Sam Radley smiled when he saw the familiar car parked across the street from the high-rise condo building. ‘Good, they’re home’ he thought as he crossed the busy road and opened the front door, ‘that’ll make checking up on them a lot easier.’

Having known the Hardys for almost twenty years, he was very fond of Fenton’s wife and kids, thinking of them as his own, and did not mind when his partner called him for a favor like this.  If nothing else, it would be a nice distraction from a morning of workers’ compensation claim investigations.

‘This job isn’t all about glamour and glory,’ he chuckled to himself as he pressed the buzzer for Gertrude Hardy’s suite and waited patiently for it to be answered. It was almost eleven a.m. and he thought a nice lunch with Laura and Joe would be pleasant way to end his otherwise doldrums morning.

‘No rest for the wicked’, he reflected, wondering what it would be like to have a Sunday off….

A moment later, he was frowning.  Why weren’t they answering?

* * *

Laura had forgotten what a powerhouse Quarter horses were, and as she flew away from the wooded area and into an open field, she felt the familiar adrenaline rush coursing through her body, as she leaned into the bay stallion’s neck and sucked in the sweet scent of raw horse!  God, she missed this!

Next to her, Gwynne grinned and urged more speed out of her mount, determined not to let Laura overtake her, although she knew the bay was faster than her own chestnut mare.  But she’d give the other woman a good race – if nothing else.

And then they were both overtaken!!

Laura pulled back on her reins, hard, in horrified shock as she recognized the rider-less black horse. It was Grace!

But where was Joe?

Whirling her horse around, she yelled out, “JOE!” and then headed back in the direction Grace had come from, her heart thundering in her chest. ‘Ohmygod, if anything’s happened to him…!’

* * *

Gwynne slowed down her mount and turned to follow Laura, ignoring the fleeing horse.  Grace would go back to the barn – the mare was a good horse. Then she would send Blair ‘after her,’ affording him a chance to remove the bridle, just in case ‘Ms. Detective’s Wife’ wanted to get a look at it. If she did, Blair would show her a different one – one that had actually snapped…and not been cut.

* * *

Laura’s heart rammed into her mouth as she saw Blair bending over a still figure that was lying face down at the bottom of the gully.

“Joe!” she cried, flying off the horse’s back before it had even come to a full stop, and dropping down beside her son, her sharp eyes appraising him quickly for injury.  “What happened?” she asked curtly as she ran her hands around the front of his head, and winced when she felt a large bump forming – she felt a stickiness and paled as her probing fingers found blood.

“We were taking a short cut to catch up. I don’t know what happened but found him like this when I realized he wasn’t with me anymore,” Blair said, watching the pretty blond woman closely. He offered her his handkerchief, which she pressed against the cut on the side of the boy’s temple for a couple moments until she was satisfied that it had stopped bleeding. The gash was bloody but not very deep, definitely not deep enough for stitches.

“Did you move him?” Laura demanded, running her hands over Joe’s back, arms and legs looking for any other damage.

“No,” Blair shook his head, “I just made sure he was still breathing.”

Laura winced at his words and then hissed angrily, “You had no right bringing him through here!  It’s too dangerous—”

Gwynne cut her off as she rode up behind them and slipped down from the saddle.  “Calm down, Laura.  I’m sure Blair would have never put your son in harm’s way—”

“Bull!” Laura snapped, satisfied that Joe didn’t seem to have anything broken, but she wouldn’t know that for sure until he regained consciousness.  “This way has always been hazardous – even for an experienced rider!  There are always downed trees and not enough room for a horse to safely jump them!  You knew – know that!”

“Is he all right?” the other woman asked, ignoring Laura’s outburst.

“I—”  her voice cut off as they heard a soft groan.  “Joe?  Honey? Baby, can you hear me?”

Another groan.

