Chapter 1

Joe Hardy and Frank Hardy eyed one another across the breakfast table like two gunslingers about to partake in a fast draw. Joe's eyes narrowed, his blue eyes now looking through a tiny pigeonhole in his head. Frank dropped his chin and stared up through his dark eyelashes and licked the corner of his mouth.

"I totally dare ya!" Joe growled.

"Never ever dare me, little brother," Frank said and shot his hand forward across the table.

Joe automatically went for his brother's wrist and grabbed hold to stop him, but Frank other hand was already making a lunge to grab the last waffle successfully from the table.

Grinning triumphantly, Frank leaned towards Joe. "And to the victor, the spoils!" he taunted, and bit into the waffle. Melted butter ran down his chin and dripped onto his clean shirt. "No," he shouted, spitting crumbs. "This shirt's brand new!"

"Serves you right," laughed Joe, ducking the sticky projectiles. "Dude - pleasure is always followed by pain – you should know that by now!"

"And a smart mouth is always followed by a fat lip, bro!" said Frank

Joe pursed his lips together, "Aw, scary".

Sons of internationally famous private investigator Fenton Hardy, 18-year-old Frank stood 6'1 with dark hair and brown eyes, as opposed to the fair-haired Joe who was a mere inch shorter. Both brothers were physically fit, but 17-year-old Joe was a muscular build against Frank's more athletic leanness.

Frank sighed and rubbed at the stain with his sleeve, spreading it further. Tutting, he walked toward the front door and left the house to collect the Bayport Times from the front lawn. As usual the paper was damp from the morning dew so he slapped it against his hip to remove grass cuttings before returning to the house. He sat down at the breakfast table, snipped the string from around the paper and began to read the front-page story.

After a couple of minutes, he suddenly piped up with: "This sucks…"

"What sucks?" Joe asked.

"Another kid's gone missing. According to the newspaper that makes three children, all under the age of five, and all from the Bayport area. It was a little girl this time. She was only four years old, her parents must be frantic."

Joe shook his head in bewilderment. "Any further update on the other missing children? Are they any closer to catching the creeps responsible?"

"Nope, doesn't look like it, listen to this: 'A Spokesman for the Bayport Police stated yesterday that they were following up on some promising leads' - that's cop-talk for 'we haven't got a clue'"

"Well, they'd better get clued up quick, there are a lot of very angry and worried parents out there," commented Joe.

His brother nodded in agreement.

There came a knock at the door and they looked up to see Vanessa and Callie waving madly through the window. Joe raised himself from the table to let them in.

"Hi guys," greeted tall, ash-blonde-haired Vanessa, Joe's pretty girlfriend. She planted a kiss on Joe's mouth and smiled at Frank, her eyes automatically lowering to the stain on his chest.

Callie, Frank's shorter, fair-haired girlfriend also looked at his shirt and quipped, "Looking good Frank! Setting Bayport's catwalks alive with another one of your style ideas I see." she raised an eyebrow. "Better watch out, or the fashion cops will be after you."

Frank lunged playfully at her and she dodged away, laughing. "I'm not putting up with this all day, I'm going to change into a clean shirt." He turned tale and mounted the stair to head for his bedroom.

Callie followed him up and stood in the doorway watching.

Frank looked up sharply, suddenly sensing her presence. "Babe? What are you doing up here? It's lucky Mom and Dad are out-of-town, or I'd be in big trouble."

"Well they are, and your not, and anyway, I was enjoying the view."

Frank smiled and reddened and began quickly buttoning up his clean shirt. "Yeah, well…"

"Anyway, the reason me and Vanessa dropped by was to ask if you and Joe would like to accompany us on a picnic, it's forecast sunny weather and it would be shame to waste it"

"Sounds good".

They put the finishing touches to their picnic basket and headed out of the door. Vanessa de-activated the car alarm on her red, compact sedan and they loaded all the gear into the trunk and piled in.

Arriving at the park, they unpacked the car again and hiked through the trees. Settling on a suitably secluded spot. Callie threw the rug down and they all slumped down onto it.

Joe lay back with his hands behind his head and yawned loudly. "I think I'll just relax, and allow the women folk to go about their work. What say you, dude?"

"Yep, sounds good to me," agreed Frank, mirroring his brother's position. "You heard the man, get to it ladies, feed us!" Callie leapt atop Frank, pinning his arms beneath her knees. "Humph! Hey careful woman, you'll hurt yourself," he teased.

"You asked for this," cried Callie, and began to mercilessly tickle Frank -and Frank was very ticklish.

"Hey no, no don't," he begged in between gasps of laughter.

"Tell me more," she laughed. Frank arched his back, and she came flying off.

Joe and Vanessa rolled their eyes at each other and looked on in amusement.

Frank quickly rolled on top of the now breathless Callie, pinning her arms to the ground. "Get off - you great oaf, you're squashing me!"

"Aw, come on," said Frank. "I'm a lightweight by comparison."

"You cheeky devil – get off me!" demanded Callie and tried to wriggle out from under him. Frank was much too heavy and strong however, and she was quickly forced to concede.

"And now, my-Lady, a kiss from those sweet cherry-red lips".

"Man, I think I'm gonna be sick," said Joe. Vanessa pretended to stick two fingers down his throat and made a retching sound.

