“What first, oh fearless one?” Frank heard the amusement in his girlfriend’s voice as he held onto her arm while they worked around the room. 

“Describe the room to me,” Frank asked her as he inhaled.  It smelled musty, old and dirty.  He heard the pinging of pipes below him and more noises from above.

“It’s large,” Samantha began.  “Rectangular, maybe 25 by 17 or so at the most.  There's a brick fireplace on the outside wall.  The flooring is all brand new carpeting.  There's a large leather sofa against the wall by the stairs and another that's sort of in an ‘L’ to that one, both of them centered on the sofa.  The walls are gold-colored with some kind of treatment that makes it look like parchment.  There's a large ottoman in front of the sofas, along with three end tables, several lamps.  They all look majorly expensive."  

“Do you see any papers?  Boxes?  Chests?”  Frank asked as he reached out with his cane.  He found what he assumed to be the sofa and nodded with satisfaction while he gained his bearings. 

“Not here,” Samantha said.  She let go of Frank’s arm; he heard her opening and closing drawers and doors, then heard her soft footsteps across the floor.  She came back a moment later.

“Nothing,” she continued.  “The end tables are empty.”

“Let’s look under the couches,” Frank suggested.  He got down on his hands and knees and reached, sneezing several times when the dust bunnies got too close to his nose.  “I think we’ve entered the dust bunnies breeding ground, Sam.”

“I think we should let them keep it.  I don’t see anything under here,” Samantha said.

“Let’s look inside the sofas,” Frank suggested.  “You never know where things will get hidden that we need to see.”

The sofas held nothing in their springs – they were obviously very expensive by the feel of the leather.  Frank wondered how much they set Andrew back when he bought them.

"Strike one," Frank commented.  "Shall we head to the next room?"

"What if we hit the basement?" she asked.  "They always hide stuff in the basement."

Frank laughed.  "Lead on, my lady," he continued to smile, feeling more easy than he had in days.  "And thank you."

"For what?" she asked, stunned.

"For helping me.  For caring," Frank said as he touched her cheek with one finger.  "For putting up with me."

"Frank!" Sam protested.  "I don't put up with you.  I love you.  There's a big difference!"

Frank smiled.  "I love you, too."

Samantha led them both through the arched doorway at the other end of the room and into what looked to be a very large, very brand-new kitchen.  She described the cabinets as maple and very expensive.  There were silver knobs on the doors of the cabinets and the flooring was slate.  The countertop was granite – slabs, no grout. 

"Cabinets are full," she commented, idly.

"Let's look through the drawers, we might find some papers."

"All right," Sam agreed.  The cabinets, however, held nothing of interest.  There were the usual suspects – tableware, cooking utensils, mitts and hotpads, things used for cooking but the only notebook was empty.

"This is frustrating," Frank murmured. 

"Let's try the basement now," Sam suggested.  She led the way to the stair case and flipped up the light, frowning when it didn't come on.

"I'm not sure we can do this," she said.  "At least I can't.  It's very dark and the lights don't work."

She wiggled the light switch a couple more times but the room below remained in darkness.

"Here," Frank pulled his penlight out of his pocket.  "Let's…"

His words were cut off by a cry and a crash from above and Sam grabbed Frank, leading him quickly toward the stairs.  He limped along as fast as his leg allowed, grimacing in pain when he jarred it.  Still, he kept moving, anxious to see what happened above.

"Connor? Mandy?" Samantha called out as they went up the stairs.  "What happened?"

There was no immediate response to the question and Samantha glanced anxiously over at Frank as they got to the top of the stairs.  They both heard someone grunting and the sound of something heavy being moved across the floor.

"Sam?  Frank?  In here!" Connor called out.  "Mandy's trapped."

"What happened?" Sam asked when they stopped.  Frank heard her footsteps as she rushed forward and then heard something else shift above her.

"I'm all right," Mandy declared from inside of the pile.  "All this upholstery couldn't hurt Shaquille O'Neal.  Come on, just get me a little space and I'll slide right on out of here."

"What?" Frank asked.  "Where are you?"

"Under a huge pile of furniture," Mandy explained.  "And I'd like out." 

"Connor, you shouldn't be moving things with those ribs."

"Neither Frank or I are a hundred percent right now," Connor said.  "How's he supposed to move heavy objects with a messed up arm and a bad knee?  Let me just get this done.  I'm almost there."

"You hurt yourself more, MacKenzie, and you answer to me," Mandy's voice was muffled but audible from where she was trapped.  "Hold on a second."

Frank heard her shift around and heard something else slide.

"There we go.  I'm almost there."

Then, suddenly, she was out and coughing up a storm from more stirred-up dust.  Frank knelt beside her and helpfully pounded her back until she could breathe more easily, then touched her shoulder.

"You all right, Mandy-Nic?" he asked.

"Just peachy," Mandy coughed.  "A little dusty.  But I got my prize."

She put the metal box into Frank's good hand and he touched it, running his hands along the lines of it.

"It may be nothing," Mandy said.  "But I thought it was worth bringing out.  Here, give it back so I can open it."

Mandy took the box from Frank and he heard her fussing with the opening before figuring out how to pop the lid open. 

"Wow," Connor said from somewhere above Frank.  "What is that, Mandy?"