“Come on sweetie, I need you to wake up,” Laura coaxed, gently rubbing the side of Joe’s cheek, encouraging, “Come on baby, you need to open your eyes.  Look at me, come on sweetie…”

Slowly, Joe responded; his vibrant blue eyes fluttering open for a moment and then closing again.  “Mom…”  His voice was very weak, but sounded wonderful to his worried mother.

“Joe, come on baby, you need to keep your eyes open.  Come on, you can do it for me.”

“H-head…hurts…” he whimpered, as he managed to open his eyes just a slit before closing them again.  “Sleep.”

“No baby, you have to say awake, “Laura scolded lightly, shaking his shoulder gently.  “I need to know what else hurts. I know your head does – how about your chest or anywhere else?”

“S-sore,” he whispered after a moment and then tried to struggle to his knees, but his mother’s gently restraining hand stopped him.

“Whoa,” she said, “we need to make sure you’re not hurt.”

“Just…my…head,” the youth managed to gasp as he let his mother press him back down.

“Okay,” Laura said and then glanced at Gwynne, who now knelt down beside them, while Blair stood up and stepped back.  “We need to get him back to the house.”

Gwynne nodded and then placed her hand against Joe’s pale, dirt-smudged cheek.  “Hang in there, okay?  We’ll get you back to the house and taken care of in no time.”  And then she added, “Do you think you can ride?”

Laura was shocked.  “Excuse me?  Does he look like he’s in any shape to ride?  Don’t you have an all-terrain vehicle or something?” She was aghast to hear the other woman ask Joe that, knowing her son too well, and how much he hated to admit weakness.  And as she feared, Joe answered, trying to move again.

“N-no problem.”  His voice was still weak and not much more of a whisper, and it didn’t escape his mother’s notice that he kept his eyes closed.  ‘Concussed, most likely,’ she thought with a slight frown.

“Honey, please lie still,” she insisted again, and then fixed Gwynne with a look.  “Well?”

“We do,” the other woman admitted, “But it’s got a flat tire. So no, we can’t use it now.  Our best bet is to get Joe on a horse and walk him back to the house.  Blair can help him.”

Laura opened her mouth to protest, but Joe spoke, his voice soft and a bit slurred.  “S’okay Mom.  I c’n make it.”

She wasn’t so sure, but knew they didn’t have much choice.  “Fine,” Laura said after a moment, “but we go slow.”  Giving him a reassuring pat, she stood up and moved back, giving Blair room.

“Take it easy with him,” she warned Blair in a soft voice, and he nodded.

With surprising gentleness and as little jarring as possible, the man helped the teen to his feet.  Joe was incredibly unsteady, and his mother knew he was hurting.  He opened his eyes and gave her a weak grin.  “See?”

Shaking her head, she grabbed the reins of her horse and deftly mounted, knowing the return trip to the house was going to be a long and worrisome one.

* * *

“They ain’t there,” a voice cracked from behind the detective, and Sam turned to see the oldest woman he’d ever seen standing behind him. If she was a day under one hundred, he’d have been amazed.

“Excuse me?” he said politely turning towards the newcomer.

The old woman spoke again, her voice louder.  “Deaf, are ya? Too bad in a feller as young as you.  I said they ain’t there!”

“Who isn’t there?” Sam asked; amused by how spry the old woman was.

She scoffed, “Them people in 1425, who’d you think I was talking ‘bout?”

“Sorry,” he mumbled and then asked, “How do you know?”

“Seen ‘em leave damn early this morning,” the old woman said, fumbling in her large purse for the door key. She pulled an empty hand cart behind her. His eyebrows rose at her use of mild profanity.

“Who did you see leave?” he pressed; wanting to make sure the woman had indeed seen Laura and Joe.

The old woman paused and took a deep breath, “Pretty blond woman and her boy toy—”

“Son,” Sam corrected, trying hard not to laugh at that.  The old woman threw him a look that told him she was not convinced, and then she shrugged.

