Kevin couldn’t help it; his gaze kept shifting to Fenton Hardy.  The two men standing guard had served them a meager breakfast of cereal and orange juice and allowed them to use the powder room in the finished basement.  Sitting against the wall once again, Kevin saw the toll moving the short distance to the bathroom and back had taken on his uncle.  The bullet wound on his leg had started bleeding again, prompting Kevin to change the bandage.  Even though Fenton insisted he was okay, he was quite pale now, visibly sweating and his breathing was labored. 

Apparently, Fenton could sense Kevin watching him, as he opened his eyes and turned his head slightly.  “How are you doing?” Kevin asked, worried.

“Fine, just fine,” Fenton replied.

‘He’s smiling!’ Kevin thought, stunned. ‘Geez, doesn’t anything get to him?’

“Tell me about Bayport,” Kevin said suddenly, hoping if he got Fenton talking about something it would take his mind off the pain he was in.

“Bayport?” Fenton repeated, a little confused.

“Yeah… is that park still there, near your house?  I remember Mom and Aunt Laura taking all us kids there to play…”

“Yes, it’s still there,” Fenton smiled.

“You know what I really miss – the beach,” Kevin said wistfully.

“The boys love the beach,” Fenton said, a smile crossing his face.  “They had a boat for a while there.  Bought it with reward money they earned solving cases.  They loved that boat…”

“So they took after you, right?” Kevin asked, glancing at Fenton.

“Yes, they did,” Fenton replied, unmistakable pride in his voice.  “They are equal partners in my practice now.”

“They must be pretty close, then.  I mean, if they chose a career where they’d be working together on a daily basis.”

“Oh, they’re very close.  Obviously they love each other, but they also genuinely like each other….They’re not just brothers, they’re best friends.”

“You must be proud of them,” Kevin observed, thinking regretfully of the strained relationship he had with his own sister.  He most certainly didn’t like the person she’d turned out to be, and he wondered briefly how life would have been different if they were even half as close as his cousins appeared to be.

“I’m incredibly proud of them. Both of them.  In some ways, they are completely opposite and in others they’re exactly alike. They drive each other crazy sometimes, but there’s a bond there that nothing can break.  They are good, caring people.  I couldn’t have asked for two better sons.”

Kevin hesitated a moment, wanting to ask what was a potentially explosive question.  He’d asked both his mother and father at different times in his life and neither one would give him a straight answer. It was the cause of all his family’s problems, and in a small way, Kevin felt he had the right to know. 

“Can I ask you something?” he requested, nervously.

Fenton looked at him curiously, but nodded.

“What exactly happened to Joe when he was kidnapped?”

Kevin saw his uncle’s eyes grow huge for just a second.  A look of pure anguish passed over his face, and Kevin quickly regretted his question; yet it also fueled his desire to know.  What could have possibly been so bad as to cause a reaction like that?

“Your parents never told you?” Fenton asked, his voice tight.

“No.”

Fenton closed his eyes and sighed heavily.  A long silence followed, and Kevin assumed he would be left to wonder for the rest of his life, when Fenton began to speak, so softly Kevin had to move a little closer to hear him.

For the next several minutes, Kevin listened with growing horror as his uncle painfully related what had happened to Joe during the time he’d been missing, how he’d been so traumatized that he repressed every memory of it.  When Fenton recounted what had happened the previous year to reawaken those memories, Kevin was suddenly very sorry he asked.  As Fenton finished speaking, he opened his eyes and looked at Kevin. 

Kevin almost gasped at the pain he saw in Fenton’s eyes.  Pain for what his son had endured both eighteen years ago and so much more recently.  And then he felt a twinge of sadness.  While Fenton had been speaking, the unconditional love he felt for his son – both his sons – had been unmistakable. And the look on his face, a look that said he would have given anything to be able to bear the pain for his son, was heartrending.  The sadness Kevin felt increased tenfold as he realized his own father never once looked at him that way – with that kind of love or pride or protectiveness.  Nodding his thanks, Kevin turned away, mourning the loss of his own childhood and understanding a tiny bit better the anger Fenton Hardy had been living with for so many years.

For a long time, neither one spoke, listening to the relative silence, consumed with thoughts of the past, when suddenly a phone rang. 

