hardy boys fan fiction
SISTERS
hardy boys nancy drew fan fiction
by
CQB
Chapter 9
hardy boys fan fiction
THE CHAPTERS
"Dad!" Frank announced excitedly into the cell phone, "we’ve spotted the van along a dirt road near the airport! We are heading there now."
"Approach it carefully, Son," Fenton admonished, knowing his usually cautious older son was anxious to find his missing brother. "We are about 10 minutes from the airport. We’ll meet you there." Fenton finished.
Fenton Hardy, Connor Bailey and the police pulled away from the Thompson house and headed toward the airport.
* * *
As they neared the parked van, Jack pulled the rented Lumina to the roadside. There were no houses, cars or people anywhere nearby. The van appeared to be deserted.
"We better wait for your dad and the rest of the posse to arrive," suggested Jack.
"No way!" Frank stated as he opened the car door, "Joe might be hurt in there!"
"And you could blow him up if you’re not careful," Jack replied, grabbing Frank’s arm, "Remember Iola!"
Frank froze. Iola Morton, a childhood friend, had been killed by a car bomb intended for Joe and him. ‘Jack’s right. This could be a trap,’ Frank thought. He gave Jack a nod and proceeded toward the van with extreme caution. He crawled under the vehicle and searched the frame. Frank than moved along the outside of the van, carefully checking doorframes, windows and handles for signs of a bomb.
"I don’t think there is any bomb, unless it’s inside," Frank called to Jack and Kendall. Just then, approaching sirens could be heard. Kendall and Jack joined Frank beside the van as the mass of cars pulled up.
"It looks like they just dumped it here, Dad," Frank said with frustration in his voice. Fenton walked up and put a supportive hand on his son’s shoulder. Frank told his father about his detailed search for a possible bomb. Fenton donned a pair of latex gloves and slowly opened the unlocked, side door of the van.
On the floor, halfway under the back seat, lay the unconscious form of Davy Preston.
* * *
Thirty-eight year old Laura Hardy pulled up her gold Toyota Highlander in front of the large cottage on the edge of Barmet Bay. She got out of her car and walked up the front steps. Catherine Preston looked through the screen door. Laura had called and told her what was going on in Alcott.
"Hi," Laura said, almost shyly.
"Come on in," responded Catherine with a smile. Without any further words, the two women embraced. Both were full of emotion at discovering each other and fearing for the lives of their sons.
* * *
Sylvie and Ray returned with a third person, whom they called Randy. Joe Hardy had no idea how long it had been since Davy was taken away. He had passed out just after they left. No one said a word as they entered and Sylvie quickly moved behind Joe. Before he even knew what was happening, Sylvie plunged a hypodermic needle into Joe’s neck. As darkness engulfed him again, Joe heard them mention that Davy was left inside the Hardy’s van near the airport.
‘Let someone find Davy.’ Joe silently prayed as the darkness swallowed him.
* * *
Fenton gently carried Davy to the grassy area beside the road. He quickly checked the boy’s vitals and assured everyone that he appeared to be all right. Fenton untied the boy and opened a package of smelling salts that Frank had retrieved from the van’s first aid kit.
Davy coughed and gagged at the strong odor that assaulted his nose and mouth and made his eyes water. Kendall moved in close to his brother and held him from behind.
"It’s Okay, Davy," he said gently, "you’re safe now."
Davy opened his eyes and looked around at the sea of concerned faces focused on him. His eyes met Frank Hardy’s face and Davy cried, "They have Joe! They’re gonna kill my grandparents, then kill Joe, too!"
* * *
Lindsey and her grandmother decided to fix some sandwiches for the law enforcement personnel, Mr. Hardy and the others. Not knowing what the next hours would bring, the women made several dozen sandwiches that could be served at anytime.
Hank Thompson had just left the kitchen and was planning on watching the evening news when the doorbell rang.
"I’ve got it," he called to the kitchen. He hoped it was Mr. Hardy or the police with word about Davy and Joe.
"Sylvie?" Hank said with a smile, seeing his wife’s best friend on their front porch, "What a nice surprise! Was Maggie expecting you?" He opened the door to allow Sylvie to enter, but instead of coming in, she stepped aside. A dark haired, olive skinned man entered with a young boy draped over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. A second man who was aiming a large handgun at Hank followed him. Sylvie moved in behind the second man. She was also holding a pistol.
