Frank grimaced when he saw that he only had one power bar left on his cell phone. “Damn,” he muttered as he heard the rings going though and waited for his father to answer his phone, “phone’s almost dead.”

Callie glanced across at him.

After a moment, the boy heard his father’s voice, terse and hurried [Frank- where are you?].

Taken somewhat back by his father’s abruptness, he hesitated briefly before answering, “On my way back to the house. Dad—”

Fenton cut him off  [Good.  I’ll explain when you get here but Smuff is involved in all this and not in a good way.].

“I—”

Once again his father cut him off.  [Frank, Joe is missing!]

“What?!”  Frank practically yelled into the phone, his heart just about pounding out of his chest.

[He’s not in the house.  Apparently he came downstairs to get something to eat and Sam found his unfinished plate on the kitchen table.  I’ve called Collig and he’s dispatching a patrol to the house.  Your mom and I will be there in about ten minutes – where are you?]

“I’m closer than that,” Frank said grimly before adding, “Coach Iago is working with Smuff.”

[What?!]  Callie could hear Fenton’s voice as Frank held the phone away from his ear briefly.

“I found some stuff in the coach’s office.  The coach had started typing up a confession of sorts but got interrupted. Dad—” Frank paused for only a moment, “they made Joe witness Tex’s murder!”

There was silence on the other end of the phone and for a moment Frank thought they had gotten disconnected.  And then he heard soft swearing before his father’s voice came back on the line [Where is Iago now?].

“I don’t know,” the teen admitted, “he wasn’t at his office.”  He didn’t have to mention how he’d gotten his information; his father would know and he could easily imagine Fenton shaking his head as he realized what Frank had done – and done alone.

[All right, son. Things are starting to fit more snugly into place.  We’ll see you in a few minutes.]

“Okay, Dad, bye.”  Frank clicked off the phone and let out an exasperated sigh.

“What was that all about?” Callie asked, glancing across at him, not liking the part of the conversation she had overheard, particularly about Joe and a murder.

The dark-haired teen looked at her, his face grim. “Smuff is dirty and the Coach is involved.” He summed it up for her.

“You said Joe witnessed someone’s murder?” she pressed, watching him clench his jaw and nod curtly.

“Yes, and now Joe is missing.”

“Oh Frank,” she said sympathetically as she waited to make a left turn onto Peterson Street, only a couple of blocks from the Hardys’ house now.  A silver car made a right off the street and Frank felt all the blood drain from his face as he recognized the driver. It was Coach Iago!  And there, sitting in the back seat, was Oscar Smuff!

The stout detective glanced down at the empty seat next to him and Frank knew – he just knew they had Joe! Why else would Smuff be in the backseat? And why else did he look down?

“Turn around!  Quickly, Callie!”  The teen excitedly pointed at the silver car.  “Follow that car!”

Without question, Callie did so, U-turning on the quiet street and hurrying to catch up.

“Not too close,” Frank cautioned tersely as he leaned forward, “we don’t want them to see us.”

Callie nodded and pulled back a bit.  “Do you want to drive?”

“No, you’re doing fine,” he said, his keen eyes firmly fixed on the car ahead.  “Let another car get between us and them. You worry about driving; I’ll make sure we don’t lose them.”  His hand fumbled for his cell phone, intending on calling his father.

“Damn,” he hissed, as the phone was completely dead now!  Without taking his eyes off the silver car, now two cars ahead, Frank asked, “Do you have your phone?”

“No,” the girl admitted sheepishly, “I forgot it.”

“Crap,” the teen muttered, not upset with her, but angry at himself.  He never let his battery get this low or run out! That was a Joe thing! But than again, he had been rather preoccupied over the last couple of days…. “Okay then, once we find out where they’re going, you drop me off and then go find a phone to call my dad.”

“Frank—” Callie was hesitant, “do you think that’s wise? I mean, just dropping you off? Maybe we should both—”

“No,” Frank cut her off, adamantly shaking his head.  “If I’m right and they do have Joe, I need to make sure they don’t hurt him – or worse – before help arrives.”

The girl glanced at him again but didn’t say anything else.  She was still worried about just dropping him off, but also knew he was right.  If the two men did do something to Joe before she and Frank could get back – her boyfriend would never forgive himself. She bit her lip.  And neither would she!

“Okay,” she agreed after a moment, and then just concentrated on following the silver car.

* * *

Fenton Hardy was out of the car almost before his wife had put it in Park.  Sam was waiting anxiously for them.

“Frank found evidence linking his coach to Smuff,” Fenton explained as the two men and Laura went into the house.  When Sam looked at him, not getting the connection, Fenton elaborated, “the esteemed coach,” he said sarcastically, “is a jeweler.  He owns a store on 12^th and Main Street called ‘Another Fine Gem’”

Comprehension dawned on the sandy-haired detective.  “A sleuth, a burglar, and a jeweler – nice setup.”

