Disclaimer: We do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, nor do we own the Sentinel or any of the canon television characters, and are making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s). Co-written with Talefeathers of the HDA.
For those of you who are not familiar with The Sentinel's characters, we hope this will be a pleasant introduction to them for you. For those of you who are already acquainted with Blair, Jim, Simon and the others – enjoy! Trying to fit these four stories into two different story arcs [Hardy Boys and The Sentinel] just barely worked. Band of Brothers and Welcome to Cascade take place before September Song [Hardy universe] begins, and any time after The Perfect Partner [Sentinel universe]. Missing Persons happens right after Fanfare for June [Hardys]; A Matter of Public Record takes place any time between Death on the Fourth of July and February Flirtations [Hardys], and before Remodel and Rebuild [Sentinel].
This particular story was written in 2007. Technology does not match today's levels.
Missing Persons
A Hardy Boys/Sentinel Crossover Story
By EvergreenDreamweaver and Talefeathers
Chapter 1
"Frank – Joe? Could you two come in here a moment?" Fenton Hardy popped his head out of his study and beckoned to his sons, who both happened to be in the family room watching television.
A few moments later the boys were seated in Fenton's 'client' chairs facing their father, who had re-seated himself behind his desk. "What's up, Dad?" Frank asked curiously.
"I just wanted to give you a heads-up before I left," Fenton replied. "I'm following the trail of a missing person – at least, her family thinks she's missing. Personally, I expect she's just asserting her independence a little, but if they want me to locate her and make sure she's all right, I can do that." He grinned a little, brown eyes twinkling. "It sounds like a pretty easy case...but I wanted to tell you about it before I left, just so you'd have some idea what I'll be doing."
They waited while Fenton opened up a manila file folder. "Her name is Roberta Van Lansing, nickname Bobbi," the detective began, "and she's been living in New York City, and working in marketing in Manhattan. Her parents – and a younger sibling – live in Highland where her father is a banker. Background states that she's highly intelligent, motivated, a rising star in the world of finance." He grinned at his sons briefly. "You know the type. Here's her picture." He turned the folder around and displayed a 5x7" color photograph of a young woman with long, straight auburn hair, wide brown eyes and a teasing smile.
"Pretty!" Joe commented appreciatively. "Don'tcha think, Frank?".
"Mmm-hmmm."
"She's been incommunicado for about two weeks," Fenton continued, turning the file folder back so he could read his notes, "and according to her parents, she never called, came home, or sent a card to her mother on Mother's Day, although she had written briefly a day or two prior. This is apparently such aberrant behavior that it triggered all sorts of alarms."
"And...?" Frank prompted, as his father paused.
"They tried her at all the telephone numbers they had available, and got nothing other than voice mail and answering machines. They tried e-mail and got no replies. Somehow they got the idea in their heads that she must have been kidnapped, but they didn't want to call in the police—" He smiled slightly, "because of the publicity inherent. Bankers hate adverse publicity. So, they called me."
"Do you think she's been kidnapped?" Joe asked shrewdly. "Have there been any ransom notes or calls or anything like that?"
"None – and I very much doubt it," his father replied. "I've checked with her place of employment, and they said she asked for some personal leave time. She's arranged to have her mail held at the post office, and her apartment manager said she paid a month's rent in advance, but told him she might be gone for awhile. And," he added, "she paid for an airline ticket with a credit card."
"Where'd she go?" asked Frank, at the same time Joe burst out, "Why would her parents think she was kidnapped, then?"
"It's sort of a...well, they don't want to believe that Bobbi would just leave the area without telling them," Mr. Hardy explained, "so they've convinced themselves that since she is gone and didn't say goodbye and didn't send her mother a card for Mother's Day, that – well, that she must have been kidnapped! There simply is no other explanation for it, in Mr. and Mrs. Van Lansing's minds." His eyes twinkled. "And as for where she went – well, this is one reason I thought you two might find the case interesting. She went to the West Coast. Specifically, Washington state. More specifically, a city on Puget Sound called Cascade."
"CASCADE!" The cry burst from two throats in unison, and Fenton's smile broadened at his sons' reaction – which he had fully expected.
