Hardy Boys Fan Fiction at the HDA - With This Ring

Joe smiled darkly as the guy he was chasing threw yet another glance over his shoulder, apparently surprised that Joe had no problem keeping pace with him. He was fast, no doubt about it, but Joe knew he was faster. He’d set all kinds of rushing records on both his high school and college football teams. Having stepped up his workouts after graduation, knowing he couldn’t count on regular practice sessions any more, Joe knew he was in even better shape now than he had been in school.

The suspect ahead of him turned a corner, ran to the next block and turned another corner in a futile effort to elude Joe who gained on him with each step. ‘Yes!’ Joe thought, as the obviously panicking man turned yet another corner and Joe realized he must not know downtown Bayport very well – this alleyway was blocked halfway down by a chain link fence.

With no other way out, Joe assumed the fleeing man would try to scale the fence and he put on a burst of speed. When the man reached the fence and abruptly stopped short, turning on Joe, the youngest Hardy stumbled. Not having expected this, Joe caught himself and backpedaled a few steps. For a few seconds, pursuer and pursued stared at each other, both wary and trying to figure out how to get the upper hand.

The thief still had his ski mask on but Joe could see his eyes and mouth by the dim streetlight. As the man stared at Joe, his eyes lit on the bandage on Joe’s forehead and the corners of his mouth quirked up for an instant. Lunging forward the man went straight for Joe’s right arm and the stitched laceration that had barely begun to heal. A second too late Joe realized this was the same guy he’d fought with two nights earlier – the same guy who would know exactly where his weak spot was. The gloved hand clamped down on Joe’s arm, squeezing and twisting and driving Joe to his knees.

Joe hissed and gritted his teeth. ‘Ow, ow, OW! Damn that hurts!’ The pain wasn’t blinding but it was more than enough to leave Joe momentarily dazed. Still he knew he needed to recover, to fight back – NOW! Forcing himself to focus he tried to rise, only to have his arm viciously twisted again.

‘Sonofabitch!’ Joe squeezed his eyes shut, as he felt something warm and wet on his arm. ‘Blood…’

Joe felt the man shift slightly, though the pressure on his arm never let up. Forcing his eyes open Joe saw the man was preparing to kick him though exactly where he wasn’t sure. Rapidly weighing his options Joe figured he could take the blow or twist out of the way but with the man’s death-like grip on his arm, assumed he would either tear the laceration wide open or dislocate his elbow…or both. He was trying to decide which was the lesser of two evils when a loud – and very angry – voice reverberated through the alley.

“Let him go!”

Joe recognized it immediately and was flooded with relief. ‘Thank you, Dad!’

The thief froze, surprised at the newcomer and looked towards the end of the alley uncertainly, Joe’s arm still firmly in his grasp.

“NOW!” Fenton snapped and even Joe shuddered at the venom in his father’s voice.

Giving Joe’s arm one more vicious squeeze, the man shoved him to the ground. Joe immediately rolled away, cradling his arm close. He watched as Fenton strode angrily down the alley, his gun drawn and aimed squarely at thief’s head.

“Hands up! Up against the fence – face first!”

Very slowly the man started to raise his arms. Stopping halfway he glanced at Joe nervously. It took only a second for Joe to realize the cornered thief was wondering if he could reach Joe – use him as a shield or a hostage – before Fenton got to him.

Fenton had already realized the same thing. “Go ahead. Try it,” he taunted as he continued to approach. “He’s my son so I’d just love an excuse to use this,” Fenton nodded towards the gun. Joe couldn’t help but grin as his father stopped for a moment, waiting for the meaning to sink in.

Joe saw the man’s eyes widen considerably – and then the fight went out of him. He raised his arms high, turned and walked to the fence.

‘Loser!’ Joe thought with a self-satisfied smirk.

Fenton stopped near Joe but never took his eyes off their suspect. “You okay?”

“Been better,” Joe replied, “but I’ll live.”

“Give me your handcuffs.”

Joe reached back awkwardly with his left hand, pulled them out of his pocket and tossed them to his father. He watched as Fenton approached the suspect and one-handedly cuffed the man’s right wrist. Pushing himself to a standing position, Joe smiled as Fenton snapped the cuff as tight as possible then cuffed the man to the fence. Roughly kicking his legs wide, Fenton frisked him, coming up with not only a gun but also a knife. Tossing the weapons on the ground several feet away, he then turned and rushed to Joe’s side, reaching for Joe’s arm.

