Joe was awakened by the sound of men’s voices. It was morning and the rain had stopped.  Glancing down, he saw Sherlock looking at him, and he smiled and whispered, “Thanks.” He was still cold but his clothes had at least dried.  

Swell, he thought as he stifled a sneeze, it’ll be easy to tell us apart now…I’ll be the twin with pneumonia!  

Straining to pick out what the voices were saying, Joe’s heart began to hammer in his chest – it was the police! And they were looking for him!!  

As the police checked over the fence and looked into the Hoopers’ back yard, Sherlock suddenly came flying out of the doghouse, barking and snarling, startling the two officers, who jumped back at the sight of the large agitated hound.  

“Well, he wouldn’t be in that yard, that’s for sure,” the one cop said to the other, satisfied that William Doe wouldn’t have gotten past that dog.  

“Yeah, let’s check across the street,” his partner said, before adding to the dog, “Easy does it, Fido, we’re leaving.”  

The two cops had just gotten out of earshot when a disheveled, still half-asleep Biff came tearing out of the house in a bathrobe and slippers.  

“Sherlock? What’s wrong, boy?” In all the time he had owned Sherlock, Biff had never once heard him barking like that. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and verified that it was indeed his dog that was carrying on as such.  The large hound stopped his commotion, and wagged his tail at his master before heading back towards the doghouse.  

“Sherlock?” Biff started towards the dog, his concern growing by the moment.  Why was he acting so weird?  It wasn’t like the hound to want to go to his doghouse when he had the choice of going inside….What was going on?

* * *

Joe closed his eyes in relief when he heard the cops moving away, but his relief was short-lived when he heard Biff’s voice. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to approach him yet, as he really didn’t know what to say.  

The good news was that his head was feeling much better this morning and he was thinking a lot clearer – and scolding himself for most of what happened yesterday, especially with the police and his decision to stay in the doghouse. He should have talked to Biff last night!  

Glancing down, he noticed that he still had the knife, and wondered how he had managed to not get himself killed.  Joe realized he must have gotten a mild concussion, because he certainly hadn’t been thinking too clearly at all.  

Geez thanks Doug, he thought sarcastically even as he touched the bump on the back of his head.  

Sherlock came back into the doghouse and licked Joe’s face. Joe  smiled, grateful for the dog’s intervention with the police, but then froze as he heard Biff’s voice right outside the door.  

“Sherlock, boy, are you okay?”

* * *

Biff leaned over to lift the flap and then he jumped back, his own heart pounding – someone was in the doghouse!  He had just seen part of a leg behind the dog.  

“Whoever you are, you’d better come right out – slowly,” Biff said loudly, putting as much menace into his tone as he could.  Who the hell would be hiding out in Sherlock’s doghouse?  And then a chilling answer came to his mind.  

William.  

The twin had been at the Hardys’ yesterday and had fled on foot.  Did he take up refuge here?  

But that didn’t make sense, Sherlock hated William.  And then his own eyes verified the answer as he saw the blond-haired teen slowly pull his six-foot frame out into the early morning light.  

Good thing Sherlock was a large dog or the boy never would have fit in his house!  

“William,” Biff growled.

* * *

Frank turned off the shower and grabbed a towel. He had spent a miserable night tossing and turning, hardly getting any sleep at all. So finally at six a.m. , he decided it was pointless to stay in bed any longer and had gone down the hall to take a shower.  

As he got out he decided he felt a little better, but not much.

* * *

Joe stifled a groan as he pulled himself out of the cramped space. His back was aching as his knee clicked into place when he finally stood up.  Repressing a shiver in the cool morning air, he smiled weakly at the bigger teen, “Hey Biff—”  

But Biff cut him off.  

“Shut up, Will – don’t you so much as make a wrong move, or else you’ll be drinking the rest of your meals through a straw!” Biff’s voice was ominous as he couldn’t believe the audacity of William to hide out in his dog’s house!   

Joe stared at him in disbelief – Biff thought he was William too, could this get any worse?  

“Biff—” he tried again, and once again he was cut off.  

“Give me an excuse Willy, any excuse.  I was there remember? I saw what you did to Joe and Frank – ooh yes, I remember it very well. Hell, I still have nightmares about it. So yeah, please give me a reason to pound the tar out of you!”  