"You're going to Cascade? Dad, can we go along? Please?!" Joe implored.
"We could help you look for her," Frank cut in, "and it's not like we're busy—"
"Frank's done with classes at the U—"
"Joe just graduated from high school—"
"We could see Jim and Blair again – and Daryl and Captain Banks!"
"CAN we?"
"Whoa! Stop, stop, stop, stop!" Fenton was laughing heartily, but shaking his head in denial of the impassioned pleas. "I'm sorry, boys, but I don't think the expense account can be padded to fit in two more flights out there when I don't really need you there. All I'm going to do is find this young woman, verify that she's all right, and encourage her to contact her anxious relatives. She's using credit cards and her own name; I don't foresee any need for two extra assistants."
"Awww...shucks." Frank and Joe exchanged disappointed glances.
"Dad, will you look up Detective Ellison and Detective Sandburg while you're there, though?" Frank suggested. "It would be nice if you could meet them – they're really cool guys."
"I fully intend to," his father said. "I'd like to get acquainted with them, since you two seem to be so impressed with them."
Joe nodded enthusiastically at this. "Nicest cops I've ever met – well, aside from Con, maybe – and you, Dad," he grinned. Privately, he intended to e-mail Sandburg immediately and mention his father's impending arrival in Cascade, so they'd be expecting a call from Fenton.
"Thank you – I think." Fenton rose to his feet, sliding the file folder into his opened briefcase. "I'd better be heading for the airport," he said. "I should be back within a week, but I'll check in every evening like usual, and let you know if plans change. Oh, and I'm leaving a copy of the file, just in case."
"You just taking that?" Joe indicated the briefcase with a smile.
"My travel bag is already in the car," his father laughed. "I want to say goodbye to your mother; then I'm off." He hugged each of the boys quickly. "Take care of things here, and I'll talk with you all tonight after I get there."
"Bye, Dad! Have a good trip!"
Frank and Joe watched Fenton drive away, each feeling somewhat disappointed. They would have been delighted to accompany their father to Cascade and to reconnect with Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg – but they realized that he didn't need them along.
"Maybe next time," Joe sighed, turning away from the window. "I'm gonna go email Blair and tell him Dad's going to be in town, so they aren't surprised when a total stranger calls and tells them 'hi' for us."
#####
Fenton Hardy casually sauntered down the slight decline of the Jetway and entered the early-evening hustle-bustle of Cascade International Airport. He was enjoying himself; due to his profession, he was used to travel, and this particular journey had been a relatively easy one. Although he loved Bayport and the East Coast, and had no intentions to ever relocate, Fenton had to admit that the Pacific Northwest held an allure all its own, with its seacoasts, mountains, rainforest, timberlands and cities all in close proximity.
No one was expecting him; no one was meeting him. Should he go first to his hotel, or start in at once tracking down Ms. Van Lansing? The detective considered his options for a few moments, and then decided that since it was still early by this time zone, he might as well do a little tracking of the Van Lansings' lost lamb, then check into his hotel and then follow his sons' strict instructions to contact those Cascade PD detectives!
Stopping at a convenient bench in the concourse, he took his notes from his briefcase and consulted them. According to the paper trail created by reservations made with credit cards, Bobbi had reserved a room at the Cascade Silver Reef Hotel. Having noted the prices quoted in the hotel brochure, Fenton grimaced a little; Ms. Van Lansing flew high – he, himself, was booked in the Best Western motel nearest the airport! Sighing a little at the injustice of it all, Fenton proceeded to the car rental desk.
#####
"Something interesting?" Detective Jim Ellison paused in his dinner preparations and leaned curiously over the shoulder of his roommate and partner, Blair Sandburg. Sandburg had settled at the kitchen table when they got home, and was pulling up e-mails on his notebook computer; it was his soft whistle of surprise that had snared Ellison's attention.
"It's a note from Joe Hardy." Blair leaned back in his chair to give Jim an unobstructed view. "He says his dad is coming to Cascade on a case – he's intending to look us up."
"Hopefully not to punch us in the snoot for endangering his children every time we encounter them," Ellison said ruefully. He scanned Joe's brief missive and went back into the kitchen to resume his tasks.