“Pity. It’s more fun my way of thinking!”  She winked at Sam who was shocked, and blushed. The old woman continued, as she put her key in the door. “They left with a tall, dark-haired woman. Very pretty.  She drove a fancy car.” The old woman scowled, “It was her son, huh?  I still liked it my way; thought he was a gigolo or something.”

This time Sam couldn’t help it – he laughed as he held the door open for her.  “No, not very likely.  He’s only seventeen.”

“So?” the woman said and then left the detective speechless and standing in the middle of the condo lobby.  ‘Oh well’, he finally mused, ‘at least she gave me something to go on… and left me with some very disturbing thoughts!’  He was still chuckling five minutes later when he got back in his car and called Fenton.

* * *

Fenton Hardy sat in the bleachers and enjoyed watching the little kids playing baseball.  A melancholy feeling settled over him, as it brought back so many memories of when his boys were younger…only a few short years ago; more particularly of Frank.

Frank had been an avid baseball enthusiast; in fact he still was, and was always up for an impromptu game!  When he was in Little League, Fenton did try and go to as many of his games as possible; however, it was early in his career and the aspiring detective had been gone more often than not, so he did miss more games than he cared to admit.  And that probably accounted for how excited Frank was right now about him coming to this game.

Fenton felt a stab of guilt about that. He was endowed with two wonderful sons that any father would be proud to call his own, and yet – because of work – he missed out on so much of their lives. Particularly when it came to these kinds of things: baseball games for Frank, football games for Joe, hockey games for both boys….

As he watched the next kid come up to bat, he caught Frank’s eye and nodded encouragingly. Frank beamed back at him and then turned to speak to one of his kids. Fenton’s stab of guilt twisted in his gut painfully. His boys were almost grown men now – where had the time gone?

He found himself wondering just how well he would know his sons if not for their acute interest in his work – in mysteries – and the time he spent training them. But then as the kid hit the ball, with a resounding crack, and made his dash around the bases, the detective forced himself out of the melancholy – he loved his sons and was there as much as he could be, and that was about all anyone could ask for….  Even as he thought it, he didn’t really believe it.

The kid slid into home base and everyone rose to their feet – Fenton included - and applauded wildly. The detective stared at the shock of blond hair as the boy’s baseball hat fell off, and was instantly assaulted with a powerful flashback!

“Hey son,” Fenton said softly to the little blond boy curled up on his bed. The child was sobbing disconsolately and it ached him to see his son is so much pain – emotional pain – and he reached out to the child, “Mom told me about Hero—”

“NO!” Joe shrieked, recoiling violently from him, covering his ears and shaking so badly the detective was afraid he was going to collapse, “DON’T TALK ABOUT HIM! NO!! DON’T!!”

Fenton blinked, shaken by the intensity of the memory, and wondered what had happened to trigger it.  But as the next kid struck out, he got a disturbing idea as to what it might have been – that was the last day Joe had ever gone to a baseball game—

The feel of his cell phone vibrating in his pocket, interrupted the detective’s thoughts and he quickly answered it, hoping it was Laura or Joe.

It was Sam.

* * *

Joe wanted to close his eyes, curl up and sleep.  His body ached but it was nothing compared to the incessant pounding in his head as he tightly squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt at keeping the world from sliding by him.  His thoughts were disjointed and it was a chore for him to realize that he was indeed moving – and it was not just the world – he was actually being held firmly on the back of a horse, and it was the horse that was moving.

The disoriented teen had no idea who he was sitting with; although he was sure it was something he should have known. However, right now his head hurt too much to care.  He just wanted to sleep.

* * *

Laura glanced anxiously at her son as he rode back to the house on Blair’s horse.  As much as she would have preferred him to ride with her, she was afraid her hold would slip and he’d fall again – so it made the most sense for him to ride with Blair.

