Wednesday, October 18, 2000 (11:10 AM)

Dangers.  And dangers and dangers again.

The word, as foreign to Samantha Ellington as most words in any foreign language besides the two years of French she took in High School, took over most of her thoughts as she sat beside her boyfriend’s beside in the hospital room and gently ran one hand through his dark hair.  Danger, fear, evil plots to destroy lives; those were not something that a well-bred young lady from upper crust Virginia society dealt with on a day-to-day, hour-by-hour basis. 

I’m just not that brave, she admitted to herself as she leaned back in the chair and watched Frank as he slept, wiped out from his short trip up to the room that Samantha shared with Mandy.  He lay as if he were an innocent child, half curled in on himself, his injured knee the only straight part on him.  He had his good arm curled up under his head on the pillow and, when she gently brushed one of his cheeks, he smiled in his sleep and wrinkled his nose.  Samantha smiled at her boyfriend’s sweet face and sighed again.  His injured arm with its shoulder to fingertip cast rested on his side.

Well, Sam, she told herself.  You’re here, you love him, and it’s time to face facts.  You’re in for the long haul.  Never mind that you didn’t buy into this danger thing, if you plan on staying with him, then you’ll just have to get used to it.

If, she amended, it’s possible to get used to it.

Samantha sighed and watched Frank as he shifted position slightly and twisted his neck about a couple of times before he settled back again and once more fell deeply asleep.  She often longed to see him look at her, to give her those gentle gazes he gave her before he lost his sight.  Once more she chided herself for wanting that.  He gave her so much more besides that, it seemed a selfish thing to want more from him. 

Frank looked so innocent when he slept, as if he had no cares at all in the world.  The brace wrapped about his knee and the cast on his arm said differently.  He looked like a young soldier fresh from the war zone.  The bruises on his face were purpling now, as were the ones along the bare leg that stuck out from under Frank’s sheet.  She leaned forward and kissed one on his face, very gently, so as not to awaken him prematurely.

       Samantha smiled then, memories of their wonderful night out for their anniversary fresh in her mind.  The night had been nothing short of magical, the best night of Samantha’s twenty years.  She knew when she was eighty she would think back to that night and how perfect it had been.  The memory of Frank in his tux, looking dapper with his cane on one arm and her on the other arm made her smile even more.  She never dated a man who had such carriage, as Frank Hardy did, not even the wealthiest young man in her father’s circles.  Not even Troy Taperton, who was without a doubt from the wealthiest family Samantha knew, had the same… presence… that Frank had.

       There’s no helping it, her eyes sparkled as she thought it.  I’m helplessly in love. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.

       Samantha ruffled back her bright red hair as she reached out to touch one of Frank’s hands.  Her hand was over his hand, cupping it lightly, the friction of skin against skin the lightest one she could manage.  She was afraid of waking him up early – he never slept well when he was injured or sick, or so his mother told her.  Samantha didn’t want to do anything that would cause him to wake up.

       Samantha leaned back and was about to go to sleep again when she felt someone touch her hand.  She opened her eyes again to see Frank’s eyes open and staring just past her shoulder.  His hand brushed against her hand, searching for it. Samantha took it in his own and held tightly too it.

       “Hello,” she said in a husky voice and she kissed the back of his hand again while she gazed at him.

       “H’lo,” Frank’s voice was just as husky and still filled with the remnants of sleep.  He kissed the hand he held and sighed as he settled back against his bed again.

       “You should go back to sleep,” Samantha suggested as she leaned forward so that Frank didn’t have to stretch his hand so far.  “I shouldn’t have woken you up.  Go back to sleep.”

       “You didn’t wake me up,” Frank said.  “I’ve actually been awake for a few minutes but you were so… sweet… I didn’t want to stop you.”

       “Frank Hardy,” Samantha hissed, then laughed playfully.  “You let me…”

       He stopped her by pulling her down to him and kissing her.

       “Later,” Frank said.  “I slept long enough.  I won’t be able to go back to sleep for a while.”

       Frank spoke calmly, the normal voice Samantha expected from him.  She loved that he rarely lost his temper or when he did, his anger was always expressed in a quiet tone that almost held more command to it than someone who yelled. 

