HDA - Living in Darkness Trilogy - Pt 2 - The Search

Deanna Merrill sighed as she folded her legs under her and sat down on the front steps of the house where they found Joe Hardy, and rubbed at her sore shoulders. Now that they had located Joe some of the intensity of the case started to fade, causing Deanna to start to feel the things she otherwise usually ignored, like aches and pains both physical…

…and emotional.

Deanna rubbed at sore and tired eyes and closed them for a few minutes, replacing her dark sunglasses as she leaned back on both hands and let the last remains of the sunlight shine down on her. It was getting harder now, despite having to hunt down Andrew Mathews, to ignore the pain of loss. While she worked she could forget that Daniel was gone, that he'd been lost to her. She caught herself at odd times thinking about going home and Daniel meeting her at the door, taking her coat and hanging it up before leading her in to the dinner made either by him or one of their older children – usually their oldest daughter, Kelley. While Karen, Kelley's twin, was usually the more domestic of the two girls, Kelley loved to cook. Deanna suspected that if Kelley wasn't so bent on one day becoming a doctor, the girl would become a world-famous chef. Deanna remembered many days when she came home and found Kelley puttering around in the kitchen, working on her latest creation, with aromas that usually made Deanna's mouth water. Deanna had no idea where her daughter got the penchant for cooking because Deanna herself was lucky not to burn water.

I am no domestic goddess, Deanna thought ruefully. Despite grandmere's intense desire to make me one.

Inside she heard the hustle and bustle of the local F.B.I. crime scene unit, gathering evidence that they were eventually going to use to nail the lid shut on Andrew Mathews’ coffin. Deanna herself would dearly love to wield the hammer that took Andrew down. She didn't see a victim when she thought of that young man. She saw a menace to society. She saw a spoiled brat who took it into his head to take something that didn't belong to him. She hadn't seen very much of Joe Hardy, but she'd seen enough to recognize that haunted expression in the young man's eyes.

She'd seen it the day she rescued Daniel from a similar fate a few years ago – an expression she saw sometimes even now when Daniel got tired or frustrated. It was an expression that would stay with Joe for years to come – maybe forever. It would go for a while and when his family least expected it, it would return again.

But, for now, Joe Hardy was safe. And unlike other young men Deanna had seen in similar situations, he had a very strong family to support him and to help him through the recovery. Men, as a rule, all had the same reactions to rape. It was always their fault. There was always something they should have done to keep it from happening.

And the anger. The anger was always there too. If a family didn’t stay strong the anger could tear them apart. The Hardys would have to learn both when to comfort Joe and when to tell him to cut out the garbage.

She suspected that Mandy would do just that. That was one determined young lady!

Deanna sat up again and stretched, feeling a little more with it. The waning sun rejuvenated her and, as other members of her team set up spotlights on the house so they could continue to work into the night, she felt refreshed enough to join them again.

"You okay, Dea?" Deanna looked over at her best friend as Audrey approached, pulling a pair of latex gloves off her hands.

Deanna smiled and nodded, shielding her eyes from the shining spotlight that lit up the whole area.

"I'm good," Deanna admitted and she realized that, for all intents and purposes, she was. The ache was there and she knew that later on the loneliness would threaten to eat her alive but, at that moment, she was fine. She'd make it. "How much do they have left to do?"

"Well," Audrey turned and led Deanna back into the house. "They've completely marked the whole downstairs room, lifted prints and…specimens…from the bed itself. They're taking the whole mattress with them for testing and DNA profiling. We've got prints outside of the room, we assume they're all Andrew's but they'll be run through Codus back in the lab. They've taken full pictures of the whole house. We've got a very solid case here, Dea. Now we just need the suspect."

"Good," Deanna grinned. "We can nail the little weasel to the wall. Any ideas where the little twerp ran off to?"

Audrey shook her head and led the way into their base of operations – the den. A large Massachusetts map was spread over the desk with little sticky stars marking various locations on the map.

