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

"Are you sure you want to be a lawyer, honey?" Frank asked his girlfriend an hour later. They sat in the SUV, watching the hustle and bustle of police officers checking over the back, listening to them taking reports and he clearly heard a small din of pencils scratching across paper.

"I've been reconsidering," Samantha admitted. "I mean, how many reports do they really need? It's not like Deanna, Audrey and your father give bad reports!"

"I know," Frank sighed. "I keep thinking we'll get out of here soon so we can go search that house, but at this rate it will be midnight before we go anywhere and by then, one of the other teams may have found Joe already."

"That wouldn't be such a bad thing," Samantha murmured. "It doesn't matter who finds him, does it?"

Frank shrugged. "No, not really. You're right, the important thing is to find him. Whoever does it, does it. If that makes sense."

"Totally," Samantha laughed and gave Frank a kiss. "For the first time I feel like he's going to be found, you know? I was so worried for so long that there was no hope. Now there is, more of it than ever before. Can you feel that?"

Frank nodded and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly to him, enjoying how she felt. He felt it, even though he worried he was getting his hopes up for no reason. What if they found him…

…and it was too late?

Don't go there, Hardy. Frank shook his head, ridding it of the thought. He's alive. He's alive!

"Saddle up, troops," Deanna came around to their side of the SUV; Frank tracked her by her voice until he knew she was near them. "We're heading out again."

"Finally!" Frank exclaimed. "I was beginning to wonder if we were going to stand here and talk things to death!"

"Not gonna happen," Deanna laughed. "Climb in and buckle up. AUDREY! FENTON! LET'S GO!"

Frank put his hands over his ears and glared in the direction of the F.B.I. agent. "Those are my ears," he rubbed at them. "I still need them, you know."

"Oops, yeah," Deanna sounded apologetic at least. "Sorry 'bout that. I wasn't thinking."

"Now there's a newsflash that should be sent to all the stations," Audrey's voice came from behind Frank. Frank and Samantha stood and Sam slid into the middle of the back seat as Frank climbed in beside her. "Deanna Merrill not thinking. Boy, and me without a tape recorder to get her to finally admit it!"

"You'll get yours, Simpson," Deanna said tartly. "And your little dog, too."

Audrey snorted. "Tofu is safe from you, oh queen of animal allergies. If you come near him he'll just threaten to shed on you and you go running in the other direction."

Frank tracked Deanna's voice around the other side of the SUV and into the front seat. He heard both doors slam shut at the same time and held his ears again.

"There's this little thing called Benadryl – or better yet, Claritin," Deanna started the SUV. "With that all doggy hairs are rendered helpless."

"Go left," Frank heard his father's voice for the first time since they started out again. "Down three lights, then right."

"Got it," Deanna said.

"She talks big," Audrey said in an aside to Frank and Samantha. "But she's so allergic to dogs she sneezes when she walks into a room where no dog has lived for ten years. If there's a single little dog hair in the room her eyes start to run and she turns blotchy-faced. It's not a pretty thing."

Frank and Samantha laughed. "Mandy's allergic to cats," he said. "Something about cat hair sets her off like crazy. I brought one home when I was six or seven – I found it on the street and thought it would make a great pet for Mandy. She broke out into hives that night and wouldn't talk to me for three days because I made her 'itchy and ugly'."

Audrey returned the laugh.

"I'll have you know it's not nice to make fun of people's allergies," Deanna declared. "I can still make you walk, Simpson!"

"Nah," Audrey denied. "You like me too much to make me walk."

Laughing, Frank settled back in his seat, his seatbelt securely fastened. He scratched at his casted arm and frowned, wishing he had his hands on a coat hanger – or better yet, one of Aunt Gertrude's knitting needles. Nothing worked on broken arm itches like a knitting needle.

"Don't scratch," Samantha said to him. "You'll just tear your skin."

"It itches!" Frank whined playfully. "I can't reach it anyway."

"You'll live, poor baby," Sam murmured as she laid her head on his shoulder.

"That's another hour of our lives we won't get back," Deanna said a little later. "Why is it every department in the world is paper mad? Like taking our reports wasn't enough? Didn't I tell them I was on a very important case, Audrey?"

"You did," Audrey agreed. "Several times."

"I should've told them where to go and by what means," Deanna muttered darkly. "Remind me to talk to Trevor about this paper obsession, would you?"

"Sure, if I can be a fly on the wall when you do it," Audrey laughed.

"No problem!" Deanna stated. "No problem whatsoever, partner."

