and Hardy Boys Rendezvous Presents:

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CONTRACT FOR A DEAD MAN

3rd Place - McFarlane Location Contest - 2004
hardy boys nancy drew fan fiction
by

CQB

Chapter 3
hardy boys fan fiction

THE CHAPTERS

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

When he reached the ground floor, Frank looked around frantically for his younger brother, but Joe was nowhere in sight. Frank ran outside, his heart pounding. What had Joe seen? Was he chasing an intruder… or maybe, an intruder was chasing him? Frank ran all the way around the outside of the mill but found no trace of Joe.

Discouraged, Frank went back inside and began a thorough search for any clue to Joe’s disappearance. After looking around for nearly two hours, Frank slumped down beside Joe’s backpack.

"Where are you, little brother?" Frank asked the darkness around him. Frustrated, he knew there was nothing more he could do until morning. Frank only hoped that, when first light came, Joe would be back.

* * *

Joe Hardy slowly sat up, rubbing his left shoulder which had taken the brunt of his fall. He peered up the 20 foot shaft. Joe could clearly see the dark sky and several stars. He also saw a rope. The rope was somehow anchored near the top of the hole and fell to within a couple of feet from the hard-packed surface Joe was now sitting on.

"At least I know how the ghost disappeared," the blond Hardy stated, glancing around. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Joe noticed the opening in the side of the pit. Joe looked into the blackness of the passageway. He could hear the sound of movement some distance into the tunnel.

‘To follow or to wait for Frank?’ Joe pondered. He made a decision and quickly climbed the rope. Taking off his belt, he tied it to a broken tree branch that was lying nearby. Joe pushed the branch into the soil about five feet from the hole in the ground, and then descended back into the pit.

Joe pulled the small penlight from his pocket and placed it between his teeth, acting as a spotlight through the passage. There was no longer any sound of movement ahead of him as Joe crawled along the roughly cut tunnel.

It seemed to be hours later when Joe emerged from the other end of the tunnel. He wasn’t surprised to see that he was at the mouth of a cave just above Willow River. When he and Frank had worked on the first case involving the Turner mill, they had discovered a secret passage in the mill’s basement that led to a cave further up the river. That tunnel had been cemented shut by the police once the case was closed.

Joe moved as silently as possible along the wall of the cave, but there didn’t seem to be anyone around; especially not a ghost, though the cave showed definite signs that someone had recently been there. Frustrated that he’d been on a wild goose chase all night, Joe turned to go back into the tunnel and return to the mill.

Joe never heard or saw the ghost as it crept up behind him. Just as Joe was about to crawl back into the mouth of the narrow tunnel, he felt a smashing blow to the side of his head and he was swallowed up in unconscious darkness.

* * *

Torrance Poole woke early and threw his overnight bag into the back of his van. He needed to find Mr. Walsh today. This job was taking up far too much of his time.

He picked up the contract and peered at the picture of the target again. He briefly wondered who ordered the hit on such a young man. He shrugged. His job was on a need-to-know basis, and who ordered the hit was something he definitely didn’t need to know.

He decided to circulate the picture around town, saying that he was looking for his missing brother. He knew how to play the part of a grieving man very well. After all, he didn’t get to be a top-paid professional hit man by accident.

* * *

Frank Hardy woke early as the first rays of sunrise filtered through the newly replaced windows of the Turner mill. His mind only took a moment to realize why he was laying on the floor of the mill beside Joe’s backpack. He scrambled to his feet and made another thorough search of the old mill for his missing brother.

"Okay," sighed Frank, "he’s not in here. I’m going to need help searching the grounds." Frank climbed the stairs, grabbed his cell-phone and called his friend Phil Cohen. Phil, a small built 18-year-old, listened attentively as Frank told of Joe’s disappearance and the mystery they were working on.

"Count me in," Phil encouragingly offered, "I’ll round up a couple of the other guys as well."

* * *

Joe Hardy moaned softly as he felt the cool cloth placed on his aching head. He slowly opened his eyes, expecting to see his petite mother or peppery aunt. Instead, his sapphire gaze fell upon a man, probably not much older than Joe’s own brother.

"Thank God," the man said, carefully rinsing the cloth in a pail of water and returning it to the side of Joe’s head. "I thought I killed you, kid."

Joe stared curiously at the man. He guessed his height to be close to his own six feet. The man had curly blond hair, a bit darker than Joe’s and worn in a longer style. His eyes were deep brown and presently carried a look of concern.

"W-who are you?" Joe managed to ask, though his mouth was as dry as sand paper. As he tried sitting, Joe realized that his wrists, as well as his ankles, were tied with packaging twine.

"My name’s Mike," the stranger offered. He helped Joe sit up and offered the younger Hardy a cup of water to drink.

"Sorry about your head. I really thought you might be someone else."

"If you’re so sorry, why am I tied up?" Joe asked, perplexed by Mike’s strange behavior.

"I can’t risk letting you go," Mike replied sadly, "You might tell someone where I’m hiding and that could be fatal."

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