"We don't endanger them – well, we didn't the first time," Sandburg amended. "That was purely happenstance. Anyway, Joe doesn't say he's mad at us. Just that he gave him our phone number." He reached up to loosen the tie which confined his long, dark curls, and shook his hair out gratefully.
Jim chuckled. "I can just see that," he mused. "Joe sending an e-mail that says 'My dad is coming to Cascade on a case – oh, and he's also going to punch you out while he's there. DO make him welcome, won't you?'"
Blair cracked up. "We could at least take him out for a drink, or dinner, or something, if he calls," he suggested when he finished laughing.
"We can do that," his partner nodded. "Lucky the weekend's coming; we ought to have some free time."
"If the criminal element of Cascade behaves itself and Simon doesn't decide we haven't had enough to do lately," Blair added, meaning Captain Simon Banks, head of the Major Crimes Division, and their boss.
"Keep your fingers crossed, Chief," Ellison replied, and went on chopping green pepper for the stir-fry he was concocting for their dinner.
#####
The front desk clerk at the Silver Reef had been reasonably polite and helpful – but Fenton was still frustrated by his lack of success in locating Roberta Van Lansing. According to the desk clerk she was registered in the hotel, but was not currently in residence. The best Mr. Hardy could do was to leave her a message – and how to word that message was a problem in itself. If, as Fenton privately suspected, she was just trying to get away from a smothering set of parents for awhile, she wasn't going to take kindly to discovering that she'd been tracked down by a private detective at their behest! If she was actually up to something shady, which was unlikely, she wouldn't be pleased about his showing up either. If she was in trouble – who knew what the repercussions might be, or if she'd even get the message?
Finally he merely scribbled a note that identified himself and his mission, and stated that her parents were worried about her, and had asked that he locate her if at all possible. He requested that she contact him at her earliest convenience, and mentioned that if he did not hear from her in the next day he would stop by again. A postscript suggested that she call her parents, as well. Placing the note in a hotel envelope, he entrusted it to the desk clerk's care, and departed.
Having eaten a quick dinner in the coffee shop near the motel, unpacked and settled in his own slightly more moderate lodgings, Fenton debated whether or not to call Detectives Sandburg and Ellison that night. It wasn't yet nine o'clock, so it wasn't too late to be calling someone, even a relative stranger, but still, he hesitated briefly. He didn't want to intrude, and these two cops might not want to be contacted – but he'd promised Frank and Joe, after all. Finally he lifted the receiver of the room phone and dialed the number he'd been given.
"Ellison." The single-word reply was terse and no-nonsense.
"Uh – yes, Detective Ellison? My name is Fenton Hardy. I believe you're acquainted with my sons, Frank and Joe?"
To Fenton's real surprise the curt voice immediately warmed. "We've been expecting your call; Joe e-mailed Sandburg that you were coming to Cascade."
"You were? Joe did?" Fenton hastily gathered his wits, as he heard Jim Ellison's amused chuckle.
"Mr. Hardy, we'd like to invite you over for a drink, or meet for dinner, or lunch, or whatever best suits everyone," Ellison was saying now. "Sandburg and I have the weekend off, and tomorrow evening after work we're free. And there's always lunch hours. What does your schedule look like?"
"I'm here looking for a missing person," Fenton explained. "Perhaps Joe told you. It all depends on whether I can connect with her or not; she doesn't seem to be really missing, just not contacting her family. And please, call me Fenton."
"Missing persons. Been there, know the drill," Jim grunted. "Suppose you give us a call tomorrow around lunchtime, and we can set up something more definite. Oh, and lunch can be anywhere from eleven to three," he added ruefully. "Do you have our cell numbers? No? Let me give them to you – and my number at the precinct."
Mr. Hardy jotted down the numbers, and reciprocated with his own cell number and the number at the motel, and promised to call.
"The boys wanted to come along with me," he found himself saying, and heard two sets of chuckles in response; evidently Detective Sandburg had picked up an extension.
"That sounds like them," a new voice put in – a more mellow voice than Jim Ellison's clipped tones. "Blair Sandburg here, Mr. Hardy. I'm looking forward to meeting you in person."
"Likewise," Fenton responded, and found it was true. These strangers were surprisingly engaging.