"Looks like a deed – the original deed," Mandy said.  "And…wait a minute."

"What do you have?" Frank asked as he waited – impatiently – for Mandy to tell him something.

"Newer papers under the older ones," Mandy explained.  "Hold on a sec."

Frank frowned as he sat back, waiting for Mandy to explain.  He wished – not for the first time – he could see.  It was weighing on him, how badly he needed his sight back, how much he had relied on it when he could see.

Frank forced the thoughts down.

"It's a deed," Mandy said.  "For a house in Virginia ."

" Virginia ?" Frank asked, confused. 

"Yeah," Mandy agreed.  "It's a house that's owned by someone named Drew Sanders."

"Drew Sanders?" Frank made a face.  The name… something about that name was familiar to him.  What was it?  "Sanders.  Isn't…isn't that Aunt Cathy's maiden name?"

"You're right!" Mandy exclaimed.  "It is Aunt Cathy's maiden name!  Drew Sanders.  So you think this house belongs to Andrew?"

"Well," Frank said.  "Think about it.  Maybe he's got all these houses in his own name but the one that's not – it's the one he wouldn't expect anyone to find."

"Does this mean we go to Virginia ?" Mandy sighed.  "I feel like we're getting the run-around."

"I don't know if we're going – or if the F.B.I. will send someone closer to check it out.  We should call Dad and tell him what we've found – and get a hotel for the night.  I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted," Frank admitted.

Mandy murmured her agreement.  "Sounds like a good idea.  You two okay with this?" Mandy asked Samantha and Connor.

"Sounds like a plan," Samantha agreed.  "I'm exhausted.  It's been a very long day."

The four students went back out to Connor's SUV, carrying with them Mandy's find from the furniture room.  Connor drove them to a nearby hotel, where they checked into two rooms and Frank called his father.

"Are you two all right?" Fenton's voice sounded over the phone.  "Everyone okay there in Cambridge ?"

"We're good, Dad," Frank agreed.  "Tired, but we got quite a bit of information."

Frank told his father about Mandy's talk with Tiffany, one of Andrew's former girlfriends, and about his own unfortunate run-in with Doctor Rich and Anna Phillips.

"Frank!  Didn't you call the police?" Fenton asked, alarmed.

"No, sir, I didn't have a chance."  Frank rubbed at the side of his nose and sighed.  "Someone else had called them when they saw Doctor Rich's gun but the agent – he said he knows Deanna – told us to go ahead and check out the houses."

Then he told his dad about the deed they found in the box, and heard true excitement in his father's voice.

"Bingo!" Fenton exclaimed.  "That's exactly what I was looking for.  I just mentioned to Sam that we were running around in circles.  This may be the real lead we're looking for, Frank.  Do you still have the deed?"

"Mandy does.  Let me give you to her," Frank agreed.

Mandy took Frank's cell phone from him so Frank only heard her side of the conversation.  She read off the name and address listed on the deed to her father.

"Dad, wasn't that Aunt Cathy's maiden name?" Mandy asked him.  "Sanders?"

Frank frowned until he heard Mandy's whoop of triumph.  "That's what we thought," she said.  "The question is, though, why did he leave it in that house?  I don't get that part."

There was more silence though Frank heard occasional words through the phone, like 'caution' and 'madman' and 'desperate'.  Frank wasn't sure he would apply cautious to Andrew right now, but the other two sure worked. 

Finally, after giving Fenton all the information she had, Mandy hung up and handed Frank's cell phone back to him.

"Dad said he thinks Andrew is overdoing things in his desperate attempt to keep us from finding Joe.  He's making sloppy mistakes.  For one, someone shot some rockets or something like that at Agent Merrill and her partner – their car flipped but other than some bumps, scrapes and a twisted shoulder, they're both all right.  Dad says they're tracing where the rockets came from – if they're rockets.  He said that the last time he talked to Agent Merrill they hadn't identified the explosive yet, but he sounded like she was pretty sure it was rounds from a bazooka or something like it.  There aren't many places where bazookas can be bought."

"Your dad doesn't seriously think they got it legally, does he?" Connor asked.

"He said it's an avenue to explore – and he isn't giving up on using that.  Anyway, he's going to call Agent Merrill and they will probably send a team down to the house in Virginia ."

Frank made a face as he thought that over.  "Well, that's good," he admitted.  "But…I still have a bad feeling about all of this."

"You do?" Mandy asked, curious.  "What?"

"I don't think Andrew is as desperate – or as stupid – or as anxious – as any of us think," Frank scratched his cheek again, only to have Mandy slap his hand away from his face.  "I think he's been playing us the whole time.  And I think the deed we found?  He wanted us to find it."

"No way!" Mandy declared.  "Why else bury it so deeply in all that old, nasty, furniture?"

"Because," Samantha explained, gently.  "It's not only a part of a plan to make us think he wanted that hidden, but it's a plan to make us think that he's keeping Joe in Virginia.  I think he's around here somewhere.  This has been his home base for the last couple of years, right?  He's had all that time to think and to plan."

Samantha paused and looked over at Frank.  Though Frank couldn't see her face, he knew she was looking at him and he smiled, feeling more confident.

"He's here.  He's right here."

 

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.