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

The thought was enough to make him want to jump for joy, do a dance, shout with glee and march in a parade, could he find one. What he did in reality, however, was lie very still and listen, waiting to see if the bear was trying to fake him out. He no longer smelled a fishy, musty smell or heard the rumbling of the large beast. He heard nothing that indicated the bear being anywhere in the vicinity. Hopefully he decided to go find a cold stream somewhere and hunt for a fish. Fish were much more edible than one Frank Hardy, Frank was sure of it.

Frank, still holding on tightly to his walking stick, used it to get carefully to his feet. He tapped ahead cautiously to once more begin his walk toward civilization, and marveled at the very thought of being alive. Living. He might be blind. He might be on his own. He might have little hope for survival but right now, here in this moment, it didn't matter. Right now he was alive and able to chart his own course.

Now, if I could actually see to plot that course, Frank thought as he nose-dived down off of his high. What was that again? Put one foot in front of the other.

With his friendly walking stick leading the way, Frank continued to walk, very slowly, down the gravel road. He doubted he’d come a mile since he first set out, and had no idea how far it was from where he started, to the road. The distances in his head from the drive made no sense right now and he tried to ignore the numbers whirling around in his brain. Frank gave up trying to make sense of them and continued to walk, trying to keep as much weight off of his bad leg as possible, using his walking stick for both guide and support.

It's getting colder out here, he thought as he zipped up his jacket and continued to walk. It was late enough that the sun was going down, and he hoped no other nocturnal creatures would come out looking for dinner after sundown. Frank shivered slightly and hoped, prayed, for someone to find him. He refused to give up though, despite the now constant throb in his knee and arm. His knee buckled several times, nearly sending him to the ground but he held on tightly to his walking stick and stayed on his feet. He stopped for a few minutes each time, waiting it out, until he could partially support his weight on his knee, then began to trudge on again.

One foot.

In front of the other.

One foot.

In front of the other.

Repeat.

Ad nauseum.

Who shot Aunt Cathy?

The thought came unbidden to Frank again, worrying him more than he wanted. The point remained that someone shot her – or for some reason she shot herself. He had no idea what the truth was but he somehow doubted she could shoot herself in the neck like that, even accidentally. He hadn’t bothered to check where her gun was when he found her, either time, but he knew she had not been holding her gun. He didn't remember finding it in her belt, either, for that matter, when he was looking for bullet wounds.

That left him with an unknown assailant, a thought that chilled him more than the night air. Frank shook slightly and walked just a little bit faster, as if putting distance between him and his aunt's body would keep him safe from the killer.

Why kill her and leave me alive? He wondered again.

No idea. No idea at all. Maybe someone was testing him, to see how resilient he was.

But who? And why? Why bother?

Great. There you go again!

It was all too easy to think the worst and to worry about shadows that might not be there.

But why?

Worry later, Hardy! Walk now! Find civilization now. Worry later. Let Dad figure it out. Let someone else worry about it. Walk, already!

Frank decided it was time to sing again. Singing kept a guy from worrying – or thinking – too much, but the only song that came to him at the moment was that stupid "100 bottles of pop on the wall."

"I'm not that desperate yet," he muttered. "Even if I am talking to myself."

But as he walked, he found himself humming the stupid song anyway. He was all the way to 78 bottles of beer on the wall when he realized he was singing it and he hit himself in the head with his casted hand.

Dumb song.

Really dumb song.

One of Joe's favorite 'long distance trip songs'. Go figure.

He managed to make five more steps before his knee gave out completely and he crashed down to the ground in agony, his knee throbbing worse than ever. He whimpered in pain as he rolled into a sitting position and ran his hand over the swollen knee. It felt warm to the touch – and agonizing. Frank grabbed his walking stick and managed to get back to his good foot but had to hop until he was to the edge of the road.

Not finding a convenient log, he slid back down and leaned back against a tree.

Just great, he thought.

I'm stuck. Again.

**** **** **** ****

Wednesday October 25, 2000 (Nine p.m.)

Strike Two.

Fenton, Mandy, Sam, Samantha and Connor rested; they were wilted from their hunt for Frank. Mandy sat in the corner of the room on Connor's lap, her head resting against his as she half-dozed and worried about her brothers. Positive they would find the red Mercedes without much hassle, after four hours of driving around she was dejected and miserable.

And annoyed, but she managed to curb that feeling pretty well.

“So what do we do next?” Samantha asked, worry clear in her vivid green eyes. “We can’t leave Frank out there on his own, can we? What do you think Cathy wants to do with him?”

