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

The younger boy shook his head, his body trembling with more than cold. He had to get out of here. It didn’t matter what Fenton said, his fear of his abductor was stronger than his faith in his father. Nestor had taken him from Fenton before…

A light turned on and Joe blinked against the momentary blindness. Frank had sat up in the bed and turned on the small lamp next to them. The older boy watched him with a frown. “Joey?”

“I- I gotta go,” Joe stammered as he slid off the bed and then stood there for a moment unsure where exactly he should go. “Clothes,” he continued absently as his frantic gaze combed the room. “I need clothes.”

“Whoa,” Frank shoved the blankets off his legs and swung them so he was sitting up on the edge of the bed staring at Joe. “Are you nuts?” the nine-year old scoffed. “You can’t go anywhere. It’s after bedtime.”

“You don’t understand-” the younger boy protested against reason, his blue eyes glowing in the dim lamp light.

“Sure I do,” Frank assured around a yawn, he pawed at his eyes tiredly, “that guy who took you said he was going to hurt us for getting you back.”

Joe blinked. How could his brother be so casual about this? Didn’t Frank realize just how bad this was?

“Joey,” the older boy continued, way too reasonable in Joe’s opinion, “don’t worry about it, okay? He isn’t going to get in here. The alarm is on and Dad won’t let him -”

“He let him get me before.” The words were so quiet Joe wasn’t even sure he’d spoken them aloud until an odd look crossed his brother’s face.

“Excuse me?”

Joe huffed and sat back down on the bed next to his brother. He wrung his hands in agitation. “I mean – I know…” the kid let out a heavy sigh. His shoulders drooped, his whole body felt just utterly exhausted. “He didn’t find me, Frank,” he turned sad blue eyes towards his brother. “Daddy got me and our Daddy didn’t find me… for a long time.” He amended softly. “What if it happens again?”

Frank blinked at him for a moment and then frowned and shook his head. “It ain’t going to happen, Joey.” His eyes narrowed darkly, “Na ah, not happening.”

“But-”

The older boy crossed his arms defiantly and snorted. “Not happening,” he repeated, his tone daring Joe to argue. “’Cause I’m not going to let it!” Joe blinked in shock at the hard conviction in his brother’s voice. No nine year old boy should ever sound like that. “I’ll keep you safe, Joey… I promise. You’re my little brother and I just got you back… No one is taking you away again. No one.”

The eight year old blinked back a traitorous tear. He wanted so badly to believe what his brother was saying. His gaze skittered towards the window – Daddy had been right out there – but then Frank’s hand was warm on his arm as he gave Joe a gentle shove, pulling his attention back inside the room. “Now enough with the girly stuff… Let’s get back in bed and – hey, maybe Mom and Dad’ll let us go to Biff’s tomorrow. He’s got a new Nintendo DS game and it’s the coolest, ever!”

Joe didn’t know what that was but the way Frank’s whole face light up when he spoke about convinced him that it was something he definitely wanted to see. “Do you…” he started hesitantly even as he let himself be pushed back under the covers and towards the wall before Frank’s warm body slid in after him. “Do you think Biff’ll remember me?”

Frank gave him a disbelieving look right before he reached up and turned the lamp off. “You know, Joey, you ask some pretty stupid questions sometimes…”

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Frank stayed awake long after his brother had fallen asleep. He lay on his back with his hands behind his head and stared up at the dark ceiling. Joe’s fears weighed heavy on his young soul as he bit his lip in careful consideration – he’d promised his brother he’d keep him safe but if that horrible man did ever come around, what was Frank going to do? Sure he’d been taking karate lessons for a while now, and he was pretty good even if he did say so himself, but against a much larger and obviously crazy man? Frank wasn’t nearly as confident as he felt he should be.

He needed a back up plan.

Twisting on to his side, the dark haired boy regarded his brother. He watched as the thin stream of moonlight that peeked between the curtains illuminated Joe’s face and he felt something powerful twitch deep inside his chest. The sound of the doorknob turning had him spinning up in the bed, his heart pounding as he watched the door slowly open, a bitter scream perched on the edge of his lips, if needed. He only relaxed when he saw he recognized his father, obviously coming in to check on them for the night. The young guardian let out a sigh of relief and sank back down beside his brother.

Coming from behind his father, a smaller shadow pushed past and Frank smiled as his mother approached the bed and smiled down at him. She rested her hand for a moment on Frank’s cheek and then reached out and caressed a curl away from Joe’s forehead. After a quick final kiss on both boys’ cheeks, she whispered ‘sleep tight’ and left the room.

Their father waited until she left and then approached the bed.

“Hey, son,” Fenton’s voice was hushed but Frank had no trouble hearing it. Beside him, Joe murmured something under his breath but then settled when Frank’s arm splayed across his chest.

“Dad?” Frank dared; his words for his father’s ears only. “What do I do if he gets in here?” They both knew who ‘he’ was.

Fenton opened his mouth but Frank rushed on, “I know the alarm is on and you won’t let him hurt us but, well… what – what if does get in?” He glanced at his slumbering sibling. “How do I keep Joey safe?”

With a heavy sigh, the man crouched down next to the bed. He seemed to consider what to say before speaking. “Frank,” the boy was startled by the thickness of his father’s voice. It was as if the great detective was struggling with some emotion. “Son,” another sigh and then a gentle clasp on his shoulder. “You do what you’ve always done… just be his brother. Keep him with you and follow your instincts.” He gave Frank’s shoulder a squeeze. “I trust you, and more importantly Joe does to.”

The boy scowled, that was not what he was looking for.

His father must have seen the look in the darkness because Fenton chuckled, stood up and added, “And at the first sign of trouble, you get yourself and your brother out that window,” he tipped his head towards the window, “and up the tree.”

Frank grinned and nodded. Out the window. Up the tree. Okay, that was a plan he could work with. He knew the tree was old with heavy foliage and small branches, sturdy enough for a child, or two’s weight but a stiff medical bill for an adult.

Placated he closed his eyes and let his father tuck him in. Right now Joe didn’t have much faith in their father but that was all right because Frank had enough for both of them.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Fenton slowly closed the door and sighed. He’d never been expecting that, feeling like he’d been sucker punched at his nine year old son’s near desperation about protecting his brother. It warmed his heart and terrified him at the time.

Too wound up to even think about sleeping, the detective quietly made his way back downstairs, turning off the lights as he went. He paused at the bottom step and listened. His every instinct was screaming at him – but he heard nothing.

Frustrated, he stood in the living room for a long time and tried to imagine what he would do if he was in Nestor’s position. He didn’t like where any of those thoughts led.

The bottom line was that he had no idea when, where or even if the man would make his move. Maybe, they’d get lucky and at this exact moment Nestor was on his way to the border – but deep down Fenton didn’t believe that for one moment. He’d seen enough to know that Watersmith wouldn’t be going anywhere. Not without Joe. And definitely not without his wife.

“What are you thinking, Nestor?” he whispered to the empty room. “What are you going to do?”

As if in answer, Fenton heard the sound of sirens. His skin crawled as the sound screamed closer and closer.

That wasn’t a police car; it was a fire engine –

Somebody’s house was on fire. The detective knew it wasn’t his but – rushing to the front door, Fenton quickly disabled the alarm and flung the door open – but the house across the street was ablaze.

Suddenly a trinket of information he’d read as an aside came back to haunt. ‘Jason Watersmith, age six, died in a suspicious house fire. His father, while suspected, was never charged’… and Fenton knew.

Nestor Watersmith was here.

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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.