‘Oh God…Oh God…I killed him…’ Frank sat in the back of the police cruiser next to his father, unable to stop shaking. The patrol car was speeding towards the clearing where Joe and Sam were – where they were supposed to be. Con Riley was driving like a maniac, some part of Frank’s brain noted, and he could hear Chief Collig frantically trying to raise someone – anyone! – on the radio but no one was responding. Which in Frank’s mind, numbed by shock, meant only one thing. ‘I killed him. I killed Joe…I killed them both!’

“Dad, I’m sorry…I’m sorry…” Frank heard a choked half-sob, not realizing it had come from him, and felt his father’s arm encircle his shoulders.

“We don’t know what’s happened, Frank,” Fenton said, but his voice was shaking. “They could be fine…we just don’t know yet.”

“I built the bomb…I killed him. I killed Joe.” Frank leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his stomach. ‘Oh God, I’m gonna be sick.’

“You don’t know that!” Fenton snapped, immediately squeezing Frank’s shoulder in a silent apology. “Look, Sam was with him. He knows bombs even better than you do.”

“But we heard it,” Frank said, the explosion echoing in his head.

“We heard an explosion. We have no idea where the bomb was when it went off, why it went off…if it was even the same one that was on Joe.” Fenton stopped abruptly.

Frank looked at his father and saw him scrub a hand across his eyes. ‘He thinks I killed Joe…Dad, I’m sorry…I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry…’

The car turned hard to the right and Frank was thrown against Fenton, both of them being bounced around as the car sped over a rutted, gravel road.

“Can’t you go any faster?” Fenton demanded.

Frank wasn’t sure he agreed. He was torn between wanting to be there now and not wanting to arrive at all; not wanting to see Joe’s body…what was left of Joe’s body. He curled in on himself, fighting the wave of nausea that swept over him.

“There!”

Frank’s head jerked up at Con’s shout. ‘Please, please, please let him be okay,’ he silently begged - pleading, praying, bargaining with God, willing to give or do anything as long as his brother was alive.

Con put on a burst of speed and the car shot forward the final quarter of a mile then slewed to a stop in a spray of rocks and gravel. Frank stared out the window, hope flaring inside him when he saw several police officers gathered in a tight circle, looking down on something…or someone.

Fenton flew out of the car and ran towards the small group which parted at his rapid approach. Frank scrambled out after him dogging his father’s steps. ‘Sam!’ he thought, recognizing Sam Radley’s light brown hair. In that instant the detective shifted and Frank got a flash of someone else seated in front of Sam. An officer kneeling next to Sam and rummaging through a first aid kit was blocking his view of the other person.

Gripped by fear, Frank matched his father’s stride and they skidded to a stop seconds before colliding with Sam.

“JOE!” Fenton dropped to his knees next to Sam.

Wincing, Joe turned his head slightly to look at Fenton. “Hey, Dad,” he said wearily. Joe was sitting on the ground, his arms wrapped around his knees and his head tilted forward slightly while Sam held a white gauze pad, now tinged with red, against the back of Joe’s neck. The very young-looking officer Frank didn’t recognize had donned a pair of latex gloves and was pulling several items out of the plastic box.

“What happened?” Fenton demanded, looking from Joe to Sam and back again. Fenton rested a hand on Joe’s back as if he needed a physical connection to his son to truly believe he was alive. Not waiting for an answer to his first question he asked, “Are you all right?”, his eyes locked on the still-bleeding wound on Joe’s neck

“Sam tried to decapitate me,” Joe replied with a quick grin and a wink at Sam.

‘He’s alive! He’s alive and he’s…fine!’ Reality washed over Frank, colliding with the absolute certainty that he’d killed his brother. His knees gave out and seconds later he found himself sitting on the ground next to Joe, not totally of his own accord.

“Hey, bro,” Joe smiled. “We made it.”

Frank stared at him and didn’t even realize tears had spilled until his vision blurred. “I…I thought you were d-dead,” he choked out.

Joe’s expression changed and he reached out and squeezed Frank’s shoulder, apparently realizing that Frank’s emotions were already overloaded. “I’m fine,” he said quietly.