"The red stars are all places that we know for sure Mathews owns," Audrey said. "The gold stars are all places we suspect he owns, based on paperwork we've seen around the house but in different names. The blue stars are all places, based on other paperwork, where he has friends and/or people he knows, and the green stars are all places he's been spotted."

"This is good," Deanna smiled at her friend. "Damn good, Audrey."

"I try my humble best," Audrey laughed. "And there are three other properties we know about, of course. The mansion in Connecticut is his now, I'm sure, plus that house in Bayport where Joe was first held, and the property in Virginia ."

Audrey bit her lip when she mentioned the last but Deanna ignored that as she studied the map.

"The little twerp doesn't think too consistently," Deanna said. "Except in his desire to bait the Hardys. He's going to do his damn level best to steal Joe away again, we all know that. He can do a number of things, none of which I like, but I have a feeling he's going to stay close to wherever Joe is. That's the object of his obsession; he won't want to get too far away from him."

Audrey looked up at her friend for a moment then turned back to the page in front of her again. "Good thoughts, all," Audrey admitted. "So, where do we start?"

"I'm starting with going to bed," Deanna said. "We've both been up for a very long time and I want to get some sleep. Let's go do that and we can deal with this in the morning."

Audrey grinned her agreement. "Twist my leg, why don't ya?"

"Give it here and I will," Deanna laughed. "Let's go."

** ** **

"How's he doing?" Fenton came into Joe's room and touched Mandy on the shoulder. Mandy turned, a startled expression on her face until she looked up at her father, and she relaxed back into her chair, shrugging.

"He's sleeping for now," she whispered softly. "Whatever that last drug Andrew gave him was, it's made him groggy, I think. He's…"

Mandy cut off and shrugged again, blue eyes staring at her brother's still form. Joe slept with one hand over his eyes, the other lying on the bed, connected to an IV. Fenton looked at him for a moment and said a silent prayer of thanks that they had been able to find him.

"What's wrong?" Fenton looked back down at Mandy and, finally, he knelt beside her, dark eyes looking into hers. "You look upset, honey."

Mandy frowned, eyes leaving her father's for a moment as she stared at Joe again. "He's…he's different…"

"Different?" Fenton asked. "What do you mean?"

"I think…I don't know what I think," Mandy sighed. "It's just, things are so muddled between us right now. I know we just found him. I know he went through hell. I know he's drugged and sore and he's been held captive but…but we've always been able to talk, about anything, and I can tell. He's pushing me away, trying to block me out. Not physically, I mean, but he…I don't think he wanted me to stay here with him."

Fenton sighed and rubbed at his head, willing away a headache that was forming. He didn't have time to deal with a headache or any other physical ailments – there was too much else to do right now.

"He's going to do that," Fenton sighed. "He has been through hell, as you put it. A person he trusted –and liked – held him captive, made him helpless and…and raped him."

"It's not his fault!" Mandy insisted as she turned on her father. "It's not his fault!"

Her voice caused Joe to stir and the arm came up off his eyes. Mandy froze, watching Joe as he turned slightly away from her, settled once more and went back to sleep again. Neither Mandy nor Fenton said anything but Fenton took Mandy's arm and pulled her up out of her chair, leading her out into the hallway.

"Sweetheart, I know it's not his fault," Fenton said. "And you know it and everyone else knows it, but Joe is not going to know it. You know that. You can tell him a thousand times that there was nothing he could have done to stop what happened, but it won't change facts. He's going to blame himself."

"I'm not going to let him." Mandy leaned back against the wall behind her, but met her father's gaze evenly. "He can feel whatever he wants to feel but he's going to learn the truth, whatever else happens."

Fenton smiled and tousled Mandy's hair like she was a young child. She protested and batted his hand away, but returned Fenton's smile.

"Just be ready for it, Mandy," Fenton said. "He's strong, he's tough, he's almost as stubborn as you are, and he's not going to want to listen. I just wanted to warn you."

