Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

‘Come on, focus!’ Frank chided himself. He’d made decent headway on the tedious report the previous day, and this morning, hoped to pick up right where he’d left off. His subconscious, however, had other ideas and Frank found himself plagued by wandering thoughts almost since the minute he sat down to work. Trying to refocus, he glanced at the notes spread out on his desk, nodded to himself and resumed typing. A few paragraphs later he stopped and leaned forward, proofreading the section he’d just completed.

“What the…”

A puzzled frown crossed his face as he read what he’d just written. With a disgusted sigh, he leaned back in the chair and rubbed a hand over his face. The report reflected his obvious inability to concentrate. Knowing it was useless to try and force the words, Frank saved his work and gave in to his mind’s restlessness.

His thoughts drifted back to the previous evening and Vanessa’s uncharacteristically subdued demeanor. Sadness had seemed to be hovering all around her; she’d been distant and reluctant to talk about Joe at all. Still, Frank had sensed whatever was bothering her wasn’t her own doing. She was hiding something for someone else, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out whom that someone else was.

‘Joe…’

Frank thought about his younger brother and frowned. Joe had fled Bayport under a heavy cloud of secrecy, telling no one of his last minute trip and leaving Vanessa alone; something he’d never done before. He’d been evasive and unwilling to discuss this new case in even the vaguest terms, going so far as to leave out information that was normally included in the contract even for the most confidential of cases.

And Liz Webling…what exactly had she seen? Frank smiled grimly. While there wasn’t anything he could do about Joe and Vanessa at the moment, he could get some concrete answers from Liz. Flipping through the Rolodex, he found Liz’s work number and dialed, hoping she wasn’t out tracking down the latest story.

“Liz Webling.”

“Hi, Liz. It’s Frank. Got a minute?”

“Frank! Hi. Yeah, I’ve got a few minutes. I assume you want to talk about yesterday?” she ventured a guess.

“If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. What do you want to know?”

Frank automatically grabbed the notepad on his desk and reached for a pen. “For starters, what time did you arrive at the beach? And how long were you there?”

“I got there around one-fifteen but I didn’t stay long at all. Two minutes tops.”

“Two minutes,” Frank mumbled making a notation on the paper. “What exactly did you see? Not what you assume was going on or reading anything into it – just what you actually saw happening,” Frank cautioned.

Liz was silent for several seconds and Frank knew she was organizing her thoughts, focusing on what she actually saw and tossing aside the assumptions in an effort to give Frank what he wanted – just the facts.

“When I pulled into the lot, I saw two people on the beach, sitting on a blanket, talking. I didn’t realize it was Joe until I got closer and recognized his car. I pulled into a space and was about to get out – go say hi – when this woman put her arms around Joe’s neck.” She stopped briefly and then corrected herself. “Actually it was more like she threw herself on him.

“How did Joe react?” Frank cut in.

Silence again as Liz concentrated. “He seemed…surprised!” she replied, sounding a bit surprised herself.

“What did he do?” Frank pressed, writing furiously.

“Nothing!” Liz sounded surprised again as if she had expected herself to say something else. “I mean, she was really clinging to him and he didn’t do anything. Didn’t put his arms around her…didn’t return the hug at all.”

Frank smiled, thinking Liz sounded almost relieved.

“In fact he tried to pull away from her!” Her voice rose slightly as she just now realized what Frank had been certain of all along. “He reached up and unwrapped her arms from around him. He rebuffed her! Even as he pulled away though, she seemed reluctant to let go.” The words came faster and faster as Liz now saw things in a completely different light. “She touched his cheek and leaned in close to his face…like she wanted to kiss him…. Like she wanted to kiss him… ‘like’ being the operative word.” Liz sighed heavily, a derogatory note in her voice. “And here I’m supposed to be an ace reporter. I was making assumptions based on what I thought I saw instead of sticking to the facts.”

“Happens to the best of us,” Frank said softly.

