Laura is going to kill me!!

There is no use denying it…or even telling myself it’s not going to happen…because, as sure as the sun will rise tomorrow, my wife is going to kill me…and I can’t blame her!

I lost our three-year-old son…in our own home….

Okay, I guess I’d better explain – the practice will do me good!

My name is Fenton Hardy and I’m an up-and-coming private investigator, or dick as my father prefers.  God, I hate that word…which is probably why my dad takes so much pleasure using it!

But come on, who, in their right mind, wants to be introduced to the world as their father’s dick??

Although, right now, it might be a little more appropriate than I care to admit!

Today started out okay enough.  Well actually, not ‘okay’ at all.  See, when I woke up this morning, I wasn’t feeling too well…and things kind of went downhill from there.

Now, I’m a pretty tough guy…or so I like to think.  However, there are just some things that will bring even the toughest guy to his knees – and this was definitely one of them!

So ten minutes into my morning, I called my partner, Sam Radley, and told him he was flying solo today.

Sam’s a great guy, and I’m sure the snickering I heard on the other end of the phone had NOTHING to do with my plight….

Anyway…by two o’clock this afternoon I had been reduced to the living room couch in search of sympathy from anywhere I could get it; which is rather pathetic when it’s coming from a four-year-old and you’re 6’2” and, if I might be so bold to say, in damn good shape!!

But what can I say?  My little Frank has the compassion level of a saint…either that, or else he felt bad since, being an astute investigator, I had deduced that the little ‘saint’ was the reason for my current debilitating illness!!  Not fair, I know.  He’s four and I’m twenty-six, but when you feel this way, you’re looking for someone to point a finger at…damn good thing he’s so cute!

What led me to this conclusion?  Easy.  He goes to preschool.  Need I say anything more? 

Hmmm.  Guess I do.

See, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my whole four years of parenthood, and two months of preschool savvy, it’s this – preschools are cleverly disguised breeding grounds for parental punishment, doled out regularly in the shape of colds, the flu, and, on this occasion, stomach troubles….

Anyway, Frank got it first.  Although I do have to admit, he was such a considerate little trouper I barely even realized it, since he was most miserable when I wasn’t home. That is the biggest problem with starting up your own investigative agency – I’m just not home as much as other dads/husbands; as my blushing bride will tell anyone within earshot!!

Poor Laura…. Frank inherited his sainthood from his mother, definitely. But in all honesty, she handles these things better than me anyway.  Give me murderers, a hit man or a thug, and I’m your man, but at the first sign of anything green around the gills, well…let’s just say I’m a little too empathetic and my beautiful wife doesn’t need the extra work!

My wife.  Laura Scott Hardy. 

Beautiful…funny…patient…beautiful…did I mention that she’s the love of my life?  Oh…yeah, and she’s going to kill me!!!!

Anyway, so Frank was sick….

And then there was Joey.

Joey…Joey…Joey…. Now there’s a kid who can strike the fear of God in any unseasoned parent!  Five minutes alone with the youngest member of my family, has sent husbands renewing birth control prescriptions for their wives…months in advance!!

Don’t get me wrong.  I love the little tyke.  But I just can’t figure out how anyone only three years old can have that much energy bottled inside such a deceptively little body!!

He and his ‘big’ brother - I always chuckle at the thought of my four-year-old being a big anything - are as different as day and night – and more than just in their coloring.  I think I should take a few minutes to tell you about them, before I go any further….

At four, I swear Frank is more mature than I was last week!  Seriously, the kid was old at the moment of conception!  Talk about a textbook pregnancy and delivery.  Not only did Frank arrive on his due date, which I have since learned only happens ten percent of the time, he was downright considerate through it all – four hours of labor…. That’s it. Four hours.

To say the delivery room staff was shocked would be an understatement.  I guess first babies aren’t usually that considerate.

Hmpf, they just never knew my Frank!

Dark brown eyes and a thick tuft of dark brown hair – this kid had ‘Hardy’ genetically stamped on him at a glance.  And I can honestly say, it was love at first sight….

