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

“Hold on!” Sam Radley ordered again as the car jerked hard to the left, sending all three of them jerking sideways in the car. Fenton held on tight to the dashboard in front of him, bracing both legs on the floor as Sam put the sedan through its paces.

Fenton looked behind him for a moment, checking to make sure that his son was still in one piece and saw Frank holding tightly to the back of his seat while using the injured arm to try to hold a blanket over his head. He winced when he saw all of the glass strewn about the back seat and he reached back a hand, losing his hold on the dashboard, and grabbed Frank’s hand.

“You all right, son?” Fenton asked as Sam swerved again, shooting past several cars journeying down the interstate. “Did you get cut?”

“I don’t think so,” Frank said. “Doesn’t feel like it. You have enough blankets on me, they seem to have protected me a bit. I got jerked around some when they crashed into the back of the car. Did…did anyone get hit with the bullet?”

Fenton frowned and looked around, searching for any holes in the upholstery, the dashboard, the windshield, even the ceiling, before reaching behind him to discover a large one in the back of the front seat – about a half inch from Frank, in fact. If he hadn’t been leaning back when he had, Frank would be very dead right now – or at least, much more injured.

Fenton winced and took a deep breath. “We’re all okay, Frank,” he said. “The bullet didn’t hit anyone. Wrap those blankets around yourself, you don’t need to get sick on top of everything else.”

“Right,” Frank agreed, and Fenton helped him, as best he could amidst the swerving, the lane changes, the abrupt speed changes; attempting to get his son cocooned in the extra blankets in the back seat.

“How’s your leg?” he asked Frank, knowing that was the worst of his son’s current injuries.

“Okay,” Frank said. “No extra damage anyway. Managed not to bang it on the back of the seat.

Fenton breathed a sigh of relief. He half expected more gunshots to sound out through the early morning but none were forthcoming – and the car that hit them was no longer behind them. He turned and looked through the back of the car, seeing the car limping off an exit ramp and driving off out of sight.

“Police or Bayport?” Sam asked Fenton.

“Bayport,” Fenton said. “I want to get Frank home, then we’ll worry about the police. I don’t think we should stop, and hopefully we can get there without any more trouble. I’ll call Con, though, just in case.”

“Good idea.” Sam grimly veered back over into the outside lane. He checked his odometer; it was still another thirty miles to Bayport. A lot could happen in thirty miles, including getting run off the road and shot at again.

“Car’s gone,” Fenton told Sam. He motioned over his shoulder. “They pulled off back there. May have damaged themselves as much as us. I always thought people hitting the back of people’s cars on purpose was stupid.”

“But it makes such dramatic action,” Sam grinned, relaxing back into the driving but ever alert for any signs of their attackers appearing again. “A little too dramatic for my taste, though. I’ll give them a four on originality.”

Frank snorted from the back and Fenton grinned at his partner’s attempt to lighten the mood. Like they hadn’t just been shot at and nearly run off the road. Sam always did have the strangest sense of humor…

Fenton pulled out his cell phone and hit a number on his speed dial, sighing as he settled back in his seat again and grimacing at the headache building at the base of his neck. He frowned and rubbed at it absently, gazing out at the familiar scenery passing by out the window – billboards, trees, the occasional brick wall and lots of houses. He closed his eyes.

“Bayport Police, Riley.”

“Con, this is Fenton.” Hardy spoke in a clear, concise voice; steady of any earlier nerves. “You busy?”

“No more so than usual, Fenton; what can I do for you?” Con asked.

“We ran into trouble on the way home,” Fenton said. He explained what happened and where they were going – and where they last saw the car that tried to kill them. “I didn’t see the driver and I don’t think Sam did…” A quick glance at Sam told him the same thing; Sam shook his head. “I thought I’d let you know.”

“Is everyone all right?” Con asked.

“No worse than usual.” Fenton continued to relax. Maybe he could get in another nap before they got home. “What have you found out about Andrew?”

“Since yesterday? Nothing,” Con said. “I understand the F.B.I. is still working the case.”

“And…” Fenton knew Con wouldn’t let the F.B.I. take over anything having to deal with his city. He was sure Con already had feelers out and had run reports as soon as he heard about Andrew.

“Well,” Fenton grinned when he heard that tone of voice. He opened his eyes again and exchanged a glance with Sam who smirked. “All right. I have been putting out some feelers; I just got a report back on young Mr. Andrew this morning. It doesn’t have anything on it, not even so much as a speeding ticket. He’s a student at Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Straight A’s, majoring in civil engineering.”

Well, that explained a few things, Fenton thought sardonically.

