Monday passed in a haze for Frank when he woke up running fever and coughing. Tuesday dawned dreary and gray, with sleet forecasted for the afternoon. The older boy did not envy his brother who had to be out in it all day. Tuesday was the only day of the week where Joe was on campus all day. And this Tuesday he had mid-terms in four different classes.  

Laura had another day of baking planned, cinnamon bread this time, and Gertrude was filling in at the needlework shop. Fenton was in Bridgeport again and Sam had left the office an hour ago to trail a suspect in an insurance fraud investigation. If he’d known what was going to happen, he never would have left.  

Stefan’s entry into the US had set off warning flags, but the message never got to Fenton. It finally arrived on Chief Collig’s desk at 3:30 that afternoon, but by then it was too late. When Con Riley arrived at the Hardy home at 3:42 , he found Sam Radley standing over an un-moving Stefan Gregov and a beaten and wounded Frank was cradled in Laura’s arms.  

***  

Frank rubbed his eyes and stared at the person sitting in his desk chair. “What do you want?” he growled.  

“Not much. Just thought I would drop by and say hello while I’m in the neighborhood.”  

“What have you done to my mother?” Frank demanded as he sat up.  

“I tied her up and put her in the basement. I promise I haven’t hurt her.”  

“Forgive me for not believing you,” Frank scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm and disdain.  

Stefan raised his pistol, Fenton’s old .357 revolver, and aimed it at Frank. “Alright then. You can see for yourself. It’ll be more fun down there anyway.” He motioned with the pistol for Frank to stand up and walk to the door. Frank did so, then stopped.  

“Where’s my bear?”  

“In the closet.” Stefan pressed the pistol between Frank’s shoulder blades. “Move.”  

Frank went downstairs to the basement and was met by the sight of his mother tied to an old straight back chair. He glared at Stefan as his own hands were tied, in front of him, and he was shoved down on the couch.  

The basement had been converted into Frank and Joe’s crashing area after the garage had burned down six years earlier. Joe’s Playstation 2 was set up down here, as well as the weight sets and the darkroom. A workbench ran the length of the short wall by the stairs, accompanied by the washer and dryer. An old armoire held board games and a set of shelves filled with baskets held Gertrude’s yarn remnants. The only way out was back up the stairs.  

“Mothers are very special people, Semyon. I hope you know that.”  

Frank stared at Stefan. His voice contained something Frank thought he would never hear: remorse and an intense sadness. For the first time, Frank wished things had been different, that Stefan too had been given a second chance at a home and family.  

“Fathers are too,” he said gently.  

“Not when they’re murderers.” The sadness retreated and Frank heard the hard, bitter voice he’d grown used to over the summer.  

Frank sighed to himself, knowing now that Stefan was beyond all hope. “Let’s not forget you’re a murderer too. So what does that make you? Besides a bastard I mean?”  

The slap from Stefan made his ears ring and caught him so off guard that he toppled over. “I should have just killed you after all,” Stefan hissed.  

“I don’t think you can. Whether you like it or not we are brothers, and I would have given you a second chance if you’d asked! Mama never wanted us to hate each other, Stefan. It’s a wonderful thing to have a brother, not a terrible thing.”  

“It’s a wonderful thing to have when you actually want one,” Stefan retorted. “I never did. Never. I was happy with just me and Mama and Papa. Before you, Papa came over more, he was happier and nicer. I had everything I needed and wanted.”  

“It wouldn’t have hurt you to try, Stefan.”  

Laura felt her heart break at the obvious pain in her son’s voice, even though she hadn’t understood a word of the exchange between the two.  

Stefan was standing in profile to Laura and she shuddered inwardly at the anger that swept over the man’s face. He had so convinced himself that his life would have been better without Frank in it that he would not listen to anything Frank had to say.  

That disturbed her to no end.  

He paced the room like a caged animal, glaring alternately at Laura and then at Frank. Frank sat still, saying nothing, his gaze following Stefan around the room. He would take anything that Stefan wanted to inflict on him so long as he left Laura alone.  

Stefan stopped pacing and turned his attention fully to Frank, yanking him up off the couch by his arms. Frank looked at his mother, his chocolate brown eyes filled with a protectiveness that warmed Laura’s heart.  

Then Stefan lashed out, knocking Frank to the floor. As Laura watched in horror, she knew Frank’s only chance was for someone to come home.

 

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.