Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

They took Sheridan's rental, an old white Ford F150 truck, to be on the safe side. Sheridan braked to a halt behind the van and the three of them got out. Sheridan looked around and zeroed in on the van. "Obviously, they haven't come by."

Fenton glanced back down the road. "We didn't pass them. That's the shortest route."

Laura frowned. "Then where are they?"

Sheridan glanced at the dark house. "Let's go in."

Fenton walked over to the front door to insert his key, and the door swung inward quietly. Sheridan pulled his gun free from its holster. "Step back."

Fenton frowned. "Wait—”

Sheridan snapped his head around. "Your sons skulk around your house in the dark and leave the door open?" He didn't wait for an answer but pushed the door open one-handed while holding the gun with his left hand. He switched the gun to his right hand and moved his left hand to the wall, just inside the door. He found the switch and flipped it.

The overhead pendant light blazed on, lighting up the foyer and spilling into the living room. Sheridan glanced at a closed door. "What's that?"

"Guest room," answered Laura. "Fenton's sister stays in it when she's here. She went on a cruise with a friend." Laura stood on the threshold, her eyes scanning the foyer.

Sheridan pushed open the guest-room door and flicked the light on. The blue floral quilt was smooth and taut on the bed and the matching shams in a perfect row. Sheridan frowned and glanced at Fenton. "Living room there, kitchen back there, right?"

Fenton gave a single sharp nod. "I'll check the living room and my office. Laura—”

"I'll check upstairs."

"No. Laura, stay with me."

She glanced up the stairs, shrouded in darkness. "They could be up there. Hurt or—” She swallowed hard. "Three people can search faster than two."

Fenton felt panicked. "Laura—”

Laura stepped over the threshold and flicked the switch next to the first one. The stairwell light came on. Fenton glanced over his shoulder and gazed up the stairs. "Laura—”

She started up the stairs and Fenton followed her with his eyes. He glanced at Sheridan, who took a breath and pointed toward the kitchen and headed down that way. It was the longest five minutes of Fenton's life as he searched the living room and his office. When he hurried back to the foyer, Laura was coming down the stairs. She shook her head. "No one's up there. I – I didn't check the attic, though."

"I'll get the attic," said Fenton, more relieved than he cared to admit.

"Where's Sheridan?" asked Laura.

"Right here. No one in the dining room, kitchen or the basement."

Fenton took the stairs two at a time. He soon returned, shaking his head. "No one in the attic."

Sheridan thumbed the gun's safety on and holstered it. "You sure you locked the front door."

Fenton took a deep breath, told himself to count at least to five. "Yes."

Sheridan sighed and looked around. "All right. Now we have a bigger problem."

"Exactly," said Laura. "Where are my sons?"

***

The mattress was lumpy. Frank rolled over onto his back and sighed. He stared up into the darkness, wide-awake. Beside him, his brother was snoring softly. Frank sighed again and got out of bed. He wasn't sleepy but he wondered if anyone minded him wandering around the house. He slipped his shoes on and felt his way to the door. He opened it to find the hallway dimly lit by night-lights.

He stood there, making sure he could remember how to get to the stairs and down. He made his way carefully, finally finding the landing and the stairs. He made his way slowly down the curved stairs. The bottom half of the house seemed quiet, the life-size gargoyle a silent sentinel. Frank gazed around, finally locating the hall that led to the kitchen.

The kitchen was lit by a single night-light as he walked in. At that precise moment, his stomach growled – loudly. There was a clink and a rattle, and Frank spun around to see who was in the kitchen but it was empty. Narrowing his eyes, he searched for the light switch to turn on the overhead light.

He located the switch but when he walked over to it, there was a spot that was icy cold, as if he'd walked outside into the sleet in a thin T-shirt and shorts. He shivered and stepped back. Here it was warm but there, not an inch away, it was freezing. Frank frowned and tried to walk around the cold spot but it wouldn't budge, and he couldn't get to the switch. With a sigh, Frank veered for the refrigerator. He pulled open the door. "Okay," he muttered. "This is weird."

On one side of the top shelf, sat an odd container full of a neon pink liquid. Frank leaned further in to get a look and thought he saw a bubble form slowly on the liquid's surface. For a moment, it looked just like an eye and then it vanished. Frank shook his head. He shifted his attention to the other side of the top shelf. There was a container of milk, a six-pack of sodas and something that looked like potato salad.

The second shelf held assorted fruits and veggies as well as a long tall bottle that was either black or very dark gray. It held a cork stopper but no label. Curious, Frank grasped the neck of the bottle and shook it. Liquid sloshed thickly inside, so he uncorked the bottle to take a sniff.

"You probably shouldn't do that."

Frank jumped and nearly dropped the bottle on the floor. He caught it and spun around, feeling his heart beating fast. He set the bottle back on the shelf and shut the refrigerator door. "What are you doing?"

"I felt you get off the bed." Joe Hardy shrugged and went toward the switch to turn on the overhead light.

"Don't. There's an odd cold spot there, wouldn't let me near the switch."

Joe gave his brother an odd look, walked right up to the switch and flipped it. "What were you babbling about?"

Frank frowned and looked around. "Never mind."

Joe arched an eyebrow. "The house spooking you, Frank?"

"Don't take that tone with me. I think we should go."

"Back to bed is an excellent idea." Joe spun around and started for the door.

Frank caught up to his brother. "No. I meant go, as in leave. We'll leave a note for them but we need to get back to the inn. Mom and Dad are probably frantic."

Joe gestured to an old telephone hanging on one wall. "There. Call them."

Frank glanced at his watch and then reached for the receiver. He dialed the room his parents were staying in but there was no answer. Slowly, he shook his head. "No answer."

Joe frowned. "You think they're out looking for us?" Joe slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Silly question. I must not be awake yet. Of course they're out looking for us. Call the house."

"Call the—” Frank gave his brother a look. "There's no one there."

Joe rolled his eyes, walked around his brother and picked up the receiver. He dialed their home number and stood there, cocking an eyebrow at his brother. "Um...Sheridan?" he asked, momentarily startled by the unfamiliar voice on the other end. He pulled the receiver from his ear and handed it to his brother. "It's for you."

"Hang up the phone now," came a new voice. "Hang up or I'll be forced to shoot you right now."

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency 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.