       “I dreamed about Joe,” Frank said with a sigh as he struggled to sit up again. 

       Samantha handed him the remote control for the bed and put his finger on the button that adjusted the angle and height of the bed.  Frank pressed the button until he was in a seated position and Samantha settled on the edge of the bed.  She fluffed his pillow behind him and kissed his cheek. 

       “What did you dream?” she asked in a tender voice while she brushed his hair out of his face.  “Do you want to talk about it?”

       Frank sighed and closed his eyes again.  After several deep breaths he opened them again, though he was making a face of pure distaste.  He obviously didn’t want to remember, or to talk about the dream; Samantha regretted asking him about it.

       “I guess I should,” he looked obviously reluctant and his brown eyes held a hint of loss in them.  “I just… he was alone.  Just like Mandy feared.  He was alone and he didn’t know who had him.  He kept running and I was looking for him.  I heard him screaming, over and over and over again.  I just couldn’t get to him.  I was… I was too small.  Or it was too dark?  I don’t remember.  I just couldn’t help him.  He kept screaming, as if someone was torturing him.”

       “Oh, Frank,” Samantha wiped a tear and then wiped the tears on Frank’s face.  “You’ll find him, I know you’ll find him.  If anyone can.”

       “I don’t know…” Frank shook his head doubtfully, then, irritated, brushed his long hair back out of his eyes again.  “When I look at everything… I…  It seems impossible.”

       Samantha gently brushed his hair back and got up for a moment to cross over to the small dresser on the other side of the bed.  She got the brush she found there and settled on the bed beside her boyfriend.  Very carefully, she began to run the brush through his hair.  A happy, little boy smile curled his lips and transformed his face from agony to handsome again.  He moved as much as his injuries allowed and twisted his neck slightly so that she could continue.  Samantha smiled at that and continued.

       “It’s never impossible if you keep trying,” Samantha said. “Weren’t you the one who taught me that?”

       Frank shrugged and Samantha saw his eyes slip closed again.  She continued to run the brush through his hair until all of the tangles were gone. 

       “Good morning, son,” Samantha turned and saw Fenton Hardy standing at the doorway into the room.  He came across at Samantha’s nod and stood beside Frank’s bedside.  Frank opened his eyes again and Samantha smiled up at the older man.  She carefully slipped the brush back onto the bureau.

       “Dad?” Frank asked. 

       “Yes,” Fenton said in an exhausted voice.  Samantha crossed around to him and helped him to sit into the chair that she had been sitting in before; she didn’t want him falling over when he was this tired.  Fenton looked all done in.

       “Did you sleep at all?” Frank reached a hand toward his father a worried expression on his face.  “You sound totally wiped.”

       “I feel it,” Fenton stretched and sighed.  “And, no, I didn’t sleep much.  I was at the house most of last night.”

       Fenton looked exhausted, his normally polished look ruffled.  He had soot and ash on his face and in his dark hair where portions were much more gray than usual, along with black or dirty brown.  His suit coat dangled from one hand; it was filthy, with dirt and ash all over it.  His white shirt was stained a gray color, his tie hung at a haphazard angle from his neck.  Fenton knelt on the floor then and put a hand in Frank’s hand, to allow Frank a ‘focus.’  Samantha wiped a tear and held back the urge to sniffle and cry.  She knew the look of loss on Fenton’s face and wanted to deny it.

       “Mr. Hardy?” against all her desires she asked anyway.  “What is it?  What’s happened?”

       “We didn’t find out anything conclusive,” Fenton said, distracted by watching his son.  “They’re still pouring over the house like it’s… like it never used to be a home of any sort.  They wouldn’t let me anywhere near the place; I spent a good part of the day pacing Mrs. Ptaski’s yard.  But I did find out a few things.”

       “What?” Frank struggled to sit-up; the sleepy look half-banished from his brown eyes.  “Dad?”

       Fenton told them what he found.  Samantha saw Mr. Hardy open one of Frank’s hands and he put a gold chain of some sort into it.  He closed Frank’s fingers around the chain.

       “Mr. Hardy, please, sit down,” Samantha stood and pushed her chair toward him.

       “Dad?” Frank, more alarmed, reached for his father again.

