Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

A/N: While this chapter does not include the Hardys or Nancy, it is an incredibly (I can't stress this enough) important chapter. Skip it and you'll miss some rather pertinent clues and information. (You know me: I seldom write frivolous chapters!) It's an incredibly sad and depressing chapter, if that were possible after the previous one, but I thought I should warn you. Now, that said, I do promise to return to the Hardys with the next chapter, since we haven't seen what they've been up to in a while.

On the same night of the fire, in the chill of the winter darkness, twenty-four-year old Natalia Murray meandered slowly down a cracked, Chicago sidewalk in the shadows of a row of dilapidated buildings. It hadn’t snowed in weeks, but there were still a few low piles of dirty, icy crusts leftover from what was ploughed from the streets during the last snowfall.

She felt like a weight had been lifted from her both physically and figuratively, yet coupled with this newfound release was the feeling of terrible sadness tinged with regret. The sadness and regret would pass soon enough, she hoped. Things were probably much better this way, she reasoned to herself, all things considered.

For the first time in a long time, she was also full of hope. Natalia figured she could make a new start now, with the $3000 check she had in the left pocket of her jeans. That would be good enough for first and last months’ rent someplace, perhaps, with some left over for groceries…maybe even a decent change of clothes. Yes, new clothes…that was a good idea. With a new, clean wardrobe, maybe she could get a job interview and look her best - even if it was for something like a fast food place. Even a menial position meant a pay check, and with a pay check, she could maintain a bank account, and that would mean a higher level of respectability in the eyes of the rest of the world. From there, the sky was the limit! Oh, the possibilities! Oh, the freedom to plan!

And if after all those essentials were taken care of…if there was a little bit leftover, there might even be enough for…No! Natalia shook her head resolutely. She’d been clean for nine months. Sinking back into those old, bad habits would only bring trouble, and she didn’t want to be down and out again. Squandering this, her second chance, would be foolish.

Three months ago, Natalia had been so certain she’d never get out of the hole she’d dug for herself. Everything was going wrong. Sharing a grungy corner underground with other homeless bums in a section of Lower Wacker; panhandling up above in the daylight hours…begging for food money…

One of those mornings three months ago she’d felt so faint, and the pain in her back was so unbearable. Before she knew it, anxious passers-by were gawking at her. A man in an expensive business suit was talking animatedly on his cell phone while someone else was at her side on the ground where she lay, asking her questions - questions that sounded like they were filtering through a bad long-distance connection. An ambulance arrived, and she was loaded on and whisked away to a hospital.

There, emergency room staff had admitted her and the doctors stopped the contractions in time. They agreed to take her on as a charity case.

“How far along are you?” A Dr. Gerry Carmichael had asked when she was awake and alert.

“Six months, I think,” Natalia had answered from her bed. “I’m pretty sure, anyway…”

He’d tsk-ed under his breath and sighed. “Do you have anyone we can call? The baby’s father? Your parents, maybe?”

Natalia had shaken her head. “The baby’s father took off five months ago.” She gave a small, scornful laugh. “Left when I was out for a spell. Came back to find he’d cleared everything out except some of my clothes. Including our joint bank account, that bastard. Eviction notice on the door, too. He was supposed to be paying the rent. Guess he let it slip. Gave me the slip, too. I don’t know where he is. And I don’t have any parents.”

“Where are you staying now?” Dr. Carmichael asked, not bothering to challenge her on her previous answers.

Natalia remained silent.

“I see…” He’d ignored that lack of response too, then asked sternly: “Have you been using?” His eyes bore into hers, this time without any indication he was going to back down without a straight answer.

Natalia shot him back an indignant look. So, he’d noticed the old track marks on her arms. She’d shaken her head vehemently nevertheless. “No way have I been using!” she’d groused loudly. “Not when I knew there was a baby on the way. I don’t do that junk anymore, okay? I know nobody’s going to want a druggie baby, or a baby with that fetus-alcohol-whatever-you-call-it…What kind of mom would I be if I did that to my kid?”

“Fetal Alcohol Syndrome,” Dr. Carmichael had mumbled under his breath, in a half-hearted effort to correct Natalia, realising the proper phrase would most likely be lost on her. “So, you’re planning on carrying this child to term…”

Natalia had stared at him like he was from another planet.

Duh, she’d wanted to say.

