Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

He loved the solitude that riding through the lands of his ancestors brought him, and he often brought his mount here after work in the Mesa Verde restoration department. Here, on the canyon edge, he found time to think and enjoy being by himself.

Dave came to a steep trail that led to the bottom of Soda Canyon. Wind Dancer expertly made his way down the canyon wall with the graceful surefootedness that earned him his name.

By the time they’d reached the floor of the canyon, the sun had just set below the horizon and the nearly full moon was casting deep shadows through the valley. Dave looked around and decided to explore one of the many smaller canyons that veered off of Soda Canyon.

Hundreds of little creeks and unnamed rivers fed the Soda River that had formed the canyon long before the Hopi people lived there. Each little creek or river formed its own smaller canyon. Even though he’d lived near Mesa Verde all of his life, Dave had yet to discover the mysteries of every little canyon.

The dark shadows kept the valley cool, despite the heat the late afternoon sun had left behind. Dave could hear movement all around him as the nocturnal animals came to life.

His keen eye sight caught the movement of jackrabbits and ground squirrels scurrying about; he saw deer and wild goats drinking from calm pools of water near the creek; he saw an owl soaring toward a field mouse desperately trying to find cover.

Dave paused and sat silently on Wind Dancer in the shadow of the canyon wall watching a young coyote creep silently along the bank of the creek, seeking vulnerable prey.

He was so captivated by the coyote’s hunt, that it was a full minute before he noticed the two figures crawling out of a crevice in the canyon wall just a few yards away.

* * *

“Joe’s not in the bedroom or the bathroom and there is no sign that Chris has been here,” Frank announced as he ran back into the kitchen.

He stopped and frowned as he caught sight of Chet Morton. His plump friend was holding a sandwich in his hand and looking perplexed.

“Then Joe’s missing, too!” Catherine cried. “Where could they be?”

Frank ignored Catherine’s outburst and walked up to Chet. “Where’d the sandwich come from, Chet?”

“Here,” Chet answered, pointing to the counter top. A jar of peanut butter and a glass of milk were setting there also.

Luke was standing beside Chet and reached over for the glass of milk. His face registered a mask of surprise as he picked up the glass. “It’s still cold, Frank! That means Joe hasn’t been gone long.”

“He woke up hungry, just like we thought he would,” Phil Cohen surmised. “He started to make a snack to tide him over until we got back with supper…”

“But he didn’t get to eat it,” Frank interjected. “He wouldn’t just leave the food behind unless he was forced to leave suddenly or against his will.”

“That truck!” Biff cried excitedly. “The gray truck you saw outside, Frank. Maybe Joe was in it!”

Frank turned to Catherine and asked, “Do you know anyone in this neighborhood that drives a gray pick-up truck?”

Catherine shook her head. “I’ve never seen one around here, but I don’t know for sure.”

“That truck was parked across the street this morning when we got here from the hospital,” Frank stated.

“Joe’s the one that usually believes in hunches, but right now,” Frank continued, “I’ve got a strong hunch that’s telling me that truck has something to do with my missing brother.

“I’m calling the sheriff,” the oldest Hardy brother said as he reached for the telephone on the kitchen wall.

Frank hesitated as he watched Catherine. Something was bothering her and he had a feeling it was something he needed to know.

“Catherine?”

The young woman looked up into Frank’s dark eyes. “My brother Dave, his friend Stan drives a gray pick-up truck; but that doesn’t make any sense. Why would it be outside the apartment this morning and what would Stan want Joe for?”

“Maybe he knows where Chris is and took Joe to him?” Phil suggested.

“Joe would have left a note or something,” Frank countered. “Something weird is going on.” With that, he once again picked up the phone and dialed the Montezuma County sheriff’s office.

* * *

Deputies Mace Thayer and Vernon Sagawi made their way to the back of the little house on Main Street in Mesa Ochre Village. To be safe, the sheriff was picking up a court order to search the premises. Thayer and Sagawi were to check the place out and see if anyone was home.

Sagawi knocked on the old wooden door. It swayed open and the deputy called inside. Getting no response, he and Thayer proceeded into the tiny kitchen.

“Wonder if he always leaves his door open?” Thayer quietly asked his partner.

“Wouldn’t think so,” Sagawi answered. “Too many of these places have been broken into. That door being open just seems a little too coincidental.”

Thayer turned as a pair of headlights shown through the kitchen window. Moments later, Sheriff Longtooth strode into the house.

“You were just supposed to see if anyone was home,” Longtooth growled. “Anything we find could be considered inadmissible if you broke in here."

Sagawi quickly explained about the open door.

The sheriff scowled, but didn’t say anything. He pulled on a pair of leather gloves just like the ones his deputies were wearing already.

The trio looked in the kitchen drawers as they had been directed by the anonymous caller. It only took a few minutes for them to find the knife.

As Longtooth held the Hopi Manyteeth, his mind reeled with a hundred unanswered questions.

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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.