Now, I’m a fairly practical man, so I never really believed you could actually fall in love, let alone at first sight.  But boy, was I ever to be proven wrong, three times!

First by Frank’s mom.

The second I laid my eyes on Laura Scott, I knew she was the one…it took her a little longer to convince, though.

Then there was Frank – my proudest accomplishment.  Definite love at first sight. Heck, I was so proud of 8 pounds and 9 ounces of pinkness, I strutted around with my head held so high that my father warned me I’d drown if it rained and I didn’t have an umbrella!!

But the little guy was just the cutest…and such a pleasant personality; neither of which have changed. He is still a very handsome preschooler, with a mild but reassuring manner and a pleasant way about him….In fact it was ‘this way’ that had me and Laura anxious to get pregnant again!

I was up for it right away, but Laura insisted that we wait a little bit, and what could I say? It was her body!

We were very interested in wondering what our baby’s sibling would be like – would it be a boy or a girl?  Would it favor me, like Frank, or maybe Laura this time?  NEVER once did it even occur to me to wonder about what baby number two’s personality would be like – why should I?  He/She’d be just like Frank.

Boy oh boy, was I ever mistaken….

Eighteen months later as I looked down into the screaming red face of my second son, I wondered just what the heck we’d gotten ourselves into.

But then he opened the most piercing blue eyes…and speared me – I was in love, at first sight, again.

Joseph Paul had been born.

Now three years later that vociferous ball of baldness was an irrepressible sphere of energy with golden blond hair.  Although I still swear, upon my grandfather’s grave, that the angels dyed his hair, ‘cause that kid is a redhead at heart!  Man, that boy has a temper…and he’s only three!!

Of course, he gets his temper from his mother’s side.  And no, I’m not just saying that. It’s true.

My father-in-law, Dr. Daniel Scott, is a brilliant surgeon, but talk about temperamental…. Wow, that man goes hot and cold so fast, it’s enough to give a guy whiplash!  Apparently it’s a ‘Scott’ thing.

Laura’s younger brother, Paul, warned me once that Scotts were a passionate people.  And what do you know…he was right.

I try not to think about Paul too much, actually.  Not that I didn’t like him. Au contraire, I was quite fond of him, all things considered.  But I still feel enough guilt over his death to not want to think about him too much.  Unfortunately, I don’t think Laura has that option….

If I had just gotten to that house even five minutes earlier…. Oh well, hindsight is 20/20 and either way, Paul is still dead.

Getting back to my story….

Joey got sick right after Frank did.  Right in the middle of the night.  I really wish I’d been on a stake-out then, but it was not meant to be.   So I got to help in all the unglamorous angel of mercy stuff, right along with Laura.  Not that I minded, but like I said, I tend to get too empathetic…so my wife stuck me on laundry detail.

Poor kid, though. Sick, every half-hour, like clockwork.

I really shouldn’t have been too surprised to wake up this morning the way I did.  But what can I say?  I was hoping angels of mercy were granted immunity….

Guess not.

By two o’clock this afternoon, I was dozing on the couch when Laura roused me and told me she needed to go out.  It was now pouring rain, and she said our neighbor, Patricia Gilroy, had called to see if Laura could pick her son, Jerry, up from kindergarten.  Man, I must have been out, not to hear the phone….

Pat is a great gal but she doesn’t drive.

Now, I have to admit, as much as I like Pat and adore Jerry, who spends a lot of time here playing with my boys – even Joey - I cannot stand her husband, Mitch!  And it has nothing to do with him being an alcoholic, as in all honesty I tend to feel more pity for alcoholics than anything else.

To be blunt, I don’t like Mitch because he is mean. That man has a mean-streak a mile wide, and his disposition really does not improve with the addition of booze.

I have some pretty strong suspicions that he might rough Pat up from time to time, but as of so far, I haven’t gotten anything stronger than that.