“I couldn’t get rid of the baby,” she’d said passionately. “I mean, he or she deserves a shot, right? Maybe my kid will be the one to discover the cure for cancer, you know? Or be president one day...”

“Miss Murray,” Dr. Carmichael broke in with another sigh, “you’re undernourished. You have no permanent address. You can’t care for yourself, much less your baby. What plans do you have when it’s time for the baby to come? I assume from what you’ve said you want to place the baby for adoption…Have you contacted an adoption agency of any kind to make arrangements? What do you have in mind for the kind of couple you’d like to take over the raising of this child? Does the father of the baby even know about your plans?”

His questions were delivered in a manner that made Natalia feel like he was hammering them into her head. She’d felt abused and chastened at the same time. Tears formed in the corner of her eyes, but she quickly got hold of her emotions.

“As far as I’m concerned, the baby’s father gave up his rights when he walked out on us.”

“Mm-hmm…”

“I just kinda thought maybe I’d do a private adoption thing,” Natalia remembered saying. “Maybe put an ad in the paper?”

“With what money?” Dr. Carmichael had asked dryly. “Do you know what it costs to place an ad in the paper? Where would you meet potential families: in a filthy gutter or some dive where there are rats and roaches for roommates?”

Natalia had felt tears starting to sting her eyes again. Why was this doctor being so mean?

Dr. Carmichael expelled his breath loudly again then, and Natalia thought this was perhaps a habit of his, however disconcerting. He’d sat down on the edge of her bed and looked at her with a rather serious gaze which then seemed to soften.

“I’m sorry, Natalia. I don’t intend to come across so harshly. Believe me, I’m only doing it to point out the fact that we live in a harsh world. It’s ‘look out for number one’ in this place. People are going to take advantage of you unless you plan.”

Natalia had sniffled and given a small nod.

“Now, you say you want to put the baby up for adoption, right? I can help you with that. There’s an agency that helps young women in your position.”

He’d scribbled an address on a sheet of paper and handed it to her. “It’s a clinic of sorts. I want you to go there when you’re released. They’ll put you up, help with the delivery, and then get the baby to a good home.”

“Oh, really, Doctor?” Natalia had cried happily. “They’ll really help me?”

“Absolutely. You won’t have to pay a cent. It’s a privately-funded clinic with ties to a top-notch adoption agency.”

She hadn’t needed any further convincing.

When Natalia was discharged, Dr. Carmichael had slipped her $50.

“I’m putting my faith in you, Natalia. I know you want to do what’s best for the baby. I realise you probably won’t be able to make it to that clinic I’ve recommended right away. In the meantime, you can start by feeding yourself better. Don’t waste the money on potato chips and soda, understand? I mean good food, like fruits and veggies and milk. Vitamins, too. Both you and baby need good nutrition. Can you do that until you get to the clinic?”

Natalia had promised that she would, and kept her promise she had.

Later that week, she’d made her way to the clinic Dr. Carmichael had referred her. She found it with some difficulty, and decided it didn’t look like much from the outside. She’d been a bit apprehensive based on this first impression, but when she got to the doors, a friendly older woman dressed in a nurse’s uniform welcomed her warmly and greeted her by name.

“You must be Natalia!” she had said, beaming. “Dr. Carmichael told us we could expect you. We’re so glad you came to us. Too many young women just have no idea where to turn when there’s no one to help them through such a difficult time.”

Five other young women were having the same ‘difficult time’ as Natalia, she soon discovered.

The older woman in the nurse’s uniform was called ‘Trina’, and she was apparently in charge of the everyday care of the residents of the clinic, which seemed to Natalia to be more of a residence for the girls, with an Ob/Gyn on call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. She was fed well, and had a small room with a comfortable bed all to herself. All the amenities, too. Bath with hot water. TV. A kitchen/dinette that the rest of the expectant mothers shared. Regular check-ups for her and the baby were also done on-site. Everything seemed to be going well for both mother and baby, much to Natalia’s delight and relief.

Every day, the residents were shown files and pictures of potential adopting couples along with their biographies. These couples were from all over the country, as their pertinent life facts revealed. Some had specific traits and features listed when describing the type of baby they desired to adopt. The other five girls would pore over these, and discuss which ones they thought would be the best fit for their child.

