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  The ambulance screamed to a stop. The thunder clapped closer and louder.

  Mock inhaled. He opened his eyes and stared at the Hardys, a vision of death in his milky blue eyes. An evil smile spread across his yellow-white face.

  "My own son," he began, softly, slowly, "will finish what his father could not. What goes around comes around."

  The ambulance attendants jumped from the vehicle. Mock sank back. Frank was afraid the dying man had lost consciousness. He grabbed Mock by his shirt lapels and pulled him up.

  "What about your son?" Frank asked desperately.

  "Everything comes full circle. Fenton Hardy put me in prison. Killed me! Now my son will kill Fenton Hardy!"

  Chapter 4

  "You two were supposed to stay off this case, remember?" an angry Con Riley was saying through clenched teeth as the ambulance pulled away.

  "We just wanted to look around, see if we could find anything that could help the police." Frank was trying to be tactful.

  "Sure," shot back a doubtful Officer Riley. "What did you expect to find?"

  "We didn't expect to find Leonard Mock," Joe answered quickly as his eyes followed the ambulance up the street.

  Mock had barely spoken about his son killing Fenton Hardy when he had collapsed. Frank and Joe had watched as paramedics put the dying man on a respirator and then loaded him into the ambulance. Frank had asked about Mock recovering.

  The paramedic in the back of the ambulance shrugged.

  "What will happen to Mock?" Joe asked.

  "He'll be in intensive care at Bayport General Hospital."

  "Under guard," Frank added.

  Riley's eyes were bloodshot and were staring past the Hardys. The police veteran said in a tired voice, "Yeah."

  "It's not Mock I'm worried about," Frank said. "It's his son."

  "Why?" Riley asked.

  Joe explained about Mock's son, shaking his head.

  Frank's forehead wrinkled in thought. He studied the devastated rehab center. "Why did Mock come back to the rehab center?"

  "What are you driving at, Frank?" Officer Riley asked.

  "Mock came back to the rehab center for something," Frank announced.

  "In his room!" Joe shouted.

  The Hardys started for the front door of the building.

  "Wait a minute!"

  Frank and Joe stopped and turned to face a tired and angry Con Riley.

  "You two have been told more than once to stay off this case," the police veteran said firmly.

  "We're not going to stand around while someone goes after our father," Joe responded just as firmly. "You don't understand - "

  "I understand perfectly!"

  Frank was stunned by the force and anger in Officer Riley's voice. He had known the police veteran since childhood but had never seen Con Riley shake with anger.

  "Remember, Joe," Frank began softly, "Mock killed Officer Riley's partner."

  Joe's face flushed with embarrassment. "I'm sorry."

  Officer Riley shifted uncomfortably. "Forget it. The thing we've got to do is find out if Mock's son is in Bayport."

  "Dad's old files might help," Frank suggested.

  "That's a good place to start," Riley said. He headed for the building, stopped, and turned. "I understand why you two want to help. Chief Collig will probably have my badge for this, but if you promise to keep a low profile, I'll let you help."

  Frank and Joe looked at each other, smiled, and followed Officer Riley into the building.

  Mock's room was located in the one wing that had survived the tornado - even the roof was intact. Without electricity, they had to use flashlights, and the search was slow.

  The sky rumbled, lightning flashed, and then a heavy rain fell.

  Frank began searching in a chest of drawers. He didn't like the rain or the slow pace of the search. He became angry as each drawer revealed nothing.

  Mock had returned for something, but what? Obviously, Mock had kept in touch with someone in Bayport, or else how would he have known Frank and Joe well enough to recognize them on sight?

  "Frank, look at this."

  In the dim light from his flashlight Frank watched as Joe stood just outside the small closet, unwrapping a paper bundle. Inside were newsclippings about the Hardys and some of their cases, faded newspaper photos, and several photographs.

  "He wasn't kidding when he said he kept tabs on us," Joe said.

  "Not only us," Frank added, 'but our friends as well." Frank flipped through the photos: Frank, Joe, and Callie at the beach; Chet and Joe playing football; Frank and Joe eating at Mr. Pizza; Frank and Callie coming out of a movie theater.