“Yeah, well, I still feel like a novice who hasn’t gotten their first byline yet!”

Frank laughed and then returned to the topic at hand. “Okay, what do you remember about this woman?”

“I didn’t get a very good look at her. She sort of had her back to me…when she wasn’t all over Joe,” she muttered disapprovingly. “Long dark hair. Slim. They were sitting down so I can’t really guess height.”

“Was there another car there? Besides Joe’s?”

“Yes!” Liz cried out as if just remembering that detail. “A red, two-seater convertible. Oooh, darn! What is it?!” Liz huffed, trying to recall the errant piece of information. “Miata!” she cried out triumphantly. “A Mazda Miata.”

“Any chance you got the plate?” Frank asked hopefully, making a note of the car’s make, model and color.

“Sorry. By that time I was just trying to get out of there before Joe saw me,” she said, chagrined.

Frank paused for a moment, something about that statement niggling at the back of his mind. He added a notation to the list and then shrugged it off asking, “Anything else you can remember?”

“No, I think that’s it.”

“Thanks,” Frank said. He hesitated before bidding her goodbye, arguing with himself. In the end, the protective older brother won out over the trusting friend. “Liz, promise me you won’t repeat any of this. Don’t tell anyone what you saw yesterday. No matter what it looked like, Joe was not cheating on Vanessa,” he ended forcefully.

“Yeah, I know that now,” Liz agreed sheepishly. “But Frank…what was he doing there with that woman?”

“I don’t know…yet.”

Ending the conversation, Frank hung up the phone. As he sat back, his eyes fell on the one framed photo that graced his desk. It was of himself, Callie, Joe and Vanessa. He couldn’t even remember where it was taken but it was one of his favorite pictures. The four of them were on a beach, their faces sun-kissed, all smiling broadly, looking tanned, happy and relaxed. His gaze came to rest on Joe. Frank almost wished he could reach into the photo and remove the mirrored sunglasses that at times he thought were permanently affixed to his brother’s face. Joe’s eyes always gave him away – at least to Frank. ‘What’s going on with you, Joe?’

Frank had taken all the clues he had and rolled them around in his head, following them to what seemed the most logical conclusion – Joe was cheating on Vanessa – and quickly dismissed it without a second thought. As far as Frank was concerned that wasn’t even in the realm of possibility. Joe hadn’t always been faithful to Iola Morton, and as a result he’d learned a very costly and painful lesson; one he would never make again. He sometimes thought maybe Joe had learned that lesson too well. Joe was so hopelessly in love with Vanessa that Frank found it scary at times. He occasionally wondered if Joe and Vanessa didn’t love each other too much. Blind devotion – that’s what Laura called it. And Frank wasn’t sure that was always a good thing – like now. He frowned recalling Vanessa’s plea from the night before.

“Please, Frank…don’t ask, okay?”

Don’t ask…did Vanessa know about this close encounter on the beach? She was obviously hiding something – at Joe’s request – and wasn’t happy about doing it. Whatever it was had left her with a sense of sadness that was impossible to hide. Frank felt that brief flicker of anger again, disappointed in his brother for making Vanessa an unwilling accomplice in whatever was going on.

Who was this woman? And why would Joe get so physically close to her in such a public place? Didn’t he realize how easily an innocent encounter could be misconstrued? And what could she have possibly said to Joe to make him act that way – allowing her to get so close it would give the impression of intimacy to anyone who happened by?

Sighing, he leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, trying once more to put all the pieces together, and come up with an answer that made sense to both his head and his heart. Joe had met with a mysterious woman on the beach – a meeting that, at first glance, appeared to be intimate. He’d also, at some point, met with a new client and accepted a new and confidential case without telling anyone else. Were the two things somehow connected – the woman on the beach and the new client?

