Line of Fire by Franklin W. Dixon Read Free Book Online Page A

dial his father.
    "I'm glad you're in, Dad," he said. "Could you use that special directory you've got to put a name to some addresses?"
    Fenton Hardy laughed. "I thought that story you gave us sounded pretty fishy," he said. "What's up?"
    "We're just keeping an eye on Denny, and I'd like to know who he's meeting." Frank read off a few of the addresses, and his father consulted the directory. The first three names he gave Frank were those of complete strangers, but the fourth rang a bell. "Catherine Gunther — that sounds familiar."
    Suddenly he remembered a newspaper page, with the pictures of five men. One of them was Denny's dad, and the caption on another read ... "George Gunther," Frank said, snapping his fingers. "He was one of the people who died in the Crowell disaster. Thanks a lot, Dad." Frank hung up the phone.
    Now Denny's wanderings made sense. "He must be trying to track down anyone who was at the fire," Frank said. "The plant would be the easiest place, but Lucius won't let him talk to anyone who's still working for the company. So Denny's trying ex-employees."
    "But why visit Mrs. Gunther?" Joe asked. "He'd know Gunther was dead."
    Frank shrugged. "Maybe they had friends who worked there. Who knows? At least we have a handle on what he's doing. He's looking for witnesses."
    "And not finding any, from the look on his face," Joe added.
    Denny and Barbara were looking very discouraged as they drove into downtown Bayport. They parked the car and then walked into the low-rent district. It was crammed against the commercial area, across the railroad tracks from the neat homes they'd been visiting.
    Here they passed shabby frame houses with weed-filled front lawns and sagging porches. Some of the houses had been painted white in an attempt to spruce them up. Others had been painted gray or brown to hide the dirt. On most of them, the paint was peeling.
    As Denny and Barbara walked along the cracked pavement, Frank and Joe followed far behind. They were afraid they'd be recognized instantly if Denny and Barbara turned around.
    It was getting dark and the streetlights were just coming on. Frank didn't think they made the neighborhood look better.
    Denny apparently agreed. He had stopped and was talking with Barbara, who was shaking her head. Barbara pointed back the way they had come, and Frank and Joe both became suddenly interested in the window display of a hardware store.
    "Look," said Joe. "A sale on drills."
    "Very funny," Frank answered. "We're going to look really smart when Denny starts walking Barbara back."
    They stole a glance and saw that the discussion was getting warmer.
    "No, I think Barbara has taken Callie Shaw lessons," Joe said with a grin. "She's going to walk back by herself."
    Even as he was saying it, Barbara started walking. Denny reached out to stop her, then shrugged. The Hardys didn't have time for more. They had to get down a side street before Barbara recognized them.
    TUrning the nearest corner, they walked halfway down the block. Then they turned, waiting for Barbara to pass by. She crossed the street and marched on at top speed, never once looking their way.
    Immediately Frank and Joe headed back to the corner. "I hope we don't lose Denny because of this," Joe said.
    "I hope Denny isn't staring after her and sees us coming around," Frank replied. Before they reached the corner, they stopped, seeing a familiar bulky figure diagonally opposite from them. It was George, leaning against a building Somehow, he had caught up with Denny and Barbara. But as he stepped away from the building, his eyes weren't trained in the direction Denny had gone.
    No, he was looking the other way, the way he started walking a moment later.
    After Barbara Lynch.

Chapter 8
    joe stared at George for a second, a dangerous light in his eyes. "That guy just made a big mistake.", ,.
    Once Joe had a girlfriend who had gotten in the way when terrorists were trying to get at the Hardys. The result: an exploding car,