Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).
Note: This story was written around the year 2000, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. People still used landlines! Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot, and unending thanks.
Thank you to all who have left reviews and comments. I appreciate every one.
January Thaw
By EvergreenDreamweaver and Sparks JSH
Chapter 18
Early January in the northeastern United States. The temperatures were moderating, but it still was cold outside. Inside the large gray stone house on Elm Street, it was warm and quiet, but the sun was not streaming in through the windows today. Frank Hardy stood in the family room, staring out the window at the snow floating past the panes.
I killed him...oh, they didn't call it that, of course... It just happened, one of those things that happens when two people are struggling over possession of a gun. If anything, it was self-defense...but I killed him.
I wanted to make him suffer...I wanted to kill him...I wanted him dead, for what he'd done – done to Megan, done to Callie, done to Dad, done to me. I wanted him dead – and now he is.
##########
For the past two days, Frank had been wracked by guilt over the death of Dan Sullivan. At first, he had been too relieved that Megan, his father, and Callie Shaw were alive and relatively unharmed to think much about Dan Sullivan...but that hadn't lasted.
Joe, Megan and Callie had been admitted to the hospital for overnight observation; Fenton had been told he might be released in two days' time. Frank returned home alone, for Laura decided to spend the rest of the day and the evening keeping her husband company.
Frank was exhausted, both physically and emotionally; his ribs ached from the battle with Sid and his struggle with Dan Sullivan. He could hardly believe that only a few hours had passed since he and Joe and their friends had left the house that morning, setting out in a desperate attempt to find Fenton, Callie and Megan. He went up to his room, stripped off his bloodstained shirt and threw it into the wastebasket; he never wanted to see it again, let alone wear it. Shuddering, he found an old sweatshirt and pulled it on, then went back downstairs.
So tired...may as well grab a nap he decided, after taking a couple of aspirins to dull the ache in his midsection, and he stretched out on the family room couch and closed his eyes. In less than ten minutes he was sound asleep.
"It's your fault, Hardy - you didn't obey orders, and here's your punishment...I warned you."
" Noooo...no, don't! Don't shoot her! Megan!" Frank awoke, gasping for breath, his heart pounding. He stared wildly around the quiet room for a few seconds, then realized where he was and settled back against the pillow. His mind spun, reliving the last few seconds of the dream where he watched Dan Sullivan take aim and fire his gun at Megan's unprotected back...and this time, Fenton Hardy hadn't acted in time to save her.
It was just a dream...Megan's all right, remember? She's okay, Dad's okay... Frank closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing evenly. The relaxation exercise worked better than he anticipated, and he slid into sleep once more.
"You're not going to hurt them! I'll make you suffer if you harm Megan..."
Oh yeah? You wouldn't know where to start, kid. How many men have you killed?"
"I won't let you hurt her – I'll kill you first! I'll kill you - agghhh!" Once more Frank jerked to wakefulness, and looked frantically at his own chest, expecting to see gushing blood. The dream had been so real – so real...only Sullivan's gun had not killed Megan, it had gone off while Frank struggled with him; in his dream, Frank had felt the impact of a bullet.
Oh man, this is bad... Frank sat up and reached for the remote control of the television. Better game shows or soap operas than nightmares!
When Laura arrived home from the hospital several hours later, she found Frank slumped in front of the TV, watching a basketball game. When she offered him supper, Frank professed not to be hungry, and soon afterward went upstairs to his room.
All night Frank lay half-dozing on his bed, not daring to fall asleep for fear of the nightmares returning. But being awake was no better; in his mind he kept going over the day's events, seeing again Sullivan pointing his gun at Megan; feeling the struggle with the man for possession of the gun; hearing the deafening report of the shot. It's my fault he's dead...there must have been something else I could have done...I wanted him dead...I'm some kind of monster for wanting him to die...for being so glad that he's dead...
When morning came Frank got up and went down to the kitchen, where he found a note from his mother. Frank - I've gone to pick up Joe from the hospital. Back soon. Love, Mom. Finding coffee already made, Frank poured himself a cup, and sat down at the kitchen table, hoping the stimulant would make him feel a little more human.
He was still sitting there when Mrs. Hardy and Joe walked into the kitchen. The bruise on Joe's temple had darkened to a striking purple shade, but other than that, he looked fine. He grinned cheerfully at his brother as he came through the door.
"Hey, bro! Glad to have me back?"
Frank roused himself with an effort, and forced a smile. "Of course. How are you feeling?"
"Great! The doctor said I'm as good as new – or I will be when the bruise goes away."
"And until then, you look sort of exotic – like a pirate or something," Laura teased as she left the room.
Joe sat down opposite Frank. "Dad's doing fine – and both Megan and Callie were checking out about the same time I did – Megan's mom got back last night, I guess."
"That's good." Frank forced the words past a lump in his throat. She's already left the hospital? I can't even go see her there? I've got to see her – make sure she's okay...
Joe was regarding him narrowly. "Are you okay? You look sort of funