Flesh and Blood by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

changed?" Frank asked.
    "My first job was working the night shift at city hall," Stewart answered without hesitation. "That's when we hit on the plan."
    "Plan?" Callie asked.
    "The plan to set Chet up to throw us off," Frank answered. Frank shifted and Stewart braced himself. "You're nervous, Officer Stewart."
    "I'd be foolish not to be nervous."
    "What now?" Callie asked.
    "I say we rush him," Don growled.
    "Yeah? You plan to be the first hero to die? I left a message with Liz that you were me." Stewart let out a bone-chilling laugh and waved the magnum among the five teenagers.
    "How did you get Officer Riley in here?" Joe asked.
    Stewart shrugged. "I suggested we check up on you kids, make sure you were okay. We told the cop on the night shift to take a break, that we would watch the place for a while."
    "You're not getting away with this," Frank said.
    "I've already gotten away with this," Stewart replied, smiling. "Riley doesn't know what hit him." Stewart held up his gun, and Frank could see a little blood on the butt end. "However, that's not the story Chief Collig will hear. No, what really happened is that Officer Riley and his partner, that's me, thought we heard looters breaking into city hall. When we investigated, gunfire erupted, and Officer Riley was killed, but not before he killed three of the looters." Stewart pulled a second gun from behind him. "This is Officer Riley's gun. I, of course, killed Frank and Joe Hardy."
    "What about our guns?" Joe asked with a smirk.
    Stewart put Officer Riley's gun down on the desk. He knelt down, keeping his dark eyes and the silver magnum trained on the group, and pulled a snub-nosed .38 from an ankle holster. "Here, catch!"
    Stewart threw the gun at Joe, and Joe caught the gun and pointed it at the police officer.
    "Don't insult my intelligence, Joe. It's empty. And now it has your fingerprints on it. Hand it back to me. Gently."
    Joe looked at the pistol. He began to hand the gun to Stewart, then he threw it down one of the aisles, where it clanked to the concrete floor and slid under one of the shelves of files.
    "That wasn't very smart, Joe." Stewart's triumphant grin twisted into an angry frown.
    "You'll never find it under all those files," Joe said calmly. "How are you going to explain that one, wise guy?"
    Stewart straightened himself and grabbed Riley's gun.
    "Let's see, which of you gets killed by Officer Riley, and which of you is the lucky one that is killed by the hero, Officer Stewart?"
    "You're not going to kill us?" Don said, a little cry in his voice.
    Joe turned to Don. He was surprised to see Don cowering, backing up, frightened. He began to regret having Don along.
    "Pl - please," Don stammered. "D - d - don't kill me. Please."
    "You coward." Joe sneered.
    "I don't want to die!" Don blurted out and fell to his knees.
    Joe was disgusted.
    "Stand up, West," Stewart ordered.
    "No, no, no," Don cried. Then he turned to Joe. "Don't let him kill me."
    Joe was tempted to hit Don, to shut him up. Then he saw the slightest wink from Don's eye. Suddenly Joe knew that Don was only pretending to distract Stewart.
    "I said stand up!" Stewart moved toward Don.
    Don grabbed for Stewart's knees, and Joe kicked out at the magnum in Stewart's right hand. Stewart stepped back, and Don landed on the floor. Joe's kick connected with the magnum, and the gun flew from Stewart's hand and exploded.
    "No!" Callie screamed and fell to the floor.
    "Callie!" Frank rushed to Callie. The bullet had grazed her left temple.
    "Don't move, punks," Stewart growled. He pulled back the hammer of Riley's gun and held it to Don's head.
    Joe stopped and stepped back, his hands held up. "Okay, just take it easy."
    "I'll take it easy, punk," Stewart spit out. He knelt and picked up his magnum. "Enough of this! Time to die."
    "Stewart!" Officer Riley gasped from the top of the stairs.
    He stumbled down, nearly falling. Frank saw a thin line of dried dark blood on the side of his forehead.
    "Drop