  "Surveillance photos," Joe said without emotion.

  "Looks that way," Con said. "Someone's been watching you and keeping Mock informed."

  "Who?" Joe asked.

  "Mock's son," Frank replied. "But he hasn't been watching us for long."

  "How can you tell?" Officer Riley asked.

  "Look at the picture with Callie and me coming out of the theater. See the title of the movie?"

  Joe nodded.

  "The Majestic was showing that about eight months ago," Frank said.

  Officer Riley took the photos from Frank and glanced through them. A smaller photo fell to the floor.

  "What's that?" Joe asked.

  Riley picked up the photo, studied it for a moment, then answered, "Looks like a school photo." He turned it over and read, " 'Bobby - Kindergarten.' The date's smudged, though." He handed the photo to Frank. "Recognize the boy?"

  Frank looked at the photo. "He does look a little familiar, but I can't place him," he said after a moment. "The photo's old, though. Look at the shirt." He turned the photo so Joe could get a better look. "That style went out when we were kids."

  Joe took the photo from Frank and stared. "He does look like somebody I know, but who I can't say."

  "It's probably Mock's son, but why only a kindergarten photo? Why not other school pictures?" Frank took back the picture and flipped through the whole bundle one more time.

  "Chief Collig will need to know about this," Officer Riley said. He cleared his throat and reached for the bundle. "I'll have to take those, Frank."

  Frank hesitated, then palmed the kindergarten photo before handing the bundle to Officer Riley.

  They walked out into the rain.

  "I'll make sure our best detectives get on this," Officer Riley said as he opened the door of his police cruiser. "Try to contact your father and let him know what's going on."

  "Right," Frank said, scrunching up his shoulders against the cold rain. "Our car phone's out, but we've got a CB that can reach a ham operator."

  "Good." Officer Riley slid into his cruiser and fired up the engine. He stared straight ahead and said, "This kid of Mock's who's gunning for your father may also be looking for you two. I suggest you find a place to lay low for a while." He looked up at the Hardys, smiled slightly, then shut his door and sped away.

  "What now?" Joe asked as he and Frank hopped into the van.

  "First we need to figure out exactly who this is." Frank held up the kindergarten photo of Bobby Mock.

  "Officer Riley's going to be upset with you," Joe said.

  "It won't be the first time," Frank replied. "Or probably the last."

  The Hardys' CB buzzed and clicked.

  "Number One Girl calling Sherlock. Over," Callie said over the radio.

  Frank sighed. Callie liked to use handles - trucker slang for nicknames. She had dubbed Frank "Sherlock," Joe "Bone Crusher," Chet "Pizza King," and herself "Number One Girl." It could have been worse, Frank thought.

  Frank grabbed the handset. "What is it, Callie? Over."

  "Number One Girl," Callie insisted.

  "Okay, Number One Girl. What is it?" Frank glanced at Joe, who was laughing at Frank.

  "Go to the Times, Sherlock. The Paper Girl's got something you ought to see."

  "Paper Girl?"

  "Liz!"

&
nbsp; "Oh."

  Joe laughed louder.

  Frank ignored Joe. "Where are you, Callie?"

  "I wish you'd use my handle, Sherlock." Callie paused, and Frank knew she was angry. "Pizza King and I are still at WBAY."

  "How's Chet's finger?" Joe asked.

  "Cal - I mean, Number One Girl, Joe wants to know about Pizza King's finger."

  "He's got a splint on it, but it's really only bruised. Paper Girl is at the Bayport Times and has something she wants to show you."

  "She say what it was?"

  "No. She refused to say."

  "Okay, Number One Girl," Frank said. "Will I see you later?"

  "If you're lucky," Callie said. "Over."

  "Over," Frank said. He hung up the handset and shot a glance at Joe. "What's so funny?"

  Joe forced himself not to laugh while he said, "Ah, what fools we make out of ourselves for true love."

  "Just drive, Bone Crusher."

  Minutes later Frank and Joe were at the Bayport Times, listening to Liz Webling as she sat behind her desk. Don sat on one corner of the desk.

  "I've been working as a stringer for some time," Liz was saying. Joe shot her a questioning glance.

