"Hello?"

"Hi, honey."

"Mom!" Joe gasped. "Are you all right? Is Dad okay?"

"We’re fine, sweetie." She reassured him. "I have the directions you need. Are you ready?"

Joe quickly picked up on the same monotone in his mother’s voice that had been present on the answering machine and knew she was once again being told exactly what to say. "I’m ready." Joe replied.

"Take route forty west out of Bayport for fifty miles. After you pass through Hunter’s Crossing, you’ll come to some railroad tracks. One mile after you cross over the tracks, you’ll come to a dirt road on the left. It’s partially obscured so keep a look out for it. Take that road until it ends.

"Get out of the car and follow the trail next to the field. When you come to where the woods begin again, you’ll see a large oak tree. There’s an envelope at the base of the tree with the ransom demands in it. Don’t open it there. Don’t open it until you and Frank are together. You’ll be watched to make sure you comply. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I do. Mom?" Joe asked tentatively.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you too, sweetie." Laura replied softly, her words followed by a click, telling Joe she was gone.

Resisting the urge to press the gas pedal to the floor, Joe hovered at the speed limit for the next fifty-plus miles, an agonizingly slow pace. Finally arriving at the turn off, Joe followed it to the end. With his nerves on edge, Joe took a moment to survey his surroundings, looking for any sign of ambush.

Grabbing a flashlight, Joe got out of the car and cautiously made his way down the trail. Walking beside the open field for a few moments, Joe saw a stand of trees just ahead. Locating the large oak tree, Joe shone his flashlight over the ground at the base of the tree, relieved to see a manila envelope lying against the trunk.

Picking up the envelope that he hoped would lead he and Frank to their parents, Joe quickly and quietly made his way back down the overgrown dirt path.

‘And Frank was worried I couldn’t handle it without him.’ Joe smiled smugly. ‘It was a piece of cake. Almost too easy.’

His smile faltered and he suddenly became aware of every little sound in the woods surrounding him. A small animal, startled by Joe’s presence, scurried into the underbrush, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin. An owl hooted in the distance and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Every sense he had was on high alert.

‘Too easy.’ He thought again. ‘Way too easy…’

Laura’s words suddenly came roaring back at Joe. "You’ll be watched to make sure you comply."

‘Or to make sure they can pick me off!’ Joe broke into a run, his heart pounding in time with his feet hitting the ground, certain he was about to be attacked. ‘Frank was right. It’s a set up!’

Pouring on the speed, Joe ran his heart out. He was determined not to become another hostage. He and Frank had been consumed with worry about their parents being held hostage by these criminals and he did not want his brother now worrying about him too. Squinting into the darkness, Joe was able to make out the shape of his car just ahead.

‘Yes! I made it!’ Reaching for the door handle, he finally allowed himself to relax and breathe a sigh of relief.

Without warning, Joe was shoved up against his car, knocking the wind out of him. The flashlight flew from his hand, rolling under the car and the envelope fluttered to the ground. His arms were grabbed and roughly pulled behind his back while another hand slammed his head into the roof of the car face first, causing him to see stars. Joe could taste blood in his mouth as he felt his hands being tied with rope. Whoever it was, was obviously taking great pleasure in it. Joe winced as they pulled the rope much tighter than it needed to be so it was digging in to the skin on his wrists. Unable to move his hands at all, Joe could already feel the skin under the ropes starting to bleed.

‘Stupid!’ He cursed himself for letting his guard down too soon. ‘Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!’

Someone grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling his head back. He felt hot breath on his neck as the person spoke.

"Thought you were going to make a clean getaway, huh?" The voice taunted him. "Sorry we had to ruin your plans."

His head was once again slammed against the car and his knees started to buckle. Someone grabbed him under the arms to support him and keep him from falling to the ground.

"You don’t want to pass out just yet, Hardy. This party is just getting underway and you’ll miss all the fun." A second voice said. Although he was dazed, Joe recognized the voice and it caused his blood to run cold.

