CHOICES
by
RM
Chapter 19
THE CHAPTERS
Joe was slightly elated
that his theory had been right. But that elation was quickly wavering. He
feared that they would be too late to help Frank if his brother had been
taken there.
“Joe,” Fenton said
getting his son’s attention. “You did a good job coming up with that
angle.”
“But was it soon
enough?” Joe asked.
“I don’t know, son. I
don’t know.”
Joe focused his gaze out
the window. As the scenery passed by, he couldn’t squash the feeling that
they were too late.
Why couldn’t I have
found that information sooner? he
thought. We had it right there in front of us and we didn’t see it. We
probably put Frank in even more danger and it could have been prevented if
we had looked harder. Frank has to be all right. He just has to be. If
he’s not, I don’t know what I’m going to do. All my life, if I ever
had a problem, I could go to Frank. He would listen and then encourage me
to think things through. He would never tell me what I should do, but allow
me to make the decision myself.
I’m not sure how
things will be in the future if Frank’s not around. As much as he needs
me, I need him more. I wouldn’t have become the person I am today. Frank
really had an influence on me. And if something has happened to him, how
will I go on? How will we all go on?
Frank has to be all
right. He has to be.
The rest of the ride into
the city was made in silence. As each mile passed by, time seemed to move
more slowly.
Entering the city limits,
Joe leaned forward in his seat, anxious to reach Roman’s Restaurant. Half
an hour later, Fenton parked the car next to the curb. As they climbed out,
a patrol car pulled into the parking spot behind them.
Two officers climbed out
of the car. Joe saw the one had a folded piece of paper in his hand.
“Is that the search
warrant?” Fenton asked.
Joe was confused. He
didn’t recall his father calling about a warrant. But he also know he had
not been focused on what his father had been doing on the drive on.
“Yes, it is, Mr.
Hardy,” the officer said. He handed the paper to Fenton.
“Thank you.”
Joe looked at the run down
building in front of him. The canvas awning had numerous tears and holes.
The white lettering for Roman’s Restaurant was fading away. Pieces of
concrete from the building were scattered on the sidewalk along with shards
of glass.
“Let’s go,” Fenton
said, moving toward the front door. “One of you should stay by the
door.”
“Yes, sir,” said the
officer who had handed Fenton the search warrant.
Joe followed his father as
they entered the restaurant. He stopped abruptly when he saw the inside.
Chairs were upside down on
the tables and from the initial impression he got, he didn’t think anyone
had been there for years. But the swept floor told him otherwise. There was
no dust covering the floor and knew someone had taken care of it.
“Spread out,” Fenton
said, getting Joe’s attention.
Nodding his head, Joe made
his way toward the kitchen as his father went to the left and the other
officer went to the right. Joe reached the swinging door and slowly pushed
it open.
The kitchen was empty of
any people. All the pots, pans and utensils were absent. He moved further
into the kitchen, looking for anything that seemed out of place. Once
again, he noticed that while there was dust on the counters, the floor had
been swept of mopped clean recently. Joe slowly scanned the area. He
spotted the refrigerator door and knew that was where food had been kept
when the restaurant was in operation.
Turning about, he noticed
two wooden doors on the other side of the room. He figured he’s check
them out for any clues to lean him to his brother. Reaching the first door,
Joe pulled it open.
It was a storeroom with
several shelves. The shelves lined three of the walls and there was a set
of selves sitting in the middle of the room. All of them were empty.
Closing the door, Joe
turned his attention to the other door. He reached for the knob and pulled
it open. He could make out a staircase, seeing a lights witch on the wall,
he turned the light on and made his way down the stairs. His eyes scanned
the room and he noticed the shackles hanging from the pipe in the middle of
the room. Nearby, there was a ring in the cement floor, with just half of
it sticking up.
Seeing the shackles and
the ring, Joe started to get an uneasy feeling. Turning about the room, Joe
stopped short and stared at the item scrunched up on the floor by the
bottom stair. Moving quickly toward the item, he recognized it. It was the
shirt Frank had been wearing when they had gone out to eat.
Frank had been here!
Joe thought.
Rushing up the stairs, Joe
was anxious to share the news with his father. He went through the kitchen
and went into the dining area. He saw his father standing in the middle of
the room with his hands on his hips.
“Dad, Frank was here.”
Fenton turned to look at
him. “What?”
“I found Frank’s
shirt. He was in the basement.”
“Show me.”
Joe led his father into
the kitchen and then down into the basement. He pointed out the shirt to
his father.
Fenton moved past Joe and
crouched down beside the shirt. He watched his father pullout his pen and
lift the shirt with it. Fenton looked up at Joe. “Are you sure this is
your brother’s?”
“I’m sure,” Joe
said, nodding his head. “He was wearing that when we went out to eat.
I’m positive.”
“All right.” Fenton
put the shirt down and stood up. “Your brother was definitely here. But
the question remains, where is he now?”
“Maybe there’s another
clue down here,” Joe said, looking about.
“Then let’s find
it.”
As Fenton checked the area
around the stairs, Joe moved to the pipe that had the shackles. Looking at
the pipe, he saw what appeared to be dried blood.
“Dad, I think Frank is
hurt,” Joe said.
“Why do you think
that?” Fenton asked as he came over to him.
“There’s dried blood
on this pipe,” Joe said pointing out the areas on the pipe. “Frank’s
been bleeding.”
“We don’t know for
sure if it is Frank’s or not,” Fenton said.
“Dad, we found Frank’
shirt here. For some reason, I really believe that this is Frank’s
blood.”
“You’re probably
right,” Fenton said. “But that doesn’t tell us where Frank is now.”
Joe looked at his father.
He had to voice the question that was swirling around in his head. “Dad,
do you think Perrelli has killed him?”
“NO,” Fenton said
sharply. He looked Joe in the eye. “Your brother is not dead.”
“Then we need to find
him.”
“I agree,” Fenton
said. “We need to call in more people to go over this place. There’s a
lead here to your whereabouts.”
“I agree.”
They headed back up to the
kitchen. As Fenton returned to the dining area, Joe stopped in the kitchen.
He looked for anything that would help them. But he didn’t see anything.
For some reason, Joe moved
to the refrigerator. He reached for the handle and stopped when he heard
the blower kick on. Joe couldn’t understand why the refrigerator was on.
The restaurant hadn’t been open in years, so there was no need to have it
running.
Joe grabbed the handle and
pulled the door open. His mouth fell open. Inside the refrigerator was
Frank.
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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.