"I consider myself warned, then." Mandy turned back to Joe's room. "Don't worry, Daddy. The key word in your last statement was almost. He's almost as stubborn as I am."

With a sweet smile she went back into Joe's room, and Fenton stood for a moment, considering. Then he returned to Frank's room, located two floors away, to see if Frank's doctor had been in to see him yet.

Ideally, what Fenton wanted to do was get both boys back to Bayport and [back] with their regular family doctor. The detective suspected that both of his sons would be more comfortable with doctors they knew, and the support of their friends and family nearby.

At least, Fenton thought, satisfied with the idea, they would be in familiar territory and we could all be together there.

Fenton walked into Frank's room and found his oldest son propped up in the hospital bed, talking to his girlfriend.

"Hello, son," Fenton said to his oldest as he came up behind Samantha. Sam graced him with a warm smile before she turned back to Frank and continued stroking the hand that she held between both of her own.

"Hey, Dad," Frank said. "How's Joe?"

"He was asleep when I was down there," Fenton said. "Mandy's sitting with him. Probably won't drag her away anytime soon. Did your doctor come see you?"

"Yeah," Frank grumbled. "He said you can bring me back to Bayport anytime but they're definitely going to have to do surgery on the knee – just what I need, right? My arm's healing all right, though."

"That's good to hear," Fenton said. "We'll have Doctor Carlisle check it over when we get you back home, though, to make sure he agrees. We should be able to leave tomorrow.”

"Joe can travel already?" Frank asked.

"Well, you would both be going straight into the hospital in Bayport," Fenton explained. "Though, in Joe's case, he just needs time to rest, heal up, and get some strength back from being imprisoned. You, my son, are probably going to have a lot longer hospital stay in your future."

Frank groaned and Samantha gently squeezed his hand.

"What about Andrew?" Frank asked finally, as he shifted in bed. His leg was in a brace, leaving it pretty immobile, and Fenton wondered if it felt as uncomfortable as it looked. "Do you need to stay to help find him?"

"Perhaps," Fenton said. "But right now the more important thing is to get you guys back home. I think Joe needs to be back in familiar territory again – somewhere familiar. I mean, we can't go back to the house, of course, but Mom's been working on finding a house to stay in until we can rebuild."

Samantha spoke up, then. "Sweetheart, I need to go out and call my dad. I promised I'd let him know what's going on as soon as I could. He's probably going to yell."

She smiled sheepishly but only Fenton could see it. Samantha leaned forward and kissed Frank, then squeezed his hand again and headed for the door.

"Samantha," Fenton said to his son's girlfriend as he put a hand on her arm, "Thank you for all your help."

Samantha's smile grew even warmer. "You're welcome, Mr. Hardy," she said.

"Would you like me to talk to your father for you?" Fenton offered.

Samantha shook her head. "No, sir, but thank you," she said politely. "I'm a big girl now. I can handle the big bad wolf."

She laughed and continued out the door, and Fenton settled into her chair.

"So what's up, Dad?" Frank asked placidly while he scratched at the side of his nose with his good hand. He leaned back against the pillows behind him and got comfortable again, though his good hand went down to rub at the top of his leg. "You sound…worried?"

Frank made it a question and Fenton leaned forward, elbows on the edge of Frank's bed.

"Just worried about Joe," Fenton admitted. "What this is going to do to him. And mad at myself."

"Mad at yourself? Why?" Frank reached for and found Fenton’s arm, then slid his hand down until he had his father's hand secure in his grip.

"I'm mad that I didn't see this coming," Fenton said. "I'm mad that I couldn't stop it, that I didn't find Joe fast enough to keep Andrew off of him, and that I was too blasted slow to figure things out when I should have, that's what I'm mad at."

Frank raised an eyebrow eloquently and shook his head. "Are you telling me you're supposed to be omniscient, Dad?"

Fenton laughed ruefully. "Well, I suppose not," he admitted. "But a father is supposed to keep his kids safe, right? He's supposed to keep the bad guys away. That's even more important for a father who is a detective. We have to do more…"

Frank made a derisive noise. "Riiight, supermen, the whole lot of you," he gibed. "I can see it now. Did you get a red cape lately?"

