Miles away, Frank Hardy woke slowly, the after effects of the chloroform fogging his memory for a few moments as he lay on a hard surface and tried to make sense of…something.  Anything at all.  It took a few moments to remember his name and that came with effort.

Frank blinked into absolute darkness and shook his head slightly as he tried to focus his thoughts.  He remembered Ding Dongs.  He remembered Twinkies and Joe watching Scrooged on television.  He remembered…Callie?  Yes, he took Callie out somewhere – trees!  He took Callie to the tree farm to get a tree. 

There his thoughts failed him.  Did we make it to the tree farm?  Did something happen? He continued to track his day but no memory past picking up Callie at her house surfaced. 

An accident?  Is that what happened?

Frank shifted and frowned.  Why was it so hard to move?  Why did he feel all bunched up in a little ball? 

Frank tested and tried to move his arms but found them tightly secured to something.  A little more wiggling told him more – his arms were tied to his legs.  He was trussed up like the prize Christmas goose.  He felt the tell-tale stickiness of duct tape over his mouth but nothing else on his face, such as a blindfold or something. 

Frank rocked a little, trying to get a feel for the surface underneath him.  It felt hard and unforgiving; perhaps concrete.  The air smelt musty, old, as if it didn’t circulate very often or an area nearby was very wet.   A basement?  Perhaps a basement.  Yes, that seemed like the thing for sure.

Frank sighed, or would have if his mouth weren’t covered.  He tried to relax as best he could but already his arms and legs tingled and twinged uncomfortably. 

Kidnapped.  Again.

Two days before Christmas no less! 

A moment later panic filled him and he started to struggle in earnest with his bonds. 

Callie!  Do they have Callie too?  I remember picking her up.  Oh, God, let her be okay, please let Callie be okay, please.  God, please… Please…

Frank tried deep breaths through his nose to force the panic away but the worry refused to abate.  Callie might be here too and scared – just as scared as Frank if not more.  What if she thought she was here all alone?  What if they left her alone out in the cold?

Frank closed his eyes and tried to remember more of his day. 

Instead he drifted off, despite the worry the remains of the chloroform won the battle for control and Frank eased off into an uneasy – and unwelcome – sleep.

Callie…

**

Joe paced the living room floor as he waited anxiously for any word about Frank’s whereabouts, and wished he had stayed out at the tree farm to look more, to try to find a clue.  Besides the keys found by Officer Davenport Con reported finding nothing of any help, not even the make of the car that took off with Frank.  The ground was frozen out there; it didn’t make for good tracks this time of year.  Con reported that he had a list of names of purchasers of trees and they would canvass the names on the list in the morning but for now there was nothing.

Joe glanced over at his mother who sat in a chair, face pale with fear for her oldest son as she waited.  His Aunt Gertrude was in the kitchen, baking up a storm to ward off her own worries.  He smelt the usual scents that usually always excited him, like homemade fudge and his aunt’s special apple pie. 

Frank’s favorite, that apple pie.  Frank’s favorite – and he wasn’t here to eat it.

Joe shook off those thoughts and tried to focus.  He had called his father earlier to tell him what happened and his father already called Jack Wayne, who remained in the Tampa area after flying Fenton down.  They would be back early in the morning to take part in any search that took place for Frank, in the meantime all they could really do was wait and hope that someone saw something.

“Joe, you should sit down.”  He glanced over at his mother when she spoke.  “You’re not doing yourself any good by pacing as much as you are.  Just take a rest and…”  Laura’s voice choked off tearfully.  Joe knelt beside her chair and hugged her tightly.

“We’ve been through this before, Mom,” Joe said softly as he stroked her hair.  “I know it’s hard.  It’s practically killing me but he’ll be okay.  He’s smart and when Dad gets here we’ll be out there and we’ll find him.”

“I hope so,” Laura whispered into Joe’s shoulder.  “Oh, Joe, I hope so.  But there is so little to go on.  Are you sure you’ll find him in time?”

