Taken
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.
Rating/Setting: Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.
Author's Notes: Frank chapter. For those of you wishing nothing bad happens to Joe… um. I won't say anything. For those of you hoping that something bad happens to Joe… um. I won't say anything. Hopefully I'll find a way to make everyone happy. Yeah, right. ;-) Thanks for reading and reviewing!
*Okay, so this is a faster posting than I expected. I'm usually good about sticking to my posting schedule, but I really like this story. The end of the writing process is in sight. I'm on chapter 28 and think there will only be a few more chapters to complete this story. So with the thought that I am finishing up, I thought I'd put out a chapter today. The good thing is... if I'm on a Sunday/Wednesday posting schedule, I may just post another chapter tomorrow. And yes, Joe fans, Joe will be back in Chapter 8. ;-)
Chapter Seven
Four days after the abduction, Frank sat in his father's office with Sam Radley. The two of them were watching video from some traffic cameras from the day before and the day of the abduction. It was their hope to find a dark SUV and get a possible plate and picture of the driver. The footage from around the movie theater had been watched the day after the abduction with nothing helpful. This was a long shot, but it was something and Frank desperately needed to do 'something.' He had recovered from his doping after a few hours of being found. However, he was nowhere near being okay. Joe and Iola were gone. Gone for four days. If the abductors kept to their previous MO, either Joe or Iola would be found in the next two days along some lightly traveled road… one of them, not both.
The chime rang indicating that someone had entered the building and both men looked to the doorway to see Fenton enter.
Frank noticed the dark circles under his father's eyes and the fatigue that he wore like an overcoat. They had all been suffering as a result of the abductions. Frank felt it strongly because it was his brother and he had been unable to stop it. He had also been unable to provide any truly useful information. His father felt the pain because he was a well-known detective and he was unable to find his son. Frank didn't hold it against him as he knew his father was doing everything he could to find Joe. However, his father held himself accountable for Joe's continued absence.
Fenton leaned against the frame of the door. "I'm afraid there's nothing new. Patrols are still continuing and the hotline is still open for calls. But there haven't even been any crank leads to follow up on." Straightening, Fenton said, "I'm going home to talk to Laura. I'll see you both there for supper." It was a statement, not a question. He expected them to stop and get something to eat so they wouldn't run themselves down. He also expected Sam to come. Sam had said he didn't want to bother them, but the truth was the Hardys needed him there. Joe's absence was just too painful at mealtimes and having their friend there lessened the strain.
.***********.
The meal had been quiet. Topics that had been discussed at the police department earlier in the day were related to the group by Fenton. Otherwise, they ate in relative silence. After the meal, Frank headed out on the back deck. The sun was just setting in the late May sky. Both he and Joe were missing class. For one of the few times in his life, he didn't care about school. He and Joe had always been together in school except when Frank had moved from elementary to middle and then middle to high school. His sixth and ninth grade years had not been his favorites. He had missed having his brother to talk with on the way to and from school. Going back to school now… he just couldn't consider it.
Frank heard the door open but he didn't turn around. It would be his dad. The two of them tended to gravitate to each other right now while their mom needed to have space to deal with the situation in her own way. The high-pitched scraping sound of the chair legs on the deck let him know that his dad was pulling out a chair to sit down. "You know mom says you should pick the chair up and pull it out, not drag it on the deck."
A soft chuckle escaped Fenton's lips. "Yes, I've been told that before. It just… it just doesn't seem very important right now."
Frank continued to watch the changing colors of the western sky through the tree branches. "You're right. It isn't." With that, father and son sat together in shared silence and sorrow.
.**********.
The next morning, Fenton was startled awake at 5:30 a.m. The number on the caller id was BPD. He nearly dropped the phone in his rush to press the green button to connect the call. "Hardy," was his response as he answered. Fenton looked up to see Frank already standing in the doorway.
"When?" Fenton asked into the phone and then a pause. "I'll be there asap." As he disconnected the phone, he felt his wife's hand on his back.
"Joe?" Laura asked frantically.
Fenton turned to see the anguish in his wife's eyes. "I'm sorry." He held her as she collapsed in his arms. "Iola is at the hospital and she wants to speak with me immediately."
Straightening at those words, she haltingly said, "Then don't worry about me. Go to her. I'll be praying she has the answers to find my boy." As Fenton rose from the bed to gather his clothes, she looked at her son in the doorway. "Get dressed, Frank. You're going with him." Like a shot he was gone. She smiled a little as she lay back in the bed and closed her eyes. Frank would have stayed with her if she hadn't told him it was okay to go with his father. He needed to go more than she needed him here. With, Frank, Fenton, and Iola now involved, she hoped there would be a break to bring Joe home.
.**********.
On the way to West Side Memorial, Frank spoke with the police on the phone and took notes. Iola had been picked up at 5:05 a.m. on a local road. She had been sitting on the ground at a stop sign. The college kids who found her said she appeared to be high on something and that she kept going on about Denton's Grill. She had become more coherent in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, insisting that Fenton be called to meet her at the hospital.
