Damian Iago hated Mondays. He always did and today was no exception. It wasn’t helped at all by the fact that Bayport was locked in one of its typical summer heat waves and he hated the heat; actually he hated summer, period.

He never used to…but that all changed that fateful scorching afternoon almost eight years ago to the very day.

“No!” the little boy screamed as he tried to twist out of Iago’s grip, “Let. Me. Go!” but he was too strong for the child, and easily held him, trapped against his much larger body; his arms firmly wrapped around the boy’s slight frame…

Sitting down heavily in his office chair, the jeweler wondered how the hell things had gotten so out of hand.  Rubbing his temples absently as he felt the start of another tension headache coming on, he frowned, bothered by his partner’s words….I’m just going to give our young Mr. Hardy a subtle reminder about keeping his mouth shut.... The coach shuddered, not wanting to think of what that reminder might be!

‘How could things have gone so wrong?’ he questioned, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes.  ‘It was just supposed to be a simple kidnapping – hold the kid hostage to force Fenton Hardy to back off. That was all…’ and then Tex turned on them; and his partner changed the plan.

The sound of the little boy’s screams still echoed in his mind, and the burly blond man hastily stood up to leave – he couldn’t stay in the office, by himself, a minute longer.

* * *

Joe Hardy couldn’t say he enjoyed the drive back to Bayport.  Part of it had to do with the residual headache and unwellness he felt from the concussion, but a bigger part had to do with the weight of dread that was settling over him, heavier with each passing mile.

Something painful and bitter was gnawing at the back of his mind, like a twisting fragment that – while he felt was important – he couldn’t quite grasp.

The closer he got to home, the more agitated he grew, until finally his fidgeting attracted the attention of the adults in the front seat.

“You okay, kid?” Sam asked, glancing in the rearview mirror at his anxious passenger.  Immediately Laura turned around from her front seat position, a concerned look crossing her face.

“Sweetie?  Do you want us to pull over again?”

“S’okay, I’ll be fine,” Joe said, forcing a smile.  He leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes, feeling justified in his deception.  Why worry them when he had no idea what was wrong?

“I think someone’s anxious to get home,” Sam chuckled, refocusing on the traffic.  “Don’t worry, Joe – I’ll have you there in less than an hour.”

The teen swallowed hard, barely managing to get the words past his tight throat.  “Thanks…Sam.”

Laura Hardy’s expression turned to a frown as she regarded her sullen teen for a few more moments before turning back around. 

Sam glanced at her and she gave a slight shrug – she really had no idea what was up with Joe, but she wasn’t convinced that it was just his anxiousness to get home that was agitating the boy.

She wondered if he was more bothered by finding out about Gwynne’s obsession than he was letting on, but quickly dismissed the idea.  Yes, the seventeen-year-old had been shocked when she’d told him about Gwynne’s advance, but that wouldn’t explain why he seemed to be growing more uneasy the closer they got to home; Gwynne was in New York so putting distance between them should have brought Joe relief – not this…whatever ‘this’ was!

‘Wait a second,’ Laura thought, her brow knitting in worry, ‘maybe whatever ‘this’ is has something to do with why he left home to begin with....He lied to Frank about me sending for him…which is very much not like Joe…and then admitted to me that he just had to get out of town…’  A slight frown marred her pretty face as she was sure she’d hit the nail on the head!  ‘I’m willing to bet that whatever’s got him wound up now, is the same thing that sent him to New York in the first place!’

The concerned mother glanced back over her shoulder again and started to ask him, but stopped. The poor kid looked exhausted – and something else she couldn’t quite place her finger on…. 

Turning her gaze back towards the front window, she resolved to talk to him later when he was feeling a bit better.

* * *

The man watched the white car pull into the driveway of the Hardy house.

“Ah,” he whispered, “my lamb has come home.”  Something feral stirred inside him as he watched the back passenger door open and saw the boy for the first time in eight years – for the first time since that day.

“My, my ‘little’ Joey, has certainly grown,” the man mused approvingly as he appraised the blond teen. Then glancing down at the knife resting on the seat beside him, he picked it up and gently caressed the wicked blade.  “But that’s okay. We know how to handle him, don’t we?” 