"We'd ask you over tonight, but we know you've had a long day," Sandburg said. "So we'll just shoot for lunch tomorrow, and then go from there."
"Let us know if there's any way we can assist in your search – unofficially," Jim put in, and again Fenton felt a stab of surprise at the man's cordiality.
Ending the conversation, Mr. Hardy dialed home. It was getting late back on the East coast, and he knew he needed to 'report in.'
Frank answered. "Dad? We were beginning to get a little worried!"
"Sorry," Fenton apologized, "I know it's later than I usually call, but it was so early when I got here that I started right to work."
"Anything?"
"Found her hotel, but she was out. I left a message, and I'll check back tomorrow. It's nicer than mine – the Silver Reef, it's called. Right on the water."
"Did you call—"
"Yes," Fenton laughed softly. "I just got off the phone with your friends Jim and Blair. They sound very pleasant, and we're planning to get together tomorrow, probably for lunch. Maybe for dinner as well."
"Good." Frank was obviously pleased.
"Is your mother still awake?"
"I think so; hang on..."
After speaking briefly with Laura, Fenton decided to call it a night. It might be only 9:30 here, but his body still insisted he was on Eastern time, and was demanding sleep.
#####
Morning brought a fruitless phone call to the Silver Reef, a decent breakfast in the coffee shop, and a lot of thumb-twiddling. Finally, armed with the photo of Bobbi Van Lansing, Fenton went over to her hotel, left another note with the front desk clerk, and began working his way outward, stopping in at various nearby shops and stores which a young woman might be tempted to visit, and inquiring if Bobbi had been there. Maybe he'd get lucky and actually encounter her while she was shopping; unlikely things happened sometimes, after all.
Lunchtime came at last, and Fenton gratefully dialed the number Jim Ellison had given him the night before.
"Ellison's desk; this is Detective Sandburg."
"It's Fenton Hardy, Detective—"
"Call me Blair," Sandburg interrupted. "You ready for lunch with a couple of cops?"
"More than ready," Mr. Hardy sighed, and heard Blair laugh knowingly.
"That kind of a morning, huh? Jim and I are ready to get outta here too; we've been writing reports since 8:30. Where are you now?"
After hearing Fenton's location, Sandburg thought a moment. "How about meeting us at The Breakwater in about 20 minutes?" he proposed. "It's just down 25th from you, toward the Sound, and it serves good seafood. Their crabmeat sandwiches are to die for!"
A muffled voice on Sandburg's end of the line caught Mr. Hardy's attention, and then he heard Blair chuckle and say, away from the phone, "Yes, Jim, yes, that's what I said, The Breakwater, and you know what their lunch specials are like – okay, okay, I'm hanging up so we can leave!" Then, returning to his phone conversation, he said, "Does that work for you, Mr. Hardy?"
"That's Fenton, and it sounds great! I'll meet you there."
#####
"He said he'd meet us here – it's right down the street from the hotel," Sandburg fretted.
"Relax, Chief, maybe he got a phone call or had car trouble or something. It's only been fifteen minutes."
"He'd have called. He has our cell numbers." Blair refused to be soothed. He looked at his watch again and sighed. "Maybe we ought to go over to the Best Western and check..."
"And if he comes and we're not here?"
"Well then, one of us stays and one of us goes. I got a bad feeling about this, man."
"Okay, okay." Ellison sighed and got to his feet, running a hand over his short dark hair. "I'll go. Will that satisfy you?"
"Thanks, Jim." Sandburg's ocean-blue eyes were filled with gratitude. "I'll call you if he shows up."
"Okay."
"Jim – I'm sorry; it's just that I can't help worrying..."
"Hey." The older detective rested a hand on Sandburg's shoulder. "I'm worried too, partner."
###
Ten minutes later Ellison was more than slightly worried. There had been no answer when he knocked on the door of Fenton's room. Flashing his badge got him an escort with a passkey, who opened the door to an empty – and disorderly – room. All of Ellison's cop instincts were screaming at him that there was something amiss here, and he leaned against the closed door and snapped open his cell phone.
"Chief? Grab a cab and get over here. I think we've got a missing detective."