Blood Relations Read online

  "You've been here before?" Mike asked. "Yeah. Before Mr. Rawley's first wife died. He kind of changed after that, and we hardly saw him," Joe answered.

  "We've only met your mother once," Frank said as they climbed the stairs and entered a luxurious blue and white bedroom. "We bumped into her with Mr. Rawley at the mall."

  "I'll show you what you have to open," said Greg.

  He led them to a large walk-in closet and slid the clothes out of the way, revealing a small wall safe at the back.

  "How did you find the hiding place?" Frank asked.

  "I really hate to admit this — we searched everywhere, and this is the only place it could be," said Greg sheepishly.

  "It felt lousy to do it," Mike added, "but we had to. Do you think you can get into this?"

  "Sure," Frank said confidently as he unloaded what looked like a stethoscope tipped with a suction cup, a tiny but very complicated calculator, and an assortment of lock picks from his pockets. While he was eyeing the door of the safe, Joe flicked on another flashlight and began searching the rest of the closet.

  "Hey, what are you doing?" Greg asked.

  Frank cut him off. "Almost everybody who has a safe figures that sooner or later he's going to forget the combination. So he writes it down somewhere. Sometimes you can get lucky and find it."

  "I'm coming up empty," Joe said.

  "So then it's probably a number they'll always remember. We just have to outthink your mom," said Frank. "When did your mom and stepfather get married?"

  "October twenty-third of last year," said Greg. "Why?"

  Frank held up a hand to cut him off. "Right, twenty-three, left and — "

  The click of the safe's tumblers was audible to all four boys. Frank reached for the handle to open the safe door and at that moment a beam from another flashlight froze the boys in place.

  "Don't move. Or you're dead!"

  Chapter 3

  FRANK TURNED TO look but he was blinded by the white glare.

  "Pull down the shades," the voice commanded.

  After Greg pulled them down, the overhead light came on in the room.

  Facing them was a hard-faced man in a trench coat, holding a nickel-plated .45 automatic that looked as big as a cannon.

  "Stay close together and put your hands on your heads," said the man. "Don't even think of trying any funny business. This forty-five holds seven rounds, and I'd need only four for you punks.

  "Now, we can have a little conversation. Tell me sweet and simple, who told you to break in here? And what do you know about the other plans?"

  "Look, man, I don't know who you think you are, but you've got us wrong," Greg said.

  "Yeah, we didn't break in," said Mike. "We live here. I'm Mike Rawley; this is my brother Greg; and these are our friends Frank and Joe Hardy. You're making a big mistake."

  "You're the ones making a mistake if you expect me to swallow that story." The man sneered. "I'm supposed to believe you're breaking into your parents' safe? Let's try again."

  "Look, my brother and I have identification," said Greg, desperate. "At least take a look at it."

  The man considered for a moment. Then he said grudgingly, "Okay, I'll take a look. But I want you to move real slow. One at a time, very slowly take out your wallets and toss them so they land at my feet. Remember you make one quick move, and it'll be your last."

  Greg, then Mike, did as told. Keeping his gun leveled on his prisoners, the man bent down and picked up the wallets, pulling out the IDs.

  "These look okay," he said. "But you still have some explaining to do. What were you kids doing here tonight?"

  "We were worried about our mom," Greg said. "She's been scared of something lately, and she won't say what. But we know it has something to do with a little book she locked in the safe with her jewelry. We wanted to get a look at it and find out what's bothering her."

  Before the man could speak, Joe interrupted him. "Hey, don't you want to see my ID?" Joe asked.

  "And mine?" said Frank.

  The Hardys slowly lowered their hands to their pockets. Then they moved fast.

  Both pulled out rings of keys and simultaneously fired them at the man.

  As he ducked, Joe hit him with a diving tackle around the knees.

  By the time the stranger shook the cobwebs from his head and staggered to his feet, his gun was in Frank's hand.

  "We had to do it," Joe explained to Greg and Mike. "We didn't want you to tell this guy anything more."

  "And you'd already told him too much," Frank said, elaborating. "All we know is that he's not a policeman. And he was sneaking around your mother's bedroom with a gun."

  Both Greg and Mike turned pale.

  "Now it's our turn to ask some questions," Joe said.

  Frank held the gun steady on the man. "Your turn to produce some ID, pal. And as you said to us, no tricks."

  "Hey, don't get crazy," the man said nervously. "Those things have a tendency to go off when you don't want them to. And that one has a sensitive trigger."

  "Uh, I don't know much about these things," said Frank, fumbling with the .45 as if he had never held a gun before.

  Both Frank and Joe were expert marksmen, but they had promised their father they'd never carry firearms.

  "Look, kid, just be careful with that thing and I'll tell you whatever you want to know," the man said. "I'll just sit here. You ask and I'll answer."

  Frank nodded. "Let's see that ID, slowly, and no tricks. Toss it to my brother."

  The man moved cautiously, never taking his eyes off the gun in Frank's hand. With elaborate slowness he pulled out his wallet and tossed it to Joe.

  Joe opened it, pulled out a business card, and read, " 'John Dunn. Licensed private investigator. Security is my specialty.' "

  "My license is in there too," Dunn insisted.

  Joe pulled it out, looked it over, and said, "It looks authentic enough, though you never can tell."

  "Okay, we've seen your ID," said Frank. "Now let's hear your explanation of what you were doing here. Who hired you? And why?"

  "Mrs. Rawley hired me to make sure nobody took that book. She said if the wrong person found out what was in there, it could cost her her life."

  There was a chilling silence.

  Finally Greg broke it. "Tell us more."

  "Yeah," said Mike. "Who was she afraid of?"

  "She made me swear not to reveal that," Dunn said. "She said she wasn't sure what she thought was true, and she couldn't do anything until she got real proof."

  "Come on, she's our mother, you have to tell us," Greg pleaded.

  "No," Dunn said. "I gave her my word."

  "That may be true," said Frank. "But right now I think we can answer a lot more questions by taking a look at this book for ourselves."

  He passed the gun to his brother, clicking the safety on as he did so. It took only a moment for him to step back into the closet and open the safe.

  Greg stepped in and looked. "It's empty," he managed to choke out.

  "It means that your mother's worst fears have come true," said Dunn, interrupting. "Somebody has gotten into the safe and found her book."

  "Maybe Mom took it with her," Mike said. "She could have done that, couldn't she?"

  "She wanted me here tonight," Dunn replied, "because the book was here."

  "Somebody must have gotten into the safe before we did," Frank said.

  "And I think I know who that person was," Dunn said.

  "Who?" said Greg urgently. "You have to tell us."

  Dunn had opened his mouth to answer when a voice shouting from downstairs made him stop.

  "Greg! Mike! You home? Come here right away!"

  "Dad," Greg said.

  "They must have come home right after the show," Mike said.

  "Greg! Mike!" the voice shouted again, this time even louder. It was closer too. Mr. Rawley was heading toward the stairs.

  "Quick, into my room," Greg said in a whisper.

&n
bsp; With Greg and Mike leading the way, Frank, Joe, and Dunn dashed out of the room down the hall and into Greg's closet. Greg and Mike flipped on the stereo and sat down at a large desk piled high with books.

  In the dark, the Hardys and Dunn concentrated on listening.

  "Come in!" Greg shouted in response to a knock.

  "Didn't you hear me? I was shouting for you," said Mr. Rawley.

  "Sorry, Dad," said Mike. "Greg and I were cramming for a test tomorrow, and besides, we had the stereo on."

  "What's up?" asked Greg. "You look like something's wrong."

  "Something is wrong, very wrong," said Mr. Rawley. "You'd better brace yourselves for a shock."

  "A shock?" asked Mike, his voice higher pitched than usual.

  "What kind of shock?" Greg asked, afraid to hear the answer.

  "Your mom," Mr. Rawley said. "She's been taken!"

  Chapter 4

  "WHAT HAPPENED?" GREG asked.

  "Let's all sit down, and I'll tell you about it."

  There was a short silence as Frank, Joe, and Dunn shifted uncomfortably in the closet, waiting to hear what would come next.

