Fenton Hardy drove home in silence, not able to bear the cheerfulness of holiday music. He pulled up in front of the house on the corner of Elm and High, noticing absently that both the black van and his wife’s car were in the driveway.

He turned off the ignition but sat there in the driveway for a moment. He’d hoped to find his son, and bring him home before Christmas. He’d called in every favor he could think of and Nicholas had pulled a few strings as well.

As the cold seeped into his bones, Fenton got out of the car and walked into the house.

“Dad?”

Fenton turned to see his other son seated in the living room. He and Laura were folding clothes, the flicker of the television screen throwing strange shadows on the wall behind the sofa. Fenton automatically looked at the front window, bare of holiday decorations.

“Fenton?”

He turned to face Laura and sighed. “Nothing.”

Laura’s blue eyes filled with tears and her hands stilled on the faded sweatshirt she’d been folding. Fenton moved to sit next to her and hold her close. “I’m sorry.”

His son got to his feet and stalked to the window. “He’s out there somewhere.”

Fenton gave a weary nod. The alternative he didn’t want to contemplate. “Yes, I know.”

Frank Hardy spun around to look at his parents. “He didn’t disappear off the face of the earth.”

“I’m expanding the search outside of the five-state area.”

Frank began to pace, his frustration spilling out in every step. “And then what?”

Laura took a deep breath. “We keep going.”

Frank looked over at his mother. “Mom, we’ll find him. He has to be home for Christmas.”

Fenton got to his feet and walked to his study. He went inside, leaving Frank and Laura staring after him. Laura sighed softly. “Frank, he’s doing everything he can. He’s called all his old friends at the NYPD and even talked to several friends across the country.”

“He won’t let me help.” Frank turned to look out the window again. He’d been ordered to watch out for his mother and aunt, to stay home in case Joe called. It had riled him to no end to be kept out of the loop.

“Your father’s worried he’ll lose you too.”

“And he won’t tell me anything.”

Laura went to her older son. “Frank, your father’s trying to keep you safe. Joe went to the mall and...” Her voice caught for a moment before she continued, “...never came home. He’s worried it’s an old enemy of his bent on revenge.”

“Mom, I searched his files. Most of the people he put away are still in jail or are dead.” Frank closed his eyes a moment and then opened them to study his mother’s tear-stained face. “I want to do more. I want my brother home.”

Tears filled her eyes again and she pulled her oldest son into a hug. “I know,” she whispered.

*****

The room was bare of any personal mementos. I glanced at the soft green walls and set the duffle on the neatly made bed. I turned to Carol. “Thank you.”

She smiled. “Holly will stay in Ivy’s room. There are two twin beds in there anyway.

Holly and Ivy. That’s why the names seemed so familiar. “You named your daughters after an old Christmas song?”

Carol laughed. “My husband did. Now I’m going to go help Missy finish dinner. Come down when you’re ready.”

I couldn’t help but wonder what Missy was short for but I didn’t ask. I watched Carol leave the room and then I sat down on the edge of the bed. Still no sparks. Nothing concrete anyway. It was starting to drive me crazy, not knowing who I was.

Feeling restless, I stood up and walked to the nearest window. I saw a dark-haired man hurrying to the old four-door sedan and I shuddered, wondering if I did know this man. I wished he’d look up at the window but he never did and soon the sedan was gone.

I pulled off the old parka that had belonged to Doc Robertson’s husband. The clothes had been his castoffs as well. They had been kind to me, for the several days I’d been there.

Doc Robertson had been the one to find me and tell the admit office that I was David’s cousin. So the forms read John Robertson. Since apparently David was originally from California, it was easy to keep the truth secret.

I walked over to the closet and opened it to hang the parka up. Instead I found a pile of gaily-wrapped presents stacked there. The paper glittered in the overhead light. A memory of searching for presents hit me hard and I staggered. I’d always tried to figure out what was what, I knew suddenly. I liked to see how far I could go without anyone knowing I’d managed to halfway unwrap the present.

I took a deep breath and tossed the parka on the bed. I pushed the closet door closed and went to sit down on the bed again. A shudder that had nothing to do with the cold weather outside slid down my spine. Who was I?

A tap on the door made me jump. I stood up and walked to the door and pulled it open. Holly stood there, still in the sweater and jeans. The leather jacket was gone and she’d traded her high-heeled boots for fuzzy leopard-print slippers. “Hi.”

“Papa wants to meet you. And Mama is setting up the cookies and cider.” She looked past me and frowned. “I told them lavender, not green.”