Pat won’t admit anything to Laura, her best friend, let alone me, so I’m keeping a close eye on what is going on, and at the first sign of trouble, Mitch and I are going to have a chat – man to man.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t condone unnecessary violence; however, I ain’t no saint, either.

Laura has the same reservations about Mitch; agreeing with me whole-heartedly that, while little Jerry is more than welcome to play at our house, Frank and Joey are not allowed to play at his.

I honestly don’t think I could hold myself responsible for what I’d do if that man ever laid a finger on either of my boys. I might not be so quick to temper as my wife or younger son, but when I do rise to the occasion, you’d better not damn well be in my way.

Anyway, like I was saying, Laura needed to pick Jerry up, so I forced myself into a much livelier position than previous, and assured her that I could manage alone with two small boys, for an hour…boy was I ever wrong…. The school wasn’t that far away, but my beautiful wife decided this was a good opportunity to pick up some stuff while she was out now, instead of coming home and then going back out.

I agreed.

“Joey’s playing in his room,” she told me, and then left.  I didn’t have to ask where Frank was because he was sitting across from me, watching me through a pair of very intense dark eyes; a somber look on his young face, armed with a book.

Looking at my older son is like looking at a very young reflection of myself.  I know this because my own mom and dad comment on it every time there’s a visit.  They are absolutely delighted to see me reincarnated in their oldest grandchild.  Now, don’t get me wrong, my folks love both boys equally, and for who they are.  However, they just think it is very fitting that Frank takes after my side of the family, while Joey is a ‘Scott’ if there ever was one!

I smiled at Frank and encouraged him to climb up in my lap, knowing that he wanted me to read him that book, just by the look on his little face, but at the same time, he didn’t want to ask because he knew I was sick. That’s my boy, compassionate to a fault…at four!

So we started to read.

I love reading to my children, and I’m sorry to admit that I don’t do it enough.  Not that I don’t want to, but just because of my work schedule.

My beautiful bride does the lion’s share of parenting by that same virtue.  So my being here today, sick, while being no treat for me, was definitely a treat for my family….

Hmmm, with that in mind, it might just help explain why Joey gave me such a hard time earlier.  He wanted to play, but his game of ‘run, jump on Daddy’ wasn’t as well received as he’d hoped…. Actually, and I have to blush at the memory, the expletive that escaped my mouth from the shock of his assault, ended in a sharp reprimand from my darling wife…and she was very right to do so. THAT was the last thing I’d ever want to hear coming from Joey’s mouth, and as the family parrot, I can only cringe in anticipation of hearing it come back around…oh and it would…. Definitely would.

Back to the story…like I said, I love reading to my sons, I just don’t get enough chance.

The story Frank had chosen was one I knew well.  It was the same one he dragged around so much, he had it memorized!  But he still loved for me to read it to him, so I did….

”I am Sam…I am Sam…Sam I am…” There’s just something about Dr. Seuss’s Green Eggs and Ham….

As I finished reading the story, Frank snuggled back against me and fell asleep. I don’t know if it was because of the rain or because he still was feeling a bit off, but my little guy was snoozing so comfortably in my arms, I just didn’t have the heart to wake him.

Straining my hearing over the sound of rain against the windows, I smiled as I could hear the babyish voice of my younger child still lost in whatever game of make-believe he was playing.  A feeling of intense contentment settled over me…and I closed my eyes for just a moment….

Just a moment…and now my wife is going to kill me.

* * *

The first thing I noticed when I opened my eyes was how quiet the house was. The rain had stopped. I glanced down and saw Frank was just rousing and it must have been his waking that had awakened me.

He looked up at me, kind of shyly, and said, “Hi Daddy.”

I said, “Hi, Frank.” And then glanced down at my watch and grimaced.  I’d only shut my eyes for a moment, but in fact had fallen asleep for half an hour!

Frank slid across my chest and off the couch, heading for the stairs.  I figured he was going to see what his brother was up to.  One thing I don’t think I’ve mentioned about my boys is that they are very close. Closer than most siblings, I think.

Certainly closer than me and my older sister Gertrude.