  "It was going to be a special night," Mr. Raw-ley began. "Your mom had found a new French restaurant she wanted to try, and we had tickets to a Broadway show. She wore my favorite dress — the red one — " He paused to gather himself together before continuing.

  "Go on," said Mike, encouraging him.

  "It was all going wonderfully," Mr. Rawley continued with apparent difficulty. "The restaurant was wonderful. Soft lighting, excellent wines. After dinner we walked the ten blocks to Times Square. It was a beautiful evening. Plenty of people out. Lights glittering all around us.

  "We attended the play — a comedy. Your mom laughed and laughed." Mr. Rawley sighed. "We decided to go downtown for a nightcap before heading home. As we were leaving the theater, a cab pulled up and stopped right in front of us. I figured it was a stroke of luck. But now I know it was no accident. It was planned."

  "The cab belonged to—who? Kidnappers?" Greg asked, his voice quavering slightly.

  "That's right," Mr. Rawley said. "I gave the cabbie the address, but he headed off west instead of south. When I asked him about it, he said it was a way to beat the traffic, and I believed him—until he stopped the cab at a deserted spot on Tenth Avenue. A man stepped out of the shadows and opened the rear cab door. He yanked me out of the cab, handed me an envelope, got in the back seat with your mom, and the cab raced off."

  "What was in the envelope?" asked Mike.

  "Instructions," said Mr. Rawley, pulling a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket. " 'We have your wife. If you tell the police, we kill her fast. Don't try nothing because we will know everything you do. We stole the cab just like we stole your old lady, so you can't trace it. Keep your mouth shut and wait for us to get in touch with you if you want to see your wife alive again.

  ES. That goes for her kids too. They talk to anybody, and they say bye-bye to their mom.' "

  There was a long silence.

  Then Greg's voice: "What do we do, Dad?"

  "We do exactly what we're told," said Mr. Rawley. "We wait to find out how much money they want and how they want it delivered, and I pay it to them. The money doesn't matter. But the one thing I don't intend to do is gamble with your mom's life—and I'm sure you boys don't want to either."

  "Right," said Greg.

  "Of course not," said Mike.

  "If anybody asks where your mother is, just say she's gone to the West Coast on family business. Understand?"

  There was no sound. But Frank, Joe, and Dunn, listening from the closet, knew that Greg and Mike were nodding their heads earnestly.

  "Good," said Mr. Rawley. "Now, get a good night's sleep so you can appear as normal as possible in school tomorrow. It's vital that nobody suspects anything is wrong."

  "Right, Dad," said Greg.

  "Yeah, we understand," said Mike.

  "I know I can depend on you," said Mr. Raw-ley. "Good night."

  Frank, Joe, and Dunn heard Mr. Rawley close the room door as he left. Greg waited a minute before he opened the closet door.

  "It's him—I know it," Greg said, his face pale, his lips thin with anger.

  "He faked the kidnapping," Mike agreed. "I only hope he hasn't ... " He couldn't make himself finish the sentence, but all of them knew what he meant.

  "Hold on. Don't panic," Dunn said. "And don't jump to conclusions."

  "Right," said Frank. "Remember, we don't know what your mom found in that book. Sure, it could have been your stepfather but it also could have been somebody else."

  "Of course it was someone else," Joe said angrily, glaring at Greg and Mike. "I can't believe Mr. Rawley could be involved in anything like this. I've known him my entire life. You guys have only known him a couple of months, and you're accusing him of kidnapping his own wife. Maybe we ought to ask what kind of friends your mother used to have before she — "

  "Lay off my mother," Greg said, stepping forward so that he and Joe stood facing each other. "She's the victim here, not that overblown con man you call your family friend."

  "Yeah," Mike added. "You heard about the wicked stepmother. Well, this is the story of the wicked stepfather."

  "Hold it, Joe," said Dunn, putting a hand on his arm. "All of you had better bury the hatchet right now. This ain't the time for feelings. We need facts."

  "He's right," said Frank. "We need logic, not fights."

  "You and Dunn can look for facts and logic," said Joe. "Me, I have to go with my gut feelings. I know Mr. Rawley is straight."

  "Your gut feelings aren't going to get Mrs. Rawley back alive," Dunn said. "Only hard work can do that. We have to work together, especially since we can't turn to the police."

