Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

While Vanessa had finally conquered her fear of sleeping alone at night, she still didn’t sleep well without Joe’s comforting presence beside her. Combined with the unfamiliar surroundings of Frank and Callie’s guest bedroom, she wasn’t at all surprised to find herself suddenly awakened in the middle of the night. Getting out of bed she crossed the room and opened the door a crack. A soft light was glowing from downstairs and she heard the muted sounds of someone quietly moving about.

Vanessa made her way downstairs and into the living room where she saw Callie seated on the couch, legs tucked up underneath her, staring at a framed picture she held in her hands.

“Hey,” Vanessa said softly, not wanting to scare her.

Callie looked up and gave her a sad smile. “I’m sorry. I tried to be quiet so I wouldn’t wake you.”

“You didn’t,” Vanessa shook her head brushing off the apology as she padded over to the couch and sat down next to Callie. “I couldn’t sleep either.” Glancing down at the picture she saw it was one of the photos taken of Frank and Callie on their wedding day.

“Only a few more months and you’ll have one of your own,” Callie said tilting the picture towards Vanessa. “Nervous yet?” she asked, putting the picture down on the coffee table.

“Nope, not a bit,” Vanessa replied with a contented smile. “In fact I can’t wait. Feels like it’s taking forever to get here,” she complained.

“Yup, I know what you mean. Frank and I were engaged for almost two years and I thought the day would NEVER get here,” Callie remembered fondly. “Then it seemed like one morning I woke up and thought ‘Oh my God! I’m getting married today!’ ”

“Were you nervous?” Vanessa asked tucking herself into the opposite corner of the couch and resting her chin on her knees.

“At times, yes, but never about whether or not it was right to marry Frank. I knew I wanted that almost from the day I met him,” she confessed. “It was more about things having to do with the wedding itself, you know? Would everyone like the d.j. we picked, would my dress fit properly, would the guests enjoy the food, would the flowers arrive on time, would it rain...would Joe make Frank late for his own wedding?”

Vanessa laughed at Callie’s friendly dig. Joe seemed to be perpetually late for just about everything no matter how hard he tried, to the point his friends joked that he’d be late to his own funeral. “Well, at least I won’t have to worry about Joe being late for the ceremony. Frank is taking his responsibilities as best man very seriously; I bet he’ll drag Joe to the church waaaaaaay early just to be safe!”

The two girls laughed for a moment and then fell silent, neither one wanting to voice their true fears until finally Callie spoke. “They’re gonna be okay…right?” she asked softly.

Vanessa looked at the clock on the wall and had a fleeting vision of Joe wandering the deserted streets of downtown Bayport alone, and shivered. “Yeah,” she replied quietly. “They’ll be together again in a few hours…and when they’re together...”

“They’re unstoppable,” Callie finished her thought. Silently she reached out, found Vanessa’s hand and squeezed tightly.

*****

“Where the hell am I supposed to get a freakin’ strip of leather?!” Joe complained aloud. He was tired, angry and had lost his last bit of patience when he almost tripped a silent alarm in the hardware store that he didn’t know was there.

Over the years Joe had developed a habit of trying to notice and memorize minute details of his surroundings when he was out doing everyday errands. It was a game Fenton Hardy had instituted with his sons when they began to show an interest in his work, as a way to train them in the art of observation.

For some reason it had fired Joe’s competitive streak more than any of the other techniques Fenton had employed to teach his boys the skills they’d need to be good investigators. Whenever they played this particular game, Joe wasn’t happy unless he’d been able to notice at least one more detail than Frank. It had become so ingrained in him now that Joe couldn’t stop doing it even if he wanted to. And he knew for a fact the last time he’d been in Bayport Hardware, the silent alarm system had not been there. It was only sheer luck that Joe had noticed it tonight, seconds before he would have tripped it.

That was the last store Joe had broken into and it had everything he needed to complete the list – except the strip of leather that seemed so out of place against the other items.

Parked at the end of a little used, unlit alley to blend in with the darkness, Joe sat on the dirty ground and leaned against the car, closing his eyes for a moment. He wondered how it was possible to feel so tired yet so keyed up at the same time. The lack of sleep was starting to wear him down, but the adrenaline rush every time he thought of his brother was more than enough to keep the tiredness at bay.

Cracking one eye open, Joe saw the very beginnings of dawn as the area towards the docks was more gray than black now. Sitting up, he checked his watch and cursed at the luminous dial that read ‘5:35 AM’.

Standing he rubbed his eyes and, for what seemed the hundredth time, began a mental list of the businesses in the downtown district. Crossing them off one by one he was ready to panic when he glanced down the alley towards the street. A mannequin in the window of Crossan’s Men’s Shop, posed as if it were waving at him, caught Joe’s attention and a flash of inspiration hit him.

