Francis Hardy leaned back in the uncomfortable plastic chair and sighed. Impatient at the best of times, the retiree hated waiting. Particularly when it involved the welfare of somebody he cared about – or in this case, two somebodys.

The hospital was still festively decorated, a startling reminder that Christmas had only been a few short days ago, and a new year was only hours away…about thirty-six, the old man quickly reckoned, smothering any thoughts of festivity with the faces of two small children…

‘Hang in there, boys,’ he silently implored, ‘Hardys are tougher than this!’

Next to him, his wife quietly flipped through one of the magazines the hospital so thoughtfully supplied the waiting room with; though the ex-cop knew Agnes wasn’t reading. She just kept staring at the print on the pages until a reasonable amount of time passed, and then she would turn the page. He slid an arm around her back and she gave him a brief smile before glancing down at her watch and then back at the magazine.

Sitting right across from them were Gertrude and Cecil – heroes in Francis’s figuring. He was still in shock at hearing that his baby girl had slid down a rope and into the well after the child, and he looked at them with new respect even as he wondered what else there was about his oldest child that he was still to learn….

The sound of someone moving made Francis glance to his left in time to see Fenton get up and start to pace again, and his heart went out to his son. The younger man was dressed in oversized clothes, having changed into the only dry ones available when they finally reached the hospital – the spare set Francis still kept in the truck; a habit he had from his days on the force. But the young sleuth was too keyed up to worry about fashion, and alternated between comforting Laura and pacing.

Francis repressed a shiver, wondering if he’d ever get over the terror of seeing his son jump off that bridge – there had been no choice, but still, for one suspended instant, the older man had been sure he was about to watch his son perish…and his grandson….Swallowing back the lump in his throat, he turned towards his daughter-in-law.

Laura was sitting quietly beside Agnes. Her eyes were closed and her face pale. Francis could see her lips moving but heard no sound – praying, he figured, as he closed his own eyes and, not for the first time this day, offered up a quick one himself. ‘Dear Father in heaven…’

After a few minutes of pacing, Fenton returned to sit with Laura, pulling her close and murmuring words Francis couldn’t hear. A small smile graced the young woman’s face and the ex-cop was almost overwhelmed with a burst of pride that his oft-times irrepressible son could still help his wife find her smile – however brief – at a time like this…. ‘Now that’s a gift,’ the older man thought and then turned sharply when quick footsteps down the hallway heralded a young woman in a long white coat – the doctor.

Stopping momentarily, the woman looked around the waiting room and then hurried towards the small group that turned to her expectantly. There was no one else here right now so this had to be the family.

“Are you the family of the two little boys brought in earlier?”  She already knew the children were brothers – it was a very small hospital…

“Yes—” A handsome dark-haired young man was out of his seat in an instant, a pretty blond woman at his side.

“We’re their mother and father. Fenton and Laura Hardy,” the young woman added in breathless anxiety. They were quickly surrounded by the extended members of their family, the oldest man placing a supportive hand on the shoulders of the young couple, and the young doctor felt a surprising amount of compassion for this family. It was very obvious that they were close.

“I’m Dr. Beckman,” the woman introduced and then gestured towards the empty chairs.  “Let’s sit down and I’ll update you as best I can on your sons’ conditions.”

Immediately everyone was seated and turned expectant faces towards her. She could read the apprehension and gave them a reassuring smile. “First let me tell you Frankie is doing very well.”  She heard the relieved sighs and her smile broadened briefly. “The dose of chloroform he was given did make him sick but we’ve given him some Gravol and he’s feeling much better now. He’s sleeping off the effects and will probably be very groggy and miserable-feeling for the rest of the day…. We do want to keep an eye on him for a couple more hours to make sure there are no latent effects of the drugging or adverse reactions to the medication, and then you can take him home….Keep him quiet for the next twenty-four hours or so and don’t worry if he doesn’t feel like eating very much in the next day or two.”

“Oh thank goodness,” Laura said in expressed relief when the doctor finished – Frank was going to be okay! Her husband nodded his agreement and then pressed anxiously:

“What about our other son, Joey?”

Dr. Beckman bit her lip for a moment and her face lost the trace of smile as she gave them a sympathetic look. “Unfortunately, his condition is a bit more serious…” She paused to give the family time to prepare themselves for whatever she was going to say. “Right now Joey is still in surgery. When he fell into the well, a large splinter of wood pierced his right side, causing considerable damage and blood loss…now the splinter has been removed, but as I said there is a lot of damage and it’s going to be a while before he’s out of surgery—”

“What kind of damage?” Francis demanded, wanting to know exactly what his little grandson was up against.