Fenton's laugh was a little more sincere. "I know, I know," he said. "Not my fault, did everything I can, et cetera. Right?"

"Right," Frank agreed. "You wouldn't let me or Joe feel this way so, I suppose turnabout is fair play, right?"

Fenton laughed again. "Right."

"What would you tell me if I was feeling the same way?" Frank asked.

Fenton thought. "I'd be telling you to stop it, that there's more important things to worry about – that you did everything you could, and now that we have Joe back, it's time to concentrate on him and helping him as much as he'll allow. Right?"

"Correct." Frank leaned back again and closed his eyes. He spoke softly. "I can't wait to get home."

"Me either," Fenton agreed. "Me either."

*** *** ***

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, not happening, not happening, he's mine, mine, mine, not happening, mine!

Andrew threw the plastic gloves from his hair dye kit into the garbage beside the sink and looked into the mirror. Still wet, his hair was, nonetheless, now a nice muddy brown color, not the golden brown he was used to looking at. The young man knew he had to hide his features, to look different if he wanted even a remote chance of getting to Joe again, of getting him back.

Next time, Andrew thought, we leave the country. Right away. No more hiding here, that was stupid. I should have taken him to another country right away.

Andrew brushed his hair back, smoothing the curls as best he could. He changed into a ragged-looking t-shirt and pair of jeans, then put on a fake mustache. That itched a lot, but when he looked into the mirror he didn't even recognize himself, especially with the brown contacts in his eyes.

Good, he thought with a smile. Great. That's perfect. I can get close to him now. I know it.

Andrew picked up an old backpack from off the floor and peered inside, studying the contents. He found the fake passports he'd had made earlier – one for him and one for Joe. He would have to give Joe a similar dye job when he found his cousin but that wouldn't last. When he got them to where they were going, they could bleach their hair back to blonde or let it grow out naturally.

I should have done it this way to begin with. I just knew I could get him to love me faster, though. Well, if we need more time, we need more time.

Time to go get him again.

Andrew went out to an old, beat-up VW van and threw his bag behind the seat before he climbed behind the wheel. It wasn't too far to the hospital from here; once there he could figure out the best way to get Joe out and be on his way again. Joe should still be sleeping off the drugs that Andrew gave him.

Once at the hospital Andrew took out the worker's uniform he'd brought with him and pulled it on over his ratty clothing. He clipped on an ID, and went in through the worker's entrance, keeping his head down when he saw some police officers there.

He ducked into a side hallway and into a small room, composing himself before he went back out again. Finally, he was on his way up, whistling as he stood in the elevator. Andrew smiled at a doctor who got on, but they otherwise ignored each other. Finally, Andrew got off and looked down the hallway.

They wouldn't tell me what room he's in, Andrew thought grumpily. But I can figure this out, just need to take my time. As long as I don't run into any of them, I'll be fine.

It took some time – but finally he did it. He found Joe's room.

And he found Mandy, blast it all. Of course she would be there, messing things up.

Andrew grabbed a rolling cart, took out a large, industrial-sized garbage bag and made his way into the room, moving as quietly as he could as he closed the door behind him and quietly locked it. Mandy stirred from her resting place and then woke, turning to look at him, taking in the uniform first before moving to his face.

It took a moment, giving Andrew enough time to pull her close and put his hand over her mouth, before she realized who she was looking at. She struggled, screaming as loudly as she could, the noise muffled by his hand and he pinched her nostrils closed and kept his hand tightly over her mouth. Mandy kicked and screamed some more, fighting for release, but finally, she began to weaken, and she suddenly slumped over.

Andrew turned away from the bed and was about to put Mandy inside of the large garbage bag when, with a mighty roar of outrage, someone jumped him from behind!

Let the author know what you think of this story

Home Library Authors Rogue's Gallery Vehicles Chums Message Board Rap Sheet Links Contact

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.