hardy boys fan fiction
SHOT IN THE DARK
hardy boys nancy drew fan fiction
by
CQB
Chapter 2
hardy boys fan fiction
THE CHAPTERS
"He’ll be out for quite a while," replied the man with a smile. He nudged the boy’s still form with his toe.
"Tell me again why we’re doing this?" asked the woman. The blood on the boy’s chest, the binding ropes and the fact that it had been several hours and the kid was still unconscious disturbed her.
"It’s a family thing, Babe," the man said, looking at the woman’s distress, "His old man is a detective. He’s gonna look for the kid using the clues I leave for him. Stop worrying. The kid’ll be fine." The man grabbed his jacket and pulled a large hunting knife from the pocket.
"Think it’s time to leave a clue for his dear daddy," the man smiled, kneeling next to the boy. The woman stared wide-eyed as the man began cutting the t-shirt from off the boy. The dried blood had caused the shirt to stick to the boy’s chest. The man impatiently tugged on the shirt until it came loose. Fresh blood flowed from the small wound. The man touched the warm blood on the boy’s chest, causing the youth to shutter briefly. The man chuckled softly and left with the ruined shirt in his hand.
* * * * *
A thorough search of the Hardy’s home provided a few answers to the mystery the family now faced. Under everyone’s beds, except Joe’s, were empty canisters of chloroform. To each canister was attached a timed-release valve. That was what kept the family from hearing anything. The police also discovered that the back door of the house was open and the security system had been turned off.
Fenton Hardy banged his fist on the refrigerator door, inches from the handprint they now knew was Joe’s. "He stole my son from right under my nose!" ranted the distraught detective, "He just walked into my house and took my son!"
"Dad," Frank said softly, watching his father’s pain, "this was someone we know."
"It would seem that way," Fenton replied, his hand now covering the dried handprint of his baby boy.
The sudden ring of the telephone caused both men to jump. Frank moved quickly to the hall and picked up the receiver. His father turned on the portable phone at the same time, in case the call was about Joe.
"How is the Hardy family this fine morning?" began a muffled voice, "Do you know where Joseph is today?"
"Where’s my brother?" demanded Frank, trying to control his emotions, "Let me talk to him!"
"There’s a little present for you from Joseph," the voice continued, ignoring Frank’s questions, "Look in your mailbox." The line went dead and Frank dashed out the front door with Mr. Hardy directly behind him.
"Stop Frank!" Fenton called to his son, who had already reached the end of the driveway and was standing by the mailbox. "It could be a trap and, even if it isn’t, there might be fingerprints!" Mr. Hardy pulled on a pair of latex gloves and carefully examined the entire mailbox and post. When he was quite certain that there was no danger, he reached to open the box. Frank put his hand on his father’s arm.
"I...maybe...we don’t want to see..." Frank stammered. His imagination was going wild with ideas of what could be in the mailbox, but none of them were good. Fenton put his arm around Frank’s shoulder, giving the boy a reassuring hug. He cautiously opened the mailbox and pulled out a large, plastic freezer bag. There appeared to be some black cloth in the bag.
"We need to get this to the police right away," Fenton said, turning the bag around in his gloved hands. "But I don’t want to leave your mother or aunt right now. Frank, put on some gloves and take this right to Ezra. Call me as soon as you know anything." Frank climbed into the Hardy boys’ black, customized van and headed for the police station.
Frank Hardy drove as quickly as the speed limit allowed. ‘What was the black fabric and what did it have to do with Joe?’ Frank thought. He located a parking space directly across the street from the station. Frank clutched the package in his gloved hand and raced into the lobby of the building. Con Riley, a short, stocky young officer who admired the Hardy boys’ detective abilities and had been at their house earlier that morning, noticed the urgency by which Frank entered the station.
"Frank?" Con called to the youth, "Come on in back." Frank nodded and followed the officer toward the back of the police station. Con ducked into Chief Collig’s office along the way, "Chief," Officer Riley said, "you’d better come see this." Collig led the trio into an empty interrogation room. Frank set the bag on the table and told the officers about the phone call and how they found the package. Collig sent Riley to get extra latex gloves.
The officers donned the gloves and Collig opened the bag, pulling out the fabric. Frank let out a soft sigh as he recognized the NASCAR design on the back of the torn t-shirt.
"I-it’s Joe’s shirt," the boy said softly, reaching for the fabric with his still-gloved hand. Frank picked up the material, and then laid it flat when he felt something stiff. Frank sucked in a harsh breath as he saw the blood stain on the front of the shirt.
"Oh Joe," Frank sobbed, "No, no, no!"
"I’ll have the lab boys look at this," stated the chief, gathering the shirt and the bag. He motioned for Riley to help Frank. Con didn’t need to be asked. He immediately put his arm around Frank’s shoulders, which heaved with each sob that escaped from the boy’s throat.
"We’re going to find him," Con assured the boy, "We’ll find Joe."
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Disclaimer
The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors 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.