Unable to see, speak or move, Joe fought the overwhelming urge to panic. Enlisting all his senses, Joe did a mental review of what little information he had – lapping water, gentle rocking motion – and realized he was on a boat. A smallish boat. Concentrating for a few moments, Joe also deduced the boat was tied up at a dock and he was alone. Despite knowing it was futile, Joe tried once more to move, in any direction, and was met with resistance on all sides. The confined space he’d been forced into was much too small for his six foot frame. Joe visualized anything on a boat that would fit the description of his prison and felt the panic surge.

Testing the boundaries again, Joe was sure he had been stuffed into the foot locker or under seat storage space of a boat – Justin Hahn’s boat. Unable to move even an inch in any direction, Joe knew he was helpless. There was no way he could escape on his own.

Accepting that he could do nothing but wait for rescue, he consoled himself with the knowledge that he’d shared his plans with Vanessa. Having no idea how much time had passed since Justin had waylaid him outside the coffee shop, he only hoped he’d been gone long enough for her to realize he was in trouble.

*****

Fenton Hardy sat and listened as Frank related what he and Vanessa thought had happened to Joe. Noticing the way Vanessa painfully avoided making eye contact with him, he made a mental note to talk to her once this was all over and Joe was home, safe and sound. He wanted to assure her that whatever had happened between him and Joe was not her fault, but finding Joe had to come first.

As Frank concluded the recap, Fenton shook his head and looked at his son ruefully. "The one time Joe does what I ask and thinks things through rationally, he gets in trouble."

"He was right," Frank grinned, despite the seriousness of the situation. "It’s a gift."

"Well, let’s go find him," Fenton stood and walked to the closet, pulling out a heavy winter coat and leather gloves.

The drive into New York City was peppered with theories being exchanged by Frank and Fenton. In the backseat, Vanessa was conspicuously quiet, speaking only when Fenton asked for clarification on something. Slowly driving past the coffee shop where Joe and Justin had met, Fenton pulled into a parking space. The three made their way back to the establishment and lucked out when the clerk who had waited on Joe was still there.

"Oh, yeah, I remember him," she smiled. "Hard to forget those blue eyes."

"Did he stay here or take his coffee to go?" Fenton asked.

"He stayed. Met one of our regulars who was sitting at that table over there," she pointed to the table by the window where Joe and Justin had sat.

"You said the guy he met was a regular? Do you know his name?" Frank pressed.

"No, but he always gets a tall, skinny latte," she recited his order by heart.

"How long were they here?" Fenton resumed the questioning, watching as Vanessa wandered over to the empty table where Joe had been sitting hours earlier.

"Less than thirty minutes; then Latte Guy got up and left. He seemed kinda ticked off about something," the clerk frowned.

"What about Joe? Did he leave right away or did he stick around?" Frank interjected.

"Joe? You mean Blue Eyes?" The girl smiled. "He stayed maybe a minute or so longer. Just enough to finish his coffee and then he left, too. Headed that way," she pointed to the right. "He was pulling out a cell phone as he walked by the window then I lost track of him."

"So he did try to call Vanessa," Frank murmured to his father. Looking up, he felt a twinge of sympathy as he saw Vanessa run a gloved finger over the empty chair by the window.

"But something happened before he got a chance," Fenton agreed. "Thank you," he said waving to the clerk as he headed for the exit, as Frank rounded up Vanessa and followed him.

"Where to next?" Frank asked, blowing on his hands, as the tall buildings of the city created a wind tunnel effect, making the cold January air feel downright arctic.

"I’m not sure," Fenton murmured, mentally reviewing their options.

"Why don’t we check that parking garage?" Frank suggested pointing to a five-story structure on the corner. "I didn’t see Joe’s car on the street and he probably would have parked as close as he could get. If we find his car, at least we’ll know he didn’t leave the city voluntarily."

"If he left the city at all," Fenton observed as he started down the street.

As they approached the garage, Frank looked up to the top and groaned. "How much you wanna bet he parked on the roof, but of course we won’t know that until we search the other four levels first."

"Well, the sooner we start the sooner we’ll finish," Fenton said, not sounding much happier than Frank at the task ahead.

"Ahem," Vanessa, who had been silent the entire time, now cleared her throat. As Frank and Fenton turned to face her, Vanessa smiled mysteriously, dangling a key chain from her finger.

"You could search all five floors…or you could just let me press the panic button on the extra set of keys Joe gave me," Vanessa suggested with a sly grin.

Fenton began to chuckle as Frank rolled his eyes, feeling a little stupid. "Just press the button, Van."

As she complied with Frank’s request, the garage was filled with the annoying racket of a blaring car horn. Following the sound, they found Joe’s car parked right where he’d left it on the third level of the garage. A quick search revealed nothing out of the ordinary and no clue as to what could have happened to Joe.

"Okay, now what?" Frank leaned against the car dejectedly.

Pulling out his cell phone, Fenton scrolled down through the stored numbers and pressed a button.

"Now we get some answers," he replied, a hard edge in his voice.