“Yeah, that’s on here,” Frank told him. “Pine is the next street.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t go straight to the Wilkersons’ house,” Joe said. “Let’s just make a little detour through the area to find out if we’re being watched.”

  “Good idea, Joe,” Frank said.

  The Hardys continued down Wilderness Road toward what they were sure was the center of Hudson’s Hope. There were a few residents about, but no one paid any real attention to them.

  When they reached the edge of the small downtown area, they looked in some of the store windows, like any other good tourist would do. After a short time they began doubling back toward their original destination.

  Finally they came to the intersection of Wilderness Road and Pine Street.

  “Let’s just make a turn as though we’ve done this before,” Frank said under his breath.

  “Right,” Joe said.

  Although Pine Street was paved, it wasn’t much wider than a hiking trail, and, from what the Hardys could see, it looked as though it led back into the forest. The houses, most of which were log cabins of varying sizes, were built to blend in with the surroundings.

  After having walked the equivalent of three blocks, Frank and Joe finally found number 27.

  “If the Wilkersons are looking out a window, I hope they can tell who we are,” Joe said. “I’m starting to wonder what I look like after that hike in from Lake Williston.”

  “You still look like Joe,” Frank said.

  “And you still look like Frank,” Joe said.

  “Well, good!” Frank said.

  When Frank and Joe got to the front of number 27, they took a dirt trail that led up to the front porch.

  “I thought somebody would have greeted us by now,” Joe whispered. “Are you sure I look like myself?”

  “Positive,” Frank whispered back. “Maybe they’re not home.”

  “Maybe they’ve already left,” Joe said.

  Frank didn’t like to think that might be the case. “I have a feeling that Detective Kitimat’s friend here would have seen them heading out of town and reported it to him,” he said. He suddenly thought of something. “Unless they somehow knew he was watching them and figured out a way to avoid him.”

  “The door’s open,” Joe said as they started up the steps to the front porch.

  “That might not mean anything,” Frank said. “This could be the kind of town where people leave their houses unlocked.”

  Joe reached for the front door, opened it, and stepped inside. Frank was close behind.

  “Darren!” Joe called out. “It’s Joe and Frank Hardy.”

  They waited for the Wilkersons to appear, in case they had been hiding somewhere in the house. When no one showed after a few minutes, though, Joe looked around and said, “They may have gone out for supplies.”

  “Maybe,” Frank said, but he was getting a bad feeling. “I say we look around to see what we can find.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Joe said. “If they come back, we can just tell them that we didn’t think they’d mind if we came on inside.”

  Frank nodded.

  For several minutes the Hardys surveyed the living room. It had the usual chairs and a sofa—nothing expensive. They were probably there when the Wilkersons moved in.

  The only things that might have been considered out of place, Joe thought, were four suitcases in the corner of the room. “Let’s check them out,” he said. He went over and picked one up. “It’s packed.”

  “They’re either planning to leave soon, or they never unpacked from Bayport,” Frank said.

  Joe unzipped the suitcases. Three of them were full of clothes and other personal belongings, but one of them contained stacks of personal papers.

  “Bank statements, passports, birth certificates, life insurance policies,” Joe said. “You don’t go off and leave things like this.”

  “They’re getting ready to leave, Joe. I’m sure of it,” Frank said. “They probably only went to the store to get some last minute items.”

  “Why are they running, Frank?” Joe said. “You don’t think they’re some kind of fugitives, do you?”

  “Detective Kitimat said there were no outstanding warrants out on them, Joe,” Frank said.

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” Joe said. “What if they changed identities? The newspapers are always full of stories about people who committed crimes decades ago and are only now getting caught.”

  Frank sniffed. “What’s that?”

  “It smells like something’s burning,” Joe said.

  The Hardys hurried to the kitchen. It was beginning to fill with smoke.

  Frank ran over to the stove and turned off the burner. “A big pot of burned stew,” he said. “And the burner was on low, so it’s taken it a while to boil down.”

  “Something’s not right here,” Joe said. He was standing by the kitchen table. “I’d say the Wilkersons were interrupted in the middle of a meal by something… or someone.”

  Frank joined Joe at the table. “It looks like they just got up from the table and left,” he said.

  “I have an idea,” Joe said. “Let’s check out Darren’s room.”

  There were only two bedrooms. Darren’s was just off the kitchen. It was small, with barely enough room for a twin bed and a chest, but Frank and Joe recognized the posters on the wall.

  Joe went immediately to the closet. “All of Darren’s clothes are still here,” he said.

  On the top shelf, he found what he was looking for. “Darren’s baseball card collection is worth a lot of money,” he said. “He’d never go off and leave this unless …”

  “Unless what? Frank said.

  “Unless they were so scared by something that they literally just ran out of the house,” Joe said.

  Frank shook his head. “Now what do we do?” he said.

  Joe sighed. “I don’t …” Suddenly he looked around at the door to the bedroom. “Did you hear that? Somebody’s coming.”

  “Quick!” Frank said. “Let’s hide in Darren’s closet!”

  6 Intruders

  The closet wasn’t really big enough to hold two people the size of Joe and Frank, Joe knew, especially with the gear still strapped to their backs. But it was the only place they wouldn’t be in full view if whoever was in the Wilkersons’ house came into Darren’s bedroom.

  “Maybe it’s just the Wilkersons,” Joe whispered. “There could have been some kind of emergency. Maybe they just had to drop everything and leave—and now they’ve come back.”

  “I don’t think so, Joe,” Frank whispered back. “This place has a deserted look to it. The Wilkersons weren’t planning on returning.”

  Just then, a man stuck his head through the door and said, “Nope! They’re gone, that’s for sure. We missed them. How are we going to explain this?”

  Through Darren’s shirts Frank could see the man’s features. He looked like a prizefighter who had lost one too many bouts.

  “Let’s look around and see if we can find anything that might tell us where they went,” a second man said.

  Joe couldn’t see the other man’s face, but from the sound of his voice, Joe could tell that he was just a few feet behind the first man.

  “Okay,” the first man said.

  “Well, that one guy looks like your worst nightmare—I’d hate to meet up with him in a dark alley,” Frank whispered, “but they don’t sound too threatening.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything, Frank. They could still be planning to harm the Wilkersons,” Joe said. “Darren and his family are scared of something, and it could be because of what they think these men might do to them.”

  “Joe!” Frank said in a loud whisper. “I just thought of something!”

  “What?” Joe said.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots before,” Frank said.

  “What? What?” Joe said impatiently. “Tell me!”

  “Remember on the trail, hiking into Hudson’s Hope, when Detective Kitimat had us hide because some people were coming?” Frank said excitedly. “Well, he said it was just a family of campers, probably trying to find their way back to their campsite.”

  “Oh, man! You don’t think that was the Wilkersons, do you?” Joe asked. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Well, the Wilkersons left this house in a real hurry,” Frank said, “and I think they were running away again.”

  “But why through the forest, Frank?” Joe questioned him. “That doesn’t make sense. Where would they be headed?”

  “That’s the mystery,” Frank said. “And we’ve got to get out of this house so we can solve it.”

  “You’re right,” Joe said. “If that family was the Wilkersons, they’ve got a good head start on us. But those guys are still in the house—and they may stay here for a while.”

  “This room has a window, Joe, “Frank said. “We’ll just climb out that.”

  Joe maneuvered out from behind the clothes. The man who had looked into the room had left the door open, so Joe could still hear them talking. “It sounds to me like they’re rummaging around, Frank—but I’m still going to close the door, just to make sure they won’t be able to hear us when we leave,” he whispered. “I doubt if that guy will remember whether he left it open or not.”

  “Just hope it doesn’t squeak when you shut it,” Frank said.

  Joe tiptoed across Darren’s room to the door. Slowly he began to push the door towards its frame. He was able to get it almost closed, but not all the way.

  Frank had been watching Joe carefully. When he could see that the door was almost shut, he maneuvered his way around Darren’s clothes and tiptoed out of the closet to the window.

  The window in the room was not one that a person had to push up, but one that you simply unlatched and pushed open like shutters.

  Joe stuck his right leg through the opening, grasped the bottom of the frame, lifted his left leg over, and lowered himself to the ground.

  Frank had just stuck his left leg out the window, when a voice shouted, “Hey! There’s somebody in here!”

  “Oh, man!” Frank said. He dived the rest of the way out the window and landed on his side, but he was up in seconds.

  The man with the prizefighter face was now standing at the window. He was holding a gun. “They’re getting away!” he shouted. “We’ve got to stop them!”

  “We’ll head straight into the woods, then try to circle back to where we came into town,” Frank said. “I think I have a pretty good feel for how to do that.”

  “Okay,” Joe said as he raced after Frank.

  Both men left the house and took up the chase.

  Joe could see that the second man also had a gun. He was surprised at how fast both of them could move, given their size, but he doubted they could keep up that pace very long. He and Frank were runners at Bayport High School. They were used to running long distances. Even with heavy backpacks on, Joe felt sure they could lose these two men. But just then a bullet whizzed over their heads, reminding Joe that no matter how fast they could run, they couldn’t outrun a bullet.

  Up ahead, Frank started zigzagging in and out of the trees. Joe did the same—but with his right hand, he pulled the walkie-talkie out of the side of his backpack. They needed to check in with Detective Kitimat. He silently berated himself for not doing it when they arrived at the Wilkersons’ and found the house deserted. Of course, at the time they were still trying to decide exactly what had happened.

  Joe pushed the talk button on the walkie-talkie. “This is Joe,” he said. “Can you hear me?” He released the button and waited.

  In just a couple of seconds there was a crackling noise, and a voice said, “Yes, but you sound out of breath. What’s the problem?”

  “We’re running for our lives, that’s what!” Joe said.

  As quickly as he could, Joe told Detective Kitimat about finding the Wilkersons’ house deserted and about hiding from the two men.

  “They may be the reason the Wilkersons left in such a hurry,” Joe said. “I can certainly understand that.”

  Joe had now pulled alongside Frank so his brother could be privy to the conversation with Detective Kitimat and to any decisions they had to make from here on out.

  “Are you headed toward me?” Detective Kitimat said.

  Frank shook his head.

  Joe frowned. “We’re not?” he mouthed to Frank.

  Frank shook his head again. “Tell him that we think that family on the trail was probably the Wilkersons,” he said. “Tell him we’re going to backtrack, try to find them, and warn them about the two men.”

  Joe repeated the message to the detective.

  “What do you want me to do?” Detective Kitimat said.

  Joe handed the walkie-talkie to Frank.

  “Just stay with us, but out of sight. If the Wilkersons really have been spooked, then they might not trust even Joe and me—especially if they see a stranger with us,” Frank said. “You’ll be our backup, just as Dad planned it.”

  “I can do that,” Detective Kitimat said.

  Joe could hear the two men behind them, crashing through the forest—but they didn’t seem to be getting any closer. It suddenly occurred to him that neither one of the men had fired another bullet. It also occurred to him that the first bullet might not have been meant to hit either one of them, but had just been fired as a warning. But a warning for what?

  Just then Frank veered to the right, and Joe followed. Joe was pretty good at reading maps and finding shortcuts, but Frank had always been better at finding his way through wilderness, so Joe was happy to follow his lead.

  “I think we’re almost back to where we started,” Frank said.

  Sure enough, up ahead Joe saw a rock formation he thought he remembered from when they came into Hudson’s Hope earlier.

  “We’re ready to start looking for the Wilkersons,” Frank said. “This is the trail we came in on.”

  Detective Kitimat was nowhere in sight, but Frank had a feeling he was nearby.

  “Let’s pick up the pace,” Frank said to Joe. “Pretend we’re at the state track meet and we’re trying to win all of the medals for Bayport High.”

  Joe grinned at him, put on a burst of speed, and said, “Pretend that I’m going to win all of the medals, you mean!”

  “Yeah, right, little brother,” Frank said. With his longer legs, he quickly caught up with Joe, but stayed even with him so they could still talk to each other.

  Without the rain, it was easier to make more time. Joe knew they had to be quick if they were going to find the Wilkersons in time. Their only hope was that the Wilkersons might have decided to wait out the weather under a canopy of trees for a while. Joe knew that he was only grasping at straws and that the Wilkersons could be miles away from them now—in which case the Hardys would never find them. Still, Joe told himself, there was no way they could give up.

  All of a sudden, Frank stopped.

  Joe was already a few feet ahead when he realized Frank had stopped. “What’s wrong?” he asked his brother.

  Frank had turned his left ear in the direction from which they had just come. “I’m listening,” he whispered. After several seconds, he said, “I don’t hear them, but that doesn’t mean anything.” He paused. “You don’t think they’re cutting through the woods, do you? They might know this place better than we think they do.”

  The idea of that sent chills down Joe’s spine. He looked around, trying to see through the dense underbrush. “I don’t know, but I don’t think we should stay here wondering about it.”

  “You’re right,” Frank said. “Come on!”

  The Hardy boys propelled themselves through the forest as fast as they could. Both Frank and Joe used their superior peripheral vision to look for any sudden ambush.

  Up ahead of them they heard rushing water, and soon they were crossing a stream by way of a log bridge. Almost immediately they switched back up a narrow opening between two large rocks, only to find themselves once again confronted by dense forest.

  “I don’t remember coming this way, Frank,” Joe said. “Do you?”

  “Not really, Joe, but we’re still on the trail,” Frank replied. “It was raining, and we were concentrating so hard on following Detective Kitimat—admittedly, it never occurred to me then that we’d be coming back this way, so I wasn’t really paying attention.”

  “Neither was I,” Joe said.

  “We shouldn’t let that happen again,” Frank said. “You never know what’s going to happen when you’re investigating a case. You have to be prepared for all possibilities.”

  Just as Joe started to nod his agreement, he felt himself being flung into the sky, swinging wildly, his body twisting in every imaginable direction. Pieces of woven twine were cutting into his skin.

  “Joe!” Frank called from below. “Joe!”

  Joe managed to move his head just enough to look down at the forest floor below and see Frank looking up at him.

  “Are you okay?” Frank called.

  “Am I okay?” Joe shouted down. “If hanging almost upside down in some hunter’s net trap is okay, then I guess I am.”

  “I’ll cut you down,” Frank shouted.

  “I have a simpler idea,” Joe shouted.

  Once again he managed to twist himself around inside the net and look up into the tree.

  The net had been ingeniously set, but the hunter probably hadn’t counted on trapping a human being. Joe stuck his fingers through the netting above and began pulling himself up toward the limb holding the trap. He was sure he could reach it, hoist himself up, and then cut himself free. As he climbed, however, he had a chilling thought: If Detective Kitimat was paralleling them, wouldn’t he have shown himself and offered to help? They hadn’t heard a word from him. Had they outrun him? Had they lost him? As soon as I pull myself up on the branch, Joe thought, I’ll use the walkie-talkie to try to contact him.

  Joe had only managed to climb a few feet when he stopped, stunned by what he could now see. From where he was hanging, he had almost a bird’s-eye view of the part of the forest they had just come through. Not over a hundred yards behind them were the two men from the Wilkersons’ house. That could be the reason Detective Kitimat hadn’t come to their aid. He probably knew the two men were almost upon them, and had wanted to maintain his cover.