Frank sucked in a breath and sat up, the answer hitting him like a bolt of lightning. He’d assumed Joe had concluded the clandestine meeting on the beach and later met with the new client; but there weren’t two separate people involved at all. The mysterious woman on the beach and the new client were one and the same! The revelation suddenly put what Liz had seen on the beach into stunningly clear perspective.

‘Comfort! He was comforting her!’

If this new client had gotten the least bit upset, Joe would have had no qualms about offering comfort, even if it meant letting this woman hold onto him for dear life.

Elation at getting the answers he’d been searching for quickly disappeared as Frank realized a whole slew of new questions remained. None of this explained why Vanessa was so sad and distant, or why Joe was so bent on evading Frank and any discussion of the new case. Frustrated, his eyes were once again drawn to his brother’s image in the photograph.

Joe would be calling in soon and Frank had left explicit instructions with Mrs. G that he wanted to speak with Joe when he called. Somewhat pacified by the thought that he might soon be able to get some answers, Frank returned his attention to the report. Still he couldn’t help but wonder…

‘Where are you, Joe? And what are you trying so hard to hide?’

*****

The town of Corner Ketch was so small that, other than the sheriff’s office, it didn’t have its own branch of local government offices. All legal proceedings took place at the county seat, two towns over. It was there, in Sandersville, that Joe found himself following Seth up the steps of the county courthouse, a building that housed not only the courthouse but all other government offices as well, including the Public Records office.

“We should at least be able to find out what happened to the boy after Akins turned him over to Child Protective Services,” Seth said over his shoulder as he led Joe down the hall. Stopping in front of a set of smoked glass doors with the words “Office of Public Records” painted on them, Seth pulled one of them open and held it as Joe entered.

Seth followed and they walked up to a large counter that ran almost the entire length of the room. Joe’s gaze flickered over the people working behind the counter. Two women were on the phone, speaking in hushed voices. An older man sat behind a desk, several piles of manila folders teetering near the edges while he looked through one splayed open in front of him.

A young girl in her late teens, stood in front of a filing cabinet with several piles of folders stacked on the floor around her, methodically placing one after another in their proper place in the drawers of the cabinet. She looked up from her task and smiled at Joe and Seth, then reluctantly returned her attention to the folders.

“Can I help you?” A young man in his late twenties peered at Joe and Seth through wire rimmed glasses.

“Yes, I’m Sheriff Connor. I called earlier and spoke to someone about an old case involving an abandoned baby,” Seth responded.

In an effort to save time, Seth had called first thing that morning and briefly explained that he was trying to find out what had become of the baby Carl Akins had turned over to CPS six years earlier.

“Oh, yes, I spoke to you,” the young man smiled. He reached under the counter and Joe heard the noise of shuffling papers. A few seconds later, the man put a file folder on the counter in front of them. “Here you go.”

As Joe reached for it, the man put his hand on top of it and looked at them apologetically. “Sorry, but you need to sign it out. And it can’t leave this office.” He pushed a clipboard across the counter towards Joe.

“I’ll sign it out,” Seth said to Joe at the same time glancing around the room. His eyes came to rest on an empty table in the corner of the room. “Go have a seat and I’ll be right there.”

Satisfied, the clerk handed the folder over to Joe who took it and walked over to the table. Pulling out a chair, he sat down and opened the file. A few seconds later, Seth plopped down in the chair next to him.

“I’m surprised all this stuff isn’t computerized,” Joe commented, taking the papers out and spreading them on the table.

“Small town, small town budget,” Seth shrugged. “We’ve got the same issues in Corner Ketch. Not enough money or manpower to get everything entered into the computer system, let alone keep it updated.” He picked up one of the papers Joe had laid out and looked it over. “Old files, especially closed cases, keep getting pushed further and further down on the list. They’re just not a priority… Luke Doe,” he murmured and then chuckled. “I guess they’re tired of John Doe’s, huh?”

“Guess so,” Joe agreed distractedly. ‘Luke,’ he rolled the name around in his mind a few times. ‘My first child’s name could be Luke…’

“… and then he went to a foster home.”