Fenton and Frank were quickly taken to the ER room where Iola was talking with a police officer and an FBI agent.
Iola caught sight of them immediately and said, "We have a chance. Fifteen minutes for three stoplights, ten more minutes then gravel road, then ten minutes and you're there." She knew she was rambling and her brain was still a little fuzzy. They were looking at her confused. She couldn't figure out what to say and groaned aloud in frustration as the doctor told her to calm down and take deep breaths. Pounding the mattress that she was lying on with her fists, she practically screamed, "They fed us food from Denton's Grill!"
Frank and Fenton looked at each other and Fenton asked, "You were awake when they took you to the holding area?"
"Not me. Joe," Iola practically sobbed out. "He knew they were going to keep him. He made sure I memorized this."
Moving closer to take Iola's hand, Frank said, "Fifteen minutes to get through a town with three stops or stoplights. Then ten minutes at regular speed to turn onto a gravel road." Iola was nodding her head almost violently as he continued, "Then ten more minutes to turn into the driveway of the place where they held you."
"Yes!" Iola cried out with relief. "And Joe believes it's somewhere near Denton's Grill because yesterday they brought us burgers from there."
Fenton had moved over to the FBI officer, named Stevenson, who had out his tablet and keyboard and was keying in information and bringing up satellite photos of the area. He was already on the phone to his associates at the BPD. "I'm going with Stevenson to BPD." He tossed Frank the keys to the car and said, "See what else Iola can tell you while we map out a search area."
Frank nodded and turned back to Iola.
"I'm sorry," she said as she looked into his deep brown eyes. Frank and Joe were so different but once you really got to know them, you realized how alike they were… and how close. Having grown up with both of them, she knew that Frank was suffering.
Frank looked into Iola's green eyes and he could see the pain there. It was the same pain he felt when he woke up in the hospital and knew they had taken Joe and not him. "I'm not sorry," he found himself saying and he meant it. "I know that Joe would rather be the one they kept." Frank's eyes moved down to where he held her hand. "But I know how you feel. They took him from you and you couldn't stop them."
Iola could see in Frank's eyes when he looked back up that he understood completely. Her eyes welled with tears but she willed them not to fall. She wouldn't cry over Joe yet. They had a chance to get him back. "Joe believes that he was a target. He knew from the first day that he would be the one they kept."
The police officer, Hadley, moved closer to Frank and asked, "How?"
"When they first took us, they called me 'girl' but they called him 'Joe' a lot of the time. One of them commented after seeing Joe's attitude that things made more sense. They threatened to rough me up, but not him. Joe felt that he was supposed to be turned over unharmed."
With some dread, Frank asked, "Did Joe figure out who it was that wanted to purchase him?"
"No. But the kidnappers did drop a comment that made me think that they would have taken either of you."
Frank was stunned. "What do you mean? What did they say?"
"Right as they were drugging me this morning, I heard one of them say to Joe, 'I think the buyer will be happy with this brother.' It made it sound like either of you could have been taken."
Unable to speak, Frank stood staring at the wall while Hadley asked a question. "What did Joe do that made them think he was a good choice?"
It was with rueful smile that Iola said, "You know Joe. He gave them a hard time. He was constantly baiting them for information and he never backed down from them."
Hadley nodded his head. "They wanted someone with spunk and some fight in them."
Iola's smile left her face as she looked at Frank. Glancing back to the officer, she said, "Yes. I think they did. I'm just hoping he's more than they bargained for." As the officer stepped to the side to call in the information, Iola squeezed Frank's hand that was still in hers.
Looking from the wall back to Iola he said, "If Callie hadn't had to go away. If we had taken you home first… then Joe…"
"Then it could be Callie in this bed right now holding Joe's hand," Iola voiced the thought for him. "Even though we both hate the thought, we both know that Joe would prefer it this way- for the two of us to be safe."
It was a weak smile he gave back to Iola. He knew she was right and he became nauseated with the thought of Callie going through what Iola went through. Guilt flooded him at the thought that he was glad that it didn't happen to Callie. What kind of brother was he? Was he glad that it was Joe and Iola? He shook his head. No. No, he wasn't glad. He hated that it had even happened. He looked back to Iola and it was like she could see into his soul.
"Don't feel guilty. I don't want you to and he wouldn't either."
A throat cleared behind him. "Ms. Morton's parents are here. I need for you to step out to the waiting room as there are only two visitors at a time." The orderly glanced hastily at the officer and added, "In addition to law enforcement that is."
Frank nodded and looked down at Iola and squeezed her hand. "We'll get him back."
"I know."
Frank left the screened area as the Mortons rushed past him. He could hear their happy reunion through the thin curtain as he walked away. While he was happy for them, his heart ached that it wasn't his mother and father reuniting with his brother. But hopefully that would happen soon. He headed toward the parking lot; it was time he rejoined his father. The police officer would get the rest of Iola's statement. Maybe there would be a detail that would help them, but he felt that Iola had given them the best of what she had. It was up to them to use it. Frank's strides moved with true purpose for the first time in five days. Finally, there was something he could do to find his brother.