  "A part-time reporter," Don answered.

  Joe locked eyes with Don. He had asked Liz not Don.

  "That's why I have access to the morgue," Liz continued.

  "The morgue?" Joe asked.

  "It's what they call the file room where they keep the 'dead' issues," Don explained. "Get it?"

  Joe locked eyes with Don again. Something about Don didn't sit right with Joe, but he couldn't put his finger on it - not yet, anyway.

  "Another reporter heard about what Mangieri told the assistant district attorney and Riley. He managed to get his hands on the parole report on Leonard Mock."

  "We've already found Mock, and it's not him we're worried about," Joe said impatiently.

  "It's his son," Liz announced, leaning back in her chair and locking her hands behind her head.

  "How did you know that?" Frank asked.

  "I'm a reporter."

  Liz leaned forward and stared intensely at Frank. Frank forced himself not to smile. He could tell Liz was enjoying playing the part of detective.

  "Shortly after the trial," Liz began, "Mock lost custody of his son, and Bobby Mock was adopted by another family."

  "What about Bobby's mother?" Frank asked.

  "She died when Bobby was only three," Don answered.

  Joe was about to ask Don how he knew that when Frank said, "If Bobby Mock was adopted, then his name would have been changed and that could be why we don't know anybody named Mock at school."

  "That's right," Joe said, suddenly excited. "All we have to do now is find out who adopted Bobby Mock."

  "Forget it," Don said.

  "What?" Joe didn't like Don butting in, answering all the questions, and he didn't like Don's know-it-all tone.

  "Adoption records are held by the vital records section of city hall," Don explained, sounding bored. "The only way vital records will let you look at adoption papers is through a court order. And trying to get a judge to unseal adoption records is like trying to get Joe to give out his book of phone numbers."

  "How do you know so much about it?" Joe fired back, ignoring Don's jab at his numerous girlfriends.

  "His dad is city manager," Liz reminded the Hardys.

  "That's right," Don said smugly. "And while you two can't get to the records, I can."

  "How?" Frank asked quickly. Frank could tell Joe was getting angrier by the moment. Joe didn't like interference, even helpful interference. Or was Joe jealous of Don because of Liz?

  "I know everybody at city hall. Nobody's going to question my hanging around, especially during a crisis. I told you guys earlier I wanted in on this case."

  "You're in," Frank said. Joe shot Frank an angry look. "And thanks."

  "No problem." Don jumped up from the desk. "I'd better start now." He left the newsroom and disappeared down the hallway.

  "We'd better start, too," Joe said, not wanting Don to get too far ahead of them.

  "We owe you one," Frank said to Liz as they headed out of the newsroom.

  "Forget it, Frank. On second thought, let me have the exclusive on this story, and we'll call it even."

  "You've got it."

  Once outside, Joe darted through the rain at a jog.

  "Hey, what's your hurry?" Frank asked.

  "You don't think I'm going to let Don solve this case before we do, do you?"

  That confirms it, Frank thought, Joe is jealous of Don. With all the girls in Bayport Joe could impress, he had to decide to try to impress Liz Webling, the one girl who wouldn't have anything to do with him.

  A roar split the air. It sounded like thunder, but Frank knew no thunder would crease his left temple with a searing hot wind. Shards of brick flew off the Times building where the bullet finally hit and exploded. A three-inch chunk of brick slammed into the back of Frank's head.

  He fell to the wet pavement.

  "Frank!" Joe shouted. He ran to his brother.

  Blackness swam in front of Frank's eyes, slowly falling like a curtain over his brain. He tried to push himself up but couldn't. Time seemed to slow down. Frank raised his head and saw a man in a black raincoat and ski mask standing in the alley across the street. His hands were coiled around a .357 automatic, its deadly barrel trained on the Hardys.

  The man fired again. Joe Hardy fell next to his brother.

  Chapter 5

  Frank fought against the unconsciousness that sought to drown him. Through a red haze he watched as the black-clad man retreated into the darkness of the alley and disappeared.

  He tried to push himself up again, but again he fell back to the wet pavement.

  "Frank!" he heard someone yell in the distance.