‘A strip of leather… a belt! YES!’

Patting his pocket to make sure the lock pick set was still there, Joe rapidly made his way to the end of the alley. Stopping short of the street, he poked his head out and quickly pulled it back when he saw a patrol car slowly making its way towards him.

Ducking behind a dumpster he waited until it passed by and then waited another minute. Cautiously he walked back to the end of the alley and peered out, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw the street was deserted. Noting the dark sky was now turning shades of muted pink, Joe knew the sun would be up soon and he’d be out of time. He threw caution to the wind and raced across the street and down the alley that led him to the rear entrance of the men’s clothing store that catered to the more affluent residents of Bayport.

Twenty minutes later Joe was throwing the last item into the trunk of his car when his cell phone began to vibrate. Pulling it out he looked at the display and swore he felt his blood pressure spike, wondering what kind of cheap thrill these people were getting by using Frank’s cell phone to call him.

“Yeah?” Joe answered curtly.

“Good morning, Joe.” It was the voice of the man he’d spoken to the prior night. “Do you have everything on the list?”

“Yes, now where’s Frank,” Joe demanded.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be seeing him shortly.”

“Let me talk to him,” Joe pressed, fairly certain his request would be denied.

“He’s sleeping right now. He’s got a busy day ahead of him. Now I suggest you listen carefully, as I will only say this once.”

Joe fumed silently, resisting the urge to interrupt the man who at this moment, held Frank’s life in his hands.

“Get in your car and drive to the old, abandoned warehouses on the docks. Go to the very last warehouse and pull around the back where you can’t be seen by anyone passing by. Then get out of your car and wait.

“If you stop anywhere or attempt to signal or talk to anyone on the way, I will kill your brother. And when we’re through talking here, do not disconnect this call.”

“Why not?” Joe asked at the strange request.

“If you’re still connected to me, you can’t call anyone else,” the man replied.

Joe bristled, feeling as if this man could read his mind. He had, in fact, been considering making a call to his father using the voice activation and speaker phone features on his cell. ‘So much for that idea,’ he thought sourly.

“Fine,” Joe gritted out. “What happens when I get to the warehouse? We swap? You get the stuff on the shopping list from hell and I get Frank back?” He could almost hear the man laugh and wished he could reach through the phone and hit him.

“Not quite yet. You’ll be met by some of my associates. Cooperate with them and you’ll see your brother soon enough. Resist and…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, Frank dies,” Joe snapped, his patience long gone.

The man was silent for a moment and then spoke again. His voice was low and quiet but deadly, chilling Joe to the core. “Yes…he will. Now get in your car and drive – and don’t hang up.”

Climbing into the driver’s seat, Joe laid the phone down and took a moment to try and compose himself. He was running on raw nerves and adrenaline fueled by fear, but his body wanted nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep. Starting the car, he drove towards the docks.

Early on a Sunday morning heading to an area whose only inhabitants were usually the homeless and petty criminals, Joe didn’t see another car or person during the short trip.

Arriving at the docks he drove to the last warehouse as directed and got out of the car. As the sun began to rise over the water, Joe looked around warily. As far as he could tell he was alone and that made him very edgy. Restless, he started to pace, looking as if he were lost in thought though in reality he was aware of every noise, every sound, every movement around him.

A few moments later, Joe heard the sound of a rapidly approaching vehicle. As he looked up, a dark colored van lurched around the corner of the warehouse and headed straight for him. Joe quickly backpedaled several steps, well aware he was getting dangerously close to the end of the dock. Just when he thought the van was simply going to plow into him, forcing him into the polluted water below, it screeched to a stop. Glancing over his shoulder, Joe saw that one more step would have been the last one he took, but he had no time to think about the consequences.

The doors to the van flew open and three armed men jumped out. Instinctively, Joe started to take another step back, stopping when he realized he was balancing on one foot, the other dangling over the end of the dock. He quickly regained his footing, slowly raising his hands when one of the men jerked his gun upwards in a silent command.

A second man held out his hand, palm up. “Keys,” he said simply.

Slowly Joe pulled the keys from his pocket and tossed them to the man. As the man walked away, the first one took a step closer. “Turn around and put your hands behind your head.”

Again Joe did as he was told and seconds later he felt his arms being pulled behind his back and tied with rope. A blindfold was tied around his eyes and he was jerked around and led forward until he was seated in the van.

Heart pounding in his chest, Joe listened intently hoping he could pick up something that would explain the bizarre events of the past eight hours. However other than a terse “Got it, let’s go,” his captors never uttered a word.

The van lurched forward and Joe could only hope he hadn’t made a mistake by following the instructions he was given to go it alone – a mistake that could end up costing him and his brother their lives.

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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.