“I’ll let you know if I get anything else,” Con said. “I’m getting a more extensive report from the school, once I can cut through the Massachusetts red tape. Nothing like bureaucrats to slow us down from doing our jobs.”

Fenton sighed and nodded. “Thanks, Con. We’ll come fill out that report once I get a chance to get Frank settled.”

“I don’t need to be settled, Dad,” Frank protested. “We can go ahead and go to the police station.”

“Uh-uh,” Fenton said. “You need to get back to bed, young man. I haven’t forgotten your doctor’s orders.”

Fenton grinned as he heard Frank sigh and slouch back into his seat. “I’ll be by this afternoon, maybe after my own nap, Con.

He hung up and leaned back again.

** ** **

“Daddy!” Mandy came racing out of Sam Radley’s house, throwing her arms around her father’s shoulders as he climbed out of the battered car and hugging him tightly, holding on for all she was worth. “Are you all right? What happened to your car? Where’s Frank, is he…? Frank!”

The blonde whirlwind was gone in an instant, throwing herself at her older brother and wrapping her arms around his neck, and holding him for many long moments before helping him out of the car and offering him a shoulder to lean on to get into the house. Fenton hid a half-smile as he watched his youngest and oldest make their way slowly up the path to the front door of the house.

“What happened?” Mandy demanded again, unwilling to be put off any longer.

“We got rammed,” Frank answered her as he limped along slowly beside her, letting her lead him inside the house. Fenton continued to smile as he reached into the back of the car and got the blankets out – he’d have to shake them out over a dumpster or something to try and get all the glass out – or throw the blankets away; he didn’t want to put anyone at risk. “And then shot at.”

“You were shot at?” Mandy stopped and pushed Frank to arm’s length, checking him over from top to bottom. “Did you get hit? Are you hurt?”

“Mandy-Nic,” Frank said calmly. “I’m okay, I wasn’t hurt, and I’m in one piece. Let’s just go inside, all right?”

Mandy sighed and took Frank’s arm again, leading him the rest of way into the house. Laura met them at the door and helped Mandy bring Frank to the sofa where they got him settled and his leg propped up on a pillow.

“Hi, baby.” Fenton stepped up to his wife and pulled her close, kissing her soundly and holding her for a moment in his arms. He smiled as she ducked her head and laid it on his shoulder under his chin, and he wrapped his arms more tightly about her. He inhaled sharply, smelling all of those things that made Laura uniquely Laura – her flowery shampoo, Chanel Number 5, even a hint of bacon from cooking that morning’s breakfast.

“How are you?” Laura asked in a low voice as she continued to hold him. He enjoyed the feel of her arms around him.

“I’m fine.” Fenton led her over to the love seat and sat down with her, snuggling up close with her. “Just missed you a lot, love.”

Laura smiled and placed her head on his chest again. Mandy bustled back into the room, handing Frank a glass of water and sitting on the sofa’s arm as she took a brush to her older brother’s longish hair.

“So what happened?” Laura asked softly. “Since I talked to you last?”

Fenton sighed but he told her, in detail, about the attack on the road, but assured her that nobody had been hurt again because of it.

“We might feel a bit more battered than we did, but we already felt battered so it’s hard to tell,” Fenton smiled and plucked a strand of hair off of Laura’s cheek, brushing it back behind an ear. “Now that we’re home, I thought we’d all rest up before we get to work. I could use something decent to eat, too.”

“We made lunch.” Laura pushed away from her husband; Fenton reluctantly let her go and watched her as she stood. She offered him a hand and he took it, going with her to the kitchen. “Mandy, come get Frank’s lunch

They ate a simple meal of sandwiches, soup, potato chips and salad, seated around the coffee table in the living room while exchanging tales of their days. Mandy filled her father and brother in on everything that happened at the Andiron mansion and mentioned that Samantha wrote down all of the different headlines and other things they found that Andrew saved.

“Every little bit will help,” Fenton mentioned. “It gives us some insight into his mind – and just how far his obsession has gone. I don’t suppose there’s any indication in what you read as to why he’s obsessed with Joe, is there?”

“Not that we found, Dad,” Mandy plucked a chip off of Frank’s plate and munched on it. “But there’s one thing I haven’t told any of you; I didn’t want to talk about it on the phone…but, well, Andrew knew Anna Phillips.”

Frank nearly choked on his sandwich, and Mandy helpfully patted him on the back.

“What?” Frank asked.

“We found pictures,” Mandy said. “Pictures of Andrew with Anna Phillips. They were on the beach somewhere. It’s obvious they know each other; maybe they’ve known each other for some time. They looked pretty chummy, too.”

