Callie Shaw. Blonde haired, blue eyed. Beautiful – and his girlfriend for many years now. He always smiled when he thought of her. He wondered if she knew just how he felt about her.

"If you're done primping in there, big brother, some of us need to use the bathroom," the voice of 17-year-old Joe Hardy floated through the bathroom door as his year older brother finished running the comb through his hair. He was pretty sure that Joe was doing it just to be annoying - if Frank Hardy had kept track and charged a dime for every time Joe was annoying, he'd be a really rich man by now.

"Be out in a minute," Frank called back.

"You said that four minutes ago," Joe said. "And I still have to use the bathroom."

"So go to the one downstairs," Frank suggested - again - while he found his aftershave and slapped just a little bit on.

"So get out of this one already," Joe retorted - again. "Come on, Frank, you're acting like a girl now!"

Frank smirked. Sure he was. And sure his brother was concerned about that too. Nope. Joe wanted only one thing – to annoy his older brother. Right now, pounding on their bathroom door was his best bet of doing that. Frank wished he could find Joe’s little brother handbook and rip it up.

Finally, however, he declared himself as ready as he could be and he opened the door to see Joe standing outside, leaning against the wall across from the bathroom door, arms crossed, a mock-stern expression on his face. The mock-stern expression, better described as a glower, fixed on Frank and bright blue eyes severely rebuked the older brother. Joe made a point of rushing past Frank as Frank came out into the hallway and slamming the door to the bathroom behind him. Frank grinned as he caught a comment – something about ‘my older brother’s a girl!’ and he went down the hallway into his own bedroom.

Frank checked his pocket for tickets. Yep, they were there. He was going to bring Callie to a show – a musical – she really wanted to see and nothing and no one was going to interfere in this date. The last couple of dates had been disasters - the first time because Callie had a bad cold and the date cut short by a couple of hours when she decided she didn't feel well enough to be out. The last time cut short when Frank's father, Fenton Hardy, called him on his cell phone to tell him that he had to come home and help with a case; an important case that could not be put on hold at all.

He knew Callie had a certain degree of patience – usually – but he took now chances at all. This time, Frank was determined nothing would stand in the way. Callie said she felt great; Frank had informed his parents and his brother that he was going on a date and that he wasn’t to be disturbed – for any reason whatsoever.

Frank finished dressing, putting on his freshly pressed gray suit with a silvery colored shirt and a red tie – a tie that Callie picked out for him when they were out shopping together one day. She liked him in red. He put the tickets into the jacket of his pocket and looked himself over in the mirror again.

"Good night Joe!" he called out as he went by the bathroom. "Try not to fall in!"

He laughed when Joe answered him with a retort that sounded something like ‘grrfl do busa moo, Frank,’ and Frank declared his job well done. One baby brother, freshly whipped.

He went out to the van to drive the familiar route to Callie's house. The older Hardy boy felt good, good because nothing was going to stop this date. Good because he was intent on making this a night to remember and good – because he anticipated just how good Callie would look.

Frank parked in front of Callie’s house and got out to walk up the walk to the front door where he anticipated talking, for just a minute or two, Mr. or Mrs. Shaw – while he waited for Callie to finish her last minute preparations.

That was when a car - another van - screeched to a halt behind him. He turned, annoyed, and saw three masked figures jump out of the van. Frank just started to run when something sharp jabbed him in the back of his left shoulder.

The world went dark around him very quickly and then darkness set in.

****

David Abernathy paced the length of his hallway again, not caring that he was wearing a path into the new carpeting his wife picked out only a few months before. He felt it all close in on him. This life that he picked for himself, his beautiful wife, their fine home, their two children - it was all on the verge of falling completely apart.

Sure, he took a few shortcuts and got involved with a group of people with whom no respectable businessman would be involved. He'd been glad to take their money to make life better for himself, but, now - now that could all end. That blasted detective, Fenton Hardy, had gotten involved. David had been pretty sure that he'd be able to keep the detective from finding out anything; after all, he was an enterprising businessman – and smart too.

David never knew that a traitor worked for him. That traitor caused more damage to his business dealings than any one person ever had – or could. The traitor met with Fenton Hardy – and gave to him a file. A very damaging file. And David Abernathy felt everything fall apart around him.

Drastic times called for drastic measures.

Finally his cell phone rang.

"Abernathy."

"We got 'im."

"Good," Drew relaxed a little. "You know where to take him. Make sure the air flow is running good, lock the lid, then bury the case. Make sure you bury those plants just like I told you - we don't want anyone suspecting anything."

"You got it, boss," the man on the other end said.

Drew hung up and relaxed. In a few minutes, one of the men would call Fenton Hardy and tell him that if he wanted his son back, he would return the file that he'd taken - and any copies that he'd made.