       “It’s the chain he wore,” Mr. Hardy explained to them in a husky voiced filled with exhaustion.  “The one that had Vanessa’s class ring on it.  I found it beside his car.  It was dumped upside on the street in front of the house.  I looked through it, Frank, but his key chain was missing.  The one with the pictures… of us and of your friends…”

       Mr. Hardy stopped and swallowed.  Samantha crossed over to the sink in the room and poured him a glass of water.  She brought it back and put it in both of his hands.  He flashed her a thankful look as he took a deep drink from the cup and sighed.  She went back to the sink and got a handful of wet paper towels and brought those back over to him as well.  She gently rinsed the soot and ash from his face and took her own comb from the pocket of her robe to comb out some of the soot from his hair.

       Mr. Hardy looked quizzically up at her and Samantha just smiled shyly back at him, less at ease around him than around Frank’s mother, for all Fenton reminded her of her own father.  Maybe that was it.  Samantha had never been that easy with her own father.  Then again, he never had much time for her to grow easy with him.

       “Don’t mind me, Mr. Hardy,” Samantha tried to put him at ease. “Girl’s always think everyone will feel better if they’re clean.”

       Frank laughed softly and reached out with one of his hands.  Samantha took it and he kissed it.  She smiled back at Mr. Hardy and he returned it, even though the smile didn’t quite make it to his eyes.

       “You sure you don’t want to be a fashion designer or something, love?” he joked with her.  She lightly chucked him under the chin but so softly he would barely feel it.

       “Finish what you were saying, Dad, I know you weren’t done,” Frank prompted his father.

       “I couldn’t find either the key ring that Joe kept the pictures in or the chain it was on or the rearview mirror itself.  I looked but if it’s in there, it’s very well hidden.  They might turn up more when the investigators get to it.”

       “Where’s Vanessa’s ring?” Frank thumbed the chain in his hand and Samantha lifted it for just a minute to peer closely at it.  “It’s not on the chain.”

       “I don’t know,” Mr. Hardy looked glum.  “I looked for it as much as for the mirror.  All around the car, step-by-step but nothing.  I don’t know how the chain ended up where it was.  I tried to find it, but I just had no luck with it.  Joe may still have it.  Maybe he threw the chain out so that we’d find it.  Maybe whoever took it kept it.  Whatever the case, well, I don’t know.  I just don’t know.”

       “We should find out,” Frank said.  “The sooner the better.  Oh, Dad?”

       “Yes?” Fenton asked, calmly.

       “Tell him what my mom found out, Sam,” Frank asked her.

       Samantha relayed to Mr. Hardy what Mrs. Hardy found out from Frank’s Aunt Cathy – that it looked like Derak was about to leave the country with the ‘love of his life.’

       Fenton Hardy looked even grimmer at that.

       “Oh, and mom got a phone call from someone who claimed to be an insurance adjustor but he was asking some strange questions – mostly about what sections of the hospital all of us are in.  Mom’s talking to a doctor about getting us all moved to different wards under different names.”

       “Good,” Fenton nodded in agreement.  “I’d better go find her.”

       He shook Frank’s hand, kissed Sam’s cheek and went out the door without another word.  Frank settled back in his bed again and sat up only when there was another knock on the door.

       “We’re going to go outside for a bit, Samantha,” Sam turned to see Mandy standing in the doorway, her long, terry-cloth robe tied tightly about her.  “Do you want to get some fresh air?”

       “Go on, honey,” Frank encouraged her.  “I’m about to crash out like a light again anyway and you sound like you need the fresh air.”

       He smiled a bit at that.  “You know, that doesn’t have the same ring to it as ‘you look like you could use it.’”

       “She looks like it all right,” Mandy said.  “Come on, Sam.”

       “If you’re sure…” Samantha got up slowly.

       “Go on,” Frank waved his hand at her.  “I’m a big boy, I know how to sleep.”

       Samantha laughed at that and kissed him.   She stood and he was already almost asleep before she got to the door.  Sam stood just a moment to watch him, entranced by him.

       “They always look so helpless like that, don’t they?” Mandy asked her as she smiled and tucked back her sleeve.  “I was just in Connor’s room and he looked a lot like that, like a little boy who was just sleeping for a while, not a grown man who is that way because he was injured.”

