‘I’m not dead!’ Frank realized and then, acting on pure instinct, he kicked up with his foot, knocking the gun from the man’s hand, and then followed up with a second kick to the man’s stomach, knocking him back on his ass; leaving him gasping and unarmed!

“SMUFF!” Fenton roared at the downed man as he rushed to check on his son. “Frank! Are you okay?”  He appraised the teen quickly for any signs of injury.

Badly shaken, Frank took a deep breath and nodded his head, not trusting his voice right now, as the adrenaline slowly weaved out of his system, leaving him light-headed now that the danger was past. His father’s hand rested on his shoulder for a moment, reassuring them both that Frank was okay.

“My stomach…oooh, my aching stomach,” Oscar Smuff’s voice groaned up at them.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?”  Fenton was furious, and moving away from Frank, he reached down, grabbed the man by the lapels and hauled him to his feet.  He shook him violently, too incensed to care about his injured hand.  “You tried to kill my son!”

“No! I didn’t!” Smuff protested vehemently, “it was a blank – no bullet! Blanks! It was a joke!!”

“What?”   Fenton glanced around and saw Frank bend over and pick up the gun.  He handed it to his father who released the comical little man, and inspected the weapon. Satisfied that it was indeed harmless, he turned his angry glare back on the other detective and growled, “A joke?”

“Geez Hardy, relax,” Smuff rebuked, “The chief sent me to collect you and I thought it’d be pretty funny—” he grinned at Frank and admitted, “and it was. Kid, if you could have seen the look on your face!” He rubbed his midsection again, “of course if I’d known you were a kicker—”

It took every bit of restraint the detective could muster for Fenton NOT to throttle the annoyance, on the spot!  Smuff had not only given them both a nasty scare, but he thought it was funny!  “You’re damn lucky you didn’t get yourself killed,” he finally snapped, “if I’d had my gun on me—”

“Oooh, is that a threat?” Smuff taunted and then exaggeratedly brushed the dirt off the seat of his pants.  “Anyway, let’s go, can’t keep the Chief waiting, you know.”

“Why’d he send you to get me?” Fenton demanded, not moving and seriously contemplating that jail time might be worth ridding the world of Oscar Smuff!

“’Cause of your sore paw,” Smuff said. “Chief figured you might need a driver.  A baby-sitter is more like it,” he grumbled and started down the walkway towards his car.

 “I can drive you, Dad,” Frank offered quietly as he came to stand beside his father. He was still a bit pale and shaky, but feeling much better than before. Smuff’s prank left him dry-mouthed, though; it had been done in very bad taste!

“Are you sure?” his father asked, looking at him, still concerned, “You’re sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah, I am – on both counts.”  Frank managed a smile.  “He just gave me a bit of a fright.”

A trace of amusement flickered across the older Hardy’s face as he indicated the retreating detective.  “Not nearly as bad as the fright you gave him, I think.  Nice moves, son.”

Frank blushed and shrugged.

Fenton looped an arm across his son’s shoulders and then looked down at his bandaged hand.  “Well then, we better go – can’t keep a Smuff waiting. He only smells worse with time!”

The teen laughed as they started out the door.  “You really don’t like him much, do you?”

“Can’t stand the ground he walks on,” the sleuth retorted good-naturedly and then became serious, stopping them both in the driveway. “Frank,” he looked his son straight in the face, “never trust a word that man says – not one.  I don’t and I never will.”

Surprised, Frank pressed, curious as to how his father could work so closely with Smuff if he not only despised him but didn’t trust him either, “But you still work with him?”

Fenton considered that and than shrugged, “We all have to do things we don’t like…but for the record, I don’t work with Smuff. He just has this annoying tendency of being everywhere!”

* * *

Smuff was still grumbling about his stomach when Fenton and Frank followed him into the police precinct. But he tactfully kept his mouth shut once they actually went into Collig’s office.

The Chief of Police’s face was grim as he indicated for the three of them to take a seat, with a mere nod of his head. When they were seated, he said nothing, but passed a piece of paper to the senior Hardy. Fenton read it, his face paling, and then glanced up at his old friend questioningly.

“This was found an hour ago, affixed to the windshield wiper of a patrol car. It’s clean, no prints – nothing.  It was printed out on a standard LaserJet printer; no way to trace the source;” he paused and then added, as if he personally was in some way responsible for this, “I’m sorry, Fenton.”

