Frank Hardy stared in horror at the open casket – where was Joe?

* * *

Two hours earlier….

It had been another long, exhausting day - just one in the long string of too many. 

Frank had spent the evening watching the TV, and had declined all his friends’ offers to go out somewhere… anywhere. 

Shortly after midnight he went to bed, and spent another hour tossing and turning until he fell asleep.  Sleep was not his friend though, and when it came to him it came as a nightmare.

It was always the same nightmare – the nightmare in which his younger brother, Joseph Hardy, died.

The nightmare always began the same way – with the rain. 

It was dark and it was raining and Frank was driving.  He and Joe had just finished working a case for their father, internationally known investigator Fenton Hardy, and they had spent the evening with their friends eating pizza and feeling good.

The weather had forecast a severe thundershower so when the rain started, the boys left their friends for the drive home. 

Joe Hardy had one more reason to be ecstatic, he was turning 17 tomorrow and he couldn’t wait to see what gifts he was going to get.  He had always wanted a motorcycle but his father had been adamant about Joe waiting to be older – but lately he had been dropping hints to him that maybe he was going to be old enough on his birthday. 

Either way, Joe was excited. 

Frank was chuckling to himself as he occasionally glanced over at his younger brother affectionately.  A year older, he was taller, with dark hair and dark eyes like his father, and unlike his brother.

His brother had inherited his blond locks from their mother, Laura, and her blue eyes.  However, unlike his mother’s, which were a pale blue, Joe’s were vibrant blue – unless he was angry, and then they were so intense it was hard to look him in the eye.

It was his eyes that always struck people when they met him. 

Tonight his blue eyes reflected happiness and excitement. 

Frank was chuckling because he knew what Joe’s birthday gift was.  He knew because he and his dad had personally test-driven the motorcycle before choosing the one that would park next to the boys’ black van in the garage.  It was going to be Joe’s best birthday ever, he thought.

Then it happened. 

A loud crack of thunder was followed by a brilliant flash as a large tree branch fell onto the road in front of them. 

Frank desperately tried to swerve as he yelled at Joe to hold on.  The van spun out of control and off the road.  It rolled three times before it came to rest on its roof. 

The last thing Frank heard before he blacked out was Joe asking him if he were all right.

* * *

When Frank opened his eyes he was looking into the dark original of his own. 

Fenton Hardy was holding his hand and Frank saw that his father had been crying.  This unnerved him – he had never seen his father cry.  “Dad, what’s wrong?” 

He started to get very worried as his father glanced away, but he was saved by the doctor who appeared at that moment. “Hello Frank, how are you feeling?”

“A bit groggy and sore…what happened?”  His head was hurting and for some reason he couldn’t remember what had happened. 

Why was he in a hospital? 

And then it all came back in a flash and he bolted upright as his father grabbed him, “Joe, I have to see Joe – is he okay?” 

Fenton grabbed his son into a tight hug.  “Oh Frankie.  Oh Frankie.” 

Frank had not heard his father refer to him as “Frankie” since he was 10 and he told him parents how it embarrassed him.  He pulled himself out of his father’s embrace and once again wanted to know where his brother was. 

Fenton looked at the doctor. “I can’t!” and his voice broke off.  The doctor nodded his understanding.

“Frank, both you and your brother were injured.  You have a mild concussion, sprained wrist, and numerous cuts and bruises – painful but they will heal quickly enough.  Joe…well, Joe was hurt much worse.  We did everything we could for him, but unfortunately, it was not enough.  I am truly sorry, Frank but Joe didn’t make it… your brother is dead.”

In Frank’s nightmare he kept hearing that over and over again but he still did not want to believe it.  And the nightmare always ended the same way – with him standing over his brother‘s grave.

* * *

Frank woke up numb and in a cold sweat.  Why Joe, why?  Why was I only hurt a little…but you were hurt beyond recognition? 

Frank had demanded to see his brother. 

At first everyone was against it but they relented when they realized it might be the only way that Frank would ever accept what had happened. 

He was taken to the morgue and his father stood behind him as Joe’s body was pulled out of the freezer.  Frank felt very far away as he looked down at his younger brother’s body. 

The wreck had wrecked him and it was hard to believe it was Joe.  His face was so badly disfigured that unless Frank knew who he was looking at, he never would have said it was his brother.

The dark haired teen reached out to touch the body but then withdrew his hand – why?  He didn’t realize that he had spoken the word out loud, until he heard his father’s voice. 

It too seemed so far away.  “He was thrown through the window.“

Frank’s mother had come to see him a few hours after he woke up, and she was a wreck.  The doctor had ordered her a sedative, but she refused to take it until after she saw Frank.

She had spent the time with Joe but he no longer needed her, and as this thought rushed to her head, she almost collapsed, but then she remembered Frank.  He still needed her – so she went and saw him before going home and giving into the grief….

* * *

As Frank lay in bed staring at the ceiling he decided trying to get any more sleep tonight would be useless. 

He dressed quietly, and being careful not to look at the unused motorcycle in the garage, he climbed in the van and drove out. 

Frank didn’t know where he was going, but it was no surprise that his driving took him to the cemetery.  He’d been going there a lot lately.

Parking the van, he got out and made his way through the graveyard gate, a bit surprised to see it unlocked. He had thought he would have to scale the wall again, but that was not the case, as the large black gate was swung open in the night. 

As the boy made his way towards his brother’s final resting place, he paused only briefly by Iola Morton’s grave and smiled sadly, as he now knew how Joe had felt. 

The younger boy had spent so much time at the cemetery after Iola was murdered, that he often said he could walk to her plot with his eyes closed.  And now it was Frank’s turn.

But Frank was not prepared for the sight that met him when he rounded the path to where his brother’s grave was. 

There was dirt everywhere, and instead of being buried beneath the earth, Joe Hardy’s casket was open on the ground a few feet away from the grave. 

Not wanting to look, but needing to close the lid for his brother, Frank’s eyes went wide as he realized that the casket was empty.

Where was Joe?