HDA - Living in Darkness Trilogy - Pt 2 - The Search

Frank stared at the screen unseeingly, his thoughts centered on his brother. He had wanted to spend the night with Joe, but Joe had gently dissuaded him; Joe said he needed to be alone. Frank didn’t know whether to believe him or not; their parents had been present at the time, and it would be just like Joe not to want to hurt anyone’s feelings.

Biff had long been surreptitiously watching Frank, so it was no surprise that no one complained when Bix paused the movie in the middle of the most explosive scene. He and Biff exchanged concerned glances before Bix tentatively asked Frank, “What’s wrong?”

Frank did not respond. Biff reached over and tapped Frank gently on his wrist. Startled, Frank broke out of his reverie and looked at the guys sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he said, noting that the movie had been paused.

“No problem,” Bix answered softly, his golden eyes rich with concern. “What’cha thinking about?”

“Joe.” Frank sighed. “I was wondering if he really meant it when he said he’d rather no one stayed with him.”

“Is that so surprising?” Bix asked in the same, gentle tone. “I mean, as much as he loves you guys, it’s pretty apparent, to him at least, that everyone’s upset at each other.”

“Upset with me, you mean,” Frank corrected wearily. “I don’t think they’re at all upset with each other. But I just hate to think of him all alone in that cold hospital room with no one to comfort him, help him if he needs it.” Frank’s voice was sad and anxious.

“And I hate it all the more knowing that I’m the reason why he chose to be alone,” he added miserably. “If no one were mad at me, then he’d let me be with him. He wouldn’t feel like he’d be hurting them.”

Bix met Biff’s gaze. Biff spoke up hesitantly, “But Frank, it’s not a one-way street. I mean, you’re just as upset at your parents as they are at you.”

Frank dropped his head as he nodded slowly. “I know,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to cause so much pain, but I had to.” He looked up into warm golden eyes, then light blue ones. “This is the only way to protect Joe,” he said earnestly.

***

Joe Hardy lay flat on his back staring at the hospital ceiling. His mother had brought his headset for him and his favorite CDs; now, as Vivaldi’s Concerto Grosso in D Minor soothed his restless mind, he let his thoughts wander over the events of the day. The blond boy sighed as the memory of his family’s animosity towards each other returned. He had known Frank’s presence would provoke some sort of emotional response from his father, but Joe had been dismayed to pick it up in his mother too. The gang’s reaction to Frank was as anticipated. Over the weeks, he had assisted his friends and family in working through that anger individually. Now that it towered over him in the aggregate, Joe despaired of ever stemming the tide of fury against his brother.

Secretly, he desperately wished he could have asked Frank to stay. Joe missed his brother terribly; he needed his brother’s calm voice and soothing touch to keep the nightmares at bay. But he didn’t have the heart to inflict that wound on his parents. It was simpler for all involved if he remained alone. At least he had his music, Joe thought with some gratitude. He could lose himself to this emotional pain in the intricate shadings of sounds and crescendos, the ultimate resolution of the dissonant chords. The nightmares would come, Joe knew; they always did. But they were always a bit less terrifying if he fell asleep to music before they came. Maybe tonight, the boy hoped, he would.

***

Nurse Baker bustled into the room shortly after Joe finally fell asleep. She regarded the boy dispassionately as she performed her routine check. Satisfied that all was as it should be, she studied the boy with cold, shrewd eyes. Had things gone as planned, this boy wouldn’t be here, safe and warm in a hospital bed.

Her eyes misted slightly as she thought of her dead son. Suddenly, she shook her shoulders resolutely, pushing the pain away. Now was not the time to think of Charlie.

No, she decided firmly. She would have to take matters into her own hands. Trust her fool of an ex-husband to mess things up. It would take a little time and some careful planning, but that wouldn’t pose a problem. She had time: the boy wouldn’t be discharged anytime soon.

The nurse cast one last, venomous glance at the boy before she left.

Her son hadn’t been spared; why should this boy be?

***

Carl Ruthers sat on his hard bunk and smiled. The police thought themselves real smart: they actually believed the boy was safe. True, he hadn’t planned on getting caught. But Ruthers knew that his incarceration bore no relation to the safety of Joe Hardy. Fenton Hardy would lose his son just as he and Ruthie had lost theirs. Ruthie would see to that.

The man’s smile grew even wider. And the best part of it all was that no one would ever suspect her; with the obvious suspect in jail, who was left to blame? No, Fenton’s boy would die, and the anguished father would spend the rest of his days hunting down the boy’s murderer. A murderer who was probably at that very moment smoothing down the sheets of the boy’s hospital bed.

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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.