“I don’t know,” Fenton admitted. “I didn’t factor in Frank disappearing too, especially not practically under your noses. That’s an act of desperation, as far as I’m concerned. It makes me wonder if we’re a lot closer to finding Joe than we thought.”

“They took Frank to keep us from finding Joe?” Mandy asked. She looked up, though she stayed on Connor’s lap.

“Something like that,” Fenton stretched and smiled at his daughter. “Andrew, especially, would be desperate that we’re getting close. Say we’re in the right neighborhood for finding Joe and he would panic. His panic would bleed over to Cathy, who would do whatever she could do to throw us off track. Taking Frank has done what she wanted, basically. Instead of focusing solely on finding Joe, we have to divide our attention and find Frank.”

“That’s…scarily brilliant,” Mandy admitted. “And do you know what’s even scarier?”

“No,” Fenton said. “What?”

“That we’re understanding it. That we figured it out.”

Fenton smiled again. “I suppose you’re right. But sometimes you have to crawl into the head of your bad guy to catch him.”

Mandy got up and went around the bed to sit beside her father. She put her arms around him and hugged him, tightly.

“How many heads have you had to crawl into, Daddy?” she asked him softly.

Her father returned the hug and answered just as softly, “Too many, Mandy-Nic. Too many. It’s a necessary evil of the job sometimes but…it can be awfully scary in there.”

Mandy hugged him even more tightly and turned his face so he would look her in the eyes. She said nothing for a moment, but merely looked, studying him.

Going deeper and deeper inside of his head with just that one, piercing, look.

“I love you, Daddy,” Mandy murmured again. “Whenever you have to go in too deeply just remember that. You’ll be able to find your way out again.”

Fenton smiled and touched her cheek. “Always, baby,” he said. “Always.”

Everyone else in the room looked away for a minute but the words remained. Samantha and Connor exchanged glances of concern but said nothing; they merely waited for Fenton and Mandy to part and return, mentally, to the rest of the group.

Mandy sat up a few minutes later and smiled, looking a little sheepish as she wiped the tears from her eyes. She crossed her legs in front of her on the bed and sat her hands on them, while Fenton straightened behind her and reached for his cup of coffee on the bedside table.

“Okay, so we know why Mrs. Mathews took Frank,” Connor said, bringing the meeting back to order. “How do we find her and get Frank back?”

“I can’t really do much else until we hear back from the police,” Fenton said. “We’re trying to get some more information about Cathy and they’re the best ones to find it. I called the F.B.I. as well – they said the new team will be here in the morning and are going to meet us here.”

“I hope they’re as good as the last team,” Mandy muttered. “F.B.I. is usually a pain, isn’t it?”

“Normally,” Fenton agreed cheerfully. “But we’ll do our best to get along with the next set.”

Mandy sighed and grinned mischievously. “That Bobby was cute, wasn’t he, Sam?”

Connor looked up, startled. “Hey!”

“I was only looking, babe,” Mandy smiled at him. “See? You’re awake. Let’s go look for Frank!”

“It’s dark out!” Fenton protested.

“And I’m not leaving my brother out there in the dark on his own,” Mandy said. “Or with a madwoman. You coming or staying behind?”

She was interrupted by a loud, boisterous, knock on the door.

Sam Radley got up and opened the door, revealing a man on the other side dressed in [a] dark slacks, a dark shirt and loafers. He also had a badge pinned to his shirt pocket.

"Fenton Hardy?" the man asked. Fenton stood and went to the door.

"That's me," he said. "Can I help you with something?"

"Yeah," the man said. "Can I come in?"

Fenton and Sam stood aside, allowing the man to enter the room.

"My name is Quinton Noble," the man said. "Detective, First class, Cambridge P.D. I've been assigned to assist you and your team in finding your sons, Mr. Hardy."

"Pleased to meet you, Detective," Fenton said politely. "Is there something you need from us?"

"I wanted to see if you want to come with me," Quinton grinned ear-to-ear. "We pulled off a coup today."

"What?" Sam asked confused. "What kind of coup?"

"It's like this," Noble began. "I wanted to see if we could find the GPS locator for that red Mercedes. Most of them have 'em these days, at least the upper end models, which this one is, but the car company was playing games with us. I had to get a search warrant from one of the judges but I got it. The car company had to give me the information and I was able to get the GPS signal for the car."

"You were?" Fenton looked excited all of a sudden and Mandy sat up. "Where is it?"