Frank grinned and felt Samantha's own grin against his shoulder. He wondered if this bantering was to hide nerves, or just the camaraderie of good friends. Whatever it was, he hoped he and Joe would be bickering like that in twenty or so years; still brothers, still on the case but willing to banter with each other to ward off the darkness.

"Left next stop sign, looks like," Fenton said. "And then up the hill and up the hill and up the hill…and then around the corner and we'll be almost there."

"Good," Deanna said. "My fingers are itching."

"Reaaally?" Audrey asked, dragging the word out slightly.

"Yup," Deanna said.

"And what does that mean?" Fenton asked.

"It just means she's itching to get on with things – and that she's fairly certain her hunch is right."

"Mandy is pretty sure Joe's at the mental facility," Frank commented. "And when it comes to Joe, she's usually dead on."

"Perhaps," Frank couldn't see Deanna so he had no idea what she was doing but he heard her just fine. "We'll just have to see, won't we?"

"Sure," Frank shrugged.

The house was darkened, no lights on inside or outside, when they arrived again. Fenton couldn't honestly remember if they remembered to turn all the lights off when they left or if someone had been inside since then. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his small firearm and checked the magazine. After she parked the car in front of the house, Deanna pulled her own gun from an inside shoulder harness and he saw that Audrey was armed as well. Both women carried standard 9 mm, and Fenton nodded in approval.

They both knew something was up.

"Frank, Samantha, stay in the car," Fenton ordered his son and his girlfriend. "Keep the doors locked and don't let anyone in. Samantha, if you see anyone but us come out of the house, duck down as fast as you can and pretend you aren't here. I'll come and get you as soon as the place is clear."

"Yes, Mr. Hardy," Samantha said politely. The scowl from Frank was answer enough but Fenton couldn't risk him, not when he couldn't see to protect himself.

Fenton turned back to Deanna and Audrey. Both women were in half crouches, guns at the ready as they approached the house with extreme caution. Fenton nodded when Deanna flashed hand signals – one in front, two in back – and he let her take point – mostly because he didn't want to get into an argument with her about it. The senior agent carefully touched the doorknob, holding it in her hand for a moment before she turned it.

The door swung inward as Deanna peeked inside, gun preceding her. She stepped cautiously into the house.

"F.B.I!" she called out. "We're coming in! If anyone is in here, throw any weapons you have out into the open and put your hands up."

They waited for five beats before Deanna stepped further into the house. She walked slowly through the entry parlor, ducking her head into each doorway before she lowered her gun.

"This floor is clear," she called out.

Fenton and Audrey followed her further into the house and they took another look through each of the rooms. Deanna opened all of the cabinets in the kitchen, digging into them and knocking on the walls behind the cabinets as she did.

"What are you looking for?" Audrey asked her partner as she rooted, her hands covered with plastic gloves, through a knickknack drawer. "Anything in particular."

"I'm not sure yet," Deanna admitted. "Something that got missed before."

"The kids were pretty thorough," Fenton stated. "And I looked through it as well when I was here."

"True," Deanna closed a cabinet door and opened another one. "But it doesn't hurt to take the place apart."

Fenton shrugged and helped Deanna with the cabinets and wall tapping. Nothing came of it, however. There were no telltale hollow sounds, nothing that indicated a hidden cubby of any sort.

They went into the den next, where the armoire was still pulled out from the wall. Deanna looked behind the armoire, then slid her gun into her holster before she tried to shimmy in where Mandy had been.

"Can we move this out a little more?" Deanna asked. "I want to take a look back here."

With the two women on one side and Fenton on the other, they managed to shove the armoire further out of the way and Deanna slid behind it. Fenton saw the light from a penlight shining in the cubbyhole and more pounding on the wall.

"Hollow," Deanna announced. She appeared again. "Let's see if we can find any cracks in the wall."

Fenton frowned as he started searching the wall but he saw nothing that could be a doorway or an opening.

"It could be they just didn't put everything back together around the cubbyhole, you know," Fenton said.

"True," Deanna nodded. "But it still sounds funny. We'll tear this up later if we don't find anything better. Let's head upstairs."

She took her gun back out and once again led the way. Fenton followed her up the stairs, his gun at the ready. Deanna cautiously held her gun up as they cleared the second floor, but saw nothing at all in the circular hallway. Each doorway was closed.

Deanna put her hands to her lips when she approached the first door and put her ear to the door.

A moment later she threw the door open and yelled, "Freeze, FBI!"

Her cry was drowned out by an ear-piercing scream!

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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.