-THE JOURNEY HOME-

Saturday, 5.30pm

Fenton stopped the car at the traffic lights and cursed under his breath. It was as though there was some sort of conspiracy against them getting home. He’d swear they’d been stopped at every set of lights since leaving the police station! Glancing in the rear-view mirror he saw what he’d seen at every set of lights: Frank leaning back against the head-rest with his eyes closed, and Joe staring out of the window. No-one had spoken during the journey; each wrapped up in their own thoughts.

Fenton had never felt more relieved than when he had entered the interview room to see neither of his sons injured. Frank had got up from where he seemed to be  kneeling and greeted his father with a strong embrace. Having been fully briefed by Con Riley, Fenton was aware of what had occurred. At the appropriate time Fenton would discuss it with his sons, but this was not the time. Still with one arm around Frank, he had ruffled his younger son’s hair and then gripped him by the shoulder. Fenton knew he would never totally forget the expression on Joe’s face as he looked up at him. Anguish. Self-recrimination. Despair. Not the face of a young man who had saved his brother and himself from certain death! But Joe had never killed anyone before and it had obviously cut him deeply. The lights turned green.

Frank felt the car move forward again. He was exhausted but there was no way he would sleep before he had seen his mother, Callie and Aunt Gertrude. Images from his time in captivity kept trying to invade his mind. He let them stay there long enough to be acknowledged before sending them away. He knew that attempting to block them out completely would only lead to an eventual breaking of the dam wall. He felt like he was in a safe place now with his father driving the car and his brother beside him. By the time their Dad had arrived at the police station and spoken to Con, Joe had had time to cry himself out. Fenton had wisely not risked talking much to Joe. He would have guessed Frank had spoken to him already. The car slowed again. He heard his father sigh in frustration. The lights were red.

The streetlights and houses stopped whizzing by. Maybe they’d never get home. Maybe that was a good thing. He could handle being stuck for all eternity sitting next to his very much alive brother and his father at the wheel. He’d never have to face anyone else. He wouldn’t have to see a news bulletin or read in the newspaper about how a local boy heroically shot dead a criminal. Joe didn’t feel like a hero. There was no escaping the fact that he now had blood on his hands. Con had asked why he hadn’t shot Winter in the arm. Other people would be wondering the same thing. Joe had asked himself the same question. Houses and lights again began to move. The lights were green again.

 

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency 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.