Gertrude.  Now there’s a formidable woman if there ever was one!  Or at least she tries to come off that way, but I’m sure that somewhere deep down she has good intentions. They just don’t show off that way very often.

Even when I was shot a couple a years ago, Gert was there.  I opened my eyes, and I know she was concerned because I saw it on her face for a brief few seconds, but then she closed up again and became the stalwart woman I know.

I’m not sure why my family, actually my Mom, Gert and myself - seem to have so much trouble expressing ourselves emotionally. It’s almost as if we see emotions as a weakness…but they’re not.  Although I will admit, it took Laura and Paul to show me that.

My Dad is different but I never really saw that difference until a couple of years ago when he helped me find Paul….The irony of it was that I had him stereotyped as something he wasn’t; my expectations of our relationship had been set by me…never him.  It was only when Frank was born, that I realized I really had no idea who my father was!

Things are different now, thankfully, and I feel pretty confident that I know the real Francis Hardy….The sad thing is, if I had known him earlier I wouldn’t have had such a big emotional handicap.

My mom, on the other hand?  Let’s just say Gert takes after her in every way.

I don’t fault her, though; Mom did what she could to raise two kids on a cop’s salary, and my Dad wasn’t home much….Ouch, why does that sound so familiar?  Mind you, Laura is NOTHING like my mom!

And I try, with my own sons, to be more demonstrative – and I think I’ve come a long way in that regard – however, I am nowhere near as openly affectionate as Laura or Joey…and neither is Frank; not usually anyway.

But like I said, Frank and Joey have a very unique sibling relationship; my little blond whirlwind knows exactly how to draw my older son out.  It really is quite sweet to watch….

I had to smile, amused that Frank’s first impulse, upon waking from an impromptu nap, is to see where his brother is.

I was still smiling a few moments later when Frank came back downstairs.  He looked at me and frowned.  Before I could ask him where his brother was, he floored me with his own question:  “Daddy, where’s Joey?”

Daddy, where’s Joey…three little words that are going to cost me my life!

“What do you mean?” I asked, already off the couch.  “Isn’t he in his room?”

My older son just shook his head and then followed me, as quickly as his little legs could, as I took the stairs, two at a time!  My heart was racing – had someone come in and stolen my child right out from under my nose, while I was sleeping? 

Quickly I raced into Joey’s room – glanced around, he wasn’t there!

The small bathroom that joined the boys’ room?  No Joey.

Frank’s room?  No.

Master bedroom?  Still no Joey!

Master bathroom.  Zilch.

In desperation I ran up to the attic, all the while calling his name.  “JOEY!  JOEY, SON?  WHERE ARE YOU?” He wasn’t in the attic either.

Now I’m standing at the top of the stairs, my heart is pounding as the adrenaline is just coursing through my system.  Where is my son?

“Check the kitchen,” I tell Frank as we head back downstairs. I can hear his young voice calling his brother as I quickly check my office, the downstairs spare room that my sister uses when she stays here, the other spare room, the bathroom, then the kitchen – where Frank is standing and shaking his head – and finally the basement.  But still no Joey!

The backyard?  That had to be it!  As I hurried back up the stairs and through the kitchen towards the back door, I chastised myself for falling asleep.  I had two small children that were expecting me to look after them…to protect them, but I had fallen asleep and now my baby boy was missing!

Oh God, I failed him….Seeing Frank’s despairing face as we quickly confirmed that Joey wasn’t in the backyard, the garage or the front yard either, I amended that statement.  I failed them, both.

And now Laura was going to kill me!!!

Forget Laura, I was mad enough at myself to do some serious damage!  So I stood back in the living room and took a couple of deep, calming breaths.  If I didn’t calm down and start to think rationally, I might overlook the very thing that would ensure I found my younger son, quickly.

“Okay think,” I muttered to myself.  “You’re a detective, you find people for a living…surely you can find one three-year-old—”  The sound of the phone ringing interrupted my thoughts and I grabbed it.