"I-I don’t understand? W-what are you doing with that gun?" Mr. Thompson inquired, in shock at the sight before him.
"Shut up Hank!" barked Sylvie, waving the gun in his face, "Randy, find Maggie and anyone else who might be here!"
Randy led a white-faced Maggie Thompson and Lindsey Preston into the living room.
Meanwhile, Ray had turned the straight-back chair to the antique secretary desk around and secured a still unconscious Joe Hardy to it. When Lindsey and her grandmother were led into the room, Lindsey immediately saw Joe and ran to his side.
"Joe! Joe, please wake up! Say something!" she cried, gently shaking Joe’s shoulder. There was no response from the blond youth.
"What have you done to him?" Lindsey screamed at the intruders, seeing Joe’s bruised and bloody mouth. "Where is my brother Davy!" she demanded. Ray grabbed the girl and threw her onto the sofa with her grandparents. She sobbed into her grandfather’s shoulder.
"What is this all about?" demanded Hank Thompson, "Sylvie, you’ve always been our friend. None of this makes any sense!"
"You are pathetic!" Sylvie spat out with disgust. "I have never been your friend. I have merely used you to accomplish my needs."
"What are you talking about?" asked Maggie, finally finding her voice.
"Who do you think left your precious Caty on your doorstep?" Sylvie hissed, "It was me! I stole her from the hospital just one day after she was born. Her super-cop daddy never knew what happened to her because I planned the whole kidnapping so well."
Lindsey Preston couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It was all true. Her mother was really Mrs. Hardy’s missing sister!
"On the drive back here to Alcott from Boston, I decided I couldn’t keep the baby," Sylvie continued, "I planned to kill her so that Joseph Daniels would know exactly how I felt when he killed my baby. When I pulled in my driveway across the street from your house, I saw your light on in the living room. I suddenly realized that I could have you raise the child and I would have the satisfaction of watching Daniels daughter grow up without her precious father ever knowing where she was!"
Sylvie paced back and forth in front of the horror-stricken occupants of the living room sofa. The Thompsons had been unable to have a child of their own and felt blessed when the baby girl had appeared out of nowhere on their door step. Now they realized that the child that had brought them so much joy all their lives had been taken from her real family, bringing them unimaginable heartache.
"Everything would have worked out fine if Catherine had just stayed here locally," Sylvie ranted on, "But no! She had to marry a man from California! She had to have a bunch of kids and became famous singers! She ruined everything!"
Joe Hardy heard muffled shouting. It sounded like Sylvie, but it was as if she was talking through a tunnel. His head was pounding and the side of his mouth was sore. Joe had to grit his teeth to keep from moaning in pain. He slowly opened his eyes, just barely, taking in the scene around him.
Lindsey Preston was sitting on a paisley print sofa with two people Joe had to assume were her grandparents. They were all watching Sylvie, who was walking back and forth in front of them and waving a .32 caliber handgun. A few feet away from Joe’s chair sat Randy. Joe watched him run his left hand through his long, dirty blond hair. His right hand was resting on his lap, but was loosely gripping a much larger handgun. Joe chanced a glance toward Ray, who was standing between a side window and the sofa. He was obviously working as the lookout and appeared to be unarmed.
Joe carefully tried to move his arms slightly, without drawing any attention to himself. As he wiggled his wrists, his hand bumped against the secretary desk directly behind him. He used his fingertips to carefully explore the desk. He felt the knob to a small drawer in the desk. ‘Could be a file, letter opener or scissors in this drawer,’ Joe hopefully thought to himself, ‘If I can just get it opened without being noticed.’
Joe kept his eyes barely open, carefully watching Randy, who would be the one to first notice any movement coming from Joe. The process of opening the drawer was excruciatingly slow. Joe slowly raised his arms to reach the drawer knob. The movement sent a sharp pain up Joe’s back, which he forced himself to ignore. He ever so slowly forced his arms slightly higher to reach inside the open drawer. His exploring fingertips almost immediately felt a sharp letter opener. Joe grasped the letter opener between two knuckles on his right hand. As he lifted the opener out of the drawer, he silently prayed that he wouldn’t drop it. ‘Don’t mess up, Hardy.’ he admonished himself.
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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.