With great reluctance, he put the knife down and settled back in his seat to watch the little reunion taking place.  Although there weren’t very many other cars on the street, the man wasn’t worried about being seen – he knew how to blend into the background…when he wanted to.

‘Such a nice family, Fenton’ he mentally sneered, his mouth pressed in a hard line. ‘You have everything, don’t you? Big house, nice car, loving wife, handsome young sons who hang on your every word – worship your every step – want to be just like their old man…’  His thoughts turned savage. ‘No more warnings, Hardy…the time for playing has passed. Enjoy them while you can…’ he smiled, ‘’cause a Hardy will make three…’

* * *

“Hey kiddo, how are you feeling?” were the first words out of Frank Hardy’s mouth after the car pulled into the driveway and Joe had extricated himself from the backseat. The older boy trotted towards the car, anxious to see his brother.

The younger boy gave him a wan smile and a brief hug before shrugging, “Well enough to still take you in a game of one-on-one.”

Frank shook his head and grinned, somehow doubting that.  Joe was still much paler than usual and the older boy had no doubts that there was a residual headache nagging him….His own experience with concussions gave him weary insight!

“The only one-on-one you’ll be doing today, young man,” Laura Hardy admonished as she slammed her car door shut, “is with your room.” Her tone gentled.  “Now go lie down, sweetie, you look like you’re about ready to drop.”

Joe rolled his eyes, sighed but chose not to argue with her – probably because she was right.  He was more unsteady than he cared to admit, and had not been able to get any rest on the ride home, though not from lack of trying.

Laura gave Frank a warm hug, before pulling away and appraising him critically, pleased to see that he was none the worse for wear.  “At least one of you managed to keep himself in one piece,” she turned pointedly towards her husband, noting his bandaged hand.

“What can I say, darling?” Fenton smiled as he slipped his arms around his wife, pulling her close.  His voice was husky even as he quipped, “I fall apart the second you leave town!”

“You goof,” Laura laughed, as she reluctantly pulled away from him and swatted his arm, playfully, “but I do appreciate the sentiment!”

* * *

Fenton gave her a quick kiss and then turned his attention to his younger son, faintly amused when both boys reached for Joe’s overnight bag at the same time.  After a moment, the younger boy let his brother take it for him – blatant proof to the detective that his son still wasn’t feeling well…as if the bandage and purplish swelling on his forehead didn’t already tell him that!

Catching Joe’s eye, he smiled, relieved to see for himself that the teen was relatively okay or at the very least, on the mend.

The blond boy saw the concern on his father’s face and gave him a smile and then shrugged before he dutifully followed his brother into the house.

The detective turned to his wife, his smile fading.  “Frank knows.”

“Frank knows what?” Laura asked as Sam came to stand beside them, both his and Laura’s overnight bags in his hand.  Fenton nodded his appreciation to his best friend and partner, no words needed, as he reached for his wife’s bag. The sandy-haired sleuth knew the unlimited gratitude expressed in that mere nod, and he returned his own wordless greeting – a wink – and then followed the boys inside, leaving the couple to talk.

Fenton sighed and then just said, “He knows why I dropped this case.”

“Oh Fenton,” Laura sympathized, her gaze on the backs of her retreating sons.  She knew how hard that must have been for him, as it was something he had never gotten over.  And neither had she.

“I had no choice,” the detective said, his voice remorseful and guilt-filled.  “He asked why I dropped this case and I– I couldn’t lie to him.”

“I know, honey,” Laura said as she wrapped an arm around his waist and leaned against his strong chest briefly before looking up at him, “but it still doesn’t make it any easier, does it?”  He shook his head briefly as she paused and then asked, “How’d he take it?”

“He was angry,” the detective admitted, “at first. But I think– hope– Frank’s beginning to realize that we had no choice…he was only a child, himself.”

“Only a child,” Laura snorted softly as she thought about her older son, “I think Frank might argue with you about that—”

“He did… well tried to anyway,” Fenton admitted and then chuckled fondly, “that boy…”

Laura nodded and then looked worriedly at the house again.  “Do you think he’ll try and talk to Joe about it?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Fenton said, his own gaze following hers, “I really don’t know…”

* * *

Across the street Oscar Smuff scowled as he popped a breath mint into his mouth. Then starting up his car, he put it in drive and pulled away from the curb.

He had somewhere else to be.