Hardy Boys Fan Fiction at the HDA - Brain Child

Vanessa stood at the empty park late the next day, hardly believing she was there. Never in a million years would she have thought that her life would be falling apart at the seams right now.

Her boyfriend was beside himself, trying desperately to be strong for both Frank and her. He was doing a good job, too—but he couldn't hide the fear that haunted his eyes as he spoke the words she'd needed to hear. Frank was lost—there was no other word for it. He'd barely emerged from the Hardys' house and, were it not for the fact that he was spending some time with Joe, Vanessa would have sworn that he was already a ghost. Vanessa could barely imagine the pain that the Shaws were in right now. And finally, there was her. If it wasn't for Joe to support her in a private time of grief or Fenton, her other "dad", to be there for her in more public times, she didn't know what she would do.

She knew one thing, though—she wouldn't do this.

As terrible as the last day and a half had been, as unbelievable as events were, it was just as far-fetched that she would be here now, waiting to speak with the woman she had grown to hate in the last month.

Looking up at the sound of approaching footsteps, Vanessa watched as Nancy Drew came up to her. Nancy stood directly in her path, but said nothing for a few moments. Finally, she spoke.

"Thanks for meeting me here, Vanessa," Nancy said in an even tone.

Vanessa didn't know it, but Nancy's heart was beating quickly in apprehension and awkwardness. Were it not for the fact that she had learned to disguise her emotions through the years of being a detective, she would have revealed herself fully. She owed it to the Hardys to at least try to help when she could.

"You said it was vital," Vanessa replied. It damned well better be.

Nancy took a deep breath. "It is, Vanessa. I need to talk to you about a few things. I… I can't tell you how sorry I am---" she began, but was cut off at once by Vanessa.

"Shut up," Vanessa spat out.

"Excuse me?!" Nancy sputtered, startled.

"I said, shut up," Vanessa went on, still fighting the tears that never seemed to stop flowing. "You could care less. All you wanted was Frank—you probably wanted Callie out of the picture all along! And now she's… she's..." Vanessa choked back a sob and wiped at her red -rimmed eyes.

She's mourning. Let her grieve. Nancy said nothing for a few moments and then chose her words carefully. Gently, she began to speak. "I know what you think of me, Vanessa. And I'm sorry, I really am." She met Vanessa's eyes. "I wish I could tell you that you're wrong about me; that Frank is my FRIEND and nothing else. I wish I could tell you that I'm a pretty nice person, and the last thing I ever wanted to do was to hurt Frank, to hurt Callie—to hurt any of you."

Vanessa went to cut in, but Nancy held up her hand. Something about her posture temporarily silenced Vanessa. Nancy went on.

"But I won't say that you're wrong, because I DID mess up and I hurt everyone in the process. More importantly, though, I'm asking you to talk to me because right now is not about me- it's about finding justice for Frank and Joe and everyone else involved. Nothing can bring Callie back, and I am sincerely, genuinely sorry for all of you… but I think I know Frank well enough to see that he'll need some answers. And I think you know Joe well enough to see that he'll need Frank. So please—talk to me. I know the case might not be important at all in the scope of things, but it may eventually bring a little peace to people who need it."

Vanessa felt her lips tremble as she tried to remain composed. What more could she say? Maybe Nancy COULD help; and if anything would help Joe, ANYTHING, she was all for it.

"I still don't like you," she managed, feeling an innate need to stand up for Callie, but knowing how childish she sounded.

To her credit, Nancy didn't retaliate. Instead, she replied, "Fair enough. Will you talk to me?"

Slowly, Vanessa nodded her head in affirmation.

Nancy motioned for Vanessa to sit down at a nearby table and reached into her briefcase for several files. Slowly, she spread out some papers before Vanessa.

"Okay," Nancy began. "I need you to tell me, to the best of your recollection, one more time what John Daley said to you in your apartment before your attack. Even the smallest detail could be important, no matter how trivial it seems." She kept the words neutral and matter-of-fact from years of experience.

Vanessa sighed and recounted her story again.

Nancy nodded, then looked up. "Right. But I need to know more of what he SAID. His mannerisms. What—you might have said," she added softly.

"What?" Vanessa asked, surprised. "You don't think I did anything, do you? I mean, Joe was shot! I would have never…" She struggled for words.

"No, no!" Nancy responded quickly. "Listen, Vanessa. I'm going to tell you the truth, and I don't want you to feel bad. When you- when anyone- is dealing with especially dangerous criminals, they're manipulative beyond belief. They get you to talk and reveal information that the normal person wouldn't even deem suspicious. Through what seems like mindless banter, they extract the smallest of details to use against people. Of COURSE you didn't do anything wrong; I know that. You're a victim. But I'm trying to find out what he could have used against you—and Callie--- to get to you both. Okay?"

