LITTLE BOY LOST
by
Phoenix
Chapter 10
The Chapters
Frank lay on his side on the couch and quietly ran the little black car back and forth across the material in front of him. The house was quiet and he could hear the steady ticking of the large grandfather clock at the top of the stairs.
As he listened, the fridge started running and the furnace kicked in.
From outside blue and red lights flashed brightness against the living room curtains, the only outward indication that something was wrong. Terribly wrong. That and the two police officers standing on the front porch.
The little boy lifted his gaze to the comfortable armchair directly across from him and watched his mother. She sat there staring unblinking at the phone on the coffee table between them. Her face was pale and sad looking, and Frank knew exactly how she felt. He missed his brother too…
Every now and then she would sigh or glance down at her watch. Sometimes she would even pick up the phone just to make sure it was working. Whenever she saw him looking at her, she would offer a small smile and ask him how he was feeling.
He’d say ‘fine’ and then go back to running the car along the couch, and that had been their routine for the past hour or more now.
So once again Laura smiled when her eyes caught his and asked. “How are you feeling, sweetie?” Frank saw her chin quiver.
He gave a one-shoulder shrug and answered blandly, “Fine,” expecting her attention to waver and his to go back to the car, like usual. But this time his mom did something different.
This time she moved towards him, crouched down in front of the couch and placed a warm hand on his side. She gently squeezed. “Didn’t we teach you not to fib?” she chided softy and then added, “I don’t think either of us is really ‘fine’.”
“I miss Joe,” Frank admitted miserably. “I want him to come home.” His gaze flickered to the toy. “I don’t want his car anymore.”
“Oh baby,” Laura’s voice cracked as she sat down on the couch next to the child and pulled him into her lap. Frank immediately pressed his head against the comfort of her body and wrapped his arms around her waist. She ran the fingers of one hand through his silky dark hair while the other hand held him tight. “I miss him too…”
Frank sniffled as he tried so hard not to cry, but he was only seven and he didn’t understand why his brother just couldn’t come home. What was taking his Daddy so long to find him? Joe was just one little kid, surely he couldn’t’ be that difficult to find, could he?
“Mommy?” his voice was muffled but somehow his mother heard him.
“Hmmm?” she asked and he felt her cheek press against the top of his head.
“What’s taking so long? Why hasn’t Daddy found Joey yet?” He raised his head to look into his mother’s face, “Daddy is the best detective ever, isn’t he? He finds lost people all the time!”
“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘all the time’…” his mother corrected quietly and then sighed and traced a finger along his cheek. “but he is very good at what he does and we have to believe he’s going to find Joe and find him soon.”
“But, Mommy,” Frank persisted, “what if he doesn’t? What if—” tears blurred his vision; he knew he was shaking, but he couldn’t help it as he was suddenly consumed with the horrible feeling that he might never see his little brother again. “What if he can’t find Joey?”
“Frank…” His mother’s voice sounded strange. Like she didn’t have enough air in her lungs or something, but before she could say anything else, someone knocked on the door; an urgent, quick knock.
The sound sent Frank flying off the couch. It had to be Joe. It just had to be! Sometimes the six year old knocked, and even if he never had, there was always the first time.
But it wasn’t.
It was Biff’s mom, a pleasant-faced plump woman with white-blond hair – just like Biff. Her face was red and the little boy knew she had been crying. Instantly his heart hammered painfully in his chest. Tears were never a good thing –
“Mommy?” He turned to his own mother looking for reassurance.
“It’s okay, sweetie.” His mother’s hand on his shoulder squeezed and then gently pulled him back from the door so Mrs. Hooper come could in. Biff was with her, his face just as red as hers, his eyes just as swollen.
Frank’s stomach flip-flopped. Biff looked scared. Biff never looked scared. “Frank?” He looked back over his shoulder at his mom. “Why don’t you take Biff upstairs and show him your new game?”
Frank blinked. New game? And then remembered: his father had bought them back a Sponge Bob™ checkers game from his last trip to New York City. He and Joe had played it yesterday but only for a little while because Frank’s stomach hadn’t been feeling too well. That seemed so long ago now…
“Okay,” he said quietly. “C’mon Biff,” and then moved towards the stairs, Pal clutched tightly in his fist. Biff followed, leaving the two women alone in the living room.
“The cops outside your house are pretty cool,” the blond-haired boy admitted as they went up the stairs. Both of them glanced at Joe’s door as they passed. The door was open. The bed was neatly made. There were no clothes, books or toys strewn on the floor – it was meticulously clean and achingly empty.
“Yeah,” Frank said glumly as he placed the toy car next to his pillow for safe keeping, and then sat down on the edge of his bed and sighed. His brother’s absence was pronounced in every room. “You missed the sniffer dogs.”
“Really?” Biff looked around Frank’s room and then pulled out the chair by the small desk. “Were they German Shepherds? I really like German Shepherds.” He sat down.
