Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Early the next morning, Fenton Hardy went to Frank’s bedroom. He knelt quietly beside his sleeping son. He gently kissed the seven-year-old’s forehead.

“Daddy?”

“Hello, son,” Fenton smiled as he peered into a pair of brown eyes so much like his own.

“Are you going to help find Monica now?” Frank asked, pulling himself up on his elbows.

“Yes,” his father replied. “I’m going to pick up Pap Pap and we’ll be flying up to Canada where Uncle Owen lives.

“Here’s a map for you and Joe. I’ve marked the airport and the town where Uncle Owen lives. Now you’ll know where I am while I’m away,” Fenton finished.

“Neat!” Frank eagerly looked at the places his dad had marked.

“Frank,” Fenton lifted the child’s chin in his hand. “You’re the man of the family while I’m gone. Mind your mother and help look after Joe. I love you, son.” Frank solemnly nodded his head.

Fenton embraced his son and tucked him back in bed. He slipped out the door and into the next room. He moved beside Joe’s bed and looked down at the sleeping boy.

He slid down the rail on the side of the bed; they were there because Joe tended to be restless and had fallen out of bed a few times. Fenton stroked his younger son’s silky blond curls. Two blue eyes popped open and looked up at him.

“Hey buddy,” Fenton whispered at the sleepy child. He was rewarded with Joe’s easy grin. “I’ll be gone when Mommy gets you up for school, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. Be a good boy and I love you, Joe.”

“Love you,” Joe said through a yawn. Fenton chuckled softly as he kissed Joe’s forehead and tucked the blanket around his chin.

As Fenton reached Joe’s bedroom door he glanced back. He took in the sight of his son in slumber’s grip and his heart suddenly ached for the niece he’d never met. He silently prayed that they would find Monica before it was too late.

* * *

“Jackson!”

Jack Wayne jumped when he heard his nickname being called. He quickly pulled his long black hair into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He grabbed his Stetson and perched the felt cowboy hat on top of his head. He raced for the stairs, calling, “I’m coming, Dad!”

George Wayne watched his 17 year old son dash into the kitchen of their small, two-story house on the edge of Bayport, near Barmet Bay.

“I’m ready to go,” Jack announced, gazing into his father’s hazel eyes. Most people who didn’t know them would never guess that they were father and son. George was fair-skinned with brown hair, while Jack carried the coloring and facial characteristics of his late mother, Kendra.

George was of European descent; Kendra had been full-blooded Navajo. She died unexpectedly of breast cancer when Jack was only ten.

“Jackson,” George smiled at the tall young man before him, “this is a serious job. You’ll be flying my friend Franklin and his son into Canada. I’d be taking them myself if I didn’t already have another charter flight lined up.”

“I can handle this, Dad,” Jack answered with a grin. “I was practically born flying planes.”

“Not quite,” George chuckled, “but you were born in a flying plane!” Jack had heard the story of his birth aboard one of his father’s charters many times, but he always enjoyed the tale.

“Now get outta, here,” George led the youth through the back door toward the late-model Lumina parked in the driveway, “and be careful, son.”

Jack gave his dad a quick hug and climbed behind the wheel. In minutes he was driving through Bayport towards the airport.

* * *

“Be extra careful, Franklin,” Esther Hardy said softly as she handed her husband his suitcase. “I expect both you and Fenton back here in one piece, you hear?”

“We’ll be fine,” Franklin stated. “I do wish you’d go and stay with Laura and Gertie, though.”

“Gertrude will stop by every day and check on me,” Esther replied. “You’re the one running off to some foreign country after some horrible criminals!”

Franklin chuckled and then grabbed his wife in a warm embrace, kissing her with fervor. Their brief moment of passion was interrupted by the ringing doorbell.

“That’s got to be Fent,” Franklin sighed, releasing his wife. “Good thing he rang the bell and didn’t come barging in on us. He’d think his practical parents had been turned into a couple of newlyweds.” Franklin quickly opened the door.

“Hello, Dad,” Fenton Hardy greeted his father with a brief hug before turning to his mother.

“The invitation is still open, Mom,” Fenton hugged the small woman. “The boys are hoping you’ll change your mind. They really want you to stay at the house; so do Laura and Gert.”

“Enough of this,” Esther mockingly scolded. “It’s like a conspiracy or something. And how dare you include those sweet boys in your plans!” The trio shared a laugh together.

“Let’s get going, son,” Franklin ordered, checking his pocket watch. “George’s boy is meeting us at the airport.”

Hasty good-byes were exchanged and the men drove off in Fenton’s Buick.

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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.