       Mandy sighed then and shook her head.  Her blonde hair tousled all over before the curls settled back on her head and her blue eyes looked clouded again.  Mandy winced when she shifted her leg wrong and reached down to rub it with her other hand.

       “What’s wrong?” Samantha reached out a hand to her friend and touched her shoulder.

       “Just thinking about Joe is all,” Mandy said with a sigh.  “And about how alone he must be right now.  And that my leg hurts.”

       Samantha nodded her understanding as they got onto the elevator and went down to the second floor.  They went back to the patio off of the second floor where they had eaten lunch – had that only been two days ago?  Or three days ago?  Sam felt totally off on her days right now.  She wasn’t sure if it was Tuesday or Wednesday.  Mandy led the way unerringly, with the casual demure of a person all too familiar with all areas of a place she’d rather not know anything about.  Samantha sighed again.

       Laura Hardy sat at one of the benches on the edge of the patio area, a casual look of interest lining the features of her face.  Samantha smiled as she sat down beside Laura and the older woman welcomed her with a warm hug.  The worry over her children that never fully left Laura’s blue eyes was more pronounced, with tiny lines around her eyes and in her forehead.  She still smiled with welcome, the tiny upturn of her lips was warm and beautiful and Samantha returned it with her own upturned smile.  Sam always thought Laura Hardy a very beautiful woman but it was Laura’s kindness and gentility that spoke most strongly to Sam.  As Laura sat on the cushioned stone bench, the wind occasionally tossed her hair but the wind tossed look took nothing from her.

       If Samantha remembered her mother, who died when Sam was only seven, Sam remembered that her mother was beautiful and her smiles always made Samantha feel better, no matter how bad Sam felt beforehand.  It was those early years with her mother that continued to ground Samantha during her teen years, when her father was often too busy for her with his various elections and business dealings.   She often missed her mother but never more acutely than when her father was so busy he had no time for her.  At those times she would retreat to her room and go through her photo album, to remember.

       He had called once since she got to the hospital, to ask what happened and to find out what her diagnosis was.  Once he heard she would recover he hadn’t bothered to call again.  Samantha sighed a little sadly but knew the negotiations he was in wouldn’t allow time for even a brief visit to see her.  She never expected differently from him.  In a way she was glad he hadn’t come; the uneasiness that they had with each other would have been too uncomfortable.

       “Are you all right,” Laura asked in a warm, caring voice. 

       “I was just thinking about my mother and my father,” Samantha admitted.  “You remind me of my mother, in many ways, Mrs. Hardy.”

       Laura still smiled more warmly and looked pleased to have heard that.  She patted Samantha’s knee and turned back to whatever interested her from the parking lot.  Samantha saw nothing there of particular interest but, then, she wasn’t a detective’s wife.  She might be one day but right now, she still had a lot to learn about what Frank and Joe did and Mr. Hardy did.

       “I was sitting out here thinking about what Cathy told me,” Laura said as Mandy came to sit down on her other side.  “About Derak’s new lover.  I’m just afraid that we’re assuming it’s Joe that he has and that if we go off after Derak we may lose any trails that lead us… elsewhere.  And before you get into it, Amanda, I know it’s most likely Derak.  I haven’t defended him since the day we walked in on him with… with Joe.  It’s just that, like your father, I don’t want any alleys blocked off to us.”

       Mandy sighed and turned away, the flare of anger in her eyes there for a moment, then gone again.  Samantha couldn’t see her face now but she saw the tense set to Mandy’s shoulders and the fact that her arms were crossed said that Mandy was still angry.  Samantha sighed and turned the other way.  She smiled when she saw a wheelchair wheeling toward them and she reached around Laura to tap Mandy on the shoulder.

       “Mandy,” Samantha said with a grin. “Do you know someone about six foot three, red-haired and handsome?  If you do, turn around.”

       Mandy turned around and then flew to her feet as she crossed to her boyfriend.  Connor MacKenzie sat in his chair, his blue eyes still half-filled with a foggy look but pleasant and happy all the same.  He reached up and kissed Mandy then continued to roll his chair toward the bench that Samantha and Laura occupied.  He took in several deep breaths and smiled again.

