ILLUSIONS
by
AUTHOR D
Chapter 8
The Chapters
Fenton held his wife’s hand as they hurried across the parking lot in the early morning darkness.
“You’re sure they said it was just a broken wrist?” Laura asked for the third time, her voice tinged with worry.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Fenton replied squeezing her hand.
“And Frank wasn’t hurt at all?”
“No,” Fenton shook his head. ‘At least not yet,’ he thought darkly, wondering what had possessed his older son tonight, thinking that actual possession could be the only explanation for his completely out of character behavior. Entering the emergency room they headed straight for the reception desk.
“Excuse me,” Laura said, gaining the attention of the woman behind the counter. “We’re Laura and Fenton Hardy. Our son Joe is here?”
“Oh, yes, Mrs. Hardy,” the woman smiled, immediately trying to reassure her. “Don’t worry, it’s just a broken wrist. He’s already been x-rayed and put in a cast. In fact he’s ready to be released, we were just waiting for you or your husband. His brother wanted to sign him out,” she gestured towards the waiting area where they finally noticed Frank, standing with his back to them apparently unaware of their presence. “But his chart indicates only you or Mr. Hardy can sign him out,” she finished apologetically.
Fenton kept his eyes glued on Frank as he spoke to his wife. “You take care of getting Joe released. I need to talk to Frank.”
He’d barely taken a step when Laura grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. He turned and found her looking at him intently. “Remember you’re in a public place,” she warned, sensing his unbridled anger.
Fenton glanced around noting the few other people in the waiting room, nodded curtly and headed straight for Frank.
Frank felt more than heard his father’s approach. He knew his father was right behind him without ever having to look; he could feel the absolute rage that was pouring off the older man. Suddenly a hand encircled his arm and Frank was spun around forcefully. Wincing at the painful vise-like grip his father had on him, Frank took one look at Fenton and his eyes widened. He’d never seen his father so angry before – ever.
“What part of “Come straight home.” didn’t you understand?” Fenton demanded his voice dangerously low.
Frank opened his mouth to respond and quickly snapped it shut. Furious didn’t even begin to cover the look in his father’s eyes.
“You deliberately disobeyed me not once, but twice!” he snapped, waving two fingers in Frank’s face for emphasis. “Because I know I left absolutely no room for interpretation or misunderstanding! And now your brother ends up here with a broken wrist?! Did it ever occur to you that I might be sitting at home worried sick about you two? Wondering if Joe had relapsed? That maybe he had another violent hallucination and this time actually killed someone? You… himself… both of you?! Or maybe just some innocent person who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?”
Frank stared, thinking the rage and fury seemed to consume every inch of his father, evidenced by the fact that his voice got lower rather than louder. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been going through for the past four hours?” Fenton asked, rhetorically. “Hell, Frank, that’s what. And it ended when I got a call telling me my son was in the emergency room. Son, as in one. Leaving me to wonder what had happened to the other one. Only for a few seconds, but it was long enough and something I never want to go through again.” He squeezed Frank’s arm even tighter and Frank was certain he’d have finger-shaped bruises on his arm in a few hours. Finally Fenton released him but the fury in his dark eyes continued to burn. “My God, Frank, what the hell were you thinking?”
For a moment, Frank was silent, shaken by the realization of exactly what his father had been through in the last four hours. He absently rubbed at his arm, trying to find the words at the same time knowing there were none that could make up for the decisions he’d made and the hell his father had endured, even if it had all been just his imagination running wild. The fear and the terror had been real.
“I-I’m sorry, Dad,” Frank finally said, sounding more like a nine-year-old boy than a nineteen-year-old young man. “I know that can’t even begin to make up for it, for what you went through tonight. I can give you all kinds of reasons for what I did but…” Frank’s voice trailed off and he found he could barely look Fenton in the eye. The anger on his father’s face had lessened somewhat and was now accompanied by something else – something that cut Frank to the core… disappointment. “I’m sorry…” he repeated, his voice quiet and repentant. “I disobeyed you; I let you worry for hours, not knowing where Joe and I were or if we were even alive. And after what’s happened the past two months…” He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, ready to take whatever else his father had to dish out. “Whatever you have to say to me, I deserve it.”
Fenton stared at him, stared through him, for what seemed an eternity and then his shoulders heaved as he let out a weary sigh and shook his head. “No, we can’t do this now. I can’t do this now. Make no mistake, Frank, I am furious with you, but if we get into it now…” he scrubbed a hand across his face and closed his eyes for a moment. When he looked at Frank again, there was a spark of love tempering the anger and disappointment. “I don’t want to say something I don’t mean and that I’ll regret. We’ll talk about this tomorrow… today?” He corrected himself uncertainly, then shook his head, utterly frustrated. “Later!”