Seth’s voice cut into his musings. Joe realized he’d missed something and berated himself for letting his mind wander. “Where was he before the foster home?” Joe asked.

“Sandersville Children’s Home,” Seth replied. “It’s the local orphanage, but they’re not well-equipped to handle newborns. Luckily, newborns are easily placed in foster homes so he wasn’t there too long. Looks like a day or two, tops.”

Joe nodded as he began pushing the papers around, now looking for something specific. ‘Come on, come on…I know it’s gotta be here. It would’ve been the first thing—’ His thoughts stopped abruptly as his eyes lit on a photograph; a headshot of a small, newborn baby.

At the bottom of the photo a tiny hand was visible, peeking out from under a blue blanket. Joe stared, shocked at the seemingly miniscule fingers, clutching the edge of the blanket. ‘My God, he’s so…little!’

His eyes traveled up to the face, and his heart sank. The baby’s eyes were closed, preventing him from getting a look at the eye color. He knew most babies had blue eyes at birth, but he’d hoped to see for himself the exact shade of this baby’s eyes.

Joe had always been secretly proud of the fact that his own blue eyes were such an unusual shade; he’d never encountered anyone who had quite the same shade of blue eyes that he did. Not a light blue like his mother’s, not a pale ice-blue, nor the deep blue of a sapphire – unless he was beyond angry, then the color turned dark rapidly. His eye color often defied description. He’d heard it called ocean blue, turquoise blue, bright blue….He’d heard his mother try to explain it as a piercing or startling jewel tone, yet nothing could quite capture the color or intensity enough to do them justice.

Joe sighed inwardly. He’d felt if he could just get a look at this baby’s eyes – if he could see for himself whether or not this child had inherited his own unusual eye color - he’d know for sure whether or not he was the father. He gazed at the sleeping face a moment longer, and then looked at the hair.

‘Light brown,’ he thought dejectedly. ‘Doesn’t tell me a thing.’

Jodi had dark brown hair, while Todd’s was a lighter shade of brown. This baby’s hair color didn’t match either of those, nor his own blonde shade, and while Joe knew it really wouldn’t have mattered if it did – the hair color could easily change – he’d hoped to get some kind of clue.

Sitting back in the chair, Joe turned the photo over. A white label was affixed to the back with the date the photo was taken and the approximate age of the baby, along with his length and weight. Flipping it back around, an emotion swept over him, so strong he felt light headed. The picture shook in his hand as it suddenly hit him that he could be looking at a picture of his first born child.

“Too much coffee this morning?” Seth joked.

Joe realized his hands were shaking badly and quickly dropped the photograph. “Yeah, I gotta cut back,” Joe smiled, hoping his voice sounded light. “So how long was he in foster care before he was officially adopted?” His heart twisted a little at the thought of this baby, possibly his baby, being passed around to so many people like an unwanted pet.

Seth shuffled some papers around, pushing one towards Joe. “A little over six months,” he pointed to a date on the paper. “Looks like as soon as the required waiting period was up – standard procedure to see if the biological parents would show up to claim him – he was adopted pretty quickly.”

Joe sorted through the rest of the papers, not immediately noting anything that could help his cause, but at the same time not knowing what information might come in handy later on. “Any way I can get copies of these?” he asked hopefully, waving a hand over the scattered papers.

Seth looked at the papers dubiously. “Technically I’m not officially on the case,” he frowned.

“They are public records…” Joe said emphasizing the word ‘public’.

“True,” Seth murmured, apparently weighing the pros and cons of Joe’s request.

“And if there had been enough money in the budget to get all this stuff computerized, like the newer cases are, I wouldn’t even need to ask. I could just print it off the Internet from my office,” he prodded the sheriff.

“True again,” Seth repeated, smiling this time. Standing, he gathered up the papers and stuck them back in the file. “Be right back.”

