Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Joe Hardy had been right about the bumpy jeep ride through the jungle. He had been jostled and bounced until his bruised ribs and broken arm were throbbing, and his head was splitting with pain.

When they arrived at the private airport, Joe was fighting to remain conscious as Peter Puta helped him out of the jeep. Peter eased Joe into a chair in the building that served as their office.

“He doesn’t look good,” commented Hana in Tagalog. “Get him some fresh water.”

Peter held a small cup to Joe’s lips and the youth revived enough to take a few sips. Peter frowned as he poured the remainder of the cup back into the water jug.

“Let’s get him in the shed,” Hana suggested. “We can put the jug of water and some of these bananas in there with him.” Hana held up a small bunch of native fruit.

The brothers helped Joe across the dirt-packed runway to a cinder-block storage shed behind the one, small hanger. The shed was empty and dark, the only light coming from the open door. Joe groaned as he was laid on the cement floor.

“You go home soon,” Peter tried to assure the boy. Joe glanced up into Peter’s eyes. He was surprised to see a spark of compassion in the Filipino man’s dark gaze.

Peter helped Joe take another small drink of water and moved the jug and fruit closer to the youngest Hardy.

Joe wanted to say something, anything to keep the Puta’s from locking him in the dark, but he was too weak to utter a sound.

As the door shut and blocked out the morning light, Joe closed his eyes. ‘I’m gonna die here in this dark place all alone,’ he thought, ‘and no one will ever find me.’

* * *

Callie Shaw was shocked to see her Aunt Jessica and Uncle Ray Shaw at her door. She was even more stunned to see Jill standing there between them. Callie numbly opened the door and let them into the house.

As Callie’s mother joined her, they both stared at Jill. The Gothic make-up was gone. Her purple hair had been dyed back to it’s natural brown. She wore a pale yellow sweater and a pair of blue-jeans.

“I know words can’t change anything,” Ray Shaw began, “and we can’t undo any of the stunts Jill has pulled since moving here. However, we wanted to at least try and apologize to you.”

“I’m not going to ask for your forgiveness, Callie,” Jill said softly, refusing to look at her cousin. “But I am sorry for the way I treated you and your friends.”

“We’re going away for a while,” Jessica added. She looked at her daughter. “Maybe if we’d spent more time listening to Jill, none of this would have happened.”

Jill glanced at Callie, and handed her a business size envelope. “It’s a letter to the Hardy family. I know I should talk to them myself, but I can’t.”

Callie took the envelope and nodded, not sure how she was supposed to feel or what she was supposed to say.

A few minutes later, Callie and her mother stood on their front porch and watched Jill and her parents walk to their car.

Jill stopped and turned to Callie. “I hope they find Mr. All-American. I mean that.” She smiled slightly and climbed into her father’s Audi.

* * *

As she hung up the telephone, Laura Hardy closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the kitchen wall.

“Was that Fenton?” Gertrude Hardy asked, moving closer to her sister-in-law.

Laura gave Gertrude a small smile. “No. Fent called when they arrived in Manila . I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Nonsense,” Gertrude replied with a wave of her hand. “We both are dealing with a lot right now.”

“That was Sam Peterson,” Fenton Hardy’s petite wife declared. “They have one of the kidnappers in custody.”

“That’s good news,” Gertrude acknowledged. “With the two thugs Ezra’s people have arrested, that makes three now.”

“But we still don’t have my son,” Laura added softly.

* * *

During the day, Robert Daniels had gotten together enough cash to fool the kidnappers when packaged right, just as Fenton had directed him. If he had to hand it over to them, they wouldn’t know that there was barely five thousand dollars in the briefcase, not the promised hundred and fifty thousand.

He glanced at the case as it sat on the empty passenger seat of his rented sedan. Even at this late hour, with the coolness of night all around him, Robert was sweating profusely.

“How much farther?” Fenton Hardy whispered from his crouched position behind the front seat. Just minutes before, he had been sitting in the front with the cash on his lap.

They had stopped briefly and let Sam Radley and Conner Bailey out of the car, while Fenton and Frank moved to the back seat to hide.

Sam and Conner took off ahead of the car on foot, planning to move in close to the airport without being detected.

“I see the main building,” Robert stated. “Lights are on and someone is walking around inside.”

“Any sign of Joe?” Frank anxiously asked, squeezed in the small space beside his father.

“No,” Robert replied, “not at all.”

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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.