       “Fresh air,” he said with a happy smile.  “You have no idea how much I needed fresh air.  Hospital smells are not my favorite.  And there’s good scenery to go along with it.”

       Mandy hit him playfully on the arm.

       “Hey, I’m an injured man here! Be kind! Be gentle!  What happened to womanly sympathy?”

       “You’re burying yourself more and more deeply, MacKenzie,” Mandy warned her boyfriend in a playful voice.  “Womanly sympathy.  Pah!”

       “Alas, what’s a poor injured boy supposed to do?” Connor mourned.  “No sympathy at all from his girlfriend, where can he get it?”

       Mandy laughed and kissed him again, then sat down beside him on the bench.  She held tightly to one of his hands as they all gazed out at the parking lot below.   Samantha thought it was peaceful then, even with other patients and family on the patio it was quiet.

       “How did you know we were down here?” Mandy asked him. 

       “Your father,” Connor said.  “He came to my room to ask me something about Eric and told me that you all had come down here.  He said he’d be along in a few.”

       Laura sat up at that.  “Fenton is here?”

       “Yes’m,” Connor agreed.  “He said he’d be along, he had to make a phone call.”

       Laura frowned.  “He could have made one out here.”

       “Yes’m,” Connor agreed again.  “But he said he had to look up a few numbers first, in case he couldn’t find Eric in the one call.  He was asking me what I knew of Eric’s schedule which wasn’t much.”

       “Why does he want to talk to Eric?” Laura asked.

       “The keys,” Samantha explained to her.  “Joe’s keys.  Or rather Iola’s keys.”

       Laura shook her head.  “Why would he be worried about those?  It doesn’t make sense.”

       “It does, mom,” Mandy said.  “It’s the memento theory.  Not only do we think they’re after us but we think they’re after mementos, things that are important to Joe.  Or I should say HE.  Derak is looking for them.  It’s all part of that sick, twisted little game that he’s playing with Joe.”

       “Why play games with him?” Samantha asked.

       She just didn’t know enough about the minds of criminals, though she would have to learn soon to be a lawyer.  Corporate law was sounding better and better, though.  If she didn’t become a district attorney of some sort she didn’t think she would be able to handle getting some criminal obviously guilty off on a charge just because she was good at arguing her case.  What if she had to against Frank sometime?

       “It’s a psychological thing, Sam,” Mandy said.  “I aced all of my psychology classes so far and this much I know.  A criminal who is bent on… on a crime of the sort Derak is into… wants a psychological advantage over their victim.  When Joe was only ten, Derak’s advantage was that Joe was a child, he was already scared, Derak wouldn’t need any more advantage.  With a grown-up, he’ll need more ways to put Joe at a disadvantage to… to help Derak… well, with what he wants to do.”

       “So that’s what you meant by isolating him,” Samantha said, horror-stricken.  “He wants Joe to know that there is no way, ever, that someone can help him, so Joe will be all that more… helpless?”

       Mandy swallowed and nodded.  She turned away again, her blue eyes shadowed as she buried her face in her hands again.  She never cried, or at least Samantha never saw her shoulder shudder or heard sniffling or anything like crying from Mandy but when the younger girl raised her face, it was streaked with tears that ran slight runnels down her cheeks.  Connor reached over and hugged her again, then pulled her over until she sat on his lap in the wheelchair.  She huddled up in his lap and rested her head on his shoulder, a small smile on her face.

       “I wonder where dad is,” she said, softly, thoughtfully.

       “I’m sure he’ll be down in a few minutes,” Connor shrugged and yawned again. 

       Mandy crawled back off of his lap then and he stretched in a massive display of muscles and grinned sheepishly at the girls.

       “You should go back to bed, sleepy-head,” Mandy tousled his red hair and winced when she jostled her sore shoulder.  “I think we can get along without you for a few more days.  I want you back to your usual 150%.”

       Samantha saw Laura smile at that and look surreptitiously back out over the parking lot as Mandy and Connor nuzzled again.  Mandy giggled at something Connor said in her ear and Sam tried, very hard, not to eavesdrop.

