Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Chapter 3 - Fenton

“I had spent most of the morning trying to decide what restaurant to bring Laura to the following weekend. Our 25^th wedding anniversary was approaching and I was trying to organize a meal.

I know that Laura still misses the boys, even though they have been away from home for almost five years. I miss having them around too; I think I took them for granted when they were here and I just assumed that when they finished college they would come back home to Bayport.

I do think they made the right decision staying on in California though. They need to make a name for themselves, not live in my shadow. It’s funny, part of me still thinks of them as young, inexperienced teenagers instead of competent, experienced detectives.

Anyhow, that same morning, as I was caught up in reminiscences the phone rang…

“Dad?”

Fenton could hear the weariness and the worry clearly evident in Frank’s tone. “Frank, what’s wrong?”

Frank sighed and slumped into a chair, shifting the phone onto his other ear. He had spent the previous half hour trying to explain what he knew to both Callie and Vanessa. They were both visibly shaken at the news, but true to form, they hadn’t gone into hysterics, and instead busied themselves contacting the rest of the group; Biff, Tony, Phil and Chet, who would naturally want to help.

“How did you guess that something’s wrong?” Frank asked his father.

“I know you well enough by now Frank, even if I can’t see your face. Something has happened, and more specifically I’m guessing something has happened to Joe, since you are the one to ring. Is he hurt?”

The word ‘again’ although unspoken, hung in the air.

Frank relayed the story once again, adding “I know it has something to do with that police officer, or more specifically the person masquerading as a police officer. But the actual police don’t seem to be too convinced. They are sending over a detective to take another statement, and I just hope that he believes me.”

The more Frank thought about how he had been treated, the more annoyed he was becoming.

“They looked at me as if I was crazy Dad, but I’m not; I know that little boy was telling the truth; he had no reason not to.”

“Look, Frank, I’m going to get the next available flight out. I assume you’re looking into any cases you and Joe recently closed, or those that are still open.”

“No, Dad, I’m trying to decide which tie goes with this shirt, what do you think?” Frank snapped, his voice heavy with sarcasm. Then he sighed heavily again. “I’m sorry Dad; that was uncalled for. I guess I’m sick of being in this situation. It feels like I spend half my life going around in circles after Joe, and I know it’s usually not his fault but….well…I just…Oh, I don’t know how I feel right now. I just want him here, sitting beside me and driving me crazy as usual.”

“Look Frank, there’s no point in driving yourself crazy worrying about ‘What ifs’. Just concentrate on finding out where that police car came from; maybe you should go back and see if anyone in the shops nearby saw anything.”

“Thanks Dad, you’re right as usual. There was a coffee shop and a deli close by, I’ll see if anyone can tell me anything. See you soon. Oh, Dad, there’s one more thing: who’s going to tell Mom?”

Now it was Fenton Hardy’s turn to sigh. “I will, but I have to make a couple of phone calls first. Don’t worry about your Mom, it’s not the first time she got bad news, and somehow I don’t think it will be the last.”

And then I hung up the phone.

“How did I feel at that moment?”

“You know, it’s easy to be the calm and rational detective; it’s easy to tell the family not to worry, and that you will make sure that their son or daughter will turn up soon, that they may not even have been taken, may just have overreacted to some kind of silly argument and that they will probably turn up sooner or later.

Sometimes I think that I forget that if it was my son, I would feel like my whole life had been sucked away from me into a vacuum, leaving nothing but an empty space, and the only thing in that space is my heart, but it’s beating erratically, as if all the empty space around it was slowing it down.

That’s how I felt at the moment; it’s how I always feel, and what makes it worse is that somewhere deep down I know that each time they are in danger, it is my fault.

They chose to follow in my footsteps. I know it may sound ridiculous and irrational, but I often wonder why I didn’t actively discourage them, forbid them from even getting involved in my work. Maybe now they would be business men, managers, and football players even. But I can’t tell them what to do anymore. I’m just their father and they are adults, after all.

When Frank told me that Joe was gone, I wasn’t surprised, I was angry, probably in the same way that Frank was angry. Angry at Joe because he always seems to end up in trouble and it always seems to be Frank picking up the pieces; angry at whoever took him because they were tearing my family apart yet again.

But I couldn’t just sit there and brood. What would be the point? I couldn’t face telling Laura, not just yet, so instead I phoned Sam Radley.

I met Sam not long after I joined the police force. I was the ‘rookie’ and he was the experienced street cop, even though he was only 3 years older than I. After a shaky start we worked well together and both ended up making detective.

After a few years, I left the force and went into detective work privately, and a year later Sam joined me. We got married in the same month; our wives even gave birth within weeks of each other. He’s Frank’s godfather and I’m his son’s; he even named him after me. Fenton.

And even though we eventually went our separate ways, I moved to Bayport, he stayed where he was, we remained close. I trusted his advice; I trusted his opinion when my own judgment was clouded with worry.”

“Hi Sam, it’s Fenton.”

Sam’s reaction was very similar to Fenton’s own reaction with Frank earlier.

“Fenton, it’s good to hear from you, but why do I feel this isn’t just a social call? Something’s happened to one of the boys?”

“Your powers of perception haven’t diminished, I see. Yes, it’s Joe.” He then relayed the whole story, or as much as Frank had told him, to his old friend.

“So you’re saying that someone pretending to be a police officer kidnapped Joe in broad daylight on a busy street?” Sam asked.

“I know, it sounds ridiculous, and I know it sounds impossible, but if we believe what the little boy told Frank then yes, that’s exactly what happened.”

There was silence at the other end of the phone line. A long silence. Finally Fenton spoke.

“Sam, are you all right?”

Silence again. Then Sam spoke. “Fenton, I have to make a couple of phone calls, okay? I’ll ring you later.”

Fenton was puzzled; Sam sounded abrupt, almost annoyed, even. “Okay, well I’m getting the next available flight out to LAX, but you can get me on my cell phone.”

Again there was a pause before Sam replied. “Yeah, sorry Fenton, I’m just trying to think…I’ll do my best to find out anything that I can, I promise.”

There was a ‘click’ on the line, and then Sam was gone.

“Something was wrong. I had expected Sam to talk to me, to calm me down, as he always would when I have to get involved in a case that’s particularly close to my heart. I guess I rely on him to be my voice of reason, to point me in the right direction when things get a bit cloudy.

I reasoned that perhaps I had caught him at a bad time, and that he would call back later on, full of concern, practical advice, and words of encouragement.

But until then I had to be rational, I had to see beyond images of my younger son lying bound hand and foot, abandoned, alone, injured. Maybe even worse. I had to pack, to get to the airport and on the next plane West… but first….

……I had to talk to Laura.”