  His name echoed throughout his head, followed by a pounding that felt as though something were trying to push its way out through his temples.

  He felt hands on his arm, turning him over. Once on his back, he looked up into the gray-black sky. Slowly the image of his brother came into focus.

  "Joe," Frank said weakly. "I thought you were shot."

  "Played possum," Joe said. "You okay?"

  "Yeah, I guess." Frank sat up. "If you call an eighteen-wheel truck driving through your head okay." With Joe's help, Frank stood on wobbly legs. He had to lean against the brick building to steady himself.

  "Not a truck," Joe said, fingering the three-inch hole the bullet had left in the brick wall.

  "Automatic," Frank said, looking at the hole. "Three-fifty-seven."

  "Frank! Joe! You okay?" Liz ran from the building, her face showing worry and fear. Several other employees were with her.

  "Yeah," Frank said, trying to stand to his full height. He rocked back and forth as dizziness washed over him.

  "What happened?" Liz asked.

  "We don't know," Joe answered quickly. "I think I ought to treat that bump," he said to Frank. "And I think we have to get in out of the rain."

  "Yeah," Frank replied.

  "Everything's okay," Joe said to the small crowd that had formed around them. "Just a little accident." As the others headed back inside, Joe said to Liz, "I need to talk to you, Liz."

  Once in the back of the van Joe got out the first-aid kit and began applying iodine to the back of Frank's head.

  "Owww!" Frank shouted. He glared at Joe, who only smiled. "You don't have to enjoy this."

  "What happened?" Liz asked again.

  "We were shot at," Joe began.

  "Bobby Mock, we think," Frank interrupted.

  "How can you be sure?" Liz asked. "According to my sources, Leonard Mock said that Bobby is supposed to kill your father. Not you."

  "We're the next best targets," Frank said as Joe finished up and put the first-aid kit away.

  "I think the police ought to know about this," Liz said as she started to open the door.

  "Wait," Fran
k said. He made a grab for her but fell back. "Man, I'm going to have some headache."

  Joe hopped out into the clean dry air. The rain had finally let up. Joe gently grabbed Liz's arm to turn her around.

  He began softly. "Look, Liz, Chief Collig has already threatened to throw us in jail for interfering with the investigation. If he knows about this, he'll put us in protective custody, and we won't be able to help find this Bobby Mock before he tries to kill our father."

  "I don't know," Liz said hesitantly.

  "Please, Liz. For me." Joe flashed his best smile at Liz and tried to look slightly helpless to appeal to her sympathies.

  Liz crossed her arms. "You don't have to try to charm me, Joe Hardy." She stared for a few moments into Joe's eyes. "Okay. If it'll help, I won't say anything."

  "Trying to steal my girl again, Hardy?"

  Joe and Liz turned as Don walked up to the trio, his hands in his pockets.

  Joe flushed with anger and embarrassment. "No."

  Don looked into the van. "Hey, Frank. What are you doing in there?"

  "Just getting ready to leave," Frank replied, gently stepping down from the van. "Find out anything?"

  "No," Don replied with a shrug. "The computers were down. I'll have to go through the files by hand. That's why I came back here. I need to know roughly when Bobby Mock was adopted."

  "I'll get it," Liz said and dashed into the newspaper building.

  Don turned back to the Hardys. "As soon as I locate the file, I'll copy it and give it to you."

  "You'll get into a lot of trouble if your father finds out," Frank said.

  "No problem. I'd hate to think what it would be like to lose my father." Don's voice was distant, distracted.

  Frank looked at Joe. "We need to get home."

  "Why are you going there?" Don's question was more demanding than curious.

  "Just an idea," Frank replied, purposely being evasive. "Let's go, Joe."

  "I'll drop by later with the file," Don said as the Hardys hopped into the van.

  "What's this idea you have?" Joe asked minutes later.

  "Turn here," Frank said in reply.

  "Where are we going?"

  "Bayport Electronics. To find out who this is." Frank held up the kindergarten photo of Bobby Mock.

  "How?"

  "I read an article a few months ago about a new computer program that can age the people in photos like this one. You get a computer-generated image of what the person should look like at any age."