hardy boys fan fiction
WITH THIS RING
hardy boys nancy drew fan fiction
by
Red
Chapter 13
hardy boys fan fiction
THE CHAPTERS
Frank could feel his brother’s fury as they walked down the hall and into his office.
“What the hell was that?!” Joe demanded turning on him. “Why did you pull me out of there?!”
Frank shut the door and turned around, pointing at the couch. “Joe… lay down and shut up.”
“What?!” Joe cried out. “No! Didn’t you hear him?! He was treating me like a kid!”
“Yeah well you were acting like a kid,” Frank muttered, adding “and if you haven’t forgotten, you are his kid!”
Like a delayed reaction, Joe opened his mouth to retort seconds before the meaning of Frank’s words sank in.
Frank sighed and sank down in the chair behind his desk. “Look Joe, he arrives at the scene where he thought you were simply watching – hidden – to see you with half your face covered in blood. Yeah, it was all superficial – sort of – but he didn’t know that at the time. You scared him to death. And then he finds out you brought it all on yourself.”
Joe splayed his arms and dropped them with such force they slapped against his legs. “That was last night, Frank! I’m fine. He can see I’m fine! What am I supposed to do when he lays into me like that?”
“How about giving him the space he needs to be a scared, worried father?”
Again Joe opened his mouth and snapped it shut.
“And he was right, you know,” Frank said, leaning over and rummaging around in his desk. “You didn’t think things through. It’s like you were a teenager again. You know better than that now, Joe. Or at least you’re supposed to.” Frank stopped and pulled something from the desk drawer and straightened up. “You need to treat this like any other case.”
“But it’s not any other case!” Joe snapped. “It’s Vanessa! And I’m gonna do whatever it takes to find her ring!”
Frank snorted and rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m sure that’ll keep her warm at night. Her fiancé will be dead but hey, she’ll have that ring back and that’s what counts, right?” He could feel Joe’s acid glare on his back as he walked over to the small water cooler and poured a cup of water. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Joe sit on the edge of the couch and press the heel of his hand against his forehead. Crossing the room, he nudged Joe’s arm. “Here, take these.”
“Huh?” Joe looked up to see the two aspirin in Frank’s outstretched hand. “Thanks,” he murmured, tossing back the two pills and following it with several gulps of water.
Frank took the cup and crumpled it up. He started to turn away but Joe’s dejected voice stopped him.
“You don’t know what it’s like,” he said, staring vacantly at the carpet at his feet. “Every night when I get home it’s like time stops for a minute. She looks at me and she’s got this absolute faith in her eyes. She’s sure that tonight is the night; that this time I’m gonna pull out the ring and give it to her…and I can barely even look at her.
“And there’s this horrible, awkward second where she realizes I don’t have it and then she pretends not to be disappointed and I pretend I don’t hate myself for letting her down – again.” Joe stopped and he looked up at Frank, his eyes dark with regret. “I don’t know how much longer I can do that before…” He stopped and returned his gaze to the carpet.
Frank waited a moment but Joe remained silent. “Before…” he finally prompted.
“Before she doesn’t have any faith in me at all,” Joe finished, despondent, as if it were a foregone conclusion.
Frank shook his head as he stared at his younger brother, bemused. Joe really didn’t get it. Vanessa thought he could walk on water - and always would. Nothing would change that.
“Joe,” Frank said, gently. “That’s never going to happen.” He waited until Joe looked up at him. “She thinks the sun rises and sets on you and that will never change.”
Joe stared at him for a moment. His eyes were still wary but the corners of his mouth hinted at a smile.
“Now lay down and wait for those aspirin to kick in,” Frank nudged Joe’s shoulder until he lay down and stretched out, “while I see what I can dig up on that sticker you so conveniently forgot to mention.”
“Wait. Here,” Joe said sitting up and digging in his pocket. “I forgot about this when Dad laid into me.” He pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to Frank.
Taking it, Frank unfolded it and smiled. He was always impressed by Joe’s artistic ability and never quite understood why Joe insisted on keeping it a secret from just about everybody. ‘Maybe being a talented artist doesn’t fit in with his macho tough-guy image,’ he mused.
“This is good,” Frank said, pretending not to see Joe flush at the compliment.
“Thanks,” Joe mumbled and lay back down, shifting to get comfortable.
Now that he had something solid to go on, Frank’s research turned out to be much less frustrating than he’d anticipated. He scanned Joe’s sketch into the computer, loaded it into one of his favorite search programs, added a few parameters then sat back and waited. With Joe stretched out on the couch, catnapping, Frank made a quick trip to his father’s office, copied Joe’s statement and brought it back, adding it to his own file. While the program ran its course, Frank reviewed everything they had so far and factored in the new information from Joe’s statement. He was wondering if he needed to revise the list of potential targets when his computer ‘beeped’.
“Whad’ja get?” Joe mumbled from the couch.
Frank leaned forward, scrutinizing the image the program had deemed a ‘match’ to Joe’s sketch. “It’s a parking sticker for a shipping and container company down on the docks,” Frank replied absently.
“Like for an employee?” Joe asked.
“Yeah,” Frank said absently. “But you weren’t close enough to get a number…” his voice trailed off as his fingers flew over the keyboard. Seconds later he let out a dejected sigh. “Sampson Shipping. They have over a thousand employees. How are we supposed to narrow that down and find out who this sticker – and the car – belongs to?”
