Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

"Keep the flashlight focused here," Joe requested as he carefully connected the battery cables to the Lumina’s engine. Trista lifted the light slightly, illuminating the area where Joe’s hands were busy working.

Frank was crouched over the other side of the engine, taping the last of the slashed hoses. Together, he and Joe had replaced or repaired all the damage.

"Done," Joe announced finally, climbing behind the wheel and turning the key. The engine coughed and choked, but then caught and purred steadily.

"Yes!" Frank smiled, "Good job, little brother."

"It was a team effort," Joe grinned at Frank and Trista.

"So what are we waiting for?" Trista asked, assuming they would all drive to safety.

"Trista," Frank began, "Joe and I can’t leave, even though we’d like to get out of here, too."

"What are you talking about? There’s a crazy guy running around this town with a very big bow and probably some big arrows!" Trista cried. "We need to go get help!"

"Yes," Joe said in agreement, getting out of the car, "but we’ll trust you to do that."

"You two are as crazy as Bow-man!" Trista said, shaking her head in disbelief, "There’s no way I’m leaving you guys behind. We all go or I stay with you!"

"Trista, think about the other families in this town," Frank tried to reason. "We need you to get help before he goes after them."

"The Murphys and the Gales! We gotta warn them!" With those words, Trista took off running down one of the dark streets of Reedville.

"Keep with her," Frank cried, "I’ll bring the car so it doesn’t get wrecked up again." Joe nodded and took off after Trista.

Frank climbed behind the wheel of the Lumina and followed after Trista and his brother. Noticing a flickering blue light coming through the front window of a house along the road, Frank pulled the car around the block and parked. He ran toward the house and saw Trista and Joe climbing the front steps.

Trista knocked on the door and a short, balding man opened it wide. He was in his forties, Joe guessed. The man wore pajama bottoms and a sleeveless t-shirt, stretched tight over a protruding belly.

"Hello, Mr. Gales," Trista began quickly, "We need to…"

"Why, looky here, Hon," the man called into the room, interrupting Trista’s warning, "The little Kelly girl’s here to pay a visit." He turned back to face the teens.

"Who’s your fr-r-r…" the man began to ask about Joe when a loud twang split the air. Mr. Gilbert Gales face registered shock before his eyes rolled back into his head. A deep red stain spread quickly across the front of his t-shirt, the shaft of the cross-bow arrow in the center.

"Get down!" Frank shouted as he joined Trista and Joe on the porch. He pushed them both through the door and the trio scrambled over the dead man’s body.

"Get down!" Frank shouted again, this time to the three people who were rising from the sofa screaming. Frank knew they were easy targets through the window, with the light from the television shining on them. Before Frank could get up to help them, the front window shattered and Mrs. Sharon Gales was thrown against the wall, a trickle of blood running down the side of her head from an arrow in her temple.

"No!" Joe screamed, trying to reach the young men. A third and forth arrow sailed through the night hitting their marks. Oliver and Wendell, the Gales 16-year-old twin sons fell to the floor. The front of their flannel shirts were covered in blood.

Joe stared at the four bodies, but then quickly grabbed a heavy marble ashtray from the nearby coffee table. He flung it with all his might at the television. The front of the set exploded in a shower of sparks before plunging the room into darkness.

"This way!" Frank whispered, crawling below the window.

Joe grabbed Trista’s arm and pulled her across the room, following Frank down a short hallway into the kitchen. Frank closed the kitchen door and shut off the lights. The three teenagers sat on the floor in the corner, trembling.

"Ohgod,ohgod,ohgod…" Trista mumbled, hugging her knees close to her chest. "It’s my fault. Those people are dead because of me!"

Joe bit his lip and put his arm around Trista. He didn’t know what to say to ease her pain. He looked at Frank, hoping his brother would know what to say.

Frank met Joe’s gaze and nodded slightly. He moved to Trista.

"Trista," Frank spoke softly, "We don’t know what this guy’s agenda was. Maybe he was planning to kill them all along. At any rate, we can’t do anything about that now."

"We can’t warn the other family," Joe began, looking at Frank, "He’s watching us, isn’t he? This is some kind of sick game to him."

"Is he going to come after us?" Trista asked in a small voice.

"I don’t think so," Frank answered.

"No, he could have already killed all three of us," Joe agreed.

"Right," Frank continued. "He could have gotten you or Trista on the porch just now. I was an easy target running down the sidewalk as well."

"He wants us alive," Joe said, feeling a chill up his spine, "For some reason he wants us alive; at least for now."

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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.