Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction - Presenting "Yesterdays' Dreams, Tomorrow's Memories" by CQB

After filling in his father and the Gray Man, Frank Hardy had climbed into bed. Fenton Hardy knew they were all exhausted and couldn’t accomplish anything in the middle of the night. Gray left the Hardy men, agreeing to meet at seven the following morning.

Laura Hardy sensed her husband’s presence long before he slipped in the bed beside her. A smiled tugged at the corners of her mouth as she realized he hadn’t made a single sound coming into the room and undressing. If it hadn’t been for the tell-tale scent of his cologne, she wouldn’t have even known he was there.

"I’m glad you’re home," she whispered in a sleep shrouded voice.

"I’m sorry I woke you, Love," Fenton answered, reaching for her.

"I heard you come in the kitchen earlier. I take it, Frank told you about…Joe," a soft sob escaped her throat.

"We’ll find him, Laura," Fenton comforted his wife, holding her close, "I promise you, my Love. We’ll find Joe."

* * *

"Who is this kid?" Garris repeated, looking from Joe to the two thugs.

"Ah, he’s Joe Hardy," Earl Reese replied, looking bewildered, "We got pictures of him with the Morgan kid from Bianco."

Garris looked down again at Joe, but then moved to his office. He returned a few seconds later with a photograph. He knelt beside Joe and firmly gripped the boy’s jaw.

"Same straight nose, same jaw line," Garris mumbled to himself, glancing from Joe’s face to the photo. "The different color hair and eyes could fool you, though."

Garris smiled and looked into Joe’s eyes, "I’ll bet most people don’t think you and your brother look anything alike, but there’s a definite family resemblance."

"This is your brother, am I right?" Garris asked Joe, turning the picture for the Hardy boy to see. "His name is Frank, isn’t it?" When Joe refused to respond, Garris slapped the boy’s face hard enough that Joe thought his teeth were loosened.

Garris pulled the bandana away from Joe’s mouth and asked him again to identify Frank’s picture. Joe merely snarled at Garris and refused to cooperate. Garris, frustrated by Joe’s stubbornness, slapped the boy again, and then he replaced Joe’s gag.

"I should warn you, Mr. Hardy," Garris stated, standing up, "I am an expert in my field. Oh, did I forget to mention what I do? Please forgive me." He looked intently into Joe’s sapphire eyes as he continued, "I am an interrogator for the Assassins."

* * *

"Frank Hardy said the girl’s name is Hope Martin," Chief Collig said gruffly into the phone, "We don’t know anything else about her. It looked like maybe someone had hid the girl under the bed and possibly Joe Hardy or Luke Martin placed her on top of the bed. Right. She had Joe’s coat draped over her."

Collig rubbed his forehead as the woman from Social Services droned on about proper procedure.

"Look, Mrs. Galbreath," Ezra grumbled, "The girl was in bad shape. I don’t know if her injuries are recent or not. As soon as we get the okay from Dr. Anderson at the hospital, she’ll be placed in your hands until we can search out any next-of-kin." The chief of police hung up the phone and shook his head.

He picked up the packet of photos from the crime scene, skimming quickly through them. He pulled out the photograph that his officer had taken of Hope Martin, still wrapped in Joe Hardy’s letterman jacket. ‘Too many unanswered questions, here,’ the chief thought to himself, ‘Just who were the Martins?’

"Chief?"

Collig looked up as Officer Con Riley poked his head in the door.

"You still here, Riley? Didn’t your shift end at 11?" Collig questioned.

"Yes Sir. I just finished my report," Riley replied, "I’m heading for home. See you tomorrow."

Collig gave Con a brief wave of the hand, then resumed his pondering. ‘Joe was hanging with the Martin kid. Maybe he and Frank knew something about the family. Guess I’ll pay the Hardys a visit in the morning.’

"But first," the man said, rising from his chair, "I’m going home to see my wife and grab a few hours sleep in my bed."

* * *

Joe Hardy’s head was aching and it was hard to breathe through the pain in his ribs. He opened his eyes and looked up at the ropes cutting into his wrists. Garris had his goons tie Joe to a low rafter in the old warehouse, his arms up over his head. His sore wrists bore all his weight since his toes barely brushed the dirty floor. With his ankles still tied, Joe was helpless to fight against the Assassin’s assault.

Garris had grilled Joe all night, trying to find out what Joe knew about David Morgan, Luke’s father. Joe adamantly refused to answer any question Garris posed; each refusal was met with a painful reminder of Assassin’s occupation. Garris had used a small, metal rod to hit Joe in the chest, ribs, arms and head.

Finally, Garris and his two thugs had retreated to a small office, leaving Joe engulfed in pain. Joe held back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. He focused on the knot above him. The blood on his wrists made them slippery, and in minutes, Joe had twisted painfully out of the ropes.

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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.

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