Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

-SACRIFICE-

Saturday, 4.30pm

After the paramedics had given Frank the all-clear, he and Joe were driven to the police station. Frank gave a lengthy statement, but it wasn’t until after Con Riley had finished questioning Joe that the brothers were finally able to see each other privately. Con Riley had observed during the interview with Joe that the younger Hardy was putting on an extremely tough facade. His hands had trembled and he had avoided eye contact as much as possible while he had answered Con’s questions. As soon as Con saw Frank being led into the room adjacent to the interview room, Con beckoned for him to join them.

‘You two probably have some things to discuss,’ he told them kindly. ‘I’ve rung your Dad. He’ll be here soon. Let me know if you need anything,’ he added as he closed the door behind him.

Joe looked up as his brother entered the interview room but stayed seated. As utterly relieved as he was that Frank was okay, he felt totaly sapped of energy. There was none of the joy he usually experienced at the end of a difficult case.

Frank sat at the table across from Joe, where Con would have asked his questions. He had known Joe long enough to know that killing Carson would not have sat easily with him. Frank and his brother had been brought up to believe in the justice system. Neither of them had ever intentionally killed anyone before.

As they sat in silence, Joe stared down at the table.

‘Want to talk about it?’ asked Frank quietly.

‘What’s the point?’ replied Joe blandly. ‘It’s done.’

‘And we’re both alive,’ persisted Frank. ‘And Carson can’t ever kill again.’

‘Yeah, we’re alive,’ agreed Joe, his voice edged with bitterness. He could feel something akin to anger sparking inside him. Resentment towards the man he had shot dead.

‘Do you feel like you lost your innocence to save me?’ Frank asked him. It was an incredibly blunt question. Joe looked up straight into his brother’s eyes and felt a chill pass through him.

‘I lost that a long time ago. We all did,’ stated Joe. ‘This is no big deal.’

But Frank would have none of Joe’s weak attempt at skipping over what he had had to do. It had been a big deal.

‘It doesn’t change you deep inside, Joe. It doesn’t change who you are.’

‘I don’t care that he’s dead,’ said Joe, his voice lowered.

‘Neither do I,’ said Frank calmly.

‘But it’s wrong,’ said Joe, fidgeting in his chair.

‘Are you celebrating it?’ persisted Frank.

‘No. Not exactly.’

‘Are you regretting what you did?’

‘No! Come on Frank. I’ve already been questioned by Con! I don’t need you giving me the third degree as well!’

An awkward silence descended upon the room.

‘Talk to me, little brother,’ Frank implored him in his calm, controlled voice.

Joe suddenly put his head down on the table and covered his head with his arms.

‘What is it, Joe?’

‘I’m not,’ came the muffled reply.

‘Not what?’

Silence.

‘Not what?’

Frank got up and moved around to the other side of the table, kneeling beside his brother. He didn’t attempt to touch him. This was something that needed to be thrashed out in words. The last thing he wanted was for Joe to bury some poisonous notion deep in his heart that would ultimately adversely affect him and their relationship over time.

‘You shot a man and now he’s dead. You did have a choice, but what was your choice Joe? What was your choice?’

Joe turned his head and rested his cheek on the table. A single tear ran from the corner of his eye across the bridge of his nose before dripping onto the table’s surface.

‘What was your choice Joe?’ insisted Frank.

‘Let him kill you,’ whispered Joe, his heart re-experiencing the dread he had felt when faced with the situation.

‘And then he would have killed you.’ Frank told him. ‘Maybe not straight away. He would have got his sick thrills watching your reaction, but he would have killed you as well. He also said how funny it was that we believed he was Angelica’s uncle when he was the one who killed her and buried her in her own back garden! He bragged about hurting Biff. Joe, he told me you wouldn’t have the guts to shoot him.’

‘Con asked me why I didn’t just shoot him in the arm. I..I didn’t know what to say,’ said Joe miserably.

‘You’re not a trained marksman, Joe! Chances are you would have missed his arm. You aimed for the body. It was the logical course of action. That’s why we’re both alive.’

‘I don’t wanna be a murderer,’ Joe whimpered, as another few tears ran the same course as their predecessor and added to the pool on the table.

‘You’re not a murderer Joe,’ Frank told him firmly. ‘Murderers kill people purely for their own satisfaction. Their hearts are dark places. Can you imagine Winter feeling like you are now after killing those hikers? He wouldn’t be soul-searching. His soul died a long time before today.’

Joe hung on to his older brother’s words. They were, as usual, wise words. He understood what Frank was telling him, but he was yet to feel any comfort. Frank’s face looked blurry, yet in the instant that Joe blinked to clear his vision, he again saw the repulsive image of Winter falling backwards.

‘It’s still in my head,’ he whispered.

‘It will pass,’ Frank said soothingly.

‘I’m cold,’ was Joe’s response.

Frank took off his jacket and placed it around Joe’s shoulders.

‘You’re probably in a bit of shock,’ Frank told him. ‘As soon as Dad gets here, we can go home. I’m sure Aunt Gertrude will whip up some delicious hot soup for us. I could do with a decent meal!’

At the mention of his aunt with whom he had recently connected at a level he hadn’t previously thought possible, Joe felt a lump form in his throat. It was a standing joke amongst their friends that Aunt Gertrude treated her nephews as though they were still young boys. Would she still behave the same way towards him now that he had actually killed a man? Would any of their friends see him the same way? And what about Vanessa? Suddenly overwhelmed by the irreversible nature of what he had done, Joe turned his face away from Frank, wrapped his arms around his head and began sobbing in earnest.

Frank didn’t try to console his brother, other than to place his hand very gently on Joe’s shoulder. There was very little point in telling Joe everything would be okay. Things would be okay, but Joe would have to come to terms with what had happened. They all would.

As he remained kneeling on the floor of the bare interview room, listening to the raw sounds of despair, Frank closed his eyes and contemplated. People spoke of the ultimate sacrifice of giving one’s life to save another person. In Frank’s mind, however, Joe’s sacrifice was greater. He had killed someone to save Frank, and would now have to live with it.