“LEON!” Fenton Hardy shouted as he saw the big dark-skinned man talking to a couple of younger kids, “We need to talk!”

The man scowled and dismissed the kids, his brown eyes narrowing shrewdly as he saw the two investigators walking briskly towards him. He knew them both and knew there was no point in trying to run – physical fitness was not one of his more enduring features, making him in no way a match for either man, on a good day!

“What’cha want, Hardy?” the man demanded, “I got a business to run.”

“Yeah, so how is drug dealing these days?” Sam asked as he and Fenton flanked the man, “it’s got to suck with it being illegal and all!”

“Hey, you got nothing on me,” Leon refuted, “so I don’t appreciate you going around making wild accusations like that.”  He plucked at the collar of his sweat-stained shirt.  “I got a rep to protect.”

“Enough of the nice-nice, we want to know who’s putting the pressure on my guys,” Fenton demanded, as Sam remained hyper-vigilant for any sign of a shooter. The dark-haired investigator would have liked to have spoken with Leon yesterday but preferred to wait until Sam got in town.  Leon was dangerous enough without being provoked, and Fenton refused to expose Frank just in case this conversation turned nasty.

Leon shrugged and wiped his sweaty forehead.  “I don’t know what you are talking about, man. I’m just a brother on the streets—”

“Bullshit,” Fenton cut him off, moving in closer to the big man. “You know everything going down – and what you don’t know you can sure as hell find out.  So let me explain it to you in terms you can understand….Someone is threatening my family.  Now Leon, I am normally a very tolerant man, but when it comes to certain things – namely people I love – the gloves come off!”  He locked eyes with the drug dealer.  “I want to know who’s leaning on my informants and I want to know within twenty-four hours, or else I will make it my one sole purpose in life to not only shut down your little operation but to personally see you behind bars wearing bright orange overalls and paying rent to your cellmate in a completely unwholesome way. Twenty-four hours, Leon – then we do business.”  Without uttering another word, Fenton turned around and strode away, Sam at his side.

“Think he got the message?” Fenton asked grimly as he waited for Sam to unlock the car doors, and then slid into the passenger’s seat.

“Loud and clear,” Sam said, equally grim, as he put on his seatbelt, started the car and pulled away from the curb.  “Where to now?”

The other detective sighed and sat back in his seat.  “Let’s go home. It’s been a long day, my hand is killing me and I would really just love to spend some time with my family.”

Sam glanced at him and nodded.  “Sounds like the perfect plan to me.”

* * *

Joe opened his eyes and looked around. It took him a few moments to realize that he was really home in his own bed, and he let out a sigh of relief.  His sleep had been plagued by the most bizarre dreams – not exactly nightmares, although they weren’t exactly pleasant, either.

Shaking his head, he slowly sat up, pushed the covers off his sweat-drenched body and was relieved to be feeling much better; overheated, but definitely better than he had been earlier.  For one thing, his stomach felt much more settled – in fact, even a bit hungry now – and the aching in his head had reduced to a much more manageable level.  In fact, he was optimistic that with a couple of painkillers, it might even give him some peace for a while.

‘Not bad at all,’ he mused, standing up and slowly moving towards the bathroom. The rest of his body was sore in a way that reminded him of the day after a football game, and he suspected he had the hard ground to thank for that.

‘Lucky I didn’t break anything,’ he decided as he quickly downed two painkillers with a glass of water, splashed water on his face and then looked in the mirror.  Peeling the bandage off his forehead, he frowned at the gash and then sighed, just pleased that it didn’t need stitches.

Turning on the shower, he adjusted the water temperature to cool, and then stepped in, desperate for a reprieve from the heat.  Joe let out a sigh of relief and leaned forward, resting his forehead carefully against the tiles, closing his eyes and letting the spray run down his back – God, that felt good.

And then he jolted!

“Stop me,” the man taunted the child, “make me stop!” The little boy struggled against the powerful grip holding him. He was crying and begging the other man to stop. Oh the screaming – that horrible screaming…

“What the hell?!” Joe gasped as he stood upright, and then coughed when the shower spray hit him directly in the face.

Almost as quickly as the memory had come it was gone, leaving the teen shaken and confused. What was going on?

* * *

Frank was halfway up the stairs to wake Joe for supper when he heard the phone ring. “I’ll get it!” he called out and then picked up the receiver. “Hardy residence!”

[Hey Frank!  What’cha doing?]  Callie Shaw’s melodious voice cooed in his ear.

