“Dad… Can I talk to you for a minute?” Frank asked as Fenton Hardy finished his supper and pushed his plate away.

“Sure,” the detective said, getting to his feet and indicating that they could talk in his office. He knew that whatever his son wanted to talk to him about, he wanted to do it in private or else Frank would have brought it up while they ate.

He noticed a strange look pass between his sons and thought it was curious when Joe did not get up to follow them.

When they got to the office, Fenton closed the door and then sat down at the desk while Frank sat in the chair across from him. He noticed the boy’s face was somber, and pressed, “What is it?”

“Its about Joe—” Frank started but than amended, “Well, actually more about something that happened to Joe….”

“The suicide attempt?” Fenton pressed, knowing how hard his son had taken just finding out about it.

“Not directly,” the boy admitted and then leaned towards him and spoke earnestly, “The day that Hero disappeared I went with you back to the field to talk to Coach Iago – what did he say?”

The detective was surprised by the question and leaned back heavily in his seat, his brow furrowed as he thought about that day, and then he shrugged.  “Not much. He told me that he and Joe had put away the equipment from the game and that the dog had taken off and no matter how much Joe called to him, Hero wouldn’t come back—” Fenton frowned and steepled his fingers carefully, mindful of the bandage.  “I remember thinking at the time that that was a bit odd.” For the millionth time since that day, Fenton cursed himself for being more concerned about his case than what was happening around him with his family. If the same thing had happened today, he would not have so easily accepted that explanation – and that thought shook him up. He had thought it was odd, but never followed it up…after all, Hero was ‘just’ a dog and nowhere as important as finding the gang behind these burglaries! The detective snorted lightly at his own imprudence.

“Odd?!” Frank blurted out, “Dad I think its worse than odd—”  He steeled himself and then continued, “I think that something happened that day. Something terrible and something to both Joe…and Hero!”

Fenton looked at his son sharply.  “Frank?” He knew the boy was holding back.

“You said you thought Joe’s abrupt trip to New York had to do with his association between seeing the Coach and remembering the pain of losing Hero – I think it’s much more than that!”  His dark eyes bored into his father’s.  “Dad, there is something seriously wrong with Joe!  He’s having trouble remembering anything that has to do with the coach – and confessed to me about having these strange episodes- flashbacks, whatever, that leave him terrified but memory-less!  When I suggested that the coach might have something to do with it, he totally lost it and kicked me out of his room!”

The detective’s frown intensified.

Frank continued, “Joe thinks he’s losing his mind – I’d say it’s more a case of him starting to find it!”

“Joe doesn’t remember what’s scaring him?” Fenton verified, and the teen shook his head.

“Not at all – just that it’s upsetting him bad enough to make him lie to me and take off out of town!”

Fenton rubbed his face with his hands – this definitely did not sound good – but before he could say anything his son continued, in a hushed tone, “And I think it might have something to do with what really made Joe try and kill himself!”

The detective startled and felt all the blood drain from his face as Frank added, his voice laced with compassion, “I don’t think for one second that my brother attempted suicide over a dog – even one he loved like Hero – or for lack of your attention – no matter what that shrink said!”  He glanced away for a moment and sighed, sitting back in the chair.  “I know my brother better than anyone else in the world and there is just no way it was about that! Now… about something that has scared him bad enough that he’s ‘forgotten’ it?  That I can believe!”

Fenton swallowed with difficulty, his mouth having gone dry. After a moment he managed, “Joe?  What is Joe saying about this?”

“Only that he wasn’t molested,” Frank said easily and then moved quickly behind his father to pat him on the back when the detective suddenly seemed at loss for breath.

“M-molested?” Fenton gasped and Frank nodded vigorously.

“That’s what I thought—”  he looked a bit sick for a moment, “But Joe is adamant that it isn’t about that!”

“Well – well, that’s good,” his father said slowly, feeling insurmountable relief sweep over him. He had no idea how he would have handled it, if it turned out that his son had been- hurt like that, and he’d been too self-absorbed to notice! 