“Let me see,” he said as he pulled Joe’s sleeve up, his voice and his touch surprisingly gentle.

Joe winced slightly, glancing down when Fenton hissed in sympathy. “It’s opened up a little bit and it’s oozing blood,” he reported, now shining a small flashlight on the wound. “But the stitches still seem to be intact.”

“Dad! Joe!”

They both looked up to see Frank running towards them. He skidded to a stop, looked at Joe’s arm and winced. “Are you okay?”

“Yup, I’m good,” Joe answered as Fenton pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Frank.

“Put a little pressure on that, see if you can’t stop the bleeding before it gets any worse.”

“Good, huh?” Frank eyed his younger brother dubiously. “Yeah, that would explain the blood…”

Joe grimaced slightly as Frank pressed down on his arm but his eyes were glued to his father who was standing inches away from the now helpless man handcuffed to the fence.

“Where is it?” Fenton’s voice simmered with slow-burning rage.

“Where’s what?” the man asked, confused.

Fenton reached out, grabbed the top of the ski mask and pulled hard. As Fenton viciously yanked it off, the man’s nose got caught in one of the openings and he yelped out loud.

“Yeow, that had to hurt!” Joe murmured and Frank nodded in agreement.

Fenton now grabbed the man’s hair and pulled. “Where…is…the…ring?” he ground out, emphasizing each word with a less than gentle tug.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” the man grimaced. “What ring?!”

“The one you stole when you robbed Prito’s Restaurant,” Fenton demanded with another tug.

“OW! I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about! We only take cash – that’s it! Nothing else…OWW!”

“Everything okay here?” a voice called out from down the alley.

Joe and Frank turned in unison to see Con Riley walking towards them. “Damn it,” Joe hissed under his breath, exchanging a look with his brother. Now that there was a police presence Fenton’s ‘unofficial’ interrogation would come to an abrupt halt.

“I honestly don’t think he knows about the ring,” Frank murmured eyeing the man as Con approached. “There are still three other guys involved, don’t forget that.”

“But how do we know which one took the ring?” Joe asked, distressed.

Frank dabbed at the wound on Joe’s arm one last time then looked up at him. “We’ll figure it out,” he said reassuringly as Fenton rejoined them.

“You sure you’re okay?” Fenton asked, watching Joe yank his sleeve back down.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied sullenly.

Fenton arched an eyebrow at Frank who translated Joe’s suddenly dark mood. “He’s worried that with the police officially involved now we won’t find out which one of them took the ring.”

“The cops only care about the robberies!” Joe said, desperation creeping into his voice.

“Let’s take it one step at a time,” Fenton said soothingly. He patted Joe’s shoulder and then steered him back towards the street. “We’ll head down to the station and see if Collig will let us listen in on the questioning.”

“But, Dad—” Joe began.

“Ezra has a soft spot for Vanessa,” Fenton cut him off as the three of them trudged back towards the bar and their cars. “I’m sure he’ll ask about the ring. And it sounds like whichever one took it kept it from the other three so it shouldn’t be too hard to figure out.”

“I hope so,” Joe muttered.

By the time they got back to the bar, the other three thieves were already on their way to the police station. Getting in his car, Joe fell in line behind Frank’s Lexus. Together with Sam and Fenton, the foursome made a strange kind of caravan to the center of Bayport.

During the short drive Joe was restless and edgy. This was the moment he’d been working towards; it had been the driving force of his life for almost a week. Everything was finally falling into place. But as he pulled to a stop across from the police station and got out of his car, Joe still felt unsettled. He was so close, yet so much could still go wrong.

*****

The town square in the center of Bayport was ringed with historical buildings, the older structures evoking feelings of a bygone era. The Bayport Police department was located directly in the center of the town square in the oldest of those buildings. It had always been Frank’s favorite. He thought the façade with its cornices, portico, intricate balustrades and Colonial Revival architecture gave the building immense character.

The inside boasted its own personality and charm. During the day, the fanlight over the double doors allowed sunlight to enter the lobby at odd angles. As a child accompanying his father to the police station, Frank had always been fascinated with the patterns the rays of light would make on the polished floor. When he got older, Frank was always a little amused at how warm and welcoming the building seemed.