The dark-haired teen smiled at the sound of her voice.  His girlfriend of two years had a special way of putting a smile on his face.  “Callie!  I was just thinking of you!”

[I doubt that] the girl teased, [but thanks for saying it anyway. Did your mom and Joe get back from New York yet?]

“Yeah, earlier this afternoon,” he said, and then glanced down at his watch: 6:00 p.m. “Are you off work already? I thought you didn’t get done until seven?”  Callie had a summer job as a life-guard at Bayport Beach and usually worked until seven on Mondays.

[I am] she told him [but I thought if you didn’t have any other plans, we could get together afterwards. Maybe catch a movie or something?].

“I don’t know,” Frank admitted, running a hand through his hair distractedly. “Joe just got home and he’s still not feeling the best. I think I should just stick around—”

[Are you sure?] the girl pressed [You know how your brother hates you hovering…].

Frank sighed. She did have a point.  “I know, but…”

[I tell you what] Callie offered [Don’t say no just yet. Give it some thought and I’ll call you again when I get off. Oh shoot – I gotta run! Bye, Frank!]  She hung up before he could say anything else.

Shrugging, he replaced the receiver back on the base and then knocked softly on Joe’s room door before pushing it open.  He was surprised to see his brother sitting on his bed, wrapped in a towel, with a perplexed look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” he immediately asked.

“Nothing new,” Joe said, his expression lightening as he looked at his brother and gave him a weak smile.

Frank just looked at him, not buying it for one moment, and then Joe shrugged, “It’s hard to explain.”

“Try,” Frank said, grabbing the desk chair, pulling it over in front of his brother and then sitting down. He smiled reassuringly at his brother.

Joe frowned and then rubbed his face with his hands in apparent frustration.  “I don’t know what is going!  One minute everything is okay and then the next it’s like someone has taken me and twisted me all up, making me feel very painful and – and small!” He looked at his brother, his blue eyes worried and confused as he confessed, “Frank, I think something happened but I can’t remember what!  But something terrible and it’s scaring me…forget that—” he admitted, his agitation growing. “It’s terrifying me!  I keep getting these little glimpses of something but then as quick as it comes, it goes away leaving these horrible feelings behind. I can feel the memory – I just can’t remember it!!”  His eyes looked haunted as his voice dropped to a whisper, “Frank, I think I’m losing my mind!”

“Oh, little brother,” Frank’s heart went out to his brother, “I can assure you, you are NOT losing your mind.”

“Then what?” Joe demanded, “What is going on with me?”

The older boy hesitated for only a moment. Taking a deep breath he admitted, “I think it has something to do with my coach. Coach Iago.”

* * *

‘Come with me to my secret place…’

Joe’s eyes widened as all the blood drained from his face.

The child saw the two men and backed away but his retreat was stopped. Turning he looked up into the face of the man who had brought him…

‘If you ever tell anyone what happened here today, I will go to your house…gut your brother like a fish and wear his skin as my coat....’

The man took the knife and sliced…

Standing up from the bed, Joe slowly backed away from his brother, his eyes horrified and large in his deadly white face.  “No,” he whispered, shaking his head adamantly, “No. You’re wrong, Frank! Very, very wrong!”

And then his face hardened and he said, in a voice neither of them recognized, “Get out, Frank.  Get out of my room.”

When the older boy didn’t move, Joe lunged towards him, grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet.

“What’s wro—”

Joe cut his brother off, pushing him towards the bathroom door.  “GET OUT!”

As soon as Frank was out, he locked both doors and then stood in the middle of his bedroom, his chest heaving and his eyes closed…

The man held out a hand – an offering to the terrified child.

‘NOOOO!’ the little boy screamed...and screamed...and screamed…

The man let the hand fall to the ground and then he grabbed the child by the shirt and pulled his face to within an inch of his own…

‘Like a coat…’ he whispered…

Around him a voice whispered…forget…forget…forget…

* * *

The man scowled as he watched the house again. Fenton and Sam were gone and he had no idea where.

‘Stupid’ he chastised himself, ‘very stupid.’ He hadn’t left for very long, thinking the detective would want to spend a little time with his reunited family. “Guess I was wrong” he snarled, “didn’t learn your lesson last time, Fentie? Still putting your family second, are you? Well, my best ‘bud’, I hope you’re willing to pay the price…‘cause it’s going to get costly.”

Then tossing the end of a cigar out the window, Oscar Smuff got out of his car and walked towards the house….