He’s going to do it He’s going to kill my dad.
The blade flashed before my eyes. A beam of light flickered across my father’s face as Jake lowered the knife to his throat.
No!
I struggled against the ropes that bound me to the chair. But it was no use. There was nothing I could do.
“Take a good look at your sons, Fenton,” Jake snarled. “It’s the last time you’ll ever see them.”
His fingers tightened around the handle of the switchblade.
“Don’t do it, Jake!” I screamed.
“Stop!” said Frank. “Please!”
He looked at us and laughed.
“Watch closely, boys,” Jake sneered. “This is what happens to dirty rotten squealers.”
The knife twitched in his grasp.
“Dad, wait,” said Jim, peering out the window. “Someone’s coming. A car just pulled up.”
Jake lowered his arm that was around my father’s neck. He rushed over to the window and peeked through the curtains. “Who are they? What are they doing here?” He looked at us as if we knew.
Your guess is as good as mine.
I glanced at Dad and Frank. They looked as puzzled as I was.
We heard an engine rumbling outside. Suddenly it stopped, then two car doors opened and closed. I could make out the sound of footsteps approaching. There was a knock at the door.
Jake waved at his sons and pointed at the baseball bats lying on the floor. Fred and Jim picked them up and waited by the door.
The people outside knocked again. And again.
Then someone shouted, “Hey! You guys!”
I groaned when I recognized the voice.
“It’s us! Chet and Belinda! Let us in!”
Jake turned off the lights and opened the door.
I couldn’t see what happened next—but I could hear it.
First Belinda walked in and said, “What’s up with the lights, guys? I can’t see a thing.”
Chet whispered in a goofy ghost voice, “Ewww, scary.”
Then I heard a lot of banging and crashing and screaming—followed by the sounds of two loud thumps on the floor.
I wasn’t sure what happened. But it didn’t sound good. Especially when a deep voice broke the silence.
“Good work, boys. Now tie them up.”
• • •
When the lights were turned on, I saw Chet sitting across from me at the card table. He was tied securely to the fourth chair—and obviously annoyed.
“Who are these guys?” he asked.
“Our evil twins,” I told him.
“These are your evil twins?” said a voice next to the sofa.
I looked over to see Belinda on the floor, being tied up by Fred and Jim.
“They can’t be your evil twins,” she said. “You’re much better looking.”
I glanced at Frank. “I told you so.”
My brother rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“Shut up! All of you!” Jake yelled from the kitchen. He hunched over the stove and peered into the oven.
“Are you planning to cook something?” I asked.
He looked up and sneered at me. “Yeah, kid. I’m hungry . . . for revenge.”
Fred and Jim finished tying up Belinda. As soon as they were done, they stood up and joined their father in the kitchen.
“We tied up their friends, Dad,” said Jim.
“Good,” he snarled. “Any friend of the Hardys is an enemy of mine.”
“What are you planning to do?” asked Fred.
“I’ll tell you in a minute. Look and see if you can find a candle around here.”
A candle?
What was he planning to do? Cook us a romantic candlelight dinner?
Yeah, right.
He was probably going to cook us.
Fred and Jim started searching through the kitchen drawers and cupboards. Jake walked over to us, leaned over the card table, and picked up Dad’s signed confession. His cold, dark eyes scanned the paper—and an evil grin flashed across his face.
“So what are you planning to do with that, Jake?” asked my father.
Jake glared back at him. “I’m going to send it to every newspaper in the country. I’m going to tell everyone the truth about Fenton Hardy and his little trained monkeys, Frank and Joe.”
“Nobody will believe it,” said Dad.
“They will,” said Jake. “They’ll believe every word of it . . . once they find your dead body.”
My father didn’t say anything.
“Remember the last sentence of your confession, Fenton? You wrote, and I quote, ‘I do not deserve to live.’ ”
Dad took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Everyone will think you killed yourself,” said Jake. “And you took a few others along with you.”
My father’s head snapped up. “Leave the kids out of this, Jake. I’m the one you want. Go ahead and kill me. But let the others go.”
