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

Turning, the dark haired youngster stomped to his bedroom and slammed the door. Angrily he kicked the end of his bed and then fell, face down, onto the mattress. “I hate this family!” he screamed into his pillow, too upset to wipe the hot tears from his face. It wasn’t true but right now he was angry and hurt, and he wanted to hurt back. Even if his mother couldn’t hear him.

Gulping in large breaths to try and calm himself down, the irate boy slowly rolled onto his side. He scrubbed his wet face and looked up at the picture resting on the edge of his desk. It was taken just over two years ago and showed a very different family. A family of smiling, happy people. A family of four.

The way it should be. The way it used to be. Not this husk that drifted through the rooms and halls pretending that nothing had changed.

Everything had changed and everything sucked.

Still fuming, the boy sat up and glared at the smiling tow-headed little boy in the picture. Joey.

“You know this is all your fault,” he growled, “if you hadn’t gone and gotten yourself stolen, I’d be able to go away this weekend with my friends instead of being stuck here. Like always.” More words and anger he didn’t mean but Frank needed an outlet, a safe place to vent, and an old picture of a family he barely remembered seemed a safe bet. Even if he felt horrible two seconds later.

“I’m sorry, Joey!” he sobbed, fresh tears wetting his cheeks, “I didn’t mean it! I didn’t!” He took down the picture and wiped it against his shirt, dusting it to a shine. Looking at it again, he sighed miserably. “I just wish you’d come back…”

Frank still didn’t understand what happened. Even now that he was two years older, he couldn’t comprehend why his father hadn’t been able to find his brother…and it scared him. What did it mean? Where had Joey gone?

At night when the house was dark and quiet, he’d lie awake under his bedclothes and listen, his fertile imagination whispering in his brother’s voice. Taunting him, begging for him in every shadow…

Frankie…

I’m cold…

Come find me.

And deep in the scariest places of his mind where nightmares resided, Frank was afraid his brother was dead and he knew other people thought so too. Hushed voices weren’t always as discreet and pitying glances didn’t always look away quickly enough.

But somewhere else, somewhere deeper than the scariest places, there resided something else. Something so firmly nestled that even the worst of nightmares bowed down to it, and Frank dared call it ‘hope’. It was the same thing he saw light up his mother’s eyes whenever his father came home, only to be extinguished a moment later with a mere shake of the man’s head –

But Frank held fast. He had to. Someone had to. For Joey.

The sound of a phone ringing startled the boy and he reluctantly put the picture back on the desk and stood up. He’d go wash the tears away, put on his brave face and go downstairs, because as unfair as it was, and how suffocating his life was, he knew his mother’s fears were justified…. Someone could come take him if she or his father weren’t there to stand watch. After all, someone took his little brother.

…

Laura hated what she had become. She knew it wasn’t fair – after all it was just an outing at the park with his friends – but she couldn’t let Frank go. Not with Fenton out of town and her nursing a twisted ankle, there was just no way she’d be able to keep up with the boys for very long. So as much as it sucked the big one – and it did, according to a very vocal nine-year old – he’d just have to wait until next weekend.

And hope the weather held. The long range forecast didn’t look promising but Laura wasn’t prepared to pay much mind to those things.

Frank would just have to deal with the fact that his mother had turned into an overprotective meanie. So there!

“Oh that’s real mature, Laura,” the woman scolded herself as she hobbled towards the kitchen table. She sighed and sat down. “Try explaining ‘irrational fear’ to a fourth grader.” Not that her fear was irrational. One glance at the unused place setting at the table confirmed that.

Even now, two years after her baby had disappeared she still set out a plate for him. It wasn’t healthy, Laura knew that, but somehow she just couldn’t bring herself to change it. In her anguishing mind, to set only three places at the table would be giving permission for her little boy to never come back. And she couldn’t do that. Not yet. Laura just wasn’t ready to let go. Not until…not until she was.

It was as simple as that.

The phone ringing startled the woman and she slowly pushed herself to her feet. The outside world was calling so it was time to put on her brave and face it; pretend that somewhere deep down inside, she wasn’t ready to crumble.

…

Fenton Hardy was exhausted. As he sat alone in a small diner in the middle of Manhattan he tried to keep his eyes open. Not that falling asleep was really a concern, as his mind wouldn’t allow him the luxury of rest. The man hadn’t had a decent night of sleep since his younger son had vanished without a trace. His every attempt was haunted by the memory of that morning as he subconsciously trolled every detail looking for something that wasn’t there before. There had to be something, he’d tell himself, children just didn’t disappear.

Especially not his son.

But there was never anything and he’d come awake with a start, his ears straining for a voice he’d never heard…

Daddy…

Save me.

“Want a refill?” a bubble-gum-chewing waitress, complete with a hand on her hip, interrupted and Fenton gave her a wan look. He shook his head and she moved away.

He thought about Laura and Frank. God how he wished he was home with them, but a hint of a rumor of a child pornography ring that favored little blond haired boys necessitated this latest foray into the big city. It hadn’t panned out and Fenton wasn’t sure whether he was thankful about that or not. It might have meant finding his son and right now the young detective was desperate enough to almost not mind the damage.

Not that his life wasn’t already damaged.

Things were strained, at best, between him and Laura; there was a curtness there that had never existed there before as impatience and unspoken irritation overshadowed almost every interaction. And Frank –

Oh God, that poor kid.

“Daddy, am I still a big brother?”

Frank had lost more than a brother. He had lost an identity as he was thrust back into the folds of being an only child…. An only child tethered by his parents’ fear and stunted by circumstances beyond his control –

“Excuse me?”

With painstaking slowness, Fenton lifted his eyes, prepared to tell the pesky waitress what she could do with her ‘refill’, when the dark blue of the uniform stilled his tongue. “Mr. Hardy? I’m Officer Dottie; your partner told us we could find you here.” The cop, a large red-haired man, glanced briefly at the other officer standing behind him. “We have some news about your son…”

…

Laura answered the phone on the third ring as Frank moved quietly into the kitchen. “Hello?”

Fenton’s voice was breathless in her ear:

Laura…

Her heart started to pound –

…we found him…

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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.