Fifteen minutes later, Joe was walking back to his car, a folder with copies of all the original documents held securely in his hand.

“Guess that’s all we can do for now,” Seth said, coming to a stop between his car and Joe’s. “We can’t go before a judge and request that the records be unsealed until the results of the mother’s DNA test comes back.”

“That could take over a week. Maybe I’ll go by the children’s home and see if I can find anything out,” Joe mused, thinking aloud.

“Why?” Seth asked puzzled. “What purpose would it serve? They can’t release any information until and unless they are legally ordered to do so.”

“I might be able to get one of them to slip up, say something I can use to find the boy faster,” Joe pressed.

Seth frowned, staring at the younger Hardy and wondering why he was so adamant about talking to the staff of the orphanage right now. “If you do go talk to them today, even if they let something slip that you could eventually use, you could prod them to tip off the adoptive parents that something could be amiss,” he pointed out. “They might get scared and flee with the boy. Why is it so important that you feel you need to talk to them today anyway?” he asked. “No offense intended, but your client hasn’t seen her son in almost six years. What difference is one more week going to make to ensure everything is legal and by the book?”

Joe was about to protest, automatically falling into the methods he so often used to get Frank to along with his unorthodox ideas, when he saw the look passing over Seth’s face. Confusion and bewilderment.

‘Damn, I’m so emotionally invested in this case I’m starting to lose perspective!’

Joe smiled hoping he could cover his blunder. “You’re right, of course,” he agreed, plastering a smile on his face. “Unfortunately, patience is not my strong suit.” He held up the folder and shrugged. “Not much else I can do until those results come back. Guess I’ll go back to the B & B and see if there’s anything in here that’ll help.”

Seth nodded slowly, still eyeing Joe a little uncertainly. He walked around to the driver’s side of his patrol car but stopped short of opening the door. “You know I can understand this woman wanting her son back, but I wonder if she’s really thought this through.” He shook his head sadly and looked at Joe. “There are no winners in cases like this. And the biggest loser usually ends up being the kids. Even when the biological parent knows the kid is in a happy, loving home, they’re so hell bent on getting back what is ‘rightfully theirs’ they don’t see how much they are hurting – not helping – the child. I can’t help but wonder…what kind of love is that?” With another shake of his head, Seth got in the car and rolled down the window. “Let me know when you get those test results back. I have a pretty good relationship with the local judge. Should be able to get you a court order to have those records unsealed in record time. If anything new turns up before then, give me a call.” With a wave of his hand, Seth pulled out and headed back towards Corner Ketch.

Joe stood rooted to the spot. He’d barely heard, let alone registered, what Seth had said once he got in the car, his mind paralyzed by the sheriff’s blunt observation. Fumbling with his keys, Joe got his car door open and sat heavily in the driver’s seat, feeling a little queasy. Was he doing the right thing? What if this boy was living a happy life, healthy, safe and loved by the people who’d adopted him? Wasn’t that more important than anything else? What right did he and Jodi have to rip this child away from the only family he’d ever known and turn him over to total strangers?

Joe shivered, cold as ice inside. He’d been only six when he was ripped from his family for the purpose of being sold to a total stranger! He sucked in a breath, remembering the all-encompassing terror he’d felt when he was told he’d never see his family again. No matter how pretty a picture he tried to paint in his mind, Joe couldn’t get past the fact that he wouldn’t be much better than the people who’d kidnapped him. Of course what he was doing was legal, but how do you explain that to a six-year-old who only understood he was being forcibly taken from the only family he knows?

‘How can I do that to him?’

Leaning forward, Joe rested his head against the steering wheel, trying to get his emotions in check. Had Jodi considered how traumatic this could be for the boy? Suddenly Joe was no longer so sure this was the right thing to do… It was right for Jodi, it could be right for him if he was the father, but was it right – or fair – to a small boy whose whole world was about to be turned upside down?

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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.