Hardy Boys Fan Fiction at the HDA - Brain Child

Fenton drove into the student parking lot and found an empty space. He had a long walk to the school building but he didn’t mind. He wasn’t sure why he was still looking into Clair Miller, but he hoped that it might ease Mr. Tanner’s pain if he did find her. As he ran up the steps of Chicago’s Thomas Jefferson High, Fenton glanced down at his watch. He was a few minutes early for his appointment with the principal.

There were a few students in the hallway; they glanced curiously at Fenton as he walked into the school office. A pretty blonde teenage girl looked up from her filing when he entered, and smiled.

“Hello, may I help you?” she asked.

“Yes, my name is Fenton Hardy – I have an appointment with Principal Stevenson.”

“I believe he’s in his office – just a moment.” The blonde girl smiled before going over to an older woman. The young girl spoke softly to the woman, who looked over at Fenton.

“Thank you, Haley.” The woman came over to Fenton. “Mr. Hardy, Principal Stevenson will be able to see you now. Follow me.”

The woman opened the small gate to let Fenton inside then led him to the principal’s office door. She knocked on the door, waited for a moment then went in, beckoning Fenton to follow.

“Mr. Hardy to see you, sir.”

“Thank you Gloria – have a seat, Mr. Hardy.”

The two men shook hands before sitting down.

“You mentioned that you were looking for a former student?” asked Principal Stevenson.

“Yes, I’m here on behalf of Mr. Sean Tanner. His wife use to teach here before they were married. Her name was Anne Taylor.”

“Oh yes, I remember Miss Taylor!” smiled the principal. “She was a popular teacher with the students. I never met her husband though I did hear quite a bit about him. How is Anne?”

“I’m sorry to say that she passed away in a tragic accident several days ago.” Fenton informed Principal Stevenson sadly.

“Oh – that’s terrible!” Principal Stevenson turned away looking sadly out his window.

Fenton waited for the man to compose himself. A few minutes later the principal turned back to face Fenton.

“Why…why are you searching for one of my students?”

“Before Mrs. Tanner died, she mentioned seeing a Clair Miller. Mr. Tanner wasn’t sure but he thought that his wife meant that Miss Miller was a student at Bayport High.”

Principal Stevenson booted up his computer, his fingers flying over the keyboard. He found the file he was searching for and hit the print key, then handed the printout to Fenton.

“This is the last known address we have on Miss Miller. She lived in a foster home and I believe her foster family still lives at that address.”

“Thank you. You wouldn’t have a school picture of Miss Miller, would you?” asked Fenton.

“I may have the yearbook….” Principal Stevenson got up, walking over to a bookshelf. He looked through the books and found the one he wanted. “Let’s see now, I think this is it…yes, this is Miss Taylor’s last year here.”

Fenton gazed down at the picture – it showed a young girl with dark hair and a light complexion. He couldn’t tell what color her eyes were as she wore glasses. The girl’s hair was pulled back so he wasn’t sure of the length.

“You may keep that, I’ve got another one.”

Thanking Principal Stevenson, Fenton left to find the foster family that Clair Miller lived with.

Fenton passed Wrigley Field and his thoughts turned to Frank and Joe. He was saddened that it wasn’t spring – if it had been and if Joe and Frank were with him – Fenton thought that they would definitely take in a game.

He turned onto West Cornilea, traveling a few blocks before he came to a three-story red-brick apartment building. He parked across the street, double-checking the street address before he got out of the car. Entering the building, he walked over to the mailboxes to see if the Smithson family still lived there.

A female resident was getting her mail, and she smiled at Fenton.

“Hello – are you looking for someone?”

“Yes, I am.” Fenton took out one of his business cards and handed it to the woman. “I was hoping that the Smithsons were still living here. Do you happen to know them?”

“Private detective, huh? Did some long lost relative leave them a fortune or something?” she asked with a teasing smile.

“Unfortunately, no,” chuckled Fenton. “I wanted to speak to them about a former foster child – Clair Miller.”

The woman let out a startled gasp. “What happened to Clair – what happened to my baby?!”

Fenton quickly put his arms around the stricken woman who looked like she was about to faint.

“I’m going to assume that you’re Margaret Smithson?” asked Fenton.

“Yes, yes…please tell me – did something happen to Clair?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you – I don’t have news of Clair. I’m trying to find her for a client of mine.” Fenton explained as he helped Mrs. Smithson to her apartment.

Once inside the small apartment, Fenton easily found the kitchen and got a glass of water for Mrs. Smithson. He gave her the glass then sat next to her on the sofa.

“Again, I want to apologize for giving you such a fright.” Fenton said when she drank the water.

“I want to apologize too – you see, Clair lived with my family for six months then she just disappeared! When you said that you were searching for her foster family…well, I guess I thought the worst.”

“She disappeared – do you mean to say she ran away?” Fenton was puzzled; from what he could see, Mrs. Smithson appeared to be a kind woman – his gut instinct told him that she was a nice person.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. And I don’t know why! My husband and I gave her a loving home.”

Fenton sensed that she wanted to say more. He waited patiently for her to continue because he knew that she would.

“She left right after… We had gone to one of those discount clothes stores. Clair needed a new jacket – she had gone to look at some sweaters and I was checking out the jackets. I found a nice one and turned around to get her attention. At first I didn’t see her then did: she was arguing with a man. He was older than Clair; I of course thought he was some kind of pervert!”

She chuckled softly; Fenton gave her a small smile.

“I rushed right over there just as that man took hold of Clair’s arm. He let her go once I got there – I asked what was going on. Clair said it was a misunderstanding but the man kept insisting that Clair’s name was Alexandra Cleary.”

“Did you ask him why he thought that?” Fenton asked, his curiosity piqued.

“I didn’t get a chance – someone had called for the store security. Clair was upset and crying so they escorted him out then walked us to my car. The next day…Clair was gone.”

Thanking her for the information and promising to call if he found Clair, Fenton left. He sat in his rental car, thinking about what he had been told.

How odd, he mused. What are the chances of two different girls being mistaken for someone else?

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.