I glanced over my shoulder. “You don’t like green?”

She sighed. “My name is Holly. Everyone expects me to dress in Christmas colors.”

“What’s Missy short for?” I asked before I could stop myself.

Holly laughed and I turned to face her again. “You’ll have to ask her,” she said, a wicked grin on her face. “Come on. Mama’s apple cider is wonderful. She has cinnamon stir sticks to go with it.”

I followed her down the stairs to the kitchen in the back of the house. It was warm and scented with baking cookies. A tall man with sandy hair was at the oven, pulling out a cookie sheet, looking out of place in his dark blue three-piece suit. He smiled at me. “You must be John.”

I nodded and watched as he placed the cookies on a plate. “I’m Nicholas de Santos. Welcome to my home.”

“Thank you.”

Carol poured the steaming apple cider in mugs that looked like snowmen and put a cinnamon stick in each mug. “John, you’re welcome to spend Christmas with us. We’d love to have you.”

“I couldn’t...” I sighed. “I—”

“Papa, where are the financial reports for October?”

I turned to see another blond girl walk into the kitchen. She was wearing a dark blue sweater and black jeans. Her dark blond hair was French-braided and she had a clipboard in one hand.

“Saul wanted to see them, Missy,” answered her father. “Missy, we have a guest.”

Missy turned to look at me and smiled. “Hi.” She moved to leave the kitchen only to stop and sniff the air. “Sugar cookies and apple cider?”

“Knew that would get your attention,” said Holly.

Missy spun around and dropped the clipboard. “Holly Rose!” She gave her sister a hug and I felt a moment’s jealousy. God, I missed my brother. I blinked. Where had that come from?

“Are you all right?” asked Ivy by my shoulder.

I nodded slowly and focused my attention on the mug of cider. She touched my arm. “What’s wrong,” she asked.

I took a deep breath and looked up to see everyone looking at me. Might as well get it over with. They’d probably already figured it out anyway. “I don’t remember anything. I have amnesia.”

They all stared at me and I cleared my throat. “A nice doctor found me on the side of the road outside of New York City and brought me to the hospital. She and her husband helped me once the hospital released me.”

Ivy’s gray-blue eyes were wide. “You don’t remember anything?”

“No.”

Nicholas de Santos studied me for a long moment, long enough to make me antsy. Finally, he set the cookie sheet on the stove. “What was the doctor’s name?”

“Amelia Robertson. She’s a neurologist at St. Vincent’s Hospital.”

Nicholas gave a sharp nod and left the kitchen. I watched him go, wondering what he hoped to accomplish. Amelia and David didn’t know who I was. If they had, the amnesia might be gone by now.

Carol sighed softly. “Well, let’s take the cookies and cider into the dining room, so we have places to sit.”

At the moment, I wanted nothing more than to run up to that blank room and hide away from everyone. Ivy touched my arm again and gave me a gentle smile. “You really don’t want to be alone, do you?”

She tugged on my sweater and I followed her into a dining room that looked like it should have belonged in some medieval castle. A long table, chairs with tall backs. There was a burgundy strip of lace stretching the length of the table instead of a tablecloth. Four silver candlesticks sat on the lace, holding glittery gold candles.

Carol and her daughters sat down at one end and Ivy motioned to the chair next to her. I sat down and stared at the reddish gold liquid in the mug. The cinnamon stick made me think of cinnamon toast. I hadn’t had any in ages.

“Do you know what happened?” asked Missy, quietly.

“Doctor Robertson said she found me unconscious on the side of the highway. She thinks someone hit me with maybe a tire iron or something.”

“How horrible,” murmured Ivy, shaking her head. “Does this doctor live in New York City?”

“Greenwich Village,” I told her. “She found me on Highway 278, not too far from Prospect Park.”

I watched the four of them share a look. “What?”

“Are you from Queens?” asked Missy, looking curious.

“He wouldn’t know, Missy,” said Holly, taking a swipe at her sister’s arm.

“I was just asking,” said Missy, rolling her blue eyes.

“Girls, be nice,” said Carol. She nodded to my mug. “Drink up.”

I took a sip, savoring the warmth of the apple cider mingling with the cinnamon. Ivy shoved the plate of cookies in my direction and I took one. The movement sparked a shadow of a memory of sharing cookies and hot chocolate. I tried to hold on to the memory, hoping for more but it vanished away into smoke.

I had to find out who I was...and soon.