“What does Joe remember about that day?” the detective asked a few moments later, and his son shrugged:

“I don’t know. I haven’t asked him outright ‘cause I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Good idea,” his father said, and then stood up.  “I think we need to go and talk to your brother.”

* * *

Joe had made it almost as far as his room when he heard the phone ring and picked it up, “Hello?”

[Hi Joe, it’s Callie!] a voice needlessly identified itself  [Is Frank there?].

“Hi Callie,” Joe greeted, “he is but he’s talking to Dad right now. Can I get him to call you back?”

[Okay.] She paused and then added [Hey Joe, can I ask you something?]

“Sure,” the teen said slowly, his wariness going up a notch. “What is it?”

[I was hoping Frank would take a break and go to the movies or something with me tonight but…] her voice trailed off.

“But my big brother is insisting he needs to stay home with me, right?” Joe finished it for her, knowing how Frank thought and shaking his head with a fond look on his face.

[Yeah, something like that] came the reply.

Joe sighed and then shrugged, “Don’t sweat it. I’ll talk to Frank and get him to give you a call.”

[Are you sure?] Callie gushed [I mean if you’d prefer he’d stayed home—]

Joe cut her off. , “It’s okay, Callie, I don’t need a babysitter. Least of all when my most challenging activity for the night is going to be deciding which side to sleep on!”

[Thanks Joe! And I’m glad that you’re okay!] Then with a quick good-bye, Callie hung up and Joe went back into his room and sat down on the edge of his bed.

He sighed heavily. The brief conversation with his brother’s girlfriend refreshed his loneliness for Vanessa and he wondered how her trip was going.

Stretching out on his bed, the blond teen closed his eyes and waited for his brother to come back upstairs.

* * *

Laura Hardy sighed as she walked from her house to the sidewalk and glanced around. In her hands she carried some left-over stir-fry for Oscar. It was more than he deserved but she still wouldn’t see him hungry when he was watching her house.

She frowned as she looked around – where was he?

From behind her, she heard Sam call out, “Is something wrong, Laura?” and she turned around, looked at him for a moment and then indicated with her unencumbered hand:

“Where is Oscar?”

* * *

Frank knocked on his brother’s door briefly before pushing it open and going in, his father right behind him.

Seeing the two enter his room, Joe slowly sat up and looked at them.  “What’s going on?” he asked a bit nervously. He knew that Frank had gone to talk to his father about what had been happening, and now he wasn’t sure what to expect.

“Can we talk to you for a few minutes, son?” Fenton asked, pulling the desk chair over in front of the teen and sitting down, facing him.  Frank sat on the bed next to Joe.

Instantly, his heart rate began to pick up even as he swallowed hard and nodded his head.

“Joe, son, Frank has been telling me about what’s been going on,” his father’s voice was steady, “and about how scared you’ve been, but you don’t know why. Is that right?”

The boy nodded his head.  “Yeah, pretty much.”

Fenton nodded.  “He’s also told me that he thinks it might have something to do with his coach—”

Joe felt the blood drain from his face as his heart started to pound. He just knew what his father was going to ask next – and he was not disappointed.

“Son,” Fenton’s voice was gentle and remorseful for wanting Joe to do this- to dredge up this obviously painful event. But he needed to know, “What happened that day- the day you went with Coach Iago? The day Hero disappeared.”

Joe felt himself start to shake and barely noticed his brother’s arm around his shoulders. He took a deep breath and forced himself to go there – to remember.  Slowly, painfully, it came back to him...

“Okay Joey, let’s call your folks first thing.  We don’t want you getting into trouble, now do we?” Iago said as he put a large hand on the little boy’s shoulder and directed him back towards the field.

“They’re not home,” Joe said as he glanced back over his shoulder at his brother’s retreating form.  Hero lumbered contentedly beside him.  “Our aunt is watching us.”

Frank turned at the same time, saw his brother looking at him and gave a quick wave before he disappeared around the corner.

“Oh really?  What are your folks doing today?”  The coach asked and Joe sighed.