Joe actually took a step back, pressing against Sherlock’s house, as he realized the dangerous position he was in. He couldn’t convince Biff of who he really was if he couldn’t even get a word in.  

“I’m calling the cops,” Biff said as he glared at the blond-haired teen.  “They’ll take good care of you.”  

Taking a deep breath, Joe yelled as quickly as he could, “Alan! I am Joe!” He hoped that using Biff’s real name would help convince him.  

Biff growled at him.  “How dare you!  Well, I’m not falling for it this time, William.  You ain’t Joe, nor could you ever hope to be! Just how stupid do you think we are?”  

“Biff, please…you have to listen!” Joe knew he was treading dangerous ground but he needed Biff to believe him.  “It is me!”  And as he reached to raise his shirt to show his best friend the tell-tale scars on his back, Biff misunderstood his intention, remembering that Will was armed….  

With quick reflexes, Biff let loose the fist he had curled up the moment he had seen ‘William’.

* * *

William lay on his back and looked up at the ceiling. His head was no longer hurting, and his mind was quickly running through all the possible scenarios and problems that Joe’s escape presented.  

Frowning, he realized he’d have to do something and do it very quickly – he needed to get Joe back before anyone figured out about the switch.  

The problem was how?  

And then he grinned. Of course, it was so simple…so simple, yet so perfect.  

Frank.  

The older boy was Joe’s weakness. William already knew that Joe would do anything to protect Frank.  

So all Will had to do was use that.  

“Well Frankie,” he whispered to himself, “I think its time me and you spent a little quality time together.  Well, quality time for me anyway….”  

All he had to do was get Frank to Usher Hall; he knew that Joe would follow.

* * *

“Any word?” Fenton demanded when he opened the front door to an exhausted-looking Chief of Police.  The area had been abuzz all night with the search, and Ezra had come out to oversee it himself personally.  

Stepping back to invite his friend in, the detective already knew the answer just by the look on Ezra’s face, even as the older man shook his head.  “Sorry Fenton, but it’s like the kid just disappeared off the face of the earth.”  

“You look like you could use a coffee,” Fenton commented as he sighed and rubbed his own face wearily.  He had been up all night working with the police.  “I know I could use one myself.”  

“Thanks,” Ezra said, following his friend into the kitchen.  “The kid is slippery as a greased fish. He’s got this area staked out a lot better than we’d anticipated.”  He sat down at the table and took the cup of hot coffee gratefully.  “Benson and Malloy lost him pretty quickly…of course, all that rain last night was certainly on William’s side.”  

“Are they the ones who opened fire?” Fenton asked as he sipped his own coffee.  He understood the temptation that the officers had been faced with, as they knew this kid was responsible for a cop’s death; they had also been warned that Will was dangerous…and he had a knife.  But it still unnerved him that they shot at him – and not for William’s sake.  

Trigger-happy cops could spell disaster for Joe, if he was mistaken for his twin again.  The only comfort he had was that he knew Joe was safe at Con’s house – thank goodness.  

“Yeah, they were,” Collig rubbed his tired eyes, “and they are being disciplined accordingly. We can’t afford any mistakes on this one.”  

Fenton nodded.  “No, we can’t.”  And then getting up to put some sourdough bread in the toaster, he frowned as he reached for a knife to cut the loaf with, and he noticed the empty slot in the knife block….Where was the boning knife?

* * *

Biff never knew what hit him. Before his fist had a chance to connect with ‘William’, Sherlock lunged up at him, knocking him flat on his back and barking at him.  

Shocked, the muscular teen just lay still for a second trying to catch his breath as the wind had been knocked out of him.  

“Are you okay?” Joe asked without even thinking as he moved to pull the dog off his best friend.  

“What the hell is going on out here?” came a voice from behind them as Biff slowly got up from the ground, slightly shaken by his own dog’s behavior.  

Joe let out a sigh of relief as he recognized Frank standing in the open patio doorway and Frank’s words, now two years old, warmed his chill….  Joe, you and William are not the same. When I look at you, I don’t see anyone or anything but you.  I don’t see William. I only see my little brother – the kid I would do anything for….  

But his relief was short-lived when Frank saw him - his dark brown eyes blackened as he stalked across the yard towards them; anger overshadowed his handsome face.  

And Joe thought…. You don’t see me at all.  

You only see William.

 

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.