ILLUSIONS
by
AUTHOR D
Chapter 7
The Chapters
Fenton Hardy stood in front of the large bay window overlooking the front yard, willing Frank’s car to come down the street and turn into the driveway. Glancing at his watch, which glowed ‘3:45 AM’, he resumed pacing. As his stomach churned with uncertainty he decided this must be what was meant by the phrase ‘worried sick’. He’d been worrying for almost four hours straight and definitely felt sick at some of the scenarios he’d come up with to explain his sons’ absence.
Eyeing his cell phone lying on the coffee table, Fenton thought about calling Frank again although he wondered what good it would do; he’d already left five messages for his oldest son running the gamut from absolutely livid to simply begging him to call and let Fenton know that he and Joe were okay.
He was sure Frank wouldn’t have deliberately disobeyed him again, yet at the same time he hoped, deep inside, that that’s exactly what had happened. Otherwise where could they be? If there had been an accident of some kind, Fenton was certain he would’ve been notified by now. Just about all the officers on Bayport’s police force knew him and his sons, at least by name, if not on sight. The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach worsened as he considered the other possibility – the one he’d been trying to avoid all night.
Joe hadn’t had a hallucination in over two weeks – the longest stretch so far and his doctor seemed particularly encouraged. But after talking to Joe tonight Fenton could only conclude they were back. He’d seen not one but two children that no one else had seen. Even if Vanessa hadn’t seen the girl, she’d been with Joe in the barn. Why hadn’t she seen the boy? And why had Joe been so hesitant to mention the boy?
Fenton sank down onto the couch trying to convince himself it wasn’t happening again. Maybe Joe had gotten angry enough at being doubted that he’d just taken off, somehow gotten away from Frank. No, Frank would have called Fenton immediately.
A chill swept over him, turning his blood to ice… Fenton rubbed his shoulder where the bullet had grazed him when Joe, caught in the grips of the first, violent hallucination, tried to kill him and the bile rose in his throat… Had Joe hurt Frank? Himself? Both of them? Or worse, innocent bystanders? His chest heaving at the visual image that flashed through his mind, Fenton cursed himself, again, for ever agreeing to this outing tonight. And then the phone rang… With a shaking hand he reached for it, praying it wasn’t the phone call every parent fears.
*****
Frank doggedly stuck to the bumper of the ambulance carrying Ava and Joe to Bayport General Hospital. The EMT who’d checked Joe’s arm seemed confident that it was a simple break, requiring only an x-ray and a cast once they got to the E.R. and then Joe would be “Good to go.” Frank clung to that as the one bright spot in an otherwise disastrous evening, only to realize how desperate he was to find something – anything – that might prevent Fenton from killing him on sight.
When the ambulance and police car that had escorted them pulled up to the entrance of the emergency room, Frank had to break off and find a space in the parking lot, which proved quite easy at three o’clock in the morning. Walking into the waiting area, Frank made a beeline for the E.R’s reception desk and wondered what it said about the kind of lives the Hardy family led that he knew exactly where it was without even having to look. The middle-aged woman seated behind the desk looked up when Frank approached.
“May I help you?”
“My brother was just brought in with a broken arm – Joe Hardy. Would it be okay if I went back and sat with him?” Frank asked.
The woman tapped a few keys on the keyboard, stared at the screen for a moment and then looked back at Frank, a fake smile plastered on her face. “They’ll probably be taking him right back for x-rays. Slow night and all. Has any of the information changed since the last time he was here?”
Frank flinched inside at the memory of Joe’s most recent hospitalization but kept his expression neutral. “No, everything’s the same.”
“Okay,” she gestured towards the empty waiting room, “why don’t you have a seat?”
Frank nodded and walked across the room, sitting in one of the hard plastic chairs. Immediately he was approached by the two young Bayport police officers who’d responded to his 911 call. He’d given them a quick rundown of what had happened when they first arrived and he now answered the more detailed questions, filling in the blanks. Thanking him, they told him they’d be in touch if they needed any more information and left him alone.
Yawning, Frank stretched his arms overhead and settled back against the chair, bone-tired. He’d already decided on the drive over that it would be best if he didn’t call his parents in the middle of the night with the words “We’re at the emergency room…” No, he was in enough trouble as it was.
Better to get Joe taken care of and go home, letting Fenton and Laura see for themselves that both boys were unscathed, relatively speaking, before trying to explain where they’d been all night. Frank held no illusions that his parents wouldn’t be furious with him. They’d agreed to this outing only because Frank promised he’d be right next to Joe all night. Even after he’d broken that promise, his father took him at his word and trusted him when he swore he and Joe would go straight home. Despite having the best of intentions, Frank knew he was going to be in serious trouble. His heart had been in the right place but somehow he didn’t think his father would agree that the ends justified the means.