“What is it, Dad?” Frank asked, glancing anxiously at the paper his father was now holding.  Wordlessly, the detective passed it to his son, already mulling over the possibilities, if the look on his face were any indication.

Frank read the words, his own pallor matching that of his father’s.  It said:

FENTON HARDY:

I MISSED FRANK ON PURPOSE.

CONSIDER THAT MY WARNING SHOT.

TWO CORPSES NOW; ONE OLD, ONE NEW.

DROP THE CASE BEFORE A HARDY MAKES THREE.

BY THE WAY HOW IS LAURA AND JOEY’S TRIP TO THE BIG CITY?

I WARNED YOU.

I KNOW YOU AND I KNOW YOUR WEAKNESSES.

ALL THREE OF THEM.

Frank gulped and passed the note back to Chief Collig. His heart hammered in his chest, not so much from the actual threat – as this wasn’t the first time either he or Joe had been on the receiving end of one – but from the underlying familiarity; it was chilling. This person not only knew each of them by name, he also knew where they were!

“It’s up to you, Fenton,” Collig said, still holding the note.

The dark-haired detective frowned and ran a hand distractedly through his hair. “I don’t know,” he admitted, shocking Frank that his father was even considering dropping this case again! He was shaken by the note – as was everyone else – however, he also knew his father couldn’t withdraw from this a second time. This guy needed to be caught!

“Dad,” he said softly, “you have to find this guy or else we’ll never be safe – you know that.”

Fenton looked at his son for a few long moments and then he sighed and looked at the chief.  “Any word from ballistics yet on that bullet?”

Collig nodded, his face still grim. “As you suspected, Fenton, the bullet that killed your informant matched the one taken out of the dumpster eight years ago.”

“Damn,” the detective muttered, scowling, “how the hell did he know I was going to be meeting with Ramon?”

Collig looked at him and waited – they both knew the answer.

“So he’s watching me again,” the detective answered his own question.

“Maybe he never stopped watching you,” Smuff put in helpfully and earned three dirty looks for his effort. “Just a thought,” he muttered, rubbing his stomach as he sat back in the chair.

“We’re still interviewing witnesses,” Collig went on, “but so far, nothing – no one saw the shooter.”

“I’m really not surprised,” Fenton admitted,  “whoever this guy is, he’s no amateur.”

“I agree,” Collig said, “So what are you going to do?”

Fenton snorted.  “I’m going to catch this asshole.  Frank’s right, as long as this guy is still out there, my family won’t be safe, whether I drop this case or not.”

Collig hid a small smile, having expected no less.  “What’s your next move, then?”

“Well, this might be running along the lines of slim, but just before Ramon was killed, he mentioned that there was new heat on the streets about talking to me. I think I might just see if I can track something down on that angle.”

Smuff snorted, “Ah, yeah – let’s just see how many more people the big dick can get killed!”

Before Fenton could respond, Collig cut it off.  “Enough, Smuff, one more comment like that and I’ll have your PI license revoked—”

“On what grounds?” the plaid-clad sleuth protested.

“On the grounds of your effervescent personality. Now are you here to help or not?” the Chief asked.

“To help,” Smuff mumbled; properly contrite after Collig’s rebuke.

“Good, because I have a very special job for you,” the veteran cop promised and the shorter man’s face lit up.

“Really? What?” He could barely contain himself and ignored the amused look Frank cast his way.

“A stake-out.”

The detective’s eyes lit up and he rubbed his hands together.  “I love a good stake-out!”

“Glad you feel that way,” Collig said, “’cause I want you to keep an eye on the Hardy house—”

“W-what?” Smuff sputtered, this obviously not being what he wanted.

“You heard me,” the chief said and then turned to Fenton.  “Laura and Joe are coming home tomorrow?”

“Yeah, Sam’s driving them back.” Fenton had already told his long-time friend about the mishap in New York City.

“Good.”  He looked back at Smuff.  “Anything suspicious at all, I want you to call it in.”

“But—” the short sleuth protested again, but Collig cut him off.

“Look, Smuff, I don’t have the manpower right now to cover all the bases.  Watch the house for me and make sure nothing happens – that’s what I need you to do, right now. Is that going to be a problem?”

“No, sir.  No problem,” Smuff grumbled.

“Good.”  The chief turned to Fenton, noting the displeased look on his friend’s face.  “I’m sorry Fenton, but this is best I can do right now.”