Maybe it was kidnappers demanding a ransom—

It was Sam.

As soon as I heard his voice I blurted out, “Sam you need to get here right away!  Joey’s missing!”

[Whoa, slow down] Sam’s voice spoke calmly in my ear and I tried to pull some of that control into my own [What do you mean, Joey’s missing?].

“He was upstairs playing in his room and I fell asleep.  Now I’ve searched the whole house and he’s gone!”  It didn’t work.  I was panicking. It was one thing to be looking for some client’s missing loved one; another thing when it was your own!

Sam paused and I could almost hear him shrink away from the phone as he said [Are you sure?]

“SAM!”  It was probably a good thing if he did step away….

[Okay Fenton, okay] Again Sam’s voice, as he tried to reassure me [Calm down. Did you call the police?].

The police?  The police!  I didn’t say anything for a moment as I just looked at the phone dumbfounded, and then I finally managed, “It didn’t occur to me.” Of course, that was the first thing I needed to do, get Bayport’s finest on this!

“I need to call them!” I started to hang up when Sam’s voice caught me again.

[I’m on my way, Fenton. Try to stay calm. We’ll find him.] And then my partner and best friend added, [He’ll be okay.]

As I hung up, I just wished I could believe him.  Immediately I called 9-1-1 and reported my son as missing.  A unit was being dispatched to the house immediately.

“Daddy, where’s Joey?”  Frank asked me, and I looked down at him in shock. I had completely forgotten he was here!

Good grief – there goes all hope of any sort of a father-of-the-year award!  Lose one son while napping and then forget about the other while you’re looking for the first!!!

I knelt down on the floor in front of him and pushed a shock of dark brown hair from his eyes.  My voice held a note of assurance that surprised me, but I guess it’s true, no matter what, you find the strength for your kids. 

I reached out and touched his young face, wondering if, in his heart, he’d ever be able to forgive me if we didn’t find Joey.  I know I never would forgive myself…and Laura….

How do you look at your wife and tell her you lost her baby? That someone had come in and taken him right out of the house, while you were sleeping?

“Frank…son,” I started, and then a sound from behind me, made me whirl around. There—there was Joey!

Ohmygosh!!!

Blurry-eyed, and tousle-headed, my three-year-old was wiping his eyes with a chubby little hand, looking at us!  Immediately, I crossed the distance to him and picked him up, holding him close, and letting out a huge sigh of relief – he was okay!

“Daddy?” Joe’s voice was hoarse.  “You ‘kay?”

“Am I okay?  Am I okay?” I spun him around, delighting in his laughter and then stopping, only long enough to scoop Frank up, I carried my sons into the living room.  “I couldn’t be better!”

Sitting down on the couch with the boys, I held them tightly and thanked whoever had blessed me with such a family.  And then Frank asked the question moments before I could.

“Where were you?” he demanded of his baby brother.

The three-year-old nestled against me and I could feel the warmth of his small body like a tingly feeling that went right to my heart.  He shrugged and said matter-of-factly, “Sleeping in my bed.”

I stared at him in shock as I did a mental inventory of the bedroom…and then I felt all the blood drain from my face – of course! Joey’s comforter was on the bed, balled up. But it had never occurred to me that a small child would be underneath it; obviously so burrowed down that no part of him was sticking out!

I started to laugh, I couldn’t help it.  All the while, my child was safe and sound, asleep in his own bed!  I hugged my boys tightly, promising myself right then and there to truly cherish these blessings and embrace them while they grew. I didn’t want to look back in twenty years’ time and remember only shadows of their youth….I wanted real memories…starting with this one!

And then the front door opened and my beautiful bride came in and smiled at us. “You guys look cozy,” she commented. “How was everything?”

I looked at Frank. He grinned and I winked, before saying, “Nothing we couldn’t handle, was it son?”

My four-year-old just kept grinning and never said anything.  I had found the perfect accomplice….

Of course…I think we would have pulled the whole thing off a lot better if the police hadn’t showed up…!

The End