“Yup,” agreed Fenton, going into the kitchen, and frowning as he saw the plate of food and worried about his missing son.  “Smuff could scout out the location – pick the mark – Tex could do the actual B&E to get the jewelry and then Iago could rework it and sell it right in his store; very profitable for them all. Profitable and perfect – no one would have connected them—”

“Until you tracked down Tex,” Sam pointed out.

“So they killed Tex and then got the hell out of town…and nobody was none the wiser. I know I was just too damned happy to have that nuisance out of my hair – I never questioned why he left. Or even why he came back,” Fenton scowled.

“He certainly had the perfect cover,” Laura added, her pretty face pale with concern, “a bumbling idiot.  Who would have ever thought him capable of anything like this?”

“Not only bumbling, but on the inside!  Eight years ago he knew I was meeting Tex, and then again when I went after Ramon.  Damnit!” he slammed his good fist angrily against the counter, “I should have known!”

Laura moved and slipped an arm around his waist, giving him a tight hug.  “Honey, there was no way you could have!  Smuff knew exactly what he was doing!  He’s a lot shrewder than we could have ever given him credit for.”

Fenton shook his head and then looked down at his wife, giving her a wan smile before he pulled away from her and addressed Sam:  “Joe saw the murder – he saw them kill Tex.”

Sam looked at him in disbelief for a moment.  “Oh no,” he whispered, remembering how brutal the man’s death had been, “poor kid.” And then blanched, “Oh God—”

The other detective finished the thought he had seen on his friend’s face.  “He’s the witness – and now he’s missing.”  He glanced around the kitchen, surprised by another notable absence.  “Where’s Frank?”

* * *

Frank hardly dared to blink as they continued to trail the silver car, now just a set of taillights ahead of them in the dark August night.  His heart pounded with anxiety as he just hoped his brother was all right. Not having seen him, he assumed the younger boy was somehow restrained or even unconscious in the back seat; he hoped the former, thinking of his brother’s recent concussion.

‘Hang in there, bro,’ he thought to himself, ‘I’m right behind you.’ Of course he knew there was a chance that Joe wasn’t in the car at all, but he refused to dwell on that. No – they had the younger boy, he was certain of it!

The car made its way towards the outskirts of town and into an older, exclusive neighborhood. The houses here were big and set on large wooded properties hidden behind high fences that offered privacy to their owners. The teen frowned, wondering why they were here, and was a bit surprised when the silver car suddenly turned in. Heavy black gates swung open and the car disappeared inside.

“Pull over,” Frank demanded, already undoing his seatbelt. He would be damned if he was going to lose Joe now!

Callie nodded and did so.  As he got out of the car, Frank turned back around and instructed urgently, “Get to a phone and call my dad!”

“Okay,” she said and then added, her blue eyes wide and anxious, “Please Frank, be careful!”

“I will,” he gave her a reassuring smile, “I promise.”

As Callie pulled away, the dark-haired teen loped towards the fence.

* * *

Iago pulled up outside the old shed, shut off the car engine and then turned around. Joe was still unconscious, and he swallowed back the bile in his throat when he saw the sickening angle of the boy’s arm.

“You didn’t have to do that,” the coach commented as he looked at Smuff. The stout man shrugged:

“You’re probably right…but the little shit had it coming.”  Smuff opened his door.  “Now give me a hand with him. The sooner we get this over with the sooner we can all go home.”

The coach didn’t say anything; he just picked up Joe’s legs and helped carry him inside.

“Take off his shirt,” Smuff instructed after they laid the boy on the dirty old cot; he flipped on the light switch, bathing the small room in a dim glow.

The shed smelled rank, and the coach fought not to gag, both from the rotting odor and from the memory of what happened the last time he was here.  After they removed Joe’s shirt, they tightly bound the boy’s legs to the cot and then Smuff grabbed the boy’s good wrist.

“Leave the other arm,” Iago protested when he saw Iago reach towards the broken one, after securing the first wrist. “He can’t use it like that anyway.”

“Fine,” the detective acquiesced with a shrug and then smiled down at the unconscious teen, “Now we wait.”

“Wait?” Iago was surprised.  “For what?”

“For him to wake up!“ Smuff grinned as he took out a cigar and lit it.  “What fun would it be to let Joey sleep through his own death!” He puffed on the cigar for a few minutes watching the boy, as Iago used his hand to fan his face. The night was intolerably warm and the shed felt like a sweat-box.

After finishing the cigar, the detective went out to the car for a moment. When he came back, he was holding a large knife – a knife Iago recognized; shocked that Smuff had kept it, thinking he’d have wanted to get rid of Tex’s murder weapon a long time ago.

“Mind you,” Smuff said nonchalantly, enjoying the sick look that passed over his partner’s face as he fingered the blade, “I’m not a very patient man.”  With that he moved in on the unconscious teen, a feral gleam in his eye.  “I’m going to enjoy this….”