“Who the hell knows?  You know what Joe’s like.  He’s fine one moment and then the next he’s off on some self-righteous tangent. Honestly, I don’t know how Frank puts up with it sometimes!  Either way, I don’t want to talk about it.”  Biff growled, and then headed out of the room and back downstairs.  “Can I use your phone?  I need to report this.”

“Of course you can,” Chet said, disturbed by Biff’s attitude.  Joe was his best friend; it wasn’t like Biff to just dismiss him like this.

He followed Biff downstairs and then listened as he called the police, reported the hit and run and then hung up. He frowned as he listened to the details, not liking that the truck had done this intentionally, and very relieved that both boys had gotten out of it pretty much unscathed.  Although he had winced when he saw the bruise on Biff’s chest – man, that had to hurt!

Iola, who had wandered into the kitchen and overheard the rendition, was standing white-faced by the sink, very shaken at how close Joe…and Biff, had come to getting killed.

I could have lost him, she thought, I could have lost him and he’d have never known how I feel….Turning around, the girl hurried up to her room and closed the door. This required some thought…scratch that…this required A LOT of thought….

* * *

“That was nice of your father to check up on you,” Lily said as she straightened up in her seat and looked at Frank.  “Your family seems pretty close.”

“Yeah, I guess we are,” he admitted, never having actually thought about it before.  But it was true.

“It must be nice,” Lily said a bit shyly, “to have people care about you like that…enough to call to see where you’re at.”

Frank looked at her, a bit surprised.  “What about your family?  Aren’t you and Davis close?”  Of course he knew who her brother was…everyone did. 

However, unlike Biff, his own view of that certain jock was closer to Joe’s line of thinking.  He found Davis to be a tyrant who enjoyed tormenting and manipulating anyone he thought was weak; and if there was one thing Frank Hardy despised, it was a bully.

Growing up, and with an impetuous younger brother like Joe, that was one thing that the older boy had a lot of experience dealing with…and picking out.  Bullies, people just like Davis Getty.

“Not really,” Lily admitted, “certainly not as close as you and your brother seem to be.  Heck, I don’t think Davis would be too upset at all, if someone pushed me down the stairs!”

Frank chuckled, trying to lighten up her mood.  “I thought you said it was an accident!”

Lily slapped his arm, playfully.  “It was!  Okay, let me rephrase that.  I don’t think Davis would be too upset at all, if someone accidentally pushed me down the stairs!”

“You might be surprised,” Frank advised.  “Sometimes you never know exactly how someone really feels about you until something drastic happens.”

“So did something drastic happen to you and Joe for you guys to be so close?” Lily inquired, very curious about the brothers’ relationship.

Frank laughed as he teased, “Yeah…he was born!”

This made Lily burst out laughing, and within minutes all thoughts of a serious conversation were forgotten in light of teasing each other about their respective siblings.