Sam mentally kicked himself – he never should have let Joe out of his sight, but he’d gotten distracted while talking to Ethel....

“Oh crap,” he sighed, rubbing his face in agitation. In all the excitement of learning about Smuff, and then the anxiety of not being able to find Joe, he’d completely forgotten about Ethel!  She had been waiting on the other line!

“What’s wrong?” Fenton asked, glancing at him. The dark-haired sleuth frowned as he heard a message telling him that the customer he was looking for was unavailable at the time – he’d been trying to reach Frank on his cell. The teen should have been home by now.

“Nothing,” Sam sighed again, reluctantly dismissing thoughts of the attractive brunette. He really couldn’t afford to be distracted right now – not with Joe missing. He’d try and explain it to her later, if she let him.

Fenton gave his best friend and partner a quizzical look but dropped it, recognizing that Sam didn’t want to talk right now. “Frank’s cell is either turned off or he’s out of the area,” he commented, hanging up the phone, frustrated.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Laura insisted as she put on a pot of coffee.  “Frank said he was coming home, and that he’d be here before us!”  Her blue eyes traveled from one detective to the other.  “You don’t suppose something’s happened to him too?” There was a tinge of panic in her voice and Fenton immediately moved towards her and wrapped his strong arms around her slender body.

He didn’t want to lie to her; he hoped not, but he just didn’t know.

The sound of sirens in the distance distracted him from answering – the backup patrol was here.

* * *

“Oscar, stop.”  Something in Iago’s voice made the detective turn around to look at him. The coach was standing by the doorway holding a small gun.  “I can’t let you do this.”

The stout man raised an eyebrow quizzically.  “So you’re going to shoot me?”

“If – if I have to,” the blond man said, swallowing nervously. He had never fired a gun before, let alone shot anyone! The gun shook slightly in his hands. He slowly moved towards the cot, putting himself between Joe and Oscar, as the other man moved back.

His partner seemed amused.  “Why?”

“Because this has to stop somewhere!” the coach blurted out, “I’m a jeweler, for God’s sake! This isn’t what I signed on for!!”

Smuff’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Put the gun down, Damian. It’d be a shame for me to have to kill you now.”

“Why now as opposed to later?” the coach demanded, his hands shaking even more as he tried to keep the gun steady; Smuff still held the knife. “I mean, that is what you’re planning on doing anyway, isn’t it? Killing me? I’m not stupid. Joey and me – those are the loose ends, aren’t they? The ties that could link you to Tex’s murder….Why kill him and let me live? Come off it Oscar, I’m not that stupid!”

The detective pursed his lips.  “You can’t implicate me without implicating yourself. You’re an accessory, my friend – and a kidnapper, twice over. Killing you wouldn’t serve any purpose except fuel a new hunt for me.  No…we get rid of the kid and then disappear. Hardy will be only too happy that I’m out of his hair, again, to pay much attention to my timely leaving; and you?  Well, you have no connection to me. Coincidence.”  He shrugged casually.  “Now put down that gun and act sensibly—”

“Sensibly?” the coach scoffed, “Oscar, take a look at what you’re about to do! Is that sensible?”

“Well of course it is—” the detective insisted, and was then interrupted by the sound of a pain-filled moan behind him. Joe was waking up!

* * *

Pain! That was about the only thing that registered for a few long moments. Around him, Joe could hear a voice – no, two voices – but couldn’t place them, as he swallowed hard and tried to keep from crying out at the unbearable pain shooting up his arm – what happened?

And then it came rushing back to him and his eyes flew open as his heart pounded in his chest!  The voices – no, it couldn’t be!  He shifted his head just slightly – it was!  Oscar Smuff and Damian Iago! He was in the secret place!!

Panicked, he tried to move and couldn’t!  He was bound to the bed and shirtless!  Images of the red-haired man slammed into him and he struggled harder, jarring his broken arm!  A moan wrenched from his lips and then all hell broke loose!

* * *

Iago turned towards the sound and Smuff immediately sprang into action, tackling his friend and wrestling for control of the gun. The two men fell on top of Joe and then rolled onto the ground, locked in a deadly fight!

