Joe opened the room door and Frank came in carrying a cardboard box. “I take it you found the building?”  

Frank nodded as he set the box down on his bed and kicked his shoes off. He sat down on the bed, crossing his legs Indian style with the box in front of him, and began to go through its contents. “Everything in here belonged to my mother,” he explained softly.  

Joe sat down too, and together they spread the contents out on the bed. Joe took out an envelope and upon opening it discovered several dozen pictures He grinned as he looked at them. “Frank.”  

“Hmm?”  

“I think I found your baby pictures.” Joe turned one around so Frank could see it and Frank snatched it away. He wasn’t quite two in that picture and didn’t have a stitch of clothing anywhere on him. Joe just kept flipping through the pictures, and presently held another one up. “Your mother?”  

Frank sighed and nodded, then gently took the photograph from Joe’s fingers. Sophia’s warm brown eyes were smiling at the camera, and he was nestled in her arms. She was wearing a lavender sweater, one that Frank remembered snuggling with because it smelled like her. He hadn’t been able to grab a picture of her before they were taken to the orphanage.  

“She’s beautiful, Frank,” Joe said softly. “You look just like her.”  

Frank looked up. “Really?”  

“Really.”  

A sad smile appeared and a single tear slipped down his cheek. Joe moved over next to his brother and pulled him close, holding him as he cried. Unbidden, the first time Joe had ever held Frank like this entered his mind and played out…  

The sound of soft crying filled five-year-old Joey’s ears. Sitting up, the boy looked over at Frank. The nightlight gave just enough light where Joe could see his brother’s shoulders shaking. Slipping out of his bed with his blanket, he crawled into Frank’s.  

Joey spread his blanket across them and put his arms around Frank. “I miss my mama,” Frank whispered.  

“I know. I bet she misses you too.”  

Frank snuggled closer to his new brother. Joey was nothing like Stefan! He was nice and he shared his toys and didn’t call him names. The boy sniffed and closed his eyes, picturing his mama and his new mom together, both of them playing with him.  

Before they’d gone to get Frank, Joey had asked what happened to Frank’s mother. Fenton had gently explained that she had to go to heaven and needed someone to take care of Frank for her. That had satisfied the little boy and he’d promised to take good care of his new brother so his mama wouldn’t worry about him while she was in heaven.  

Joe had crawled into Frank’s bed many, many times over the last fifteen years, holding him when he missed his mama or the nightmares refused to let him sleep. The night of Frank’s sixteenth birthday he had told Joe how she died and why he cried.  

***

The next morning they were awakened by a pounding on the door. Frank jumped out of bed while Joe merely poked his head out of the covers mounded in the middle of his bed.  

Frank looked through the peephole, and with a gasp he slid the chain off and opened the door.  

“What is it?” Joe asked, sitting straight up.  

“You mean who.” Frank put his arm around the young man standing in the door and helped him inside.  

“Matt Walker?”  

The young man nodded as Frank eased him onto the empty bed. “How did you get here?” he asked.  

Matt ran a hand through his tangled black hair. “I have no idea.”  

Joe was already on the phone to room service, so Frank ushered Matt into the shower. He was about the same size as Frank, so he pulled out a clean change of clothes for him. Once the water came on, the brothers shared a look they each knew only too well.  

“Something’s not right, Frank.”  

 

Once Matt was cleaned up and had eaten, he told his story.  

“After they grabbed me, I don’t remember much until I woke up in a warehouse. They kept moving me around. I think they were going to sell me when things calmed down. Seems like they took me to a new place every few days. This morning, one guy put me in a car, blindfolded. When he let me out he gave me a piece of paper, told me to count to twenty and then go to the address on the paper. Turned out to be here.”  

“Do you have any idea who kidnapped you?” Frank asked.  

Matt shook his head. “None whatsoever.”  

“Did you hear any names?”  

“One. But it’s just a first name and I never saw his face.”  

“What’s the name, Matt? Anything can help find these people,” Joe prompted.  

“Stefan.”  

Joe saw Frank fade out at the mention of that name. “Why don’t you get some sleep and then we’ll figure out what to do next,” he suggested.  

Matt voiced total agreement and lay down on the bed. Within minutes he was sound asleep.  

Joe pulled Frank over to the corner of the room where two chairs sat by the window. He had to distract him, get his mind back on the case. “Any bright ideas, bro?”  

“Not a one,” Frank answered. “This makes less than no sense.”  

“Maybe it’s a trap,” Joe suggested half-heartedly, not believing it for a minute.  

Frank didn’t say anything because Joe already knew his opinion on that theory. They sat in silence for several minutes.  

“What if someone wants to get to you?” Joe said quietly.  

The same thought had crossed Frank’s mind but he refused to acknowledge it. “There are millions of people in Russia named Stefan. And furthermore, how could he even know I’m here? I doubt he’d recognize me.”  

“He might if he remembers what your mother looks like,” Joe pointed out reluctantly. “We have to at least look at the possibility that this is all a grand scheme to get you over here.”  

“No. That is not an option.” Frank speared his brother with an almost angry look. “As far as I’m concerned, he ceased to exist the night Mama died.”  

Joe held his hands up. “Just the same, you’re not going to that cemetery alone.” He looked directly into Frank’s dark brown eyes. “I’m not willing to take any chances.” 

 

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.