“I’m hallucinating,” Frank mumbled. “I’m hallucinating. I’m hearing things, right?”

“I wish,” Mandy shrugged and plucked another chip off of Frank’s plate and chewed on it. The next time she reached for one, Frank slapped her hand away.

“Quit stealing my chips,” Frank said. “And tell me more about these pictures.”

“I use this hand, you know,” Mandy said. “You didn’t have to slap it so hard.”

“Boo hoo,” Frank said. “On with the story.”

“Brat.” Mandy’s voice was affectionate.

“Ditto.” Frank’s was just as affectionate.

Mandy took a deep breath and went back to tearing small bits off of her sandwich and eating it. She toyed with the soupspoon, without actually eating any of the soup.

“Eat your soup, Mandy,” Laura told her daughter. “Quit playing with it.”

“She’s stalling, Mom,” Frank said.

“I am not,” Mandy declared. “I just don’t have anything else to say. There were pictures. Not sure where they were taken, just at a beach. Anna and Andrew were close, chummy, you know, the kinds of pictures we’ve all taken together, me crawling on your back or Joe’s. A couple of them working on a sand castle. Some more taken where they were in front of the ocean. That’s all.”

“You think this has anything to do with the case?” Frank turned his expression toward his father. Fenton tried, as usual, not to be thrown off by the fact that his son was not really looking at him but at…nothing. “Do you think she’s his accomplice?”

Fenton shrugged, thinking. “I suppose it’s possible, but…what’s in it for her?”

“Ha,” Mandy retorted, half under her breath. “Does she need to get something to cause trouble? She’s a loony-toon dad.”

“Maybe,” Fenton said. “It doesn’t mean she’s going to do something for Andrew without getting something in return.”

The detective frowned, thinking – there was something else tickling the back of his mind, something he’d thought of in Connecticut and forgotten since then – but it was something important, he knew it.

“What is it, Dad?” Mandy asked him, seeing his expression.

“I remembered something in New Haven .” Fenton spoke slowly, still thinking, trying to remember where he was. “A woman…”

“Seeing someone behind my back?” Cocking an eyebrow at her husband, Laura stole a chip off his plate and munched industriously. She could get her own chips, but it was much more fun to steal from her husband’s plate.

“Sure, dear. I have women everywhere, don’t you know? Lots of them. Broods of children, too.”

“I thought as much,” Laura said. “As long as I’m the number one wife.”

“Always,” Fenton grinned and leaned over to kiss her.

“Moooom,” Mandy said. “Come on. Dad, you’re killing me here. What did you remember about a woman?”

“Huh?” Fenton asked, and then looked up, blushing slightly. “Oh yeah. A woman. Right.”

Frowning, he considered. A woman. Why did he remember a woman?

“The hospital,” the detective said, suddenly. “When I chased the archer. The archer was a woman. I knew there was something about the way that she ran. No matter how much they try, women and men just don’t run the same way. Women have more, uh, hips…than a man. Even runners. That’s what I remembered.”

“And you think it might have been Anna?” Frank asked. “And she tried to kill us?”

“I think it’s possible,” Fenton nodded and went back to eating. He spoke between bites. “I know Andrew can’t have done everything he’s done on his own. Granted, he’s turning out to be an industrious young man, but there were times when we could swear he was in two places at once…and we know that’s impossible. So having an accomplice makes sense. As to why it’s Anna…I don’t know.”

“This case is getting stranger and stranger,” Mandy said. “It doesn’t matter though. Whatever we do, we’re going to find Joe. Period. Andrew can run but he can’t hide forever and he can’t hide Joe forever. Joe’s not going to let Andrew keep him hostage forever, no matter what he does. He’s lost his little dungeon so he won’t have as secure a place to keep him in – right?”

Fenton frowned, thinking that over. “We don’t know for sure he won’t have somewhere as secure but now that we know who we’re looking for, well, it’s going to be that much harder for him to hide. The question is, where do we start looking. He could be anywhere.”

“We,” a voice said at the doorway. “Start right here in Bayport and work our way out.”

Fenton looked up and smiled when he saw Deanna standing in the doorway with her partner, Audrey. The two F.B.I. agents came in, escorted by Ethel Radley, and took seats on the unoccupied sofa.

“Good investigation,” Deanna grinned after introducing herself and Audrey to Mandy and Laura. “Start small and build. We start local and work outward. You’re right. We know who has Joe now. He’s not going to be able to hide forever.”

“That’s right,” Mandy rubbed her hands together, satisfied. “Don’t worry, Andrew. You can run but you can’t hide.”

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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.