Up to this point, Joe had been stretched out on the couch. At Frank’s rhetorical question, he sat up and Frank glanced over at him. Joe was fidgeting nervously and wouldn’t meet Frank’s eyes. Frank sighed again, this time in resignation and massaged his forehead. Joe was about to make another revelation and Frank’s almost limitless patience with his younger brother was dangerously near the end. “What?” he said, curtly.
Joe glanced at him, looked at the floor, fiddled with his shirtsleeve… obviously stalling.
“Joe…” Frank said through partially gritted teeth.
“ZRT,” Joe blurted out.
“Huh?” Frank muttered, at the seemingly random response.
“ZRT,” Joe repeated, looking at Frank nervously. “It’s a partial on the plate.”
Frank stared at Joe, his jaw dipping slightly. “That wasn’t in your statement, Joe.”
“Uh, yeah… I know,” Joe mumbled, looking away.
“You lied to the cops?!” Frank demanded.
“No!” Joe snapped. “The cop that interviewed me was practically fresh out of the academy! He asked me if there was anything else and then didn’t bother to wait for an answer! He just assumed my answer would be no! Is that my fault?”
Frank rolled his eyes at Joe’s logic. “So you got a partial plate… and didn’t bother to mention it,” he rephrased, his annoyance close to morphing into anger.
“He made an assumption and I didn’t correct him. And I’m mentioning it now,” Joe said, somewhere between contrite and defiant.
Frank stared at Joe, disbelief turning into slow simmering anger. “Joe,” he began but Joe cut him off at the pass and began talking a mile a minute.
Frank recognized the tactic immediately. Joe had been using it so long he’d perfected it to an art form. Joe hated it when Frank was angry or upset with him. He would take it from anyone else and usually got defensive even if he was in the wrong, at least initially, just as he’d done with Fenton, but it had always been different with Frank.
Frank never quite figured out why – why it was so important to Joe that he always stay in Frank’s good graces, but for some reason it was. So as soon as Joe realized he’d pushed his brother too far and Frank was upset with him, Joe did what he did best – talk. Explanations, excuses, reasons, one after the other, barely taking a breath and never stopping long enough for Frank to say anything. And it would always be accompanied by that ‘look’. Frank wasn’t sure Joe was even aware of that part of the scenario but Joe’s eyes always spoke more eloquently than any words. His eyes begged for understanding… forgiveness… for the one person whose opinion mattered more to him than anyone in the world not to be mad at him. And that was always Frank’s undoing in the end.
As Joe rambled on, he felt the anger turn to mild annoyance and held up a hand, stopping Joe’s aimless monologue.
“Okay, okay, enough.” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed heavily. Staring at his brother Frank shook his head and then turned back to the computer. “ZRT?” he repeated.
“Yeah,” Joe confirmed, his voice softer now – apologetic… and grateful.
“Did you get the make or model?” Frank asked, hacking into the DMV database.
“Dark colored Chevy,” Joe replied, now moving from the couch to a chair facing Frank’s desk.
Frank swallowed a smile, again wondering if Joe knew he did this. Once a truce had been made, Joe immediately moved physically closer as if he were testing the waters, making sure he was truly forgiven.
“So,” Frank said as he worked the keyboard. “Any more?”
He saw Joe’s puzzled expression in his peripheral vision. “Uh, no,” he said uncertainly. “Dark Chevy, partial plate is ZRT… that’s it.”
Frank stopped typing and turned to face Joe, staring at him intently. “I meant do you have any more surprises up your sleeve? You told us one thing last night and the cops something else. And even this morning when you fessed up you weren’t totally honest,” Frank gestured towards the monitor.
“I didn’t lie!” Joe said defensively.
Frank raised his eyebrows skeptically.
“I just… didn’t tell you everything all at once, that’s all.” Joe slouched down in the chair, pouting.
Frank just stared for a moment, watching Joe squirm. “You know you’d make a lousy witness. Defense attorneys would rip you to shreds.” He turned back to the computer and resumed searching for information on the vehicle. “And you didn’t answer the question,” he glanced at Joe. “No more surprises?”
“No,” Joe said, sticking his chin out. “That’s it.”
Frank bit back a smile as he focused on the task at hand. ‘Life is never dull with you, little brother…’
*****
Fenton and Sam were huddled over the paperwork, debating their next move when Frank poked his head in the door.
“I tracked down a name and place of employment from that sticker Joe saw,” he said. “We’re gonna go check it out.” Immediately he turned to leave, without waiting for questions or acknowledgement.
“Frank!” Fenton called out, warningly, wanting to make sure he kept his younger brother in check.
“I won’t let him out of my sight!” Frank yelled back.
Fenton snapped his mouth shut, his face hot with embarrassment as he wondered if Frank could suddenly read his mind. Seconds ticked by and Fenton could feel Sam staring at him. Slowly he turned towards his partner. Sam was looking at him with a straight face but laughter in his eyes.
“What?” Sam shrugged innocently.
“Shut up,” Fenton muttered, slouching down even further.
“I didn’t say a word!” Sam protested.
“You didn’t have to. You were thinking it and I can read your mind.”
Sam laughed out loud. “To think I actually considered turning down your offer of a partnership and opening my own office. I would’ve missed all this free entertainment.”
Fenton slouched even further and crossed his arms over his chest looking an awful lot like a petulant Joe. “Shut up…”
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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.