Frank Hardy had just walked through the back door of his home in Bayport when the phone on the kitchen wall began to ring.

The dark-haired eighteen-year-old hurried across the room and picked up the receiver.

Before Frank could greet the caller, his year-younger brother came through the back door and called out, “Who’s on the phone?”

Frank frowned at his brother before turning his attention back to the phone.

“Hello, Frank Hardy speaking.”

“Frank?  It’s me, Chet.”

Frank instantly recognized the voice of his longtime friend, Chet Morton.

“Chet! How are you?  You’re still in Alabama, right?”  Frank and his brother Joe both knew that Chet had gone down to Moundville, Alabama to work with his Uncle Chuck for a few weeks. 

Chuck Morton, his wife Joyce and their daughter Lydia were adding a new addition to their house.  Chuck was doing most of the work himself, so Chet offered to help his uncle out.

“Y-yes,” Chet said, sounding anxious, “I’m still in Moundville, but I’m in big trouble Frank!  You and Joe gotta get down here and help me!”

Frank sensed the urgency in Chet’s voice and motioned Joe to move closer to the phone.  Frank positioned the receiver so both teens could hear Chet on the other end of the line.

“Chet,” Frank responded calmingly, “Joe’s here listening, too.  Tell us what’s going on.”

“I’m being held at the police station,” Chet cried, hopelessness evident in his voice.

“What?  You’re in jail?” Joe exclaimed, hardly believing his ears.

Frank frowned again at his brother.  Joe getting all worked up wasn’t what Chet needed right now.

“Something awful happened,” Chet continued.  “M-my cousin Lydia is dead, and the police think I killed her!”

“Whoa,” Frank said solemnly.  “This is serious.  Tell me what happened.”

“I-I can’t,” Chet’s voice dropped to a whisper.  “They’re not giving me much time here.  I – I think I n-need a lawyer…a really good lawyer.”

“All right Chet,” Frank instructed, “Don’t panic and don’t say anything.  Joe and I will be there as soon as possible.  We’ll have Dad contact a lawyer.

“Do your parents know?”

“They’re camping,” Chet replied.  “I have no way to reach them until they get back to Bayport.”

“That’s right,” Joe added. “Iola told Luke and me all about the cabin they would be staying in.  There are no phones or electricity.”

“Your five minutes are up, buddy.” Joe and Frank heard a gruff voice in the background on Chet’s end of the line.

“O-okay,” Chet replied, his voice obviously directed away from the phone.

“I gotta go now,” Chet said quickly, “Please hurry, guys! I really need you!”

The phone line clicked and went dead.

“Since when is a person’s phone call limited to five minutes when they’re just being held for questioning?” Joe asked as Frank placed the phone back in its cradle.

“There is no limit, as far as I know,” Frank replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. 

“Dad’s car is in the driveway so he must be here,” Frank looked up and met Joe’s dark blue eyes.  “Let’s fill him in and see what he says about all of this.”

“We know one thing for sure,” Joe stated as they walked down the hall toward Fenton Hardy’s office, “Chet Morton is no murderer.”

“Chet didn’t say his cousin was murdered,” Frank corrected him.  “He said she was killed and they’re blaming him.”

“They brought him in, Frank,” Joe argued.  “They don’t think it was some kind of accident.”

“What accident?” Fenton Hardy asked opening the door of his office.  He’d heard the boys’ anxious voices and decided to investigate.

The teenagers exchanged a quick look, but Fenton caught it and cocked an eyebrow.  “All right you two, get in here and tell me what’s going on.”  The boys followed their father into the office.

Perching on the edge of the leather sofa, Frank quickly explained about the phone conversation with Chet, with Joe adding comments here and there.

“Hmm,” Fenton responded, running his index finger across his lower lip.  “Chet’s uncle lives in Alabama?” The boys nodded. He turned abruptly and faced his computer.  The boys waited as they watched him tapping commands into the keyboard.

“Here,” Mr. Hardy announced, “Seems Chet has made the local papers there.” Frank and Joe moved in closer and peered at the monitor over Fenton’s shoulders.  Frank began to read aloud:

“Teen girl’s body not found,” Frank read the headline, and then continued. 

“The body of seventeen-year-old Lydia Morton has not been found, but is believed to be in the Black Warrior River.  Searchers have not found the teen, but because of recent heavy rains, a body may never be recovered.

“Chester Morton, eighteen, was with the girl on the County Line Bridge Wednesday afternoon.  Morton, from Bayport, New York, is a cousin of the missing girl and has been taken into custody for questioning after receiving treatment for minor injuries at the Hale County Hospital.

“Morton was found near the bank of the river by David Neel, a local man. Neel was driving home along the river after working at the waterworks plant up-river.  He saw Morton crawling up the bank, all wet and muddy.

“Neel says that Morton was babbling about his cousin being in the river.  Neel immediately used his cell phone to call 9-1-1.

“When police and rescue teams arrived, Morton was questioned.  He told police that he and his seventeen-year-old cousin had been forced into the river from the bridge by three young men.

“Police searched the bridge area and found no evidence to support Morton’s claim.  Police suspect Morton of making up the story to cover what really happened to his young cousin on the County Line Bridge.” 

“How can they just accuse Chet of lying?  Surely they’re going to investigate more!” Joe blurted out.

“I hate to think this, but it certainly seems as if Chet is being railroaded here,” Fenton admitted.  “I want you boys to go down there and offer him moral support for now, nothing more.

“I’ll get Sam Radley to drive up to the cabin where Chet’s family is staying and bring them home.  I’ll also call up a lawyer friend I know.  His son is practicing law in Birmingham.”

Fenton looked into Frank’s brown eyes, and then Joe’s blue ones.  He knew they weren’t likely to just sit around and comfort Chet.  They were bound to start snooping around.  “Don’t get yourselves into any trouble down there.  You won’t be able to help Chet if you get yourselves arrested.”