“It’s okay Ezra, I do appreciate it,” Fenton said, and then turned to his son.  “Come on Jeeves, we got some leg-work to do.”

Frank stood up, noting with amusement, the nonplused look on Smuff’s face. It didn’t really give the teen any comfort to know that Oscar’d be watching their house, but, like Fenton, he did appreciate the sentiment.

Following his father out of the office, he smiled, “I don’t think Smuff was very pleased about his assignment.”

“Yeah well I won’t be pleased if that idiot’s idea of a stake-out ends up being at my kitchen table,” Fenton griped as he shook his head.

“He wouldn’t!” Frank gasped and his father snorted.

“He would.”

* * *

The rain was still beating down when Sam stopped outside Gertrude’s condo. The thunder and lightning part of the storm had passed, but the damage had already been done as numerous power outages assaulted the city – one of the areas affected was where Gertrude lived.

“Can’t say I’m too enthused about climbing fourteen flights of stairs,” Laura commented as she undid her seatbelt, “This is one cardio workout I could do without.”

Sam just chuckled, “I’ll be back to pick you up in two hours.”

“Thanks Sam,” Laura smiled, “that should give me enough time to get showered, changed and grab a bite to eat.” Her smile faltered.  “I just hated leaving Joe there by himself, though.”

“He’s sleeping,” the detective reminded her.

“I know.”  Her hand paused on the door handle.  “It’s probably me being silly, but I’m just worried that Gwynne might try and see him or something.”

Sam frowned and then shrugged, “Unlikely. Try not to worry – he’ll be fine and I’ll be back in two hours, on the nose.”

“I’ll try,” she promised and then reluctantly got out in the downpour and raced for the doors.  A few minutes later, she was wondering whatever possessed Gertrude to get a condo on the fourteenth floor!!

* * *

“Gwynne where’s the – Gwynne?”  Blair Smart stopped on the bottom of the stairs and looked around, puzzled.  “Where the devil did she go?” He walked over to the window and peered through the rain-splattered glass before sighing heavily and shaking his head – her car was gone.

Grumbling to himself, he went into the kitchen and picked up the phone.  No dial tone.  “That woman,” he muttered, as he flipped the phone over and reconnected the small cord in the back. Picking up the receiver, he dialed her cell phone and then waited.

No answer.

* * *

Gwynne Smart pulled up in front of the hospital and scowled. All the parking spots nearby had already been taken and she’d have to park further away on the lot.

Normally she wouldn’t have minded, but with the rain as heavy as it was, she really did not relish the thought of getting soaked again.

‘Oh well’, she sighed, ‘I’ve got no choice.’ And moments later she was hurrying into the ER entrance.

At the front desk, Gwynne got directions for the gift shop and then enquired which floor Joe Hardy was on.  After picking up a beautiful ‘get-well’ bouquet of flowers, she hurried towards the stairs, as the hospital – like the surrounding area – had lost its power; however it did have emergency generators that kept it well lit and functioning.

‘Glad he’s only on the fourth floor’, the woman thought to herself a few moments later when she emerged from the stairwell.

She found his room easily enough and knocked softly on the door before pushing it open and going in. Gwynne was very surprised that, other than Joe, there was no one else in his room.  She had fully expected Laura to be here.

Quietly she approached the bed and looked down the youth.  He was sleeping.

She frowned as she saw the bruise peeking out from under the bandage on his temple, as well as a few other bruises and scratches on his face and his arms.

Placing the flowers on the stand next to the bed, Gwynne watched Joe quietly for a few minutes – her mind drifting back and forth in time.  Her mouth twitched in a smile as she reached out to touch his handsome young face, and then stopped herself.  No, this was not the right time – not when she was here to speak to Laura.

After a moment, Gwynne moved away from the bed and decided to wait outside the room.  It was too hard; the temptation too great.  But she refused to rush this, not when she had grander plans than a few stolen moments.  She had lost Paul once before, she was not about to do that again – she would have to be patient though.

Very…very patient.

* * *

True to his word, Sam was back to pick Laura up, exactly two hours later and they returned to the hospital.

“Do you have any idea how much I hate stairs?” Laura groused, good-naturedly, as they climbed the four flights up to Joe’s hospital floor.

“Probably as much as I do,” Sam grinned but the mirth left his face as soon as he opened the door and saw the dark-haired woman standing outside Joe’s hospital room.  Gwynne.

