Flesh and Blood Read Online Free PDF Page A

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!"
    "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