Frank was leaning forward to claim his prize when a high-pitch scream ripped through the still air. Callie froze under him and their eyes locked together in shock.

Joe immediately sat upright and stared towards the trees, the hairs on the back of his neck rising.

"What was that?" whispered Vanessa, obviously spooked, she momentarily clung to Joe's muscular arm - even the birds had ceased their song.

Frank and Joe slowly turned to look at one another, a silent message passing between them.

Then came the second shrill scream.

Joe was immediately on his feet and running in the direction of the sound, seconds later plunging headlong into the woodland. Frank very close behind him once he was free of Callie's weight. The girls followed on, listening to the continued screaming.

Joe broke through the trees and took in the scene before him. A man was manhandling a crying and screaming child towards a delivery truck parked on the car lot with its back doors open.

"Hey!" shouted Joe, losing no time in moving towards them. "Let the kid go!"

The man glanced over his shoulder and began to run with the boy towards the waiting vehicle. He was no match for Joe, however, who caught up with him in seconds, clamping a hand on his shoulder to spin him around. "I don't think you heard me right, dude. I said, let the kid go," he repeated with a warning tone to the stocky, red-haired man.

"This is my son, and I would be grateful if you'd keep out of my private family affairs."

Joe glanced at the child's tear streaked, panic stricken face. His mouth was gaping in fear. "In that case, you won't object to me calling the cops, and you can explain your family matter to them?" his hand reached into his pocket, intending on extracting his cell phone.

The man was opening his mouth to continue the argument when he spied Frank break through the trees. He lifted the boy up high and flung him at Joe, turned and ran.

Joe caught the boy in his free arm and hit the ground with a loud 'humph'. He'd taken the weight of the boy into his body, using himself as a natural shock absorber so the child wouldn't hopefully be hurt. "Frank, get him, bro!" he shouted and immediately turned his attention to checking the boy wasn't injured.

Frank hurtled passed his younger brother to tackle the man.

The man dashed onto the parking lot with Frank at his heels and launched himself at the vehicle's back entrance. Unfortunately, he seriously misjudging the distance and hit the edge of the truck's footplate with his stomach, all the air whooshed out of him at once. He went down, momentarily winded, allowing Frank the opportunity to put him in a hold and pin him firmly to the asphalt.

Meanwhile, Vanessa had reached Joe and was bending down to gently lift the boy from him. She hugged him to her and reassured him as best she could, turning his face away from the scene. "It's okay, your safe with us, don't cry".

Joe jumped up to his feet with the intention of pitching in to help his brother, but before he could, the shrieking started…

Callie was standing at the edge of the grass, screaming, Frank was down on the ground and there was blood all over the ground, spreading out thickly – blood, presumably, from a head wound.

A second, previously unseen man was standing over him with a huge wrench in his hand. He stood at least 6'3, with a shaven head and had an angry scar running along his cheekbone. He pulled Frank's head back by the hair and readied himself to strike again.

"NO!" roared Callie and jumped on his back, punching at him with her fists. He shook her roughly off onto the road, grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and yanking her forward. She placed her hands over her face and flinched as he raised the weapon in the air. Out the corner of his eye he suddenly spied Joe moving at speed toward him. Taking in Joe's large physical frame, he instantly lost interest in hurting Callie and thrust her aside before leaping up into the passenger seat of the vehicle.

Joe jumped over Frank's inert body and, without a second thought to anything other than revenge for his brother, ran snarling round the side of the truck, grabbed the wing mirror and lifting himself up onto the step plate. The van immediately sped off with the back doors swinging, and screeched around the corner of the Jefferson Park gateway with Joe still clinging onto the door.

"JOE!" shouted a panicked Vanessa running with the boy still clinging to her as the van disappeared out of sight.

Ignoring the scenery whipping by, Joe looked at the two men inside.

The redhead at the wheel grinned menacingly at him and then laughed and tipped a thumb over his shoulder mockingly towards where they'd just come from, which was all the further provocation Joe needed to tip him over the edge and into a red-rage.

Joe drew his fist back and smashed it straight through the side window. The men inside ducking as glass shattered all around them, the driver momentarily losing concentration and sending the delivery truck in to a violent swerve. Joe clung on tenaciously, adrenaline numbing the pain from the deep cuts he'd just inflicted on his own hand and arm. He hauled himself halfway through the now empty window space and grabbed the driver by the throat. "STOP THE TRUCK" he yelled into his face.

The man's expression was now one of fear and panic, his driving becoming increasingly erratic, the truck sweeping from side-to-side.

Joe put his other arm into the cab and reached for the ignition key to try and turn the engine off. Before he could accomplish this feat, however, the driver's collaborator reached across and grabbed at Joe's hand that was still around his friend's throat. He selected Joe's little finger and bent it back until the rest of his fingers started to loosen, until eventually Joe whole hand was free. The man then leant forward in the seat and punched Joe violently in the face.

Joe felt his body beginning to slide back out through the window and reached blindly for something to grab onto, his eyes streaming. His fingers latched onto the wing mirror again, his one foot still on the footplate. His whole upper body swung out and then suddenly and without warning, the vehicle skidded to a halt and Joe was flung forward, sailing through the air.