       “I was just thinking,” Mandy settled back onto the bench and rested her head on Connor’s arm.

       “That usually gets all of us, especially me, in trouble,” Connor teased her as he ruffled her curly, blonde hair. 

       “Cut it out, MacKenzie,” Mandy laughed.  “I’m being serious.”

       “Well, in that case, all right,” Connor managed the sober look for all of ten seconds.  Sam counted.

       “Frank may be in the hospital for another week,” Mandy continued.  “He has that injured knee and all, he won’t be completely mobile for a month or more.”

       “And…” Connor prompted when Mandy stopped.

       “We can’t wait that long to find Joe and Dad and Uncle Sam aren’t going to be able to do this themselves – unless Derak was arrogant enough to bring Joe to that mausoleum of a mansion in Connecticut.”

       “That’s my home I grew up in your degrading,” Laura protested.

       “Mom you have to admit it has odd similarities to the house in the Addam’s Family.  It’s right out of Transylvania,” Mandy shuddered.  “It’s probably why the boy’s liked it so much when we were younger.  Lot’s of spooky, creepy places to explore and to scare the wits out of your little sister!  Besides, mom, didn’t you move to New York when you were six or seven?”

       Laura smiled and nodded.

       “What’s this all leading up to, babe?” Connor asked.

       “I’m going to have to help dad this time,” Mandy said.  “I may not know as much – or even wanted to know as much – about investigative stuff as Joe or Frank but I didn’t totally ignore them and Dad at dinner.”

       Laura raised an eyebrow at her daughter.

       “Don’t look so shocked, mom,” Many protested as she rubbed her shoulder.  Her blue eyes seemed to look right at Laura’s – the similarities were amazing.

       “It’s not shock, sweetie,” Laura pushed a lock of hair behind an ear.  “It’s just we knew this already.  But Mandy, hurt leg or no, don’t count Frank out.  Heaven knows if I thought I could tie him down I would but he’s easily as stubborn as you – he just hides it better.”

       “That seems to be a trait all Hardys have in abundance,” Connor remarked casually.  “So, Miss Detective Hardy, where do we begin?”

       Connor looked casual but his blue eyes betrayed the fact that he was deadly serious.  Sam wondered if she should evacuate the area in case of potential fall-out.

       “Well,” Mandy sat-up and stood and went to stand in front of the railing that ran along the edge of the patio.  The metal railing was about four foot high, white with intertwining green and blue streaks.  The blue matched Mandy’s robe.  “I was thinking about that too.  We need to see if Derak has a teal-colored Audi.”

       “It wasn’t teal, Mandy,” Samantha corrected.  “It wasn’t dark enough to be teal.  It was more… blue-green, like… sapphire.”

       “Ok, a sapphire Audi,” Mandy said, a little impatiently.  “Then we can see what address is connected to it.  Dad and Uncle Sam can go check the mansion and we, if you really want in on this, can check out the other addresses.  Or however many we can find.”

       Connor grinned.  Laura smiled.  Samantha fought back the urge to laugh.

       “What’s so blasted funny?” Mandy demanded.

       “You should just like Frank,” Samantha did laugh.  “All analytical and serious.”

       “It is serious!” Mandy protested.

       “We know,” Laura said.  “Go ahead, honey.”

       Mandy turned away and gripped the bars of the railing with both hands.  She turned back around a moment later, her face lit up.

       “We can canvas our neighbors, find out if anyone saw Derak last Sunday and if anyone saw the Audi.  If we can link them both together then the police will have to arrest him, won’t they?”

       “Perhaps,” Laura conceded.  “But don’t close your mind to other possibilities, Mandy.”

       Mandy frowned but nodded, distracted, momentarily.  She kept looking over her mother’s left shoulder.  Sam turned to see what she was looking at when Mandy suddenly screamed.

       “Get down!”

       And a moment later as they all collapsed to the ground, an arrow flew over their heads and went through the rail – right where Mandy had been standing…

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. I've only borrowed them to play with for a while but I promise to return them whenever I've finished with them.  (I make no promises as to condition, that's entirely up to them).  I promise, I'm only writing for fun and I'm not making a single dime off of this (unless you count personal fulfillment).