“We’ll get help, Mom, I know it,” Joe smiled and sat back a little so he could see her face.  “Someone will come forward or we’ll find that one piece of evidence we need or Frank will figure out how to get away himself.  Whoever has him won’t be able to keep him forever.”

The doorbell rang and Joe sprang back to his feet and raced over to open it.  This time two detectives from the Bayport Police stepped into the house, carrying several pieces of equipment.

“We want to set up a tracer and a recording unit on your phone,” Detective Henry Porter said.  “Is there a place we can do that?”

Joe nodded.  “Yeah, my dad’s office is a good place.  Come on.”

Joe led the way into his father’s office, then left the men to set up their equipment using Fenton’s desk phone.  Joe stayed in the doorway, watching them intently as they hooked up each piece and tested it. 

Wondering if this was going to really do any good at all, Joe went back into the living room to be with his mother.  He heard his aunt banging pans in the kitchens – something she only did when frustrated or upset – and he pondered going in to see if she needed help.

Riiiing.

The phone ringing startled all of them and one of the detectives came back out and motioned to the phone.  It rang again and the detective peered back into the room as the phone rang a third time.  The detective gestured to Joe and he picked up the receiver and spoke into it.

“Hardy residence.” Joe tried to keep his voice calm and steady.

“Greetings, Mr. Hardy,” a muffled voice said.  Joe waved to the detective and made an okay sign with his hand. 

“Er, greetings,” Joe said.  “Can I help you with something?”

“Yes, yes you can,” the muffled voice continued.  “You see, we have something of yours – namely your brother, Frank.  He’s not very comfortable at the moment but he’s in one piece and will remain so, as long as you do what we say.  We’re going to make this simple for you.  We don’t want prisoners released or a getaway car.  We want cold, hard, cash.  Namely 250,000 dollars worth.  Get that money together – you have twelve hours – and I will call back then to give you directions on how to drop it off.”

250,000 dollars?  “We don’t have that kind of money,” Joe protested. 

“Nonsense,” the voice actually laughed.  “You might not but you have plenty of friends and benefactors.  Twelve hours.  Time is ticking.”

And like that, he was gone.   Joe glanced anxiously at the detective but he shook his head.  “Cell phone,” the man said.  “We got some bouncing off of towers but no firm location.”

Joe cursed softly and looked over at his mother whose blue eyes were wide and apprehensive.  “Sorry, Mom,” he said softly.  “I tried, I really did.  They want 250,000 dollars…”

Laura swallowed nervously.  “We need to call your father,” she said softly.  “And…and…what do we do after that?”

The detective came into the room.  “We don’t negotiate – or give into – kidnappers, Mrs. Hardy.  I suggest you just sit back and relax.  We’ll get your son back.”

Joe said something very ineloquent and pithy, blue eyes flashing with anger.  “Don’t tell us to sit back and relax.  That’s my brother – her son! – out there.  Don’t you think for one second we’re going to just sit here and wait for the hammer to drop.  Her husband was a police officer and is a private detective.  I’ve been raised around that my whole life.  I’m not going to just sit here and wait!”

Detective Menderhall rounded on him immediately.  “Now listen here, kid…”

“I agree with him,” Laura said sternly as she rose fluidly from her seat.  “We aren’t going to sit around.  I’ve seen the statistics – I’ve lived those statistics.  Right now, we have nothing to go on.  Try and deny that, Detective.”

Menderhall glared at them, frowning and trying to look menacing.  “Now see here…” he began again.

“We’ve seen enough,” Laura said.  “As my son said, my husband has done this for far longer than you have.  Can you honestly tell me that you have anything to go on?  Any clues or signs at all as to where my son is or who has him?”

Joe hid a grin at his mother’s cool demeanor.  Some days she was just so awesome!

Menderhall sighed and shook his head.  “I can tell you that we’ll find him,” he stated smoothly.  “If you stay out of our way.”

Joe made a face at that and Laura frowned.  “I see,” she said coldly.  “Thank you.”  She turned and walked into the kitchen and, after a moment, Joe followed her.

“One thing’s for sure,” Laura said when they were out of earshot of Menderhall.  “We aren’t staying out of the way.”