Joe was grabbed by the shoulder and roughly spun around. He found himself eye to eye with Joel Garrison and knew he was in deep trouble. Garrison, a key figure in the terrorist organization Joe and Frank were currently testifying against, had taken an instant dislike to Joe when he’d infiltrated the organization. His hatred only grew as Joe had proven himself, time and again, to be much more capable, physically and intellectually, than Garrison. Joe had quickly usurped many of Garrison’s responsibilities, as the higher ups in the organization had been impressed with his abilities. Now staring at the mustached, balding man with bulging muscles, Joe knew Garrison was just aching to pay him back for the humiliation.

Garrison moved closer to Joe until his face was just inches away. "Somehow I don’t think you’re going to win this time, Pretty Boy." He sneered referring to the way Joe had easily beaten him in a fight in one of their first encounters.

"Maybe not. But I didn’t need someone to take a few pot shots at you and tie your hands behind your back before I could take you." Joe said defiantly, spitting a mouthful of blood onto Garrison’s shirt. If he was going down, he wasn’t going to do it quietly.

Too late, he saw the rage in Garrison’s eyes. His midsection exploded in pain and he doubled over when Garrison kneed him in the stomach. The only thing keeping him from falling to the ground were the two men holding his arms, who pulled him up just enough to let Garrison have a clear shot at his face. Joe saw the uppercut coming but could do nothing to avoid it. His head snapped back, making contact with the car for the third time. His vision was starting to fade and the voices and laughter of the three men seemed farther away.

"Not yet, Blondie." One of the voices said, grabbing Joe’s hair, forcing him to look at Garrison. The man was standing a few steps in front and slightly to the left of Joe. Vaguely aware of a light slapping sound, Joe forced his eyes to focus on Garrison’s hands and immediately regretted it. He was holding a heavy wooden bat in his right hand, lightly slapping it against his left palm.

He looked Joe in the eye and smiled. "You don’t know how much I am going to enjoy this."

Holding the bat firmly with both hands, he drew back and swung as if he were going for the winning run in the World Series. The bat connected solidly with Joe’s stomach and he doubled over in agony, biting his lip, unwilling to give Garrison the satisfaction of hearing him cry out in pain.

The other two men pulled him upright once again. Garrison swung a second time, aiming a little higher. This time Joe couldn’t hold back and gasped painfully as the bat connected with his ribs. His legs gave out completely and he would have been lying face down in the dirt had Garrison’s two companions not continued to hold him up. Once more, they pulled him into a standing position. One of them grabbed his hair again and pulled his head up. Garrison slapped him lightly on the cheek, waiting for Joe to focus on him

"Goodnight, Blondie." He laughed and took one last swing.

The last thing Joe saw was the bat coming directly at his head. His world exploded in pain, which was quickly swallowed up by darkness.

*****

Fenton Hardy’s head snapped up as he heard the scrape of a key in the door’s lock. The door to the basement opened and four of Jarrell’s men walked in followed by Jarrell himself. Two of the men each carried a chair and a length of rope. Striding confidently to the cell door, Jarrell smiled at Laura and Fenton.

"Fenton, please step to the side of the cell, up against the bars." He requested politely.

Having no choice, Fenton complied and was swiftly handcuffed to the bars by one of Jarrell’s henchmen who then held a gun to his head.

"Mrs. Hardy," Jarrell began, still smiling, "one of my men is going to enter the cell. You will sit in the chair he’s brought for you and allow him to tie you securely in place."

Despite the fire in her eyes, Laura nodded silently, understanding her husband would be killed immediately if she did not obey the instructions. Once her arms were bound behind her and secured to the chair, the man who had tied her up pulled out a gun and held it to her forehead. One glance from Jarrell told Fenton he was now to allow himself to be similarly bound. Seething inside, he complied.

After his men stepped out of the cell leaving the door open, Jarrell looked from Laura to Fenton, his smile growing.

"It seems one of your boys has decided to join you." He told them. "Although I’m afraid my men were a little…hmm, how should I say this…overzealous with him." Fenton and Laura exchanged a worried glance. "My apologies. I do hope he’ll recover."