  "Why not?" Greg asked, reluctantly backing off.

  "For one simple reason," said Frank. "The first person the police would talk to would be Mr. Rawley. If he is one of the kidnappers, the idea that the cops might be after him would be all the reason he'd need to get rid of your mom." Frank paused when he saw Greg and Mike's reaction.

  "Hey, I'm sorry to put it that way, but you have to think about the worst and hope for the best in a situation like this."

  "No apology necessary," said Greg. "We have to face facts. You're right about the police. If Mom's still alive, we don't want to make any wrong moves."

  "So what can we do?" asked Joe, getting impatient and showing it.

  "Right now, not much," said Dunn. "I'm going back to New York City and nose around to see if anyone can confirm Rawley's story. But I doubt I'll have much success. Other than that, our best play is just to wait."

  "Wait?" said Greg in a pained voice.

  "For what?" asked Mike.

  "For the kidnappers' ransom instructions to arrive," Dunn said evenly. "The kidnappers have to tell your father how much money and when and where to deliver it. Even if Mr. Rawley isn't on the level, it has to look like a kidnapping and that means somebody has to communicate with him, tell him where to make the drop."

  Dunn handed Greg a card. "This is my home number. You can get me or my machine twenty-four hours a day. Be careful not to lose it because it's unlisted. When I'm out, I'll check in with my machine as often as I can, so phone me the minute you hear anything." He held out his hand, and Frank reluctantly handed over the .45. As soon as he pocketed the gun, Dunn said, "I'm leaving now. Check to see if the coast is clear."

  Then it was Frank and Joe's turn to leave, after arranging to meet Mike and Greg at Mr. Pizza the next day after school.

  As they pedaled their bikes through the deserted one - A.M. streets of Bayport, Frank said to Joe, "It's good to have a pro like Dunn on the case."

  "I guess you're right about Dunn, though I hate to admit it," said Joe. "He seems like a real cold fish. But in this case, we can really use him and his experience. It's kind of scary to think that if we mess up, somebody dies."

  "Yeah," said Frank. "Even though it's not th
e first time. I just wish we could talk to Dad about the case, but with him and Rawley being such close friends, we'll have to have a lot of evidence to convince him."

  Joe nodded his agreement. "For his sake, I hope Rawley's innocent. It would really come as a shock to Dad if Rawley turned out to be a kidnapper."

  "But we also know that Dad wouldn't want us to hold back," said Frank. "He's always told us not to pull punches when we go after a criminal."

  They parked their bikes and ran in through the back door.

  "I've got to eat something," Joe said. "There's half a roast chicken that Mom said we could eat up. Whenever we go into action, I always notice a sharp upsurge in my appetite. Some kind of law of nature, I guess."

  "A law of your nature, action or no action," said Frank. "But I could use some chow myself. We'll split it."

  "Plus some of those brownies Aunt Gertrude baked yesterday," said Joe.

  They were just finishing off the last of the brownies when the kitchen door slowly swung open.

  Their Aunt Gertrude stood stock-still, framed in the doorway.

  "Why, boys, you scared me to death. What are you doing up this time of night?" she asked. "I thought you were going to bed early."

  "We were," said Frank, thinking fast. "But then Greg and Mike Rawley called us to see if we wanted to study with them for a test tomorrow."

  Aunt Gertrude nodded. "Greg and Mike. I've heard they're nice boys. I was so happy to see Walter Rawley find such a sweet family. And I'm glad to see those boys are being good influences on you two. You should spend more hours on your schoolwork than you do on all those adventures of yours."

  "And what are you doing up this late, Aunt Gertrude?" asked Joe, hoping to change the subject before she launched into her standard lecture on how they should start behaving more sensibly.

  Besides, Joe already knew his aunt's answer. The late, late movies were her only vice. And the films of the forties and fifties — especially mysteries—were her absolute favorites. He knew that if he got her started talking about one of her movies, they were home free.

  "Well," she said as she began making herself a cup of hot chocolate to take up to bed, "I was watching this great old thriller with — oh, he's before your time, and you wouldn't know him — and I fell asleep just before the end and missed the climax.