Two unhappy-looking faces greeted Fenton when he opened the door and went into the room the little boys were sharing. Joe was sitting on the bed, hugging his knees to his chest while Frank was standing by the door.

“Is everything okay?” the detective asked, moving into the bedroom and closing the door behind him.

“Who was that man?” Frank asked immediately, surprising his father by his abruptness. The children were obviously agitated and Fenton’s heart rate picked up a bit – maybe Joe had recognized the stranger…

Ignoring Frank’s question for the moment, the sleuth addressed the younger child: “Do you know him, Joey?”

The blond head shook slightly as the child bit his lip, anxiously.

“Are you sure you’ve never seen him around before?” Fenton pressed, wishing he could read the child a bit better. Was he being evasive or did he genuinely not recognize Joe Rigado?

“Yes sir,” Joe answered quietly and then added, “but Poppy didn’t seem to like him very much.”

“And Poppy was all grumpy around the man,” Frank put in, sitting down on the bed next to his brother and glaring at his father – obviously displeased not to have been answered. He repeated, “Who is he?”

“I don’t know really,” Fenton finally answered, “but your grandfather and I intend to find out.” He looked intently at each child. He didn’t want to say anything about Rigado’s claim until he knew for sure whether or not it was true. No use getting everyone upset if the guy was lying. “In the meantime, if you see that man anywhere, you come tell me or Poppy right away. You don’t go near him – no matter what he says, got it?” He knew that his father was saying the same basic thing to the women, admonishing them not to deal with the man themselves and to keep the children close. Neither man was naive or stupid – they knew there was a very good chance Mr. Rigado would be back.

“But—” Frank started.

Fenton cut him off:  “No buts, Frankie.”  He touched the little boy’s cheek and looked intently into the dark brown eyes, watching the flicker of defiance melting at the touch. “I don’t want anything to happen to you or your brother. Is that understood?”

“Is he a b-bad man?” Joe’s voice quivered slightly on the word ‘bad’ and Fenton knelt on the floor between the boys and reached out to brush a lock of golden hair out of the bright blue eyes, relieved when the child didn’t flinch.

“I don’t know yet,” the detective admitted, although deep down in his gut, his instincts were screaming ‘yes’. However if Rigado did turn out to be Joe’s natural father, Fenton did not want to be badmouthing him in front of the child. “But we need to be careful. He is a stranger and you know you don’t ever talk to or go with strangers, don’t you?” He held Joe’s gaze as he spoke, knowing Frank knew about strangers but not so sure about the younger boy – had anyone ever given him that talk?

After a moment Joe nodded his head. Satisfied, Fenton stood up.  “So we’re good on this, then? You boys will stay close to the house and get a grownup if you see that man anywhere?”

“We will, Daddy,” Frank promised, his young face solemn, having taken to heart his father’s warning. He glanced at his brother, “And we’ll stick together too!”

“Like glue,” Joe added, a slight smile replacing the anxiousness of moments before.

“Good,” the detective nodded, “now why don’t you come downstairs?  It’s a beautiful afternoon and I bet there’s a snowman somewhere outside just begging to be built!”

Two pairs of eyes lit up, as did Fenton’s heart. He added, “And if you’ll let me, I’d love to help you make it.”

He need not have asked and within minutes, Frank and Joe were getting bundled up in their new snow gear and babbling excitedly to the adults about how they were going to build the ‘bestest snowman ever’.

“Best,” Laura corrected, rolling her eyes and laughing as her husband defended the children’s awful grammar.

“Bestest is a brand name, darling,” he assured her as he escorted two boys and one excited Golden Retriever out into the white winter land, where they spent almost two hours constructing their ‘snow person,’ until finally Agnes called them back in for hot chocolate…and cookies.

* * *

Joe Rigado sat in the small diner and chain-smoked his way through two cups of coffee. In the back of his mind a plan was forming and he smiled to himself, stunned that he hadn’t thought of it before.

He was just getting up to leave when he saw a distinguished-looking gray-haired man in his mid forties come into the diner and talk to one of the waitresses for a moment. Turning to leave, their eyes met, and the man stared at him in shock before hurrying forward, his hand extended in greeting.

“JR!” the man said, “I’m surprised to see you here! Merry Christmas, old friend!”

“Merry Christmas yourself, Cecil,” Rigado greeted, as he cursed his luck about this turn of events. After shaking hands, he indicated toward one of the empty chairs at the table – a wordless invitation for the older man to join him. “I thought you were staying in the city for the holidays.”

“No, not this year,” Cecil said, sitting down, “Gertie’s been wanting me to meet her family for some time now, so I thought I would surprise her and just show up. Besides, she speaks of them so frequently, I just have to finally meet them. And you? I thought you were going to Stanton Island to visit your sister?”

“I did,” the man lied, “and then drove her down here so we could spend the New Year’s with a cousin of ours. Small world,” he added.

“Very much so,” Cecil admitted agreeably and then started to stand up again, “Anyway JR, I can’t stay – though I’d love it. I just stopped in to get some directions to her parents’ place; I’m staying at the Wander Inn, room 204; look me up before you take off and we’ll have a drink or something together.”

“Will do,” Rigado said, also standing up.

“I’ll bring Gertrude,” Cecil added before leaving.  “You two haven’t met yet but I know you’ll get along just famously.”

“I’m sure we will,” the younger man said, walking his friend to the door. “You’ve certainly told me enough about her!” Without further ado, Cecil bid him good-bye and then hurried back outside.

After paying his bill, Joe Rigado left as well. He needed to buy rope. Thin rope. After all, if his plan was going to work he’d need something a small child could not get out of…handcuffs would just not do.

* * *

“It sure is a terrific snowman,” Joe said to Frank as the children left the kitchen, bellies contentedly warm again from their grandmother’s treat. The adults were still chattering away about things that didn’t interest little boys, so they had gone into the living room.

“Yeah, the bestest ever,” Frank agreed and then they both laughed and corrected, “best ever.”

“Come on,” Joe started to walk towards the front door, “I want to see him again!” With Sam at their heels, the two children quickly made their way to the door, opened it up and peered out into the darkening late afternoon. The snowman looked magnificent and the blond boy inadvertently stepped out onto the porch in his excitement to see it. But as his stocking feet hit a patch of ice a hand grabbed his arm!

Staring up into the face of a stranger, the little boy let out a terrified scream!

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.