Periodically over the next hour Frank checked with the receptionist, asking about Joe, asking if he could go back and sit with him. Every time he was given a ‘reason’ as to why he couldn’t see Joe and despite there being a ring of truth to them, he still felt as if he were getting the brush off.
By four a.m. he was tired, frustrated and just downright cranky and wanted nothing more than to go home and fall into bed. Approaching the receptionist for the fifth time since he’d arrived, Frank lost all pretense of politeness and demanded he be allowed to see Joe. When he was told “I’m sorry, not yet. Please have a seat,” again, he lost it.
“It’s a broken arm, for God’s sake, not open heart surgery! Just put a cast on it and let him go home!”
The woman looked around furtively and then back at Frank, lowering her voice. “I’m sorry, but he can only be released to his legal guardians.”
“What?!” Frank bellowed, incredulous. “He’s eighteen!” he gestured angrily towards the computer. “Look it up! He’s his own legal guardian! He can sign himself out!”
Again the receptionist looked around as if she were sharing a forbidden secret. She hesitated a moment, then tapped the computer screen.
“Actually he can’t. When he was released after his hospitalization two months ago, it was only because your parents signed him out. They agreed to assume all legal responsibility for him until he was cleared by his doctor as no longer being a danger to himself or others.” Her eyes reflected genuine sadness. “I’m sorry but he hasn’t gotten that clearance yet. So even though he is eighteen, in the eyes of the law your parents are still legally responsible for him until he’s cleared. I really am sorry. But the only people who can sign him out or receive any medical reports on him are your parents.” She reached out and gave Frank’s hand a quick squeeze and smiled encouragingly. “But don’t worry, they’re on their way, so you’ll both be home soon.”
Frank felt his heart drop to his knees. “W-what?”
“I called them a few minutes ago. They should be here shortly.” Her smile grew wider apparently thinking she’d solved the problem. Before Frank could respond, the doors burst open and another ambulance crew rushed in. Frank stared for a moment at the very happy drunk wearing a clown mask, blissfully unaware that his leg was bleeding all over the stretcher.
Frank turned and walked away, his stomach churning. Sinking down into the chair, he dropped his head into his hands. He’d hoped to get himself and Joe home, so Fenton could see for himself that they were okay – relatively okay in Joe’s case – before he had to explain where they’d been all night. While they hadn’t done what Fenton asked, they also weren’t in any real trouble. However up until now it had been easy for Frank to forget that Fenton didn’t know that. And that realization hit him with such force, Frank thought he really might be sick.
He’d disobeyed a direct order from this father, let all his calls go unanswered and now Fenton had just gotten a phone call from the Emergency Room telling him… God knows what. With overpowering clarity, it hit him what Fenton must have been going through for the past several hours. Frank rarely, if ever, disobeyed his father let alone twice in one night – forget about the unanswered phone calls and voice mail messages. His father had absolutely no idea where he and Joe were or what might be happening to them; he was at home alone with the idea that Joe was hallucinating again and he hadn’t heard from his sons in over four hours. Now completely numb, Frank wondered if his father could ever forgive him.
*****
Fenton picked up the phone and held it unsteadily to his ear. “Hello?”
“Mr. Fenton Hardy?”
“Yes…”
“I’m Jennifer Shapiro, a nurse in the Bayport Emergency Room. Please don’t panic as it isn’t life threatening, but your son is here.”
Son… singular… Fenton felt what little self-control he had let slipping away. “M-my son? Which one?!”
“Oh… I’m sorry…” He heard the shuffle of papers and his own rapid breathing. “Joe.”
“Joe? Where’s his brother?” he yelled, now in a full blown-panic. “Where’s Frank?!”
“Frank?” she repeated, sounding confused. “I’m sorry, only one boy arrived in the ambulance.”
‘Oh, God Joe… what have you done…’ He heard muffled voices on the other end of the phone and then more clearly:
“Mr. Hardy? Are you still there?”
“Y-yes. I’m here.”
“I’m sorry. Apparently your other son drove in, in his own car. He’s fine, he’s not hurt. He’s in the waiting room.”
‘Thank God!’ Fenton collapsed into the sofa, his chest hitching. He scrubbed at his eyes, already trying to compose himself again. “How… what… what happened?”
“I don’t know the details but it appears Joe has a broken wrist. He was just taken to x-ray to confirm that. I’m sorry I can’t give you more information. If you could get here as soon as possible… he’s not going to be admitted but given his recent history, he can’t leave until you or your wife personally sign him out.”
“Yes, yes, of course. I’m sorry. We’ll be right there.”
Hanging up the phone, Fenton got up and walked to the staircase. Stopping at the bottom, he stared up at the darkened hallway. When Frank called and asked him to come to Frightland, he hadn’t told Laura any of the details, hadn’t even told her it was Frank who called. He hadn’t wanted to worry her, and definitely didn’t want to suggest Joe was hallucinating again unless he was absolutely sure. By the time he got back, she was already asleep and he saw no need to wake her. Now, he had no choice…
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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.