Frank already knew that. Anyone who spent any time with Biff Hooper knew he LOVED dogs – big dogs. He shrugged. “No.” Bending over he reached under his bed and pulled out the game. He put it on the bed but didn’t move to open the lid.
“What kind were they?” the blond boy persisted and Frank worked to keep from rolling his eyes. The boy was ‘dog crazy’.
“I don’t know. I never asked,” Frank admitted. It hardly seemed important at the time. They came, two big dogs with two handlers, asked for something of Joe’s – his mom gave them a shirt – and then they left. That had been an hour ago now.
“Oh,” Biff rubbed his eyes and then moved towards the bed. “You wanna play?” His interest was as obviously listless as Frank’s.
“Not really,” the Hardy boy admitted. “Joey likes Sponge Bob™ more than I do…”
His friend nodded. “Yeah….Don’t seem right to play without him….Do you think your dad’s going to find him soon?”
“Of course he will.” Frank’s faith in his father was absolute. Well, mostly absolute. To be honest though, he’d expected Fenton to have found Joe by now, but he wasn’t ready to admit that to Biff. “He’s my dad.”
Biff didn’t say anything for a few moments while Frank leaned back on his bed, put his hands behind his head and looked up at the ceiling.
“Your dad is pretty scary,” the blond boy finally admitted, surprising Frank, who turned his head to look at him. “I thought for sure he was going to shoot me! And he left me at school. Mr. Manning had to phone my dad to come pick me up!” he added, stretching out beside Frank and mirroring his position. The two children looked at each other.
“My dad only shoots bad guys,” Frank defended. He looked back up at the ceiling.
“I know that,” Biff scoffed. “But he still scared me.”
Frank sat up. “Let’s go back downstairs.” He couldn’t admit it to Biff – after all he was a grown man of seven now – but he really wanted to be near his mother. The upstairs was just too lonely, even with Biff sitting right beside him. His wasn’t the company Frank wanted…
Biff nodded as he sat up. “Okay. It’s too weird being here without Joe anyway,” and Frank couldn’t have agreed with him more….
“Are you boys hungry?” Mrs. Hooper asked when she saw them coming down the stairs. Frank didn’t see his mother anywhere and immediately became alarmed:
“Where’s my mom?” he demanded, his brown eyes wide and fearful.
“She’s just talking to your father in his study.” The woman tipped her head towards the hallway where his father’s office was.
“My dad’s here?” Frank started towards the hall but Mrs. Hooper’s voice stopped him:
“I’m sorry, Frank, I meant she’s talking to him on the phone. Your father isn’t here, he’s still out looking for your brother.” She held out a hand towards him, “C’mon, let’s see what we can find in the kitchen. I don’t know about you but I wouldn’t mind a little something – maybe popcorn?”
Frank hesitated and then let her take his hand and draw him away from the living room. He didn’t really want anything to eat but got a feeling that Biff’s mother was not about to take no for an answer. He cast his friend a desperate look but Biff only shrugged apologetically and then followed them into the kitchen.
He tried to feign interest as Mrs. Hooper made a production out of nuking popcorn before he finally excused himself to use the bathroom. After peeing – ‘cause he didn’t want [it] to have lied – he crept down the hallway and stood outside his father’s study and listened. The child expected to hear his mother’s voice and cocked his head to the side, but he didn’t. Instead he heard a soft, distressed sound and something in his chest tightened. His mother was crying…
Pushing open the door, Frank slipped inside the small room and saw his mother standing with her back to the door. Her arms were wrapped around herself in a hug and her whole body shook as she quietly cried.
The child moved towards her; one hand reached out and touched her back. “Mommy?” he whispered, unsure of his welcome. His heart was pounding painfully as fear ate at his insides. It terrified him to see his mother cry.
Laura slowly turned, knelt down and pulled Frank to her, her slender arms winding around his small body. She buried her face against his shoulder and just held him; her tears burned his skin.
“I’m sorry, baby,” she murmured and then Frank’s vision blurred and he was crying too. She didn’t have to say anything else. He already knew –
His little brother was still missing.
Frank didn’t understand, though. Joe should have been found by now. He should be right here regaling them with wild exaggerations about what he’d been doing while they had been worrying; after all, his father – Frank’s father – was looking for his brother.
His father was a great detective. He carried a gun. Wore disguises. Was handsome. Strong. Brave. He could do anything.
He was a superhero.
He was –
He was…
Frank’s vision cleared. He closed his eyes. Tears trickled off the end of his nose. He pressed his cheek against his mother –
He was a man.
Fenton Hardy was merely a man…
And for the first time since he’d been told Joe was missing, the seven year old was honestly afraid he might never see his little brother again.
Let the author know what you think of this story
Home Library Authors Rogue's Gallery Vehicles Chums Message Board Rap Sheet Links Contact
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.