For Natalia, she thought she’d like to maybe meet with some of the couples personally, but was told by Trina that this would be impossible. Something about confidentiality, she had said.

“This isn’t going to be an open adoption,” Trina had voiced sternly when Natalia pressed the matter and demanded to know the reason why. “I thought Dr. Carmichael explained that to you.”

No, he hadn’t explained that part, Natalia thought defensively. But she didn’t want to seem ungrateful. These people were putting her up. They were feeding her and making sure the baby was healthy and developing well.

“Of course, there is the matter of the handsome fee you’ll be receiving from the agency as you are the birth mother,” Trina had added. “You’ll be getting a portion of what these couples will be paying to the agency for their services…You are still willing to give up the baby, aren’t you?”

Yes, absolutely, Natalia had replied. It was the best for both of them. Like the other five young women, Natalia had finally made her selection from the stack of files of potential adopting couples.

When she went into labour, her thoughts were with the happy couple to whom her child would be going, and fervently hoped she’d chosen well. The baby’s going to a good home, Natalia reminded herself, Dr. Carmichael promised. All those couples are good people.

That was three days ago, now, Natalia reflected, as the streetlight she passed cast an ugly orange glow onto the pavement, only partially dispelling the blackness of the night that seemed to sink around her.

Three days ago, and still there was that ache in her heart.

There had been ‘complications’ three days ago. The physician in the birthing room had explained that there was some problem with the umbilical cord or the placenta.

Natalia now leaned unsteadily against the light pole. She actually felt quite terrible for the family she’d picked out to be the recipients of this gift of life. There’d be no baby for them now, at least not from her. Natalia was quite grateful that she’d been given the $3000 from the agency, anyway. She felt like she didn’t deserve it; that she hadn’t lived up to her end of the bargain; that she’d failed everyone: Dr. Carmichael, Trina, the adopting couple, and most of all, the baby girl she had carried for nine months.

Suddenly she felt overwhelmed by everything and began to weep uncontrollably.

They didn’t even let me hold her. It didn’t matter to me that she was stillborn…I didn’t even get to hold her…She sank to her knees as her sobs became more audible.

Natalia barely noticed when a man approached her and touched her gently on the shoulder.

“Miss, are you okay?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

Natalia looked up with her tear-stained face at the man. He was clean-shaven, wearing a heavy topcoat, and was perhaps in his early thirties. Natalia was initially cautious, because this wasn’t exactly the safest part of town, and didn’t know if she could trust this person.

“I-I’m fine,” she managed to say limply. “Please, just leave me alone. I’m fine.”

“If you don’t mind me saying so, you don’t exactly look fine,” he replied, cocking his head to one side. “I don’t mean that as an insult, you know. I just mean you look like you need a pick-me-up…Look, my name’s Brad, and I have to tell you I hate to see a lady cry.”

“I’m Natalia,” she whispered, and rubbed her face with her sleeve.

“Why don’t you come with me? I think I have just the thing to make you feel better.”

Brad smiled at her and extended his gloved hand. Like an obedient child, Natalia reached out and let him lead her away.

Accepting kindness and sympathy from this stranger would ultimately prove to be her undoing.

Four hours later, Brad was fishing in Natalia’s pockets for the $3000 check. When he found it he pulled out his cell phone. He dialled a number and waited for an answer.

“I’ve got it,” Brad spoke when the other party picked up.

“Good. Destroy it. It can’t be found with her when they discover her body.”

“Right,” Brad said briskly.

“I trust everything went well?”

“Yes,” Brad said. “Everything’s in place. This one will be written up as just another junkie who got high and OD’d. Nobody’s going to give a rat’s ass, as always.”

“Excellent. That’s just how we want it.”

Brad ended the call and walked silently to the door, being careful not to disturb any of the drug paraphernalia he’d left scattered about the dingy SRO, or single room occupancy ‘suite’. With one last look at the inert body lying on the filthy floor, he left quickly, leaving the door slightly ajar. Really, it didn’t matter to him one way or another when someone actually found Natalia. His part of the job was done.

It was pretty pathetic though, he thought, that she’d never know what really happened to her kid. Not that it mattered. No one cared, and no one would care. Society in general was apathetic like that towards nobodys like Natalia and their progeny. Brad smiled to himself. That was why they’d get away with it. After all, they had in the past. And they’d keep getting away with it, too. Of that he was most certain.

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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.