“Well, Mom’s helping out Chet’s mom today.  His mom had some sort of operation so she can’t do much.  And Dad…” his eyes shone brightly with pride as he talked, “well, Dad is on the trail of some bad guys!  He’s getting close; he told me so at breakfast!”

“Wow,” Iago said, “that sounds exciting.”

“Yeah,” agreed the blond child.  “When we grow up, me and Frank are going to be just like him – detectives!”

“Say Joey…” the coach said, “After we put the equipment away, would you like to go on a little adventure?  I’d love to show you—” he said in a hushed tone, “my ‘secret place’.”

Joe looked at him cautiously.

“It’s really cool,” the coach coaxed.  “When I was your age, I found it.  And now whenever I need somewhere to go, just to get away from things, I go there.”

Joe was still unsure, and reached out to pat Hero’s head comfortingly.  “I don’t—”

“Oh come on, Joey,” Iago cajoled, “Hero can come too.  I thought you said you wanted to be a detective when you grow up?  Detectives like to find things, don’t they? To go on adventures??  Well, trust me, Joey…this will be a big adventure.  And we’ll be back before Frank even knows we’ve gone!”

Feeling his resolve waver, the blond child couldn’t help but grin – he did like the idea of an adventure….

Ten minutes later, Joey found himself in the backseat of Coach Iago’s car with Hero sitting beside him.  His face beaming with excitement, the child stared out the window at the passing scenery.

“Th-that’s it,” the boy whispered, his voice shaking, “That’s all I – I can remember…”

Frank and Fenton exchanged a glance. Frank was right – this had to do with Iago…and something that Joe wasn’t remembering!

Tightening his grip as he felt the younger boy shudder, Frank spoke soothingly, “That’s good, Joe.” He smiled, “You did real good, little brother. I’m proud that you remembered so much!”

Joe leaned against him, accepting Frank’s comfort, although he couldn’t stop the tremors that coursed through his own body.

* * *

Fenton reached out and put a hand on his son’s leg, even as he felt a cold hand wrap around his heart. ‘A secret place?’ he thought; his handsome face scowling. He did not like the sound of that. ‘What the hell happened in that secret place?’ The cold hand was replaced with anger.  ‘It would appear…that I need to have another talk with Damian Iago.’  He could feel Joe trembling and it heated his anger.  ‘Just what the hell did that bastard do to my son?’

* * *

Oscar Smuff pulled his car up in front of ‘Another Fine Gem’ and got out. Once again the plan was going to change…and this time, there would be no loose ends.

He smiled as a memory flashed across his mind…

The child was hauled into the old shed. Behind him, Smuff could hear the barking of the dog – the stupid dog.

“Shut it up, or else I’ll permanently shut it up,” he growled as the youngster shook with fear, recognizing the danger he was in. He tried to pull away but Iago held him tight.

“H-hero, quiet!” the child stammered and immediately the huge dog listened.

Smuff laughed and reached out to stroke the pale cheek of Fenton Hardy’s ‘baby’. “Good boy,” he patronized and then slapped the child, hard.

When the boy began crying, Smuff nodded in satisfaction. That had felt good. He grabbed the boy’s chin and held it tightly, forcing him to look him in the face. He whispered, “My precious little lamb – have you ever seen a grown man cry?”

The boy’s small body shook with fear and he managed to shake his head – no.

“No?” Smuff grinned, “Than you are in for a real treat, ‘cause not only are you about to see a grown man cry…you are about to hear him scream…” He moved away and watched as the child’s eyes widened in horror, only now seeing the red-haired man tied, spread-eagled to a cot in the back of the shed. The man was gagged and struggled futilely to get away.

Smuff pulled out the knife and approached the cot, he looked at the child and finished, “And watch him die…”

Ripping the gag from the man’s mouth, the knife arced downwards… and as the smell of blood filled his nose, the sound of the screams filled his mind…

Smuff fingered the knife in his pocket. Oh yes, he would remind the boy to keep his mouth shut. And then he would silence him – forever.