"There are some woods outside of town," Noble explained, still grinning. "And that's where the car is, out there in those woods. I thought I'd pick you up to go with me. I’m afraid everyone can't go, though, just one of you."

"You go, Dad," Mandy said to her father. "And bring him back. We’ll be ready for him here. Won’t we?”

“I’ll order another room for us,” Sam Radley said. “We’ll make sure everything is comfortable for when you get back here with Frank, Fenton. Good luck.”

"Take my coat, Mr. Hardy, in case you need it," Connor sprang forward and grabbed his coat. “Frank may be cold if he’s outside.”

Fenton smiled at him. “Thank you, Connor.” Fenton turned and followed Detective Noble out the door.

**** **** ****

Fenton climbed into the front seat of a Ford Explorer and settled back in his seat, grateful to be out doing something and not merely sitting around. A man of action, he hated the times when he had to merely sit by and wait for information to come to him. He much preferred going out to get his own information, to finding his own clues, and if he weren’t running into so many brick walls on this case, he would have never slowed down, not for a second.

Detective Noble watched him for a moment, allowing silence as they left the hotel parking lot and pulled out onto the street. Fenton contented himself with looking out the window, watching the Cambridge nightlife as it ebbed and flowed through the different areas that they drove past.

“Would you like some coffee?” Noble asked after they merged onto a highway. “I have a thermos.”

“That would be great,” Fenton agreed as he accepted the thermos. He found a cup in the glove compartment and poured some coffee into it, being careful not to spill on himself. He wrapped his hands around the cup and tried not to think about Frank being out in the woods, cold. Was he alone now or was Cathy with him? Why else would she leave her car there?

“I just hope Cathy didn’t have someone meet here there and take Frank away,” Fenton said his greatest fear out loud. In the hurry to leave he never voiced it before, determined to keep his spirits high.

“Let’s not dwell on that one, Fenton,” Noble said. “It’s already scary enough losing your son. We’ll find him. I know that area fairly well. We’ll find him.”

Fenton nodded and continued to look out the window. As Noble turned from the highway onto a small, gravel, road, the detective turned his bright lights on full and also hit the switch for a searchlight on top of his truck.

“Here, this is the handle that controls the search light,” Noble pointed to it. “Just keep that on the sides of the road. Sweep both sides. I’ll drive slow. We’re about a mile and a half from the car.”

“Good.” Fenton almost started shaking though he didn’t know why. Fear? Excitement? Chills? Whatever it was, he tried to stop it. He operated the spotlight, shining the light along each side of the small road, sweeping slowly, peering intently through the darkness.

When he first saw Frank he almost missed his son. Frank sat in front of a tree a couple of feet away from the side of the road, his bad leg stretched out in front of him. Fenton saw fear in Frank’s eyes.

“Frank, it’s Dad!” Fenton called out to his son. He opened the door and ran toward his boy. “It’s Dad.”

“Dad?” Frank’s voice was husky with fear and weariness.

“Yeah,” Fenton knelt beside Frank and ignored the detective coming up behind them in favor of checking out Frank’s leg. “You managed to really do a number on this, didn’t you?”

Frank shrugged. “Had to keep walking,” he murmured. “Had to find help.”

“You did good, son,” Fenton smiled. “Let’s get you in out of the cold.”

Fenton wrapped Connor’s coat around Frank’s shoulders, then helped Frank stand. The two detectives helped Frank back to the SUV. and got him comfortable in the back seat.

“Dad,” Frank said. “Aunt Cathy is dead.”

Fenton gave a start. “What do you mean?”

“She brought me to the woods,” Frank said. “She said she had to distract you from finding Joe before Andrew could make his last move, or something like that. She was leaving. I heard her going back to her car and then I heard a shot. She’s dead. I found her body. There was… there was a hole in her neck.” Frank’s energy was fading fast but Fenton was grateful that he stayed strong enough to tell the story.

“I’ll get forensics out here,” Noble said. “Let’s get him to the hospital.”

“No,” Frank protested. “I just want to go back to the hotel and sleep.”

“Frank,” Fenton said. “You’ve injured your leg more.”

“I know,” Frank said. “All they can do is ice it and give me medication. I have those both at the hotel. Please, Dad, let’s just go back to the hotel.”

Fenton looked over at Noble and nodded. “All right, Frank. We’re going back to the hotel. You’re staying in bed tomorrow, though. Got it?”

Frank said nothing and Fenton wondered if he was already asleep.

As they drove away a young woman stepped out of the darkness onto the street. She tucked the gun she had held loosely in one hand into a holster under her arm, turned, and strode back into the darkness.

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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.