“Excuse me?” Joe said, shocked by the old man’s words even as Muir moved to his side.

He heard the big man’s monotone voice ask, “Left or right?” but ignored him, too fixed on Mr. Rosado and waiting for some further explanation.

“Muir is asking if you are right handed or left.”  Antoine enjoyed the intensity with which Joe was glaring at him right now – it brought out the color in his eyes.

“Left,” Joe said, and was relieved when the big man leaned over and undid his handcuff on his left hand. His relief was short lived though, as the now free cuff was then secured to the chair he was sitting in, leaving his left hand free but his right hand still shackled.

“We don’t want you leaving before the meal is through,” the old man explained, “You Americans have no appreciation for food, and bolt your meals like wild animals. This way I can ensure the pleasure of your company for the duration of the meal.”

“I’m not hungry,” Joe groused as he tugged on the handcuff to see how strong the chair was.  His stomach was still a bit queasy and he doubted he could keep anything down.  Muir had hit him pretty hard.

“That’s not uncommon when one first regains consciousness,” Antoine consoled, “However, as Muir has prepared a rather broth-based menu for us this afternoon, I think it will serve you well to try and eat.”

Joe looked up at the giant man in surprise, “He cooks?”

“Oh yes,” Mr. Rosado said proudly, “Muir can do anything I need to have done, not only efficiently but with a fair amount of savoir-faire.”

“Like kidnapping me?” Joe challenged, and then continued before anyone could answer, “Why? Is this some way to get back at Dad or something?”

Antoine was shaking his head vehemently.  “Oh no, Joseph, I can assure you that I hold your father in the highest esteem, and it grieves me about this turn of events.  However, in time your family will get past this—”

“YOU’RE NUTS!” Joe yelled, and tried to jump up, but Muir’s large hand pushed him back down in the chair and held him there.  “Let go of me, you big oaf!”

Muir looked at the old man, who nodded his head slightly, before he released the boy and resumed his position behind the chair.

“You know my father,” Joe said as he glared at the old man, “you know neither he nor my brother will ever stop looking for me! They will find me.”

Mr. Rosado regarded his young guest for a few moments before he shrugged.  “Believe what you will, my child. But this is your home now.”

Muir left for a moment to bring out the food, and true to Mr. Rosado’s word, it was soup and crackers.  Joe sighed and sat back against the chair. This was not good.

Handcuffed the way he was right now, he knew he’d never be able to escape during the brief interval that the giant was gone. He’d just have to bide his time and make his escape at the first opportunity.

Deathe House…of all the places to be, Joe thought as Muir poured some broth into his bowl. Even if Frank figured out where he was, this old mansion had more secret passages and subbasements than any place ought to.  And then Joe paled as he remembered something else the old Deathe manor was rumored to have had….A dungeon.

* * *

“We’ve picked up two other sets of fingerprints from the van, other than Frank and Joe’s,” Collig told Fenton as soon as the detective came into his office, “We haven’t been able to find a local match, so we’re running them through the federal files right now.”

Frank was gone with Phil in Phil’s car to try and see if they could find anything else. The chances were very slim of finding out anything, but Fenton knew his older son needed something to do – so he gave them his blessing and hoped they would find something.

As proven in the past, Joe was very resourceful so it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that he had escaped from wherever he was – it was just not very likely. 

But still, hope was not something Fenton Hardy would ever attempt to take away from his sons; particularly when one of them was missing.

“This was too smooth for first timers,” the detective speculated, “They grabbed Joe and dumped the van in the lake, without any witnesses?”

“I know,” the chief agreed grimly, “and just what was Joe doing out there anyway?”

Fenton sat down in the chair across from the chief and ran a hand through his dark hair.  “I guess we won’t know that until we find Joe. I’ve called Sam, he’ll be here within the hour.”

Sam Radley was another private investigator, and together they had made the agency the success it was today. There was no one Fenton trusted more to help him find his son.

“Good,” Collig said, “the sooner the better.” He too found Sam to be a very good investigator.  “Joe’s a minor, so I’ve already alerted the FBI.”

“The more the merrier,” Fenton said sarcastically, and then apologized as his long time friend raised his eyebrows in surprise.   “I’m sorry Ezra, wherever my family is involved, I tend to lose a little perspective.”

The older man sighed heavily and offered a weak smile.  “We’ll find him, Fenton.  We’ll find Joe and bring him home.”

Fenton appreciated the words, and gave a nod before he sat back heavily in the chair and sighed, “Yeah, but the question is, will we find him before I have to tell Laura that her baby is missing?”

“Where is Laura?” Ezra asked, thinking about Fenton’s wife.

“She and Georgia Hooper are gone on a spa weekend,” the sleuth explained.  “Georgia won it in a magazine contest – two nights, three days of pampering at an exclusive resort.  She asked Laura, so I dropped them off at the airport yesterday morning. They won’t be back until tomorrow night.”

“So you’re not going to tell her about this when she calls?” Ezra guessed, but then saw Fenton grin.

“That won’t be a problem. The retreat is in Arizona and part of the pampering is a removal from the world – so no phones. That gives me until tomorrow night to find my son.”

Ezra nodded.  “All right then, I’ll call down and see if they’ve made any more progress on those fingerprints.”

“What about Joe’s cell?” Fenton inquired before Ezra could pick up the phone, “anything on that?”