The large and spacious lobby funneled into several smaller hallways that turned and twisted as they led back to the offices and interrogation rooms. He was walking next to his brother, following Fenton, Sam, Ezra Collig and Con Riley to yet another one of those rooms. Collig and Riley had already briefly interrogated three of the four thieves and Frank was mildly surprised to find the majority of questions revolved not around the robberies themselves but Vanessa’s stolen engagement ring.

The three suspects appeared confused when asked about the theft of the ring during the robbery at Prito’s and denied any knowledge of the ring, seeming genuinely surprised when asked about it. They also insisted they were unattached when asked about having a significant other; however under further questioning all three of them said almost exactly the same thing: “Bradford has it bad for some chick.”

As the group approached the room holding the fourth suspect, Dylan Bradford, the Hardys and Sam took up positions in the hall, their view of the young man seated at the table inside unobstructed. Con Riley reached out to open the door when Joe grabbed his arm.

“Wait a second,” Joe said, his brow furrowed as he stared at the man on the other side of the glass.

“What is it?” Con asked.

“I’m not sure,” Joe murmured, his gaze intensifying. “I think I’ve seen him before…”

“Are you sure?” Fenton pressed. “Where?”

“I…I don’t know,” Joe replied, obviously frustrated, then turned to his brother and said simply. “Frank?”

Frank took a step closer to the window and stared.

“His name’s Dylan Bradford, if that helps,” Con offered.

“Sound familiar?” Fenton asked, glancing at each of his sons.

Joe shrugged and shook his head.

“No,” Frank said absently. Staring at Dylan he had a strange feeling of déjà vu but finally shook his head, unable to place him.

“I know I’ve seen him before,” Joe insisted.

Collig rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment. “Why don’t you two come in with us on this one,” he suggested. “If you two have crossed paths before, maybe it’ll spook him – or jog your memory.”

“Absolutely,” Joe agreed.

“Okay, let’s go.”

The brothers followed Collig and Riley into the small room and leaned against the wall, neither saying a word.

When they entered Dylan looked up, his gaze sweeping Chief Collig first, then Riley and Frank. He held eye contact with each of them for several seconds. When he finally looked at Joe, Dylan’s eyes widened for a split second and he immediately looked away and ducked his head.

‘Well that was interesting,’ Frank thought. It was obvious to him that this wasn’t the first time Dylan had seen Joe.

Chief Collig attempted to question the young man but each of his queries was met with complete silence. And while Dylan would occasionally look at Collig, Riley and even Frank he completely avoided looking at Joe, further arousing Frank’s suspicions.

The tension in the room grew quickly as Collig asked question after question, each one met with stony silence. Frank could practically feel the vibrations from Joe’s frustration and anger and wondered if it would be better for the two of them to wait in the hall with Sam and their father. Clearly Dylan recognized Joe from somewhere and based on the fear and anxiety he was giving off, he was obviously afraid it was just a matter of time before Joe recognized him, too. Seconds later it happened, catching Frank, Collig and Riley totally off guard…

“The restaurant!” Joe suddenly cried out, furious. With blinding speed, he was a blur as he lunged across the table at Dylan, knocking Riley out of the way.

Shocked, Frank was frozen in place as Joe grabbed the front of Dylan’s shirt and yanked him forward.

“You sonofabitch! You stole the ring! And you recognized us when you ran into me at the restaurant last night!”

Suddenly everything clicked. The image of the man, head down, dragging his dark haired date through the crowded lobby flashed through Frank’s mind. Dylan had recognized Joe – and Vanessa – last night. Bringing the image into clearer focus, Frank now saw what he missed the previous evening: Dylan had made sure his date’s hand, her left hand, was completely covered. She had been wearing the ring!

In the few seconds it had taken him to process all that, Joe had grabbed Dylan’s shirt and was violently shaking the handcuffed and helpless young man.

“Where is it?!” Joe demanded with another powerful shake. “Where’s the ring?!”

Everything seemed to happen at once as the door flew open, banging against the wall. Fenton and Sam charged in, each of them grabbing one of Joe’s arms and pulling hard – and ineffectually.

Frank watched, stunned, as Joe shook the young man again, Dylan’s head being whipped back and forth painfully, reminding Frank of a rag doll.

“JOE!” Fenton’s voice echoed off the walls. “Let him go!”

As Sam and Fenton continued to pull on Joe, Collig attempted to squeeze himself between Dylan and the table, putting himself between his suspect and an enraged Joe.