Vanessa swallowed hard. To think that she could have contributed to Joe's injury, to Callie's death, was unspeakable. Still, she understood why Nancy was asking her the question, and, in some way, she appreciated her candor.

Vanessa spoke at last. "He asked to go to the bathroom."

"He did ultimately go, right?" Nancy asked.

"Yes," Vanessa responded. She was too tired and too much in sorrow to even try to think of where Nancy was going with this. That was Joe's line of work for a reason.

"Go on," Nancy encouraged.

"He talked about how it was nice to be treated well by a girl. He coughed a lot. He kept referring to the fact that he thought that I might think he was weird. He said he'd just recently broken up with a girlfriend and was new to the dating scene again. He was kind of awkward and made a really bad joke about the bathroom. He said he might be assigned to watch Callie tomorrow. He caught me daydreaming a bit. I… I guess that's it."

Nancy shook her head. She saw it and it was crystal clear to her exactly how Daley had gotten information from Vanessa. She didn't want to hurt Vanessa, but she had to tell her the truth and hope that she worked with her.

"Vanessa," Nancy began with a small smile, "He was telling you that he was watching you and Callie. He was alluding to his past, which I'll explain in a moment. Vanessa, in your bathroom, do you keep personal items? Like pictures, maybe? Candles? Medicine?"

"Doesn't everyone?" Vanessa asked.

"Yes," Nancy replied. "But let me guess. Do you or Joe have, or have ever taken, anti-anxiety medication?"

Vanessa furrowed her brow. "I haven't," she said honestly. "I think that maybe Joe…." Suddenly, she covered her mouth with her hand.

"I bet you also have pictures in some visible view in the living room—at least one picture maybe—of Iola, right?"

Vanessa nodded, forcing back tears.

Nancy wanted to reach out and hold her hand, but she knew now that it wasn't appropriate. Still, she went on. "It's not your fault, Vanessa. Obviously, Daley had done his homework on you. The attack was staged, and we already know that he planned to kill Hughes AND to kill Joe. He shot Joe, not Hughes; he just missed. Daley just wanted to mess with you and he would have come back to finish the job had Callie not come up. He's sick, Vanessa. That's why he killed and raped Leslie and Mandy, why he raped Charlotte—and why he would have raped or killed you too, eventually."

Nancy paused, and then collected her thoughts before trying to make Vanessa see what she did.

"He let Charlotte live for a reason; so he could terrorize her. He did—just look at the bomb sent to her apartment! Your attack was a setup, but don't be fooled into thinking he wouldn't have gone after you, too. He sent a bomb with your name on it to Frank and Callie's house. He shot your boyfriend. He was just waiting and watching. Rape, you know, is about control and power, not sex. Isn't that what he was doing to you?"

Vanessa whispered, "Yes."

Nancy went on. "Callie was the only one left out. Think of how much time the both of you spent with him, alone or with the Hardys. Iola probably came up somewhere along the line. I'll bet so did Joe and Frank's closeness; it's pretty apparent anyway. When he missed with Joe, he decided to get to Frank—through Callie. Daley has serious issues with women. Anyway, when he went to your apartment, it probably took only minutes to finish piecing everything together. If Joe still appeared to be taking anxiety medication all of these years later, even if he wasn't, what could it do to Frank, who'd spent far longer with Callie than Joe had with Iola? He made you talk, Vanessa, without realizing you realizing it. Plus, he was a COP—he had access to all sorts of information. The whole thing was staged. And if he was alive right now, I swear I'd bet my life that you'd still be in danger."

Vanessa was freely crying now, not caring how vulnerable she looked to Nancy who had, quietly, reached into her purse to offer Vanessa a tissue.

"But he's dead," Vanessa replied in a quivering voice.

"Yeah," Nancy replied with a sigh. "That I still don't get. If he was planning on killing Callie, why kill himself? I mean, even if he knew he was caught, we honestly had no physical evidence on him, and he knew it. It seems pretty careless for a thoughtful, and I mean the term literally, kind of guy."

Vanessa choked and managed sarcastically, "Unless he faked his own death."

To her surprise, Nancy met her eyes dead on. "You're right. Which is why I want you to be especially careful until we have proof of his death."

"What?" Vanessa cried. "But that means…"

"It means that he might be alive. It also means you might be in danger, more than you think. And it also means…."