Frank stared at Joe for a moment, blurry as he was, then rubbed at his eyes roughly with his thumb and forefinger. ‘He’s fine, he’s fine, he’s fine…’ Frank repeated the two words over and over, taking a deep breath each time, until he’d regained at least some measure of control.

“You okay, big brother?” Joe’s voice was soft and concerned.

One more deep breath and Frank turned to look at Joe – and smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay…now.”

“Could someone please tell me what the hell happened here?” Ezra Collig’s booming voice echoed, bouncing off the thick stand of trees and relieving some of the tension. He stood, fisted hands on his hips, glaring at each of his officers in turn. His gaze finally landed on Sam Radley who seemed totally unfazed. “Sam?” he said and spread his arms questioningly.

“The bomb had a secondary timer,” Sam replied with an easy shrug as if that explained everything. Coordinating his efforts with the officer, Sam lifted the gauze pad from Joe’s neck as the cop quickly swiped the area with an alcohol pad.

“OW!” Joe cried out in protest, jerking away as he glared at the young man.

“Sorry,” the officer apologized. “Really sorry,” he added nervously, shrinking back when he noticed the withering looks directed his way by both Fenton and Frank.

“Give me that!” Fenton snapped, snatching the bandages and tape from the now anxious young man. “I’ll do it.”

“Y-yes sir,” the rookie policeman stuttered as he quickly got up and skittered back to the relative safety of his fellow officers.

“Easy, Fenton, it’s just a flesh wound,” Sam said, amused.

“Inflicted by you?” he demanded, savagely ripping open a clean gauze pad, now in full-on protective father mode.

“I was going for speed, not neatness,” Sam joked. “And don’t take it out on the bandages.”

Fenton graced his close friend with a scorching look as he gently pressed the pad against Joe’s neck. Joe hissed and flinched, prompting Fenton to pat him on the shoulder. “Easy…a few more seconds, son”.

Sam grinned at Frank and seemed to let Fenton’s anger roll right off his back as he cut a few strips of tape to hold the dressing in place and continued explaining. “After you detonated the first bomb,” he nodded at Frank as he handed a piece of tape to Fenton, “this one did stop for a minute. But before I could get it off him the secondary timer started.”

Frank listened, at the same time watching his father intently, seeing a side of him that Fenton Hardy apparently kept well hidden. Fenton’s touch was surprisingly gentle and he murmured soft words of comfort to Joe as he carefully placed the last few pieces of tape over the bandage.

“Thirty seconds,” Sam said with disgust, showing a rare flash of anger.

‘Thirty seconds?!’ Frank thought, stunned. His stomach lurched as he realized how close they really had come to losing Joe.

“I know they said if it would explode if anyone tried to remove it but we didn’t have much choice…or much time. So I cut it off and threw it into the woods. Accidentally caught Joe on the neck with the tip of my switchblade, though.” He looked at the youngest Hardy, regret in his eyes. “Sorry, Joe.”

“It’s okay,” Joe assured him, tentatively fingering the bandage on the back of his neck. “I’m just glad I still have my head attached.” His tone was light but sitting so close, Frank felt his brother shiver as Joe looked to his right.

Frank followed Joe’s gaze to a spot just inside the tree line. Three police officers, two holding fire extinguishers, stood looking down at what could only be described as a small crater in the ground. While there was no sign of flames, the earth was scorched black and wisps of smoke continued to rise. ‘Oh my God…that could have been Joe!’

Hearing Joe let out a shaky breath as he finally looked away, Frank reached out and patted his brother on the back. Letting his hand linger there he realized how shook up Joe still was when the younger man leaned into him slightly. Old habits immediately rose to the surface and without even realizing it, Frank rubbed his back comfortingly. He watched his father and Sam rise in unison and stared, a little awed, as they seemed to carry on an entire conversation without words.

His anger gone as quickly as it had arrived, Fenton’s eyes were bright as he stared at his closest friend, words unable to convey the depth of gratitude that was clearly written on his face. Sam nodded once, resting his hand on Fenton’s shoulder. ‘He’s like my own son…I’d do it again in a heartbeat.’

Frank wasn’t aware how heavy the silence had become until it was broken by a throat clearing cough and Chief Collig’s voice, sounding unusually tight with…emotion? “Someone get this man into a car,” he ordered.

As he stood and offered Joe a hand up, Frank glanced in the direction Collig was pointing and for the first time noticed the man who’d orchestrated this whole mess, lying bound and gagged, face down on the ground. Frank watched as two officers pulled him to his feet and removed the gag. The man took in several deep breaths before he was nudged towards a waiting car, glancing at Joe and then Frank as he passed by.

Having had a front row seat to all that had unfolded in the past five minutes he seemed pleased at the terror and grief he’d caused, however brief. With laughter in his eyes and a smirk on his face, he stared at Frank while jerking his head at Joe. “You really thought you killed him for a minute there, didn’t you?”

For a minute? It had been more than a minute…it had been an eternity. Frank’s whole world had crashed in on him and in those few moments he’d been suffocated by an eternity of raging guilt and grief. Those feelings hadn’t yet been completely assuaged and this man taunting him, laughing at him caused something to snap.

Frank didn’t even remember moving but suddenly his hands were around the man’s throat and he was squeezing. There was a ringing in his ears and the world seemed to fade away until he was enveloped in a red haze where there was only him and this man…this man who’d put both him and his brother through emotional hell. For hours Joe had had to contend with the constant reminder of Keith Rashman. For a few minutes that seemed to last a lifetime, Frank thought he’d killed his own brother...something this man had found amusing.

Frank squeezed tighter and tighter until the smirk was gone and the laughter in those eyes had changed to fear. ‘Not so funny now, is it?’ he thought with grim satisfaction. The man was beginning to make gurgling sounds and his lips were tinged a bluish gray. It was only when his eyes started to glaze over that Frank seemed to remember they really weren’t alone.

Arms locked around his chest, pulling hard; hands on his wrists tried desperately to break the stranglehold he had on the man. And he heard raised voices…his father’s voice, Sam’s voice…Joe’s voice.

“Frank! FRANK! Let go! He’s not worth it!”

‘Joe!’ Immediately Frank let go and stumbled back a few steps. The man coughed and sputtered, taking in huge lungfuls of air as he fell clumsily to his knees. The arms around Frank’s chest loosened and hands gently tugged at his shoulders, pulling him further away.

“Frank…are you okay?”

Frank turned and saw his father staring at him, concerned, flanked by Sam and Joe. His eyes were automatically drawn to his brother, zeroing in on the small bandage on Joe’s neck and the bloodstains on his shirt – and Frank felt himself shaking.

“Frank?” Fenton repeated cautiously, taking a step towards him.

Frank held up a hand to stop him then silently turned and walked away. He felt like a spring wound so tightly that it was about to snap – again. He could still feel his hands around the man’s neck, squeezing the life out of him and wondered what the hell had happened. He didn’t lose control like that; he wasn’t ruled by his emotions – Joe was.

‘Joe…’ He sucked in a breath and quickly spun around, his eyes automatically drawn to the hole in the ground created by the bomb he’d made. ‘It could’ve been Joe. I almost killed him…’ Frank immediately sought out his younger brother, needing to see him alive and well and breathing.

Almost as if he knew what Frank needed, Joe was suddenly by his side. “You okay, bro?”

Frank swallowed nervously, reached out and touched Joe’s shoulder as if he had to have solid, tangible proof that Joe was really there and unhurt. “Yeah,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’m okay.” He gave Joe a shaky smile and squeezed his shoulder tightly.

“Then whaddya say we blow this taco stand and go home?” Joe grinned.

“Best offer I’ve had in two days,” Frank replied with a grin of his own. He slung an arm across Joe’s shoulders, careful of the white bandage on his neck, and the two brothers slowly walked to an idling patrol car. Sam was already in the front passenger seat and Fenton was patiently waiting for them, holding open the door to the back seat. They slid inside, Fenton climbed in next to them and the Hardys headed for home.

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency 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.