“One set of fingerprints other than Joe’s. They match one of the unknown sets, but that’s it so far. The last number that was called on the cell was to Mr. Pizza’s.”

Fenton looked at the police chief strangely.  “Mr. Pizza’s? I called the boys’ friends myself, including the Pritos, and no one talked to Joe.”

Ezra smiled grimly.  “I know. Con’s there now to find out who else might have received a call from that cell this morning.”

* * *

“Frank,” Phil Cohen said as he glanced across at his best friend, “would you please stop doing that!”

“Doing what?” Frank asked absently, as he peered intently out the window, his mind on overdrive about his missing brother.

“Clenching and unclenching your jaw!” Phil said exasperatedly.  “You’ve been doing it ever since I picked you up, and you’re making my face sore just looking at you.” 

Frank looked at him and had to consciously keep from clenching his jaw.  “You’re supposed to be watching the road…not me.”

“Well it’s kind of hard to do when that’s all I can see out of my peripheral vision!” Phil groused good-naturedly, “Thank goodness you don’t click your teeth when you do that, or else you’d be walking by now!”

Sighing, Frank turned back to the window.  “It’s just so hard.”

The other boy, refocused on the road again, knew his friend wasn’t talking about jaw clenching even as Frank continued:

“He’s my little brother and I have no idea what’s happening to him, Phil.”  He turned back to look at his best friend, his dark brown eyes haunted and worried looking.  “I mean…is he being looked after?  Or is he locked away somewhere, cold and hungry, wondering why I haven’t found him yet? Or worse…is he—”  His voice trailed off, anguished and unable to say ‘is he dead?’

“Oh Frank,” Phil’s voice was gentle even as he swallowed back the lump in his throat.  “He’ll be okay.  You just have to believe that.  I mean, this isn’t the first time Joe’s been…lost,” he was hesitant to say abducted, “and you’ve found him before. You’ll do it again this time, and I can guarantee you, when we do find him, he’s going to have quite a story to tell us.  And we all know how much Joe loves to tell a good tale.”

Frank gave a small laugh, knowing Phil was right about that part – Joe did like an audience.  And then he sighed and turned away; he didn’t have the heart to tell him…to admit out loud that he’d had the same gut feeling that Vanessa had….

That this time, he was going to be too late.

* * *

Joe’s mind was on overdrive.  This meal seemed to last forever, and after a gripe along those lines, Mr. Rosado informed him that it was traditional in France for meals to last two hours.

“I didn’t know you were French,” Joe grumbled as the beginnings of a plan started to form in his mind. It wasn’t the best of plans, but anything would be better than the slow torture he’d been enduring of tedious mealtime conversation with Lurch and Gomez Addams for the past two hours!

“I’m not,” Antoine smiled, ignoring his young guest’s attitude.  “Well, not really.  My mother was, though.  Nice of you to be so interested in my lineage, Joseph.  So very few young people are, these days, but then again, you are not your average youngster, now are you?”

“I don’t really consider myself a youngster, actually,” Joe countered as he pushed his bowl away without eating anything, “but since you see me as such you won’t mind having Frankenstein’s monster there take me back to my room.”  He put on a puppy dog face just for Mr. Rosado’s benefit.  “This wittle kiddie is needing a gweat big nap.”

The old man hooted in laughter, his dark eyes twinkling at Joe.  “Oh, my child.  You are a rare jewel, aren’t you?”  And then he nodded to Muir.  “How can I deny such a performance?  Muir will take you back to your room until dinner time…or earlier, if I feel the need for some more amusement.”

Joe tensed; he needed to time this just right…

Muir leaned over to undo the handcuff from the chair …

The teenager took a deep breath; already curling his left hand into what he was hoping would be a knockout punch….

As soon as he heard the click of the lock being released, Joe swung at Muir, throwing all his weight behind his fist…catching the giant under the chin….

And then he was bolting from the chair….

He was free!

For two seconds….

Muir, merely staggered from the punch, recovered instantly and managed to grasp the back of Joe’s shirt with the tips of his fingers, just before the boy got out of reach. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to throw off the teen’s balance and as he felt himself stumble and then go down, he cried out, "No!”

And then he felt the giant’s knee on his back, pressing him to the floor, even as Mr. Rosado applauded him from his end of the table.

“Bravo Joseph, bravo!  What is a good meal without after-dinner theatre?”

Hauling the boy to his feet as if he weighed nothing, Muir turned to his employer awaiting instruction, and Antoine beckoned for him to bring Joe closer.

Joe struggled but it was futile.  Muir was just too big and strong, so instead he focused all his contempt into the look he cut Mr. Rosado with, but the old man didn’t mind.  In fact, he had no trouble whatsoever in holding the vibrant glare.

Standing up from the table, the old man approached Joe and then reached out with a wrinkled, claw-like hand; he touched the boy’s cheek, enjoying the revulsion that registered on Joe’s face as he tried to move away.

“Very interesting,” Mr. Rosado mused, “Your eyes remind me of a mood ring.  It would appear that anger intensifies them…hmmm.”  He turned away and gave a dismissive motion with his hand, and Muir immediately began to ‘escort’ Joe from the room, but not before Joe felt a chill sweep over him as he heard the old man mutter, “Wonder what fear does to them…?”