She didn’t like how Joe kept his eyes shut, although she knew he was conscious as he winced from time to time.  ‘He must have a concussion,’ she fretted, and her only consolation was that other than his head, he didn’t seem hurt.  She was sure that he’d have a few bruises and scrapes, and be sore for a couple of days; however, over all he had escaped rather unscathed.  Now she wished she had insisted on riding helmets.

“Hey sweetie, how are you holding up?” Laura asked Joe as the barn finally came into sight, and she let out a relieved sigh.

“’kay,” came the weak reply.

“Uh oh,” Gwynne commented, “looks like there’s a storm brewing.”

Laura glanced up at the sky and saw the woman was right.  Ominous dark clouds loomed overhead, forecasting bad weather, although Laura didn’t recall hearing for rain today – it was supposed to just be hot and muggy; another summer scorcher.

“That doesn’t matter,” she said after a moment, “we can still take Joe to the hospital.”

Gwynne shrugged but didn’t say anything, and they finished the rest of the trip in silence.

* * *

Frank was grinning like an idiot just knowing his dad was here today, watching the game.  He couldn’t help it, but every time Fenton did show up to watch, it made it all the more special for the teenager.

Like he had predicted yesterday, Coach Iago was late getting to the field, so the eighteen-year-old started the game in his place, and so far it was going great!  His team was ahead by two runs!

“Looking good, kid,” Iago’s voice came from behind Frank as the burly coach strode towards him, a wide smile on his face.  “Sorry I’m late, but looks like I could have stayed home. Great job!”

The dark-haired teen couldn’t help but blush under the praise – he thought highly of his Little League coach.  “It’s the team, Coach, they’re a great bunch of kids.”

“Yeah, they are,” the coach admitted fondly and gave Frank a supportive pat on the back as he started to move away, and then he paused and glanced around.  “Did your brother come?”

“No,” the teen shook his head, “he had to go out of town for a couple of days, but my Dad’s here!”

Iago whirled towards the bleachers, all the color draining from his face – Fenton Hardy was here?!

Frank never saw the reaction, as at that exact moment, the next batter up got hit with the ball, and he hurried over to make sure the kid was okay….

* * *

As Gwynne had predicted, the storm came with a vengeance, drenching the four of them before they made it back to the house; a loud crack of thunder resonated behind them.  Blair helped Joe into the house and lowered him down onto the leather couch.

The youth let out a weary sigh and closed his eyes again.

“I’ll go get Grace,” Blair said, quickly exiting to leave the women to fret over the injured boy.

“We can put him in Paul’s old room,” Gwynne said, but Laura shook her head.

“No, we need to get him to a hospital.  I think he has a concussion,”

“You can call for an ambulance, “Gwynne insisted, shaking her head, “I don’t want to risk driving him in this weather. Heaven forbid we have an accident or something!”

As Laura heard the heavy rain pounding at the house, she realized, grudgingly, that Gwynne made sense.  “Okay,” she finally agreed.

“The phone is in the kitchen,” the brunette told her, “You call 911 while I get some dry clothes to change Joe into – an old shirt of Blair’s or something. It’ll be too big but at least he’ll be dry!”  She was heading towards the stairs as she added, “And something for you too, of course.”

Laura gave her a strange look and then with a quick, “Be right back honey,” to Joe, she hurried into the kitchen.

Picking up the phone, she started to dial and then stopped and stared at it in growing alarm – the phone was dead!

A moment later, after a tremendous boom, the lights flickered and then went out!

‘Not good,’ thought Laura, ‘not good at all…’

* * *

Gwynne heard the tell-tale crack a moment before the house became quiet, and smiled – even the weather seemed in her favor. She had no idea they were in for a thunderstorm, but its timing could not have been better!

The woman smiled, confident that this was a sign. She just wished it was later in the day; things would be a lot more fun it if was dark out….

Quickly changing into dry clothes, grabbing something for Laura, and then one of Blair’s shirts for Joe, the brunette hurried towards the bathroom to get the first-aid kit.

‘After all, Paul – no – Joe had an owie…’