Jake chuckled softly and started pacing back and forth. “That would be nice of me, wouldn’t it? But you’re forgetting something, Fenton.” He stopped and turned. “I’m not a nice guy.”
No kidding, I thought.
Jake looked at Dad’s confession again. Then he tore the page out of the notebook, folded it carefully, and stuffed it into his back pocket. “I’ve been dreaming of this day,” he muttered.
I looked at Chet. His mouth was hanging open, his face frozen with fear. Then I glanced over at Belinda lying on the floor. She was trembling.
Why did we let them come here?
I felt horrible about it. Frank was right. We shouldn’t have allowed them to get involved.
“Hey, Dad! I found a candle!”
Fred walked over and handed the candle to his father. It was one of those short, stubby ones—I think they call them votives. Jake took the candle and set it on the mantel above the fireplace.
“It’s not much of a candle, but it’ll do the job,” he said, turning back to us. “But with a fancy cabin like this, you don’t really need candles, do you, Fenton? This place is fully equipped with all the modern conveniences. Electric lights. A shower. A toilet.” He paused. “And this wonderful gas stove over here.”
Jake crossed the room to the kitchen.
“I see that you installed a big gas tank for this,” he continued. “That must have been expensive. But hey, you only live once, right? And gas ranges are so much better than electric, aren’t they?”
I didn’t like the playful tone of his voice. It was even creepier than when he was yelling.
“There’s just one problem with gas stoves,” said Jake. He opened the oven door and lifted up the stove-top. “Sometimes the pilot lights go out.”
Don’t do it, I thought.
He leaned over and blew out all of the little blue flames.
The he turned all of the knobs.
Sssssssssss.
The gas started hissing from the stove.
“Do you hear that?” asked Jake. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Do you smell that? No? Well, give it time. In just a few minutes, the whole cabin will be filled with gas.”
He walked back into the living room. Digging through his pockets, he pulled out a pack of matches. Then he strolled toward the fireplace.
“Did you realize that most accidents occur in the home?” he asked us. “Candles, for instance, can be very, very dangerous. If a candle falls over, it could set fire to the curtains—and burn down the whole house. Or if there’s a gas leak, it could set off a major explosion.”
I tensed up in my chair.
He’s going to blow us up.
Jake leaned back and chortled. The sound of his laughter made me sick to my stomach.
Or maybe it was the gas.
Glancing nervously at the kitchen, I listened to the sharp hissing of the open valves.
Sssssssssss.
I could smell it, too. It made me feel queasy.
“Make sure the windows are closed, boys,” Jake said to his sons. He opened the pack of matches and pulled one out. Just as he was about to light it, Fred yelled something in a panicked voice.
“Dad! It’s the cops!”
Suddenly a loud siren blared outside. A flashing red light flickered through the window and lit up the walls inside the cabin. Then a loud voice echoed through a megaphone.
“THIS IS THE POLICE. WE KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE.”
Jake was stunned. He looked at Fred, then Jim, with wide-open eyes and said, “We have to get out of here!” He turned his head back and forth, searching desperately for a way to escape. “Quick! The back door!”
The two boys flung open the door and dashed out. Jake was right behind them.
I let out a big sigh of relief.
They’re gone.
The loud wail of a police siren had never sounded better. I was so happy at that moment I didn’t even mind the odor of the gas.
Just relax and wait for the police, I told myself. First they’ll turn off the gas. Then they’ll untie us. And then they’ll go catch the bad guys.
I looked at my family and friends and started to smile. “We’re going to make it, guys,” I said.
But then Jake reappeared in the doorway.
“Oops, I almost forgot something.”
He ran back to the mantel, struck a match, and lit the candle.
June 15, 9:35 p.m.
RED ALERT
ATTENTION: all patrol cars. We need backup at Lake Midnight just north of the highway. Take the dirt road to the last cabin on the right. Earlier today, two boys in clown outfits were seen getting out of a car, which we followed to this location. We believe it could be the Hardy gang’s hideout.
Two of our officers are now approaching the cabin. We could definitely use some backup here. Please send all available squad cars.
The criminals may be armed and dangerous.
Proceed with caution.
Over and out.