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"That was some stunt you pulled, brother, going in there in disguise," Frank
replied.
"Why didn't you stick to the plan?"
"Sometimes you have to play these things by ear," Joe said, laughing. "Go with
whatever works, that's what I say."
"It didn't work," Holly said, in a voice so low it could barely be heard. Both
Hardys raised their eyebrows in surprise. Those were the first words
Holly had spoken since they'd left the commune, but she wasn't making any
sense.
"Shhh," Frank said comfortingly. "You're safe now, Holly. No one's going to
hurt you anymore. "
"No, you're wrong," she said. She sat back against the wall and drew her knees
up until they pressed against her chin. She wrapped her arms around her legs,
and fatigue and fear reddened her eyes. "You're wrong about everything. The
Rajah hasn't let us go. He's toying with us. I know he is. Just like I know my
father sent you."
Frank shook his head. "It's not true. He doesn't know we're here, and neither
does our dad. We came here because you needed help and we could give it. And
you don't have to worry about the Rajah, either."
"Yeah, you make too big a deal about him," Joe said. "He's not so tough."
"You don't know anything about him," Holly snapped. "He'll catch me, and he'll
take me
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57
back, and he'll destroy you. I should never have left the commune."
Joe smirked, though he made sure to keep his face turned away from Holly.
She's nuts, he thought. That creep's got his followers so wound up they think
he can do anything.
"I'll tell you what, Holly. There's a village a little ways down the mountain,
called
Pickwee. We'll get in touch with the police there and have them escort you
home. Then the Rajah won't be able to get his hooks into you again."
She winced at the mention of home and uncurled her body, shivering. "Hold me,
Frank," she said, and he put his arm around her shoulder. She rested her head
on his chest and sighed.
"I don't want to go home," she declared. "I don't ever want to see my father
again. Just let me stay with you, Frank."
Frank's mouth dropped open. For once, he didn't know what to say. In the
driver's seat, Joe grinned, and the black van continued down the mountain.
The town of Pickwee had existed since the Revolutionary War. Originally one of
the few coach stops in the Appalachians, it had become the home of a number of
shops that served the farmers in the mountains. As a result, the town closed
up when the sun went down, with only a bar and a gas station staying open late
in the evening.
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Joe pulled the van into the gas station and up to a pump. No one was around,
and if not for a light on in the office, he would have thought the station was
closed. He tapped the car horn twice, but there were still no signs of life.
Finally, after Joe had climbed out of the truck and started pumping gas
himself, a dark-
haired man in a checked shirt and blue jeans sauntered out from behind the
station.
"What's your hurry, young fellow?" he asked Joe.
Inside the van, Frank heard the man. Holly had fallen asleep, using his chest
as a pillow. Carefully he slipped out from under her, cradling her head in his
hands. He lowered her head to the floor, and when he stepped out of the back
door, she still slept peacefully.
She looked angelic, a child, but Frank couldn't think of her as a child
anymore. She was warm and soft, and
. . .
He rubbed his eyes and tried to think of Callie, but her face kept blending in
his mind with the face of Holly Strand.
Frank shut the back door and locked it. The station owner looked at him, then
at Joe, then back at Frank, and he stepped back, suddenly wary
.
"I ain't got no money, if you're thinking of robbing me," the station owner
said. "You kids ain't looking for trouble, are you?"
"We're looking for a policeman," Frank said. "Any idea where the police
station is?"
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"Heck, that's closed this time of-night," the manager replied. "Don't need it
much up here. Sheriff Keller, he'd be in the bar by now. A fellow just ran
over there with a message for him, matter of fact."
"Thanks," Frank said. He looked around. The bar was a block away, a brick
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building with tiny windows and a flashing neon sign in front of it. "Cruise on
over and wait for me when you're done filling up, Joe."
Joe nodded.
As he neared the bar, Frank heard shouting. There was also muffled music, the
sound of a jukebox turned low. Through the window, Frank could see a burly,
bearded man pacing back and forth. He was screaming at no one in particular,
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