*****

Joe gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying to tune out the voices of Sam and Frank who were talking on their cell phones.  He focused on one goal - get to Vince Ellison’s vacation house as soon as possible.  Since time was of the essence, it was decided Joe would drive, following the directions Ellison had given in the letter they’d received.  Sam was speaking to Detective John Gainey, relaying information Frank was getting from Marcus Andresson.  From the bits and pieces Joe had heard, he assumed they were trying to set up surveillance to catch the man with Ellison when they went to collect the money from the bank, and at the same time get a police presence in place at Ellison’s vacation home.

As Joe concentrated on the unfamiliar roads, he thought about the information contained in that letter, his mind continually straying back to the fact that Fenton had been shot.  Even though Ellison said it wasn’t a life threatening wound, Joe couldn’t help but worry…and realized he was getting just a small inkling of what his father and Frank must have gone through the previous year while searching for him. 

‘Hang in there, Dad, we’re on our way,’ Joe thought, instinctively pressing down on the gas pedal a little harder.

“How much further, Joe?” he heard Frank ask, as his brother leaned forward from the backseat.  “Andresson said Ellison and his ‘bodyguard’ just left for the bank.”

Joe heard the tension in his brother’s voice.  They were running out of time!  They had hoped to be at the house with Fenton on the way to a hospital and everything else under control before the police closed in on Ellison and Caggiano at the bank.  Glancing down at the map, Joe calculated they had another thirty minutes to go.  He looked up and caught Frank’s eye in the rearview mirror.  “Fifteen minutes,” he replied.

“Good,” Sam said, snapping his cell phone shut.  “Gainey said everyone is in place at the bank.  The bank manager will give the money to Ellison who will then turn it over to Caggiano right there.  Once it’s in his hands, they’ll move in.”

“Ellison knows he can’t let Caggiano make that phone call once they get to the bank, right?” Frank asked nervously. 

“That’s why the police are going to move in as soon as Caggiano has the money in his hands - before they leave the bank,” Sam replied.  “He’ll never get the chance to call.”

Joe swallowed hard.  His father’s life hung on Ellison being able to pull this off, and he didn’t like it one bit.  Yes, the man had been able to get word to them about what was happening, but he’d also made more than one bad judgment call since this whole thing started. 

“I just don’t like having to depend on a nervous victim to make the right decision if something goes wrong,” Frank murmured, settling back in the seat.

A tense silence fell over the occupants of the car, as Joe pushed the speedometer a little faster.

*****

Vince Ellison slowed to make the left turn into the parking lot of the bank.  Lunch hour traffic was heavy downtown and he was so focused at the oncoming cars he didn’t hear Caggiano’s voice until it was too late.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Erik said into the cell phone.  “We just got to the bank.  Should be on our way again in ten-fifteen minutes…. Yeah, you can leave now.  Just do it like we planned.”  Without a goodbye, he snapped the phone shut and settled back in the seat with a smile.

“I thought you were going to call them after we got the money,” Vince blurted out, his voice shaky.  Realizing he might be alerting his captor that things wouldn’t be going exactly as planned, he quickly added, “In case there’s a problem, I mean.”

Caggiano glanced at him, with a smile that was cold as ice.  “All the problems are being taken care of as we speak.”  He looked back out the front windshield and gestured dismissively.  “It’s all clear, you can turn now.”

Vince swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry and tight as he turned into the parking lot.  Everything was falling apart!

*****

“It’s about a mile down this road,” Joe said, his voice tight.  As he floored the gas pedal, something above the tree line caught his eye.  Smoke!  Shifting his gaze from the road back up to the treetops, he tried to gauge how far away the smoke was and his heart leapt into his throat.

“Frank!”

“I see it,” Frank replied.  Joe felt a nudge on his shoulder.  “Floor it!”

He did so, just as a car came out of nowhere and flew past them in a blur.  Joe slowed momentarily, unsure of whether to continue on or follow the obviously fleeing car.  “Leave them for the police!” Sam barked at him, already dialing his cell phone.

Pushing the car to its limit, Joe blew down the isolated road at top speed.  He slowed only slightly to pull into the long, winding driveway that led up to Vince Ellison’s house.  The tall trees lining both sides of the drive couldn’t completely hide the smoke, nor mask its choking scent wafting in through the open windows.

Finally, emerging into the circular path leading up to the front of the large home, Joe slammed on the brakes, staring in disbelief.  The Ellison vacation home was almost completely engulfed in flames!