hardy boys fan fiction

MY BROTHER'S GIFT

hardy boys nancy drew fan fiction

by

CQB

Chapter 3

hardy boys fan fiction

THE CHAPTERS

INTRO

PREFACE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

“Disappearing Act”  

After my third trip to the restroom, my mom was starting to get suspicious.  We were in the Smithsonian Institute’s Air and Space Museum , and I hate to admit it, but there were some really cool displays.  

As we were checking out a replica of a lunar space probe, I knew I was gonna puke again.  I looked around for the nearest restroom sign.  

“Mom, I’m going to the restroom,” I announced and started for the men’s room sign.  Mom was quicker than I expected and she grabbed the back of my jacket, halting me.  

“Joe,“ she started, “We’ve only been here two hours and this is your fourth trip to use the restroom.  Are you not feeling well?”  

Moms must have some kind’a sonar when it comes to their kids being sick, ‘cause I knew right then that I wouldn’t be able to lie to her by the look in her eyes.  

Stalling, I put my hand between my legs and pointed to the restroom.  She got the message and let go.  I ran.  

I knew there wasn’t anything left in my stomach and I couldn’t imagine what I had left to throw up, but I did anyway.  I didn’t even have time to lock the stall door. As I finished, I felt my dad’s arms wrap around me.  

“I-I’m okay,” I said, trying to turn around.  The arms around me just gripped tighter.  “Dad?”  

“I ain’t your daddy,” a thick voice whispered in my ear.  My mind started racing – where was Dad?  Where was Frank?  Surely they followed me into the restroom.  

I realized the man was much bigger than my dad when the guy lifted me off the floor.  He kept one beefy arm wrapped around me and used his other hand to cover my mouth, pulling my head against his shoulder.  

I could see his face a little now as he carried me deeper into the restroom.  His skin was dark, but not like an African American.  His hair was dark and curly, while his shiny eyes were dark and mean-looking.  

I was hoping he was going to go out the door I had come in, but we were moving away from it.  I tried to wiggle free, to yell, anything to attract attention.  Of all times for Dad to decide to give me a little privacy, why now?  

In the back corner of the restroom was a supply closet.  The man whispered, “If you yell or scream, I’ll kill you.”  He let go of my mouth and showed me a pocket knife, bigger than the ones Frank and I had at home.  

The knife was attached to a key ring.  He used one of the keys to unlock the door, then he stepped into the blackness of the small room with me still in his grip.  

He closed the door and I could feel my heart hammering against my ribs.  I was so scared.  Dad had warned us so many times about bad men who would hurt little boys for their own pleasure.  I was sure that’s what the man had in mind.  

I felt my eyes fill up with tears and a sob escaped from my throat.  I didn’t want to cry in front of this creep, but I was only eight and I was terrified.  

We kept moving and I thought this was the deepest closet I’d ever been inside.  Then I realized that we weren’t in the closet anymore.  

“I’m gonna put you down,” the man said.  “If you try to run, you know I’ll catch you, then I’ll have to hurt you.”  I couldn’t see his face but I believed him.  As he set me down I glanced back behind him to where we had come from.  There was a door that was really just part of the wall.  My family would never find me in here.  

* * *

I didn’t know it at the time, but my parents were already looking for me.  Dad had sent Frank in to check on me and make sure I was alright.  When he couldn’t find me, he ran out and got Dad.  They both checked the whole restroom before going out and telling Mom that I’d just disappeared.  Dad went to find a security guard while Mom and Frank looked around the museum near the restroom.  

The security people locked all the doors so no one could come or go out of the museum.  The police came and they started searching.  Can you imagine that?  A bunch of police and security guards searching a place as big as the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum for one small, eight-year-old boy?  Dad told me later that they searched that building for almost five hours.  

Finally, everyone was allowed to leave.  They had been letting the visitors go, a few at a time and all left by the same door.  Mom told me she had to look at every little boy to see if it was me or not.  By ‘everyone’, I mean the people who worked at the museum.  They weren’t allowed to leave until after the search was officially over.  

The police took my parents and Frank back to the hotel.  I can’t imagine how upset they were having to leave the museum and not knowing where I was.   

The police said they were going to use trained dogs to try and find where I had gone after I left the restroom.  They borrowed one of my shirts for the dogs to sniff and get my scent.  

Dad insisted on going back to the museum with the police.  I’m sure Frank wanted to go too, but there was no way the police wanted a 10-year-old tagging along.  

* * *

I had no idea how long we walked in the darkness before the man told me to stop.  I couldn’t see anything, but I heard his keys jingle and that reminded me of the knife.  I shivered just thinking about it.  

He pushed me inside the blackness of the room and I heard the door click shut.  Suddenly, a light came on and I was blinded by the brightness.  

I could hear the man shuffling around the room and I squinted against the blinding light to peek.  The room was small with cement walls.  There were no windows, and only one metal door.  The ceiling was cement, too. The only light was from a big kerosene lamp.  It was like one Dad used when we went fishing or camping.  

Thinking about Dad make me start to shake and I started crying again.  I didn’t know where I was or how Dad would ever be able to find me.  

The man grabbed the back of my jacket and turned me around to face him.  He was sitting in a wooden chair.  The only other piece of furniture was an old, drab, green cot.  

“You’re a very pretty little boy,” he said, looking at me.  I shivered, not liking the way his look made me feel.  “I think they’ll pay me real well for you.”  

He pulled out his knife again and said, “Take off your clothes.”  I looked at the knife, then I started getting undressed.  I couldn’t stop crying.  

“That’s all,” he said when I still had on my underwear and socks.  He put me on the cot and used pieces of fishing line to tie my hands behind my back and tie my ankles together.  He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and used it as a gag for my mouth.   

When he was done, he took the lamp and my clothes and left the room.  I heard him lock the door.

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