“You’re awfully quiet,” Gertrude Hardy remarked to Cecil as they drove back to the hospital with a change of clothes for Frank. Her companion had hardly said two words since they had left the hospital almost two hours ago.

Cecil sighed and the woman’s concern grew. In all the time she had known him, they had never had any trouble talking – no awkwardness between them – until now. There was an uncomfortable feeling radiating from her friend and she was determined to find out what was wrong.

“Are you feeling okay?” she pressed, deciding to guess by process of elimination. Although he always assured her otherwise, Gertrude did worry about Cecil’s health, and as she scrutinized him she did think he looked a bit wearier than usual.

The tall, thin man always had a gaunt look about him, but today it was more pronounced than usual.

“I’m fine,” he assured her, his eyes firmly fixed on the road.

“When’s your next visit to the cardiologist?” Gertrude inquired.

“Two months,” Cecil answered, again without looking at her. He sighed again and then repeated, “I’m fine.”

“Okay, then you’re mad at me,” the woman said, baiting him, and he responded vehemently:

“Good gosh, no, Gertie, whatever in the world could I be angry with you about?”

“Wow, a sentence with more than two words in it this time,” the woman couldn’t help but rib, even as the joviality didn’t quite meet her eyes – she was very worried.

“My cheeky girl,” Cecil said fondly as he cast her a quick glance, and then slowly pulled over to the side of the road. Obviously whatever he was going to say required his full attention. After he had put the car in Park, the man turned in the seat and gazed at Gertrude intently for a few moments without saying anything.

Blushing, the woman tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear, shifting a bit under this close scrutiny. Finally Cecil spoke. “I’m just amazed that after everything, you still want to talk to me.”

“What do you mean?” Gertrude demanded.

“I mean,” the bingo caller said slowly, “that if you – and your family – wanted to hate me, I’d completely understand that. If it wasn’t for me, none of this would have ever happened.” His brown eyes were sorrowful and cut Gertrude to the quick. “Joe Rigado only came into your family’s life because of me – those two precious little boys are only in the hospital because of me—”

“Hogwash!”  Blue eyes flashing with indignation, the woman interrupted Cecil’s self-condemnation. “This is only your fault if you told that – that villain about Joey’s adoption knowing he’d try something.” Her voice softened and she reached out to touch his cheek. Cecil closed his eyes briefly and swallowed hard; he opened them and admitted with heartfelt honesty:

“If I had any idea of what JR could be capable of, I’d never have told him about you, Gertie…nothing; let alone anything about your family or the adoption. I am just so sorry.”  He sighed. “Your brother probably wants to kill me – and I don’t blame him.”

“I highly doubt that,” the woman said with a trace of a smile, “Fenton might be a pain in the butt at times, but he’s a fair man – a good brother. He won’t hold you responsible for what someone else did….And if he does, he’s going to have me to answer to for it!” Cecil could not help but chuckle at the ferocity in her voice. Gertrude shook her head as she looked at him unabashedly, “The only thing anyone of us can fault you on is having faith in other people…but then again that is part of your charm, isn’t it? You are my dreamer, Cecil Mouland, and I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

“And you are my foundation, Gertrude Hardy,” the man said, reaching across to brush an errant strand of dark hair from her forehead. “You keep me grounded and reminded that life is indeed a wonderful thing…” Then leaning across the seat, Cecil kissed Gertrude’s cheek lightly before putting the car in Drive and pulling back onto the road. A few miles ahead of them, they knew a very anxious little boy was waiting. And they had his clothes!

* * *

Frank scowled all the way back to his grandparents’ house.  Both his head and his tummy were still feeling funny but it was nothing compared to the growing thickness in his heart. “It doesn’t feel right,” he protested to the adults sitting in the front seat, “leaving Joey back there all by himself!”

“He’s not by himself,” Agnes said, glancing over her shoulder at her grandson. “Your mother and father are with him,” she reminded him gently.

“Besides,” Francis added, “he’s not going to be awake until tomorrow and you’ll be right there when he does – I promise.  Rules be damned, “he muttered under his breath, ignoring the look his wife threw him.

“I know,” the child admitted; he sighed and glanced out the window as his grandfather pulled off the road and drove up the driveway towards the house.  “It’s still not the same, though.”

He was no longer scowling – now he just looked plain miserable – and as he got out of the truck and crunched through the snow towards the front door, he stopped and looked at the snowman. His grandfather’s hand gently squeezed his shoulder and the little boy turned and buried his face into his grandfather’s legs, sobbing.  The tall man stooped down to pick him up.

“Shhhh, kiddo,” Francis consoled as he carried his distraught grandson into the house, “everything will be okay. You’ll see…and Joey will be home before you know it – I promise you that!”

“I – I just m-miss him a-already,” Frank sniffed and stammered as he pressed his wet face in against the man’s warm neck. It just felt so strange – and scary – to be back here without his brother. Through his distress, the child could only wonder at himself about that – about how quickly Joe had become such a fixture in his life. But he had, and Frank wanted him here, now!

“So do I,” Francis admitted quietly as he followed Agnes into the living room where she pulled the blanket down on the couch for Frank to lie on, where they could easily keep an eye on him. Instead of putting the child down though, the man sat himself, still holding the upset child in his arms, as hesitant to let him go as Frank was to be let go.

Frank looked up his grandfather, mild surprise on his face. “You do?”

“Yes I do,” the ex-cop smiled and brushed the tear-streaked little face, “I might not have known him as long as you have – but I love him and miss him just like you do.”

His admittance had a surprising effect on the child – seeming to calm him down with the knowledge that Francis was missing Joe too. Snuggling up against his grandfather’s strong chest, the little boy sighed and closed his eyes; a weariness owned him and he was asleep within moments.

As Frank slept, his grandfather continued to hold him and gaze down into the tranquil little face; his own, much older one, filled with wonder at the child.

“You are an amazing kid, Francis,” he whispered as he laid his head back and closed his eyes, his own exhaustion catching up with him; this had been an incredibly long day. But even as he drifted off, his thoughts weren’t very far from the hospital room where his other grandson lay….

It never once occurred to him that his plan might not work and that Frank might not be able to get in to see Joe….Failure was not an option.

* * *

Joe Rigado moved stealthily through the hospital halls. He didn’t have much time before someone realized he’d escaped…but instead of leaving, he headed up the stairs. He was desperate – if he didn’t get some money to pay back his gambling debt, he’d be a dead man anyway…in jail or out; he had nothing left to lose…so pushing open the door to room 401, Rigado stepped inside and pointed the gun he had taken off his now-unconscious guard at a stunned Fenton and Laura Hardy.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he smiled, moving into the room. He glanced briefly at the unconscious child in the bed. “What’s this Fenton? I thought you’d take much better care of my son—”

“He isn’t your son,” Fenton spit out, placing himself between Rigado and Joe. He’d die before he let this man touch his son.

Rigado stopped and shrugged, “He isn’t your son either.”

“Yes he is,” Laura growled, standing beside her husband, her blue eyes flashing in anger. “In every way that matters.” Fenton glanced at her, surprise clearly written on his face; he had never heard that possessive tone in her voice before. In fact, neither had she!

The gunman was amused and winked at Fenton.  “A tigress, that one is…” He turned savage:  “However, as fun as this might be, I don’t have time. Here’s the deal – you and the missus are going with me right now. We’re making one stop – the closest bank machine, where you’re going to empty your accounts. You give me the money and I give you your lives.”

“And if we don’t?” Fenton demanded, quickly weighing his options.

Rigado shrugged.  “If you don’t…I kill your tiger.” With that, he pointed the gun at Laura!

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.