Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

“Hey kid! Come out, come out wherever you are!” Roger Davis called as he walked along the beach. “Game’s over buddy! Let’s go home and have some cookies and warm milk!”

Joe Hardy opened his eyes again. He didn’t know if he’d passed out or fallen asleep, but something had woken him. He groaned as he tried to roll over.

“Ah-h-h!” The cry was involuntary as Joe rolled onto his side. He grabbed his side and gritted his teeth as the pain subsided slightly.

“Hey, kid!”

Joe looked up and recognized the man who had opened the coffin on the plane. Joe felt bile choking up the back of his throat as he remembered the terror of waking up in that horrid coffin. He swallowed hard, willing himself not to be sick as the man approached him.

“Hey,” Davis said softly as he took in the sight before him. Joe Hardy was lying partially on his side, his right arm gripping his rib cage tightly. The boy’s face was bruised and his left arm, near the wrist, was swollen and discolored.

Davis reached to help Joe sit up, but the kid bit off a cry of pain. It came out as a hiss between clenched teeth.

“Okay,” Davis nodded and laid Joe back down. “Don’t move around. I’m going to get some help from the house.” Afraid the kid might go into shock, Davis removed his sports coat and wrapped it around Joe as best he could.

As much as Joe loathed this man for bringing him here, he wasn’t happy to see the guy jog off toward the house, leaving Joe alone at the base of the rock again.

* * *

Ezra Collig led the employees of the Weisman Funeral Home into one of the parlors. Fenton Hardy, Sergeant Con Riley and Agent Gary Scott of the F.B.I.’s Missing Persons Division followed the processional.

“This is preposterous!” sputtered Michael Weisman. “Herded around like a bunch of cattle! I have a business to run here!”

“I need to take everyone’s fingerprints and a DNA sample,” Collig began, ignoring Weisman. “Should you refuse to do so voluntarily, I would be happy to have one of my men escort you down to the police station to book you for impeding the investigation of a possible kidnapping.”

A police officer began fingerprinting each employee while a CSI agent took oral DNA samples. Fenton Hardy sat silently in the corner of the room, watching the employees with a trained eye.

Mr. Hardy watched Mark Perry twitching nervously. Several times, the man removed a cigarette from his pocket, put it between his lips, and then put it away again.

Con Riley had noticed the man’s behavior too. “Anxious little man, isn’t he?” Con whispered to Fenton. The detective nodded and smiled.

* * *

“You could have kept them from taking Joe!” Frank Hardy cried in frustration. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his dark hair.

Sighing, he sat down on the edge of the sofa and looked at Grease and Jill. He didn’t want to, but he believed they were telling the truth. They didn’t have Joe.

“Tell me everything you saw, every little detail, no matter how small or insignificant it might seem.”

Grease nodded to the older Hardy boy. “Like I said, there was this bluish gray minivan; a Ford I think. Two guys got out. They were both wearing dark clothes. One was smallish in build, but the other guy was really big.

“They stayed hidden until your brother was unlocking the van door. Then the big guy stands and aims the gun at your brother. There was no gun shot, but Joe grabs his neck and slumps against the van. The little guy jumps up, pulling his hands out of his pockets and grabs Joe. They toss your brother into the back of the van and they drive off. The blue van pulls out and follows them.

“A few seconds later, your brother’s girlfriend is running outside screaming. Me and Jill decided to take off before the cops show up,” Grease concluded.

Frank sat silently. He looked at Grease. “Okay, tell me this; what is this ‘group’ you belong to?”

* * *

“Joe! Joe, I’m coming!”

Joe Hardy was shivering. ‘How can I be so cold on a tropical island?’ Joe wondered. He glanced toward the sound of a familiar voice.

“Its okay, Joe,” Robert Daniels said gently, stroking Joe’s cheek. “We’re going to move you to the house. We have an old army cot to carry you.”

Joe tried to focus on what his uncle was saying, but he was so cold, so tired and so sore. He just wanted to be home in his own bed.

The next few minutes were pure agony as Robert, Roger and Saunders lifted Joe onto the cot as carefully as possible. Joe wanted to scream as blinding pain tore through his body before the world went dark.

“He’s passed out,” Roger Davis stated, lifting up one end of the make-shift gurney as Saunders lifted the other. “Let’s get him to the house before he comes to again. Lead the way with that flashlight, Bob.”

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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.