“Other than expected muscle and ligament damage from the actual piercing, the splinter ruptured a large section of the child’s ascending colon—” the woman explained, “passing, luckily enough, between his ribs and pelvic bone without causing any further damage; now the surgeon is confident he can repair the puncture without any lasting effects for the child; and even if he ends up having to remove that whole section of bowel, the remaining ileum can be connected to the transverse colon, capably performing in its place. I really wish I had more to tell you…but, except that he’s in good hands, your son is stabilized and barring any complications should be out of surgery and in recovery in the next few hours.” Dr. Beckman started to stand up and the Hardys stood with her.

“Thank you,” Fenton said, his words heartfelt, “before you go though – do you know when we can see Frankie?”

The doctor nodded.  “Of course. I’ll have someone take you to see him immediately.” She paused and added, “I thought you would also like to know that the man who was brought in with the gunshot wound is out of surgery and in recovery, under police guard. He’s going to be just fine.”

“Thank you,” the young detective repeated; his face hardening as he thought about Rigado. He appreciated her letting them know that the kidnapper was still on the premises.

A few minutes later, Laura and Fenton were taken up to see Frank while the rest of their family waited in the ER for further word on Joe.  Just after they left, an older grizzle-faced cop came into the hospital, saw Francis and made a beeline towards him.

“Frank,” the cop greeted, tipping his head to Agnes and Gertrude, “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Sure,” Francis said and then excused himself to talk to the cop in private.

After they had gone out of earshot, the officer continued, “I got the info you were looking for-“

“On Joe Rigado?” the ex-cop said, his face brightening with excitement.

“Yup, one Joseph Rigado. The only surprising thing is that car he was driving wasn’t stolen. It actually belonged to his mother. He got it when she died,” the other man said. He paused and added, “this guy has a rap sheet as long as my arm. Nothing big but lots of petty stuff. He’s a small time hustler, into gambling and illegal gaming….This kidnapping and attempted murder was a whole new game for him.”

“This doesn’t make any sense then,” Francis said, frowning. He ran a hand through his hair, distractedly. “Why would he make this kind of leap?” There was one answer but the retiree didn’t want to admit it – maybe Joe Rigado was his new grandson’s father after all. Why else would he have singled Fenton’s family out for something contrary to his usual MO?

“I don’t know,” the cop admitted.  “It doesn’t really matter though, now. We got him – he can’t hurt anyone else now.”

Francis wasn’t so sure, but thanked his friend anyway and after promising to stop by the station in the near future for a coffee, made his way back to his family. Sitting down next to Agnes, he scowled.

“What’s wrong?” the intuitive woman asked as Gertrude and Cecil glanced across at him.

“Nothing,” the man said. Agnes cocked her eyebrow and he amended, “okay, maybe not nothing. Just nothing I wanted to hear.”

Agnes continued looking at him and Francis sighed.  “Okay. Fine. I had Ronny run that check on Rigado while we were waiting and I didn’t like what he found out.”

“What was that?” his wife asked immediately. Her blue eyes were bright with concern that she wasn’t going to like what he found out either!

“Only that this stunt he pulled today is a new low for him. It’s not his usual thing,” the man said, rubbing his face wearily.

“What exactly does that mean?” Agnes pressed.

“It means that there has to be some explanation why Joe Rigado picked Fenton to harass – and that reason might be that he really is little Joey’s real father.” The words felt sour in his mouth and his stomach churned at even admitting the possibility. Cecil, who had been sitting quietly beside Gertrude and listening to this, suddenly spoke up.

“Excuse me, sir,” he started tentatively, “but did I just hear you call Frankie’s abductor ‘Joe Rigado’?”

Francis looked at his daughter’s ‘male friend.’  “Yes, I did,” he said slowly, a warning building in the back of his mind, “Do you know him?”

Cecil paled and for the first time since the ex-cop had met him, looked nervous and out of place. “Um…actually,” the younger man admitted, “I do.”

Francis looked at him in disbelief. Since this man had shown up on his doorway the day before, the older man had learned his daughter had a boyfriend, who was a bingo caller, that she had met at her cat’s funeral…AND that they rappelled…for fun! He wasn’t sure he was ready for any more surprises…

Sitting back, he let out an exaggerated sigh, prayed for patience and just said, “Talk.”

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.