Snapped out of his daze, Frank rushed forward and grabbed Joe’s hand, literally prying his fingers off Dylan’s shirt. Joe continued yelling and swearing at the young man who right now appeared to be terrified. As soon as Joe’s left hand was free of the shirt, Fenton grabbed it and yanked it behind Joe’s back.

“Joe!” he said through obviously gritted teeth, “LET – GO!”

With Sam pulling on Joe’s right arm and Frank clawing at his fingers, they were finally able to get him off the shocked young man.

“Get him out of here!” Collig bellowed, his arm thrust angrily at Joe.

Furious, Joe continued yelling at Dylan as Frank, Fenton and Sam dragged him towards the door. “You son of a bitch! I’ll get it back! I saw her too, you know! I can find her!”

Immediately Dylan’s head snapped up and he rose partially out of the chair, fire in his eyes. The mention of his girlfriend was the one thing that finally got a reaction out of him as he threatened the youngest Hardy. “You touch her and I’ll kill you! You hear me? I’ll kill you!”

Before Joe could get off a reply, the others dragged him into the hall and slammed the door shut. Joe angrily pulled away, only to turn on them bitterly. “He was at the restaurant last night!” Joe yelled, focusing on Frank. “He’s the one who bumped into me! And he recognized us!” he continued, gesturing wildly at the closed door. “Why did you drag me out of there?! He’s the one who stole the ring!!”

“Frank,” Fenton said, breathing a little heavily. “What the hell is he talking about?” He spread his arms helplessly.

With Sam leaning against the door, standing guard, Joe stalked up and down the small hallway, glaring malevolently and swearing under his breath as Frank quickly explained about their encounter at the restaurant. Fenton’s eyes widened as he realized the implication and then he turned to his younger son. “Joe, please try to calm down.”

“No!” Joe snapped. “I could’ve gotten it out of him! I coulda made him tell me where it is if you hadn’t—”

“Hadn’t stopped you from committing assault?” Fenton said matter-of-factly.

Joe stopped for a moment, his eyes flaring. “I’m gonna find her.” His voice was bitter and angry and resonated through the hall. “I’ll track her down and I’ll find her and when I do she better give it up.” He stopped and looked at them, his voice shaking with rage. “If she doesn’t I swear to God I’ll rip it off her finger!”

They couldn’t see what was happening inside the interrogation room, either Collig or Riley having pulled the blinds on the window closed, nor could those inside the room see – or hear – Joe’s tirade. A blessing, Frank thought, given the threats he was now making. “Joe,” Frank tried a different tack. “Listen to yourself. You just threatened his girlfriend in front of a room full of witnesses – and then again out here.”

“So?!” Joe stuck his chin out defiantly. “She’s gonna give that ring back, one way or another.”

“Oh come on, you aren’t honestly going to go after her, are you?” Frank challenged him. Joe said nothing, just stared at him murderously and Frank got a brief chill. Joe had been obsessed with getting Vanessa’s ring back to the exclusion of anything else. ‘He wouldn’t really…would he?’ Frank thought. “Joe?” he said, warily. No response. “JOE!”

Joe stared at him for a moment then turned and punched the wall. “Damn it,” he murmured disconsolately and Frank could almost see him physically deflate, all the fight gone. “God, Frank we were so close. We could have had it back last night.” There was no more anger in his voice, just despair.

Frank put a hand on his shoulder. “There’s still a chance we can get it back, Joe. We can track her down and approach her…calmly…explain the ring was stolen. I bet she has no idea.” He tried to comfort his brother despite knowing the only comfort Joe wanted was feeling the ring in his hand.

“Yeah, right,” Joe snorted softly. “I’m sure if we just knock on the door and tell her it was stolen she’ll be happy to give it back. ‘Oh, so sorry. I didn’t know. Here you go…’ ”

Frank sighed heavily and looked to his father for help. “Joe,” Fenton said, stepping closer to his sons, “a good attorney can convince the judge to subpoena the ring from her, force her to turn it over as evidence. If he agrees, we can prove it’s Vanessa’s. We’ll get it back, son, it’ll just take a little longer than we hoped.”

Joe looked up at Frank and Fenton, his eyes burning with self-doubt. “And by that time he will have told her to ditch it or hide it or…something.” He shook his head. “It’ll be too late by then. The ring will be gone for good.” His voice was soft and low and he sounded like he’d already given up. “I promised Vanessa I’d get it back. How the hell am I supposed to face her now?”

Shoulders slumped and head down, Joe turned and walked away…

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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.