Vanessa gasped and dropped her purse, "That Callie might be alive, too!"

"Stop," Nancy replied at once, noting the look on Vanessa's face. It was as if she had just awoken from a dream. "This is all a private theory, Vanessa. Please, PLEASE don't get your hopes up. Chances are that Callie really is …gone. And I know that Frank and Joe would have contemplated that possibility, too, had not they been so…preoccupied."

"I can't let it go at that!" Vanessa replied, grabbing Nancy's hands forcefully and meeting her eyes. "If there's any chance at all…"

Nancy smiled wanly. "I know. I'm with you. But you need to listen to me carefully; please," she began. "There's a lot about Daley's past that you and the Hardys don't know. Well, Frank might know a little, and Mr. Hardy might, too. But I need to run it past them—past Joe, too," she quickly added. "And I need Frank's help on this DNA angle and Mr. Hardy's insights on Jimmy Dee. I need you to get me the hook to see them, but not to disturb them in their grief. It's not my place. I need them to know that I am trying to help solve this case for closure and for no other reason. I cannot raise their hopes now when probably nothing will come of it. Help me, Vanessa."

Vanessa looked down at her hands intertwined in Nancy's, and she was instantly brought back to Callie holding her hands just days before, offering her some comfort in her despair. Then she looked up and, for the first time, saw no deviousness or deceit in Nancy's eyes; just someone who really seemed to want to help.

"I'm sorry," she managed.

"So am I," Nancy replied.

"Let's go," Vanessa said, getting up. "I think it's time we paid the boys a visit."

*****

Callie fought back the fog, the pain, and the general confusion that seemed to surround her. She wanted, above anything, to open her eyes, but they felt like dead weights. She was caught in that rare state which is exactly at the center of awareness and sleep and she couldn't seem to push herself in either direction.

Please, she whispered mentally. Help me.

Then, at once, she found that she could open her eyes. Her head still ached terribly, but there was a feeling of clarity that hadn't been there before. As she tried to get her bearings, she looked up and found a young girl, a teenager, staring at her with concern in her eyes and a reassuring smile.

She sat up tiredly, looking around. Where was she? Was she in a forest? How? All around her were trees and dirt. Her body ached, although the pain began to subside and she found that she could speak, slowly.

"Where… am I?" she managed. Her throat felt so dry she could barely speak.

The young girl offered her a can of Coke that Callie reached for and greedily gulped down. Coughing, she managed to catch her breath as she looked at the teen before her.

"Shhh," the girl said calmly with a smile. "You're all right. Help is on the way."

"Who… where…" Callie tried to find the words but was hit with a wave of dizziness and nausea.

"I'm Erin," the girl said and gently put her arm around Callie, helping her to lie back down. "You're on Interstate 95, about 20 miles outside of Bayport. I was driving along and I saw a car at the side of the road; saw someone push you out. It's pretty steep and a bad fall."

"But…" Callie whispered, trying to get her bearings.

"It wasn't your time," Erin smiled. "I guess someone was looking out for you. It was your lucky day. Well, kind of…" she added sheepishly.

Callie closed her eyes. Her whole body ached, especially her head, but she was surprised at how clearly she could understand Erin's words. Nothing made sense. The last thing she remembered was Daley coming to get her; some horrible news. She remembered seeing Frank and then overpowering heat, pain… and nothing. And here she was, in the middle of nowhere, looking into this stranger's eyes that felt so comforting.

"Are you hungry?" Erin asked her, pulling out an apple.

"N…no thanks," Callie managed, having opened her eyes weakly. "I have to call… my fiancé…"

"He'll know any minute," Erin responded, again with a smile.

Callie managed to weakly sit up. "But… how?" she stuttered.

Erin smiled. "I called for help. You'll be okay. Really," she continued. Then she stared into Callie's eyes and held her gaze.

Unable to turn away, Callie found herself smiling and at ease, some of the pain disappearing.

"I guess he's pretty special to you, huh?" The teen went on. "That must be pretty great to have someone love you so much. Don't let that go. That kind of love lasts forever."

Callie took a shaky breath and held onto her weak smile. "You're pretty wise for a kid. You seem to know a lot about love."

"I do," Erin replied. "Trust me; it never goes away."

At once, Callie felt a flash of pain course through her body and she could barely catch her breath. She felt Erin's arms around her as she laid her gently on the ground. The last thing she remembered was trying desperately to make out the girl's features, but in the glare of the late afternoon sun, all she could see was a bright ring of light around her face. Her last conscious thought was how much the girl looked like an angel….

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Disclaimer

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.