The teen struggled furiously in an attempt to break loose! He had to get away, he just had to! But it was useless and he cried out in pain as his arm protested every movement!  Darkness swirled at the edge of his vision, threatening to pull him back under, but he fought that too – terrified about what would happen if he lost consciousness!  Finally, breathing heavily and bathed in sweat, Joe lay still, forced to watch helplessly as the two men continued to grapple for control of the gun!

* * *

Frank moved carefully along the gravel road, berating himself for not thinking about a flashlight. It was dark and, as much as his mind was screaming at him to hurry, he couldn’t afford to. If he twisted his ankle, or worse, he’d be no use to his brother, so instead he slowly jogged, his keen eyes glued to the ground for potholes or other hazards, as he glanced up periodically for any signs of the silver car.

A sharp report filled the night and Frank stopped, frozen for one moment as he recognized the sound – a gunshot! And then he heard someone screaming – it was Joe!

Tossing caution, Frank took off at full speed towards the sound of his brother’s voice, terrified that he’d hear another shot!

* * *

For one moment neither man moved and then Oscar Smuff pushed Iago off him and the coach rolled onto his back, clutched his chest as he gasped in pain – his blue shirt darkened with blood.

Smuff slowly got to his feet and then reached down to retrieve his knife. He kicked the gun away from Iago, sending it skittering towards the door.

Bending over the coach, the detective grabbed his hair and pulled his head back exposing the man’s throat. Smuff looked at Joe and smiled, his arm already moving with the knife!

“NOOOOOO!” Joe screamed as he squeezed his eyes shut – he couldn’t watch – not again!  He just couldn’t…but he couldn’t block out the sound either.  And then it was over.

Shaking uncontrollably, the boy forced his eyes open and stared up as Smuff now approached the cot. The detective’s own eyes gleamed cruelly in his ruddy face. On the floor behind him, Joe could see the coach’s body slumped down in a rapidly growing scarlet pool, and his eyes widened in shock as he swallowed back a wave of nausea.

Numbly he just stared at the blade, still wet with the coach’s blood. There was nothing he could do – Oscar Smuff was going to kill him and there was absolutely nothing he could do!

“W-why?” he managed to stammer; his voice not much more than a whisper.

The detective snorted, “Because I don’t want to go to jail.” Reaching the cot, he grabbed Joe’s hair, ignoring the boy’s feeble attempts to pull away, and forced his head back; his throat vulnerable to the knife…

Joe swallowed with difficulty. ‘So this is the end,’ he thought grimly as he closed his eyes. He couldn’t look his murderer in the face. A fleeting glimpse of his family flashed before his eyes as a single tear slipped down his pale cheek – and then a voice filled the shed:

“Get the hell away from my brother!”

It was Frank! Frank was here!

* * *

Oscar Smuff released Joe’s hair and whirled around in surprise, to see a furious Frank Hardy standing in the doorway. His gaze flickered down to the teen’s hand and he swore at his own stupidity. The boy had the gun that Smuff himself had so carelessly just kicked away!

But unlike Damien Iago’s hand, Frank’s was not shaking as he held the gun steady, fixed on Smuff.

“I won’t ask you twice,” Frank growled, his jaw tight with anger.

Slowly the detective moved away from the bound boy, his eyes never once leaving Frank’s face.

“Drop the knife,” the teen instructed, “And put your hands on your head.”

“Well, well,” Smuff scoffed, clearly amused, “Don’t we sound like we know what we’re doing? Daddy trained his little puppet very well didn’t he?” He never made any move to comply.

“Do it!” Frank hissed but the other man just shook his head.

“No,” he glared at the boy, “Shoot me.”

“Drop the knife and put your hands on your head,” the teen repeated, his gaze and hand never wavering.

The hot air hung heavy, bathing them in heated sweat, not nervous perspiration.

Smuff scowled, “And I said no.” Slowly his scowl turned into a savage smile. “You won’t kill me. You don’t have the guts.”

Frank’s own smile was just as feral, “Then you don’t know me very well at all…”

Squeezing the trigger, Frank fired!