Laura saw her at the same time and rushed towards the room.  “What the hell are you doing here?!” she demanded, her pale-blue eyes flashing in anger.

“I had to come by to say I’m sorry,” Gwynne said contritely, “and – and to tell you that I’m going to print a retraction about Paul in the magazine—”

“I don’t care about that right now,” the furious mother cut her off, “I am more concerned with you staying the hell away from my son!”

“It was a misunderstanding,” the dark haired woman insisted, “and I am so sorry – and so embarrassed about what happened. I – I don’t know what in the world came over me!  I just – I – seeing him like that reminded me so strongly of Paul…that I just got caught up in things and didn’t realize what I was doing—”  she looked at Laura for some sympathy, but seeing none – only accusation – she sighed and then continued, “anyway, I just had to come by to apologize to Joe for taking advantage of him like that.”

“No,” Laura shook her head, “it’s not going to happen.”

“Please, Laura,” Gwynne implored, “at least give me a chance to say I’m sorry.”

The blond woman still shook her head.  “No, Gwynne.  Joe has a concussion and doesn’t even remember what happened.  And he’s resting now anyway.”

“Are you going to tell him?” Gwynne asked, a strange look filtering across her face.

“Of course I am,” Laura said, indignantly, “that’s not the kind of thing I would ever dream of keeping from him!”

Seeing that Laura was not about to back down, Gwynne appealed to the tall sandy-haired man.  “I just want the chance to apologize... that’s all!”

Sam shook his head.  “It’s not my place to give permission—”

“You are both being unreasonable!”  Gwynne suddenly snapped, her own eyes dark with anger. “All I did was give him a kiss!  One moment that I am more sorry for than you’ll ever know, and now I just want a chance to say I’m sorry – you aren’t being fair!”

Laura shook her head.  “No, Gwynne.  You are never getting anywhere near my son again.  Go home.”

Gwynne straightened her shoulders and put her head back.  “Fine, Mrs. Hardy.”  She started walking but then stopped and glared at Laura.  “You took Paul away from me once, I’ll be damned if I let you do it again!” and then she hurried towards the stairs, leaving a shocked Laura and Sam gaping at her.

“What the—?”  Laura finally asked after the shock wore off and she was able to speak again.

“I don’t know,” Sam slowly admitted, and then looked seriously at his partner’s wife.  “But I think you need to call Fenton, right away….Tell him everything – this can’t wait until you get back to Bayport.  He can get a restraining order for Joe, against her, immediately.”  His serious look turned dark as he thought about her last words.  “She’ll be back.”

Laura was suddenly filled with an overwhelming need to make sure her son was still okay, and hurried back into the room.  Sam followed more slowly, an unsettled frown on his face – he just hoped a restraining order would be enough….

* * *

Fenton’s cell phone rang just as he and Frank were getting back in the car. They had spent the last few hours trying to track down any leads – but so far, nothing.

“Fenton Hardy,” he answered tersely and then his face relaxed, he smiled and said warmly, “Laura—”

She cut him off before he could say anything else.

Frank watched his father carefully, getting a sinking feeling watching the emotions filter across the older man’s face as he listened to the voice on the phone.  “Okay, honey.  Don’t worry…I’ll take care of it. Can I talk to Sam?  He’s in the room with Joe?  Okay – tell him to call me as soon as he can. You guys be careful.  We’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”  After a more personal good-bye, Fenton ended the call and then looked at his son.

“What’s wrong?” Frank asked, knowing something was up.

“That was your mom,” his father started slowly, “it would seem I need to give Ezra a call…”

“Chief Collig?” Frank’s concern grew, “Why?”

“Well…” Fenton looked at his son, his face a picture of disbelief, “It would appear that we need to get a restraining order issued against Gwynne Smart—”

“She’s after Mom!”  Frank was furious at the thought that this woman was harassing his mother, but his father shook his head.

“No – not your Mom.  Joe.”

“Joe?”  Now it was Frank’s turn to look at bit stunned.  “Why?”

“Well, according to what your Mom’s just told me – Gwynne is obsessed with your Uncle Paul…”

Images of Frank’s nightmare hit him full force and he felt all the blood drain from his face.  “Oh no”, he managed to say, “and Joe looks just like him.”  He shook his head as his father nodded and started to dial the police station.