kitchen, where his wife was sipping coffee.
Frank poured himself a glass of juice and joined his parents at the table.
"Is there any news?" Laura finally asked.
Fenton Hardy shook his head.
Laura Hardy shrank in her chair. "In that case, I think I'll go for a walk. I could use a little fresh air, too," she told Frank.
Frank waited for his mother to leave before he asked his father, "Nothing at all?"
"No word from Joe," Fenton said. "And no word about the hit man, either." At a look from Frank, Fenton added, "I'm doing everything I can."
Frank gripped the edge of the table, trying to stay calm. "I should have gone with Joe. It wasn't a good idea to send him alone."
Fenton Hardy shook his head. "Two people traveling together might have attracted attention. We agreed on that. And Joe won the draw to go," Fenton reminded Frank. "If we're going to play might-have-been, I should have gone."
"Come on, Dad. Any hood would be sure to know you. They'd follow you straight to the witness: That's why it had to be either Joe or me." He shook his head. "Joe is just too hot-headed. If he got himself into something ... "
Fenton's eyes drifted toward the phone. "I hope not, Frank. The hoods on this case are very dangerous. Organized crime types."
"Are we going to sit here and do nothing?" Frank asked.
"I'll be in my study," Fenton said, abruptly rising to his feet. "Leave the phone line open, in case Joe calls."
The next hours were the longest in Frank's life. The kitchen phone never rang. All day Fenton shut himself up in his study. Frank could hear him talking over the private line, phone call after phone call. Laura Hardy came home and disappeared upstairs. Frank tried watching TV, then listening to music, but he couldn't get his mind off Joe.
When Fenton didn't show up for supper, Frank went to his study and knocked on the door. "I'm going after Joe," he told his father.
"I'm not sending another son out," Fenton Hardy told him firmly.
"Come on, Dad," Frank begged. "The only word we received today was some silly postcard that Joe sent two days ago! Besides, someone still has to deliver the warning to the witness."
The door opened. Fenton Hardy stared at his son. "I don't like your idea one bit," he said quietly. "But I will think about it." With that, he disappeared back into his study.
"Well, I'm not hanging around here," Frank said to himself.
He drove his van around aimlessly, up and down the streets of Bayport. All he wanted to do was help Joe. But he had to respect his father's wishes. At a train crossing, the barriers came down, lights flashing, bells clanging. Frank braked and watched the New York City express barrel past on the tracks. At least it was going someplace! He slammed the steering wheel in frustration. I'm beginning to act just like Joe, he thought.
As he was driving past the mall, Frank saw Callie Shaw, Chet Morton, and Liz Webling leaving the movies. Frank pulled up and waved to them.
"What do you say we go over to Mr. Pizza?" Chet suggested. "I'm feeling a little hungry."
"You're always hungry," Callie kidded him.
"That's how I maintain my figure." Chet chuckled, grabbing his middle. "Hey, Frank, why don't you come along?"
Frank shook his head. "Actually, I was hoping to take Callie away from all this."
Liz grinned and took Chet's arm. "I can take a hint," she said. "Come on, pal, lead me to that pizza."
Callie climbed in, and the van took off. The breeze from the window ruffled her blond hair as she looked at Frank. "Something's bothering you. What is it?" she asked.
Frank told her about Joe. "I want to go after him," he said.
"Sounds dangerous." Callie frowned. "Besides, you don't know for sure what happened to Joe. Maybe he's out of touch to avoid trouble. You should have an idea of what you'll be fighting before you jump in the middle of it."
"I guess you're right," Frank said, reaching over to squeeze her hand.
She shuddered a little. "I always get a bad feeling in this place." She
Frank poured himself a glass of juice and joined his parents at the table.
"Is there any news?" Laura finally asked.
Fenton Hardy shook his head.
Laura Hardy shrank in her chair. "In that case, I think I'll go for a walk. I could use a little fresh air, too," she told Frank.
Frank waited for his mother to leave before he asked his father, "Nothing at all?"
"No word from Joe," Fenton said. "And no word about the hit man, either." At a look from Frank, Fenton added, "I'm doing everything I can."
Frank gripped the edge of the table, trying to stay calm. "I should have gone with Joe. It wasn't a good idea to send him alone."
Fenton Hardy shook his head. "Two people traveling together might have attracted attention. We agreed on that. And Joe won the draw to go," Fenton reminded Frank. "If we're going to play might-have-been, I should have gone."
"Come on, Dad. Any hood would be sure to know you. They'd follow you straight to the witness: That's why it had to be either Joe or me." He shook his head. "Joe is just too hot-headed. If he got himself into something ... "
Fenton's eyes drifted toward the phone. "I hope not, Frank. The hoods on this case are very dangerous. Organized crime types."
"Are we going to sit here and do nothing?" Frank asked.
"I'll be in my study," Fenton said, abruptly rising to his feet. "Leave the phone line open, in case Joe calls."
The next hours were the longest in Frank's life. The kitchen phone never rang. All day Fenton shut himself up in his study. Frank could hear him talking over the private line, phone call after phone call. Laura Hardy came home and disappeared upstairs. Frank tried watching TV, then listening to music, but he couldn't get his mind off Joe.
When Fenton didn't show up for supper, Frank went to his study and knocked on the door. "I'm going after Joe," he told his father.
"I'm not sending another son out," Fenton Hardy told him firmly.
"Come on, Dad," Frank begged. "The only word we received today was some silly postcard that Joe sent two days ago! Besides, someone still has to deliver the warning to the witness."
The door opened. Fenton Hardy stared at his son. "I don't like your idea one bit," he said quietly. "But I will think about it." With that, he disappeared back into his study.
"Well, I'm not hanging around here," Frank said to himself.
He drove his van around aimlessly, up and down the streets of Bayport. All he wanted to do was help Joe. But he had to respect his father's wishes. At a train crossing, the barriers came down, lights flashing, bells clanging. Frank braked and watched the New York City express barrel past on the tracks. At least it was going someplace! He slammed the steering wheel in frustration. I'm beginning to act just like Joe, he thought.
As he was driving past the mall, Frank saw Callie Shaw, Chet Morton, and Liz Webling leaving the movies. Frank pulled up and waved to them.
"What do you say we go over to Mr. Pizza?" Chet suggested. "I'm feeling a little hungry."
"You're always hungry," Callie kidded him.
"That's how I maintain my figure." Chet chuckled, grabbing his middle. "Hey, Frank, why don't you come along?"
Frank shook his head. "Actually, I was hoping to take Callie away from all this."
Liz grinned and took Chet's arm. "I can take a hint," she said. "Come on, pal, lead me to that pizza."
Callie climbed in, and the van took off. The breeze from the window ruffled her blond hair as she looked at Frank. "Something's bothering you. What is it?" she asked.
Frank told her about Joe. "I want to go after him," he said.
"Sounds dangerous." Callie frowned. "Besides, you don't know for sure what happened to Joe. Maybe he's out of touch to avoid trouble. You should have an idea of what you'll be fighting before you jump in the middle of it."
"I guess you're right," Frank said, reaching over to squeeze her hand.
She shuddered a little. "I always get a bad feeling in this place." She
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