Running on Empty by Franklin W. Dixon

Author:Franklin W. Dixon [Dixon, Franklin W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780671716264
Google: E7s3OAAACAAJ
Amazon: 0671741071
Goodreads: 1185433
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 1990-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

"You boys certainly have some high-tech stuff back here," came a voice from the rear of the van.

Joe twisted around just enough to keep one eye on the street and peer back into the van with the other.

Cronkite waddled to the front and sat in the passenger seat.

"What are you doing here?" Joe asked nervously. He sensed that Cronkite knew about the bump-and-rob. "I can explain about the sports car," Joe quickly added.

"I'll just bet you can," Cronkite said as he propped one foot on the van's clean dash. "But save it. There's something I want to tell you and your brother."

"Where is Frank?"

"I had a patrol car pick him up as he was leaving Royce's. He's waiting for us at Don's Daylight Donuts. Turn here." Cronkite pointed.

Minutes later Frank and Joe sat in a dingy booth at Don's Daylight Donuts. The bakery was old, and the walls were dark with dirt and the grime of years of greasy smoke. Cronkite sat across from the Hardys, stuffing a jelly doughnut into his mouth.

"Give me one, just one good reason why I shouldn't yank you two off this case, and I mean now," Cronkite mumbled through the doughnut.

"How about - " Joe began.

"How about keeping your mouth shut!" Cronkite fired back. "You can't give me any reason to keep you yahoos in Southport any longer. While Frank was running my car off a bridge and into a dry riverbed, Joe was playing bump-and-rob with Snake. They nearly killed an old woman in the process."

Frank and Joe exchanged glances. They had a lot to tell each other.

"What are you two? A wrecking crew?" Cronkite leaned back in his chair. "You going to eat that doughnut?" he asked Frank.

"We didn't come here to stuff our faces, Detective," Frank replied.

Cronkite snatched the doughnut and bit into it. "You're just lucky that old woman wasn't wearing her glasses or she would have given our police artist a better description of you. As it is, we're all out looking for a short, fat teenager with freckles and his partner, a skinny long-haired kid with large black eyes. I ought to take you both in."

"You won't do that," Joe said, his arms crossed.

"Oh, yeah? And why not, wiseguy?"

"Well, for one thing, you'll have a hard time explaining to your captain why you allowed two 'kids' to go undercover on a dangerous chop shop operation," Frank remarked.

Cronkite began coughing as he choked on his mouthful.

"And for another," Joe added, "Frank and I are one step away from discovering who's fencing Smith's chopped parts."

Cronkite cleared his throat. His eyes had watered, and his voice cracked. "How close?"

"We'll make you a deal," Frank spoke up. "You stop interfering and we'll deliver Smith and his silent partner in forty-eight hours."

Cronkite stared at Frank. "Forty-eight hours?"

"Just two days," Joe said.

"Don't get smart, wiseguy," Cronkite shot back. "Okay," he conceded. "But if you two don't have something by late Thursday, I'm yanking you off the case."

***

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