Before Frank could respond, one of the officers who’d questioned Frank earlier approached them. “Mr. Hardy?”
“Yes?” Fenton turned to him.
“Officer Wills, Bayport P.D.” the young policeman introduced himself. His hand was outstretched and, Frank noted, he looked just a little awestruck. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir. I just wanted to let you know what a great job your sons did tonight. It’s easy to see they take after you.”
Frank cringed inside, certain that even if he’d just saved the world from total destruction, the last thing his father wanted to hear right now was someone singing his praises.
Fenton shook the man’s hand but looked at him bewildered. “I’m sorry, apparently I’m at a loss here,” he said, glancing briefly at Frank.
“The girl,” Wills said as if that explained everything. “They’re the ones who found her; probably saved her life.”
“The girl?” Fenton repeated, now looking at Frank absolutely perplexed.
“The girl Joe saw,” Frank explained. “She was real.”
“She was… real?” Fenton almost blanched.
“She’d been kidnapped,” Wills added, unfazed by the seemingly strange exchange between Frank and Fenton.
Fenton snapped his head towards the man. “Is she all right?”
“Seems to be. I mean she’s scared, still pretty shook up, but coherent.” The officer crossed his arms over his chest, soaking up the attention from one of the world’s foremost experts in law enforcement. “Apparently she was with a group of about twenty girls who went to Frightland for a birthday party for one of the girls. Almost as soon as they got inside, they separated, broke off into smaller groups. She lagged behind and was grabbed.” He shrugged. “There were so many kids and they kept wandering off in different directions that no one realized she’d been taken.
“When they left, the girls were picked up by three different sets of parents, some girls were going to a house for a slumber party and some were going home. I guess everyone thought someone else had her. Her parents had given her permission to go to the slumber party so they weren’t expecting her home until sometime tomorrow. In all the confusion no one even knew she was missing.” He stopped and nodded towards Frank. “If not for your sons, we wouldn’t have even been alerted to the fact that she’d been kidnapped until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. Plenty of time for the scumbags who took her to be three states away. I think it’s safe to say if they hadn’t found her when they did, she probably would’ve been dead by the time we found her.”
“Did you catch the guys who took her?” Frank asked hopefully though he knew the chances of that were small. They’d had plenty of time to make a getaway while he, Joe and Ava were in the underground tunnel.
“Not yet, but she gave us a great description of them. And CSI is at the farmhouse right now. Hopefully they’ll find something that’ll give us names to go with the descriptions. Don’t worry, we’ll catch them,” he said confidently as he reached out to shake Frank’s hand. “Thank you.” He then turned to Fenton again, shaking his hand once more. “You should be real proud of your boys, Mr. Hardy. Real proud.” With a wave goodbye, he rejoined his partner and they disappeared behind the emergency room doors.
Fenton stared after him for a moment, looking absolutely stunned. Slowly he turned to Frank, his expression never changing. “That’s where you’ve been all night? Looking for the girl?"
“Yes, sir,” Frank replied, knowing no matter what the young officer had said, he was still in deep trouble. Fenton opened his mouth to say something when they were interrupted yet again, this time by Laura.
“Fenton?”
They turned in unison to see Laura and Joe – his right forearm in a cast and sling – walking towards them. Frank heard what sounded like a muted sob and glanced at his father. The rage and fury he’d been wearing like a coat suddenly transformed into very real grief, for the briefest of seconds, and then relief – the rapid fire change in emotions heart wrenching in its intensity. Clearly on emotional overload, Fenton rushed to Joe and hugged him tightly, barely holding himself together.
From his vantage point, Frank could clearly see Joe wince and winced himself in sympathy. “Ow, ow… OW!” Joe cried out. “Dad! The painkillers haven’t kicked in yet!” Joe grimaced painfully, trying to extricate himself from his father.
Fenton quickly released Joe, but kept one hand on his shoulder protectively. Swiping at eyes, roughly, he gave Joe a once over and then stared into his eyes. “You’re okay?”
“If you don’t count this,” Joe raised his casted arm slightly, “yeah, I’m fine.”
Fenton closed his eyes as he raised his head heavenward, the whispered words coming out on a breath of gratitude. “Thank God.”
“Come on,” Laura said, putting a hand on Joe’s back and gently nudging him forward. “I want to get you home and in bed before those painkillers do kick in.”
As they walked a few steps ahead of their parents, Joe elbowed his brother with his left arm, grinning wickedly. “So how come you’re not dead yet?”
Frank threw him a withering look. “Shut up.”
Behind them, Fenton heard and wiped away a lone tear, reminded that just one short hour ago he was certain he’d never hear his sons bickering again. Stepping out into the first signs of early morning, he glanced towards the sky. ‘Thank you…’
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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.