See No Evil

"WHAT A JERK!" Callie Shaw muttered as she strode down the street.

She was angry at Joe Hardy, who had just said to her, "No way could we let you work with us. It wouldn't be safe for a girl—we'd wind up protecting you instead of going after the bad guys."

But Callie was even angrier with her boyfriend, Joe's brother, Frank. "I hate to admit it, Callie," he had said. "Joe's right. The characters we tangle with play rough. Bringing you on the team would be giving them a ready-made target...."

All that because she had dared to suggest that Joe and Frank let her help them with their crime cases. She knew she could be an asset to them.

"I should have known better than to try to talk with you, Joe," she had said, her eyes blazing.

"You're the ultimate male ChaUvInist. The only thing you think girls are good for is to take out on dates!"

With a slight twinkle in his blue eyes, Joe said, "Well ... "

"And you," Callie said, turning on Frank. "You think of me as weak and defenseless, too."

"It's not that." Frank nervously ran a hand through his dark brown hair. "It's just," — he shot a glance at Joe — "what if something happened to you? I can't ever forget what happened to Iola."

Ordinarily, that would have stopped Callie from continuing. Iola Morton had been her friend and Joe Hardy's true love. That terrible moment when Iola had died in a car blown up by terrorists changed Joe forever. Now Callie realized that it had changed Frank, too. He was really worried about her. Too worried about her.

Callie was fed up having to watch Frank and Joe have all the challenges, excitement, and adventures. She was fed up staying on the sidelines like a cheerleader.

Sure, she knew it could get dangerous. Callie had been horrified when Frank told her about their last case—Deathgame—when he and Joe had been pursued in a crazed survival game. She knew all that, but still she wanted to join the team. But the boys were refusing to listen to her, much less give her a try.

She had still been boiling as she started to leave Frank's house after their study date. Frank had offered to walk her home, but she told him she was perfectly capable of getting home safely—all by herself. Then she turned and stomped out the door, leaving him standing with his mouth open.

She'd let him stew awhile, she decided as she walked down the tree-lined street. The leaves had begun to change color, and the reds and yellows were intensified by the glow from the street lights. The stars were bright, and the air was crisp. Nothing disturbed the peaceful autumn night.

Then came the sound — a car driven slowly down the street behind her, its tires crunching through fallen leaves.

Callie's mouth tightened in a straight line. She knew that Joe and Frank would expect her to feel scared, walking home alone and hearing a car approach her from behind. Well, they were wrong. She could take care of herself. Callie forced herself to walk more slowly and to take deep breaths of the cool air.

The sound of the car drew closer.

Calm down, Callie, she told herself. It's probably just some older people driving their car extra cautiously. There was nothing odd about that, especially in a town like Bayport, where life was slow and easy. No need to walk faster. No need even to look over her shoulder. Just keep staring straight ahead. Look at the leaves in the trees. One or two were drifting down through the air. Winter was coming.

A shiver ran through her. It had to be the thought of winter. She couldn't be frightened. She was in one of Bayport's nicest, most quiet neighborhoods.

It was quiet, she realized. What had happened to the car? It must have turned into a driveway or down a side street; Of course, that was it.

It was so quiet that the sudden crackle of a footstep crushing leaves on the sidewalk behind her sounded as loud as a pistol shot.

Before Callie could turn around, an arm snaked across her throat in a choke hold. Then Callie saw a black leather glove appear in front of her face, holding a yellow sponge. She could smell the chloroform just before the sponge covered her nose and mouth.

For a moment Callie struggled against the viselike grip as she desperately tried to hold her breath.

But then she had to breathe.

She struggled to keep her eyes open as the hand over her face tilted her head toward the sky.

She saw the autumn leaves above her move farther and farther away, as if she were dropping into a hole that had opened beneath her feet. Until the last blurs of color were gone.

Until total blackness swallowed her up.

After Callie had exited, the Hardys returned to their living room and sat silently. Frank had read a book, while Joe leafed through a sports magazine.

The two of them were alone in the house while their father, the famous private detective Fenton Hardy, was in London, assisting Scotland Yard with an international art-smuggling case. Their mother and Aunt Gertrude had gone along with him, since the British had offered to pay for the family to pose as tourists as a cover for Fenton's presence.

When the phone rang abruptly, Frank leapt to answer it. "I'll get it. I bet it's Callie, calling to make up."

Joe grinned at his brother's haste.

But when Frank picked up the receiver, it wasn't Callie on the other end.

"Congratulations," said a cheerful voice. "You've been selected to receive a subscription to Millionaire magazine at the bargain price of seventy-five dollars a year. Yes, you, too, can get rich by following our advice. Just give me your okay, and your first issue will be in the mail next week. Plus, if you pay promptly, you'll get an autographed copy of the book How I Made a Million in Pork Belly Futures by P.I. Gout. Plus, as a super bonus, if you pay immediately — "

Frank saw a light flashing on the phone-answering machine. Someone else was trying to get through to him. It had to be Callie.

"Look, I'm not interested in becoming a millionaire," he said into the phone. "Being dirt-poor is more my style. And I've got another call coming in. So if you'll just hang up — "

But the cheerful voice went on. "You haven't heard half of it. You'll receive your very own computer watch, so you can keep track of your profits as easily as keeping track of the time. Plus, a new updated tax guide. Plus — " "Hey, I said goodbye," said Frank. "A surefire way to — " the voice said, speeding up like a tape played on fast forward. Frank slammed down the phone. But he was too late. The incoming call light had gone off.

Maybe Callie had left a message. Frank hit the playback button on the answering machine. There was a message—but not from Callie. It was Callie's mother. "Hi. This is Mrs. Shaw. Please tell Callie that she left her shoulder bag with her house keys in it at home. Her dad and I are going out now, so I'll leave a key under the front doormat in case she gets back before we do. And tell her not to stay out too late. Studying for that test tomorrow won't do her much good if she's sleepy when she takes it."

The message ended there.

"Funny," said Frank, his brows furrowing. "Callie should have gotten home by now."

She probably stopped at Liz Webling's house to study," said Joe.

"I don't think so," said Frank. "She has that test tomorrow, and Liz isn't in the class."

"Maybe she went to Ernie's to do her studying over pizza and a soda," said Joe.

"Maybe," said Frank, but he still looked bothered.

"Hey, if you're worried, let's head over to Ernie's and check it out," Joe suggested. "I could go for a couple of slices with extra cheese, sausage, and pepper right now. Dueling with that girlfriend of yours works up an appetite."

"Good idea," said Frank. "Not that I'm really worred about Callie. She can take care of herself. But I would like to see her. Maybe I do owe her an apology. I mean, I was coming on a little too machO."

"Maybe." Joe looked unconvinced. "Callie kind of asked for it, though. She's trying to butt into something she doesn't know anything about. We're a team—she'd only mess us up. I'm telling you, Frank, don't let Callie change your mind about this. She could wind up walking into some nasty stuff—or worse ... " He didn't mention iola's name, but Frank could see the pain in his brother's eyes.

"Callie doesn't want to run my life," Frank said. "She's just looking for a challenge. And do me a favor," he went on. "Cool your opinions when we find her. You're not doing a great job of convincing her."

Frank left it at that. But he couldn't stop himself from thinking, WHERE WILL we find her.

Frank had a harder time hiding his growing concern when they arrived at Ernie's. The only person there besides the counterman was theIR pal Chet Morton. That was no surprise. Where there was late-night food, Chet usually was, too.

Chet looked up from the pizza platter in front of him.

"Great to see you, guys," he said to Frank and Joe. "Want to share this last slice? I can't eat the whole thing tonight."

"What's the matter? Are you on a diet?" asked Joe, grinning.

Frank wasn't in a joking mood.

"Has Callie been in here?" he asked.

"Nope," said Chet, starting on the last slice. "You supposed to meet her here?"

"Um — I was hoping to," Frank said vaguely so he wouldn't have to explain the situation. Chet was always ready to help out when the Hardys needed him, but there was no sense in getting him involved in something that might turn out to be nothing at all.

Chet nodded and took a sip of his cherry soda. As he put the glass down, he glanced up and noticed the look on Frank's face, which was mirrored on Joe's.

"What's with you two?" he asked. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

Frank and Joe didn't answer. They were staring at the doorway, frozen. Callie — her face pale, her hair disheveled, and her eyes blinking dazedly—was swaying as she held on to the door frame for support.

Then, before Frank or Joe or Chet could move, she opened her mouth to say something.

But nothing came out.

Her grip on the door frame loosened, and she crumpled to the floor.

She lay absolutely motionless. Chet stood up, eyes wide. His hand caught the edge of the pizza platter, and the large pie plate clattered to the floor. No one noticed.

"She looks like she's — " Frank choked back the word he didn't even want to think.

Dead.

JOE WAS THE first to move. Dropping to his knees at Callie's side, he grasped her wrist and felt for a pulse. It was faint, irregular, but there.

He nodded to Frank, who grabbed Chet's soda glass and dumped it out on the tabletop. He picked up a handful of crushed ice and ran to Callie, rubbing her temples with it. After a moment her eyelids fluttered open. Frank let out the breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

"Wait a second," Joe said to the counterman, who had gone to the phone. "Let's find out exactly what happened before we decide who to call."

Callie's eyes were wide open now, staring at the three faces looking anxiously into her own.

She managed a weak grin. "Hi, guys."

"Are you all right?" asked Frank.

"Yeah, what made you faint like that?" asked Joe.

"I didn't faint!" Callie's voice was shaky, but she was ready to resume their argument. "You probably think I saw a mouse or something."

"Forget Joe. Tell us what happened," Frank said impatiently.

Callie glanced at the counterman, who was still standing with his hand on the phone. "I'm okay," she said to him. "No need to call anybody." In a lower voice she said, "Let's sit down at a booth, where we can talk in private."

While Frank and Joe steered Callie toward a booth in the back, Chet spoke to the counterman. "Give us another big one, with the works. We've got to build up Callie's strength again."

Callie started to protest that she really wasn't hungry, but Chet cut her off quickly. "Don't worry, I'll help you eat it."

Frank waited until the four of them were settled around the table. "So what happened?" he asked Callie again.

"I'm not sure," Callie said. "I mean, I know what happened. But I have no idea why it happened, or who was behind it. It's a real mystery."

"Why don't you tell us about it," Joe said.

Callie took a deep breath. "While I was walking home, somebody sneaked up behind me and chloroformed me."

"Chloroformed you?" asked Frank. "You're sure?"

"I'd know the smell anywhere — I've used it in biology lab often enough, " said Callie, wrinkling her nose. "Real disgusting stuff."

"Did it knock you out?" asked Chet, his round, good-natured face shadowed with concern.

"Out like a light," said Callie. "And when I came to, everything was still pitch-black. I was seated on the ground, blindfolded, gagged, my hands tied behind me, and my feet bound."

Callie extended her hands so that the others could see her wrists. Harsh red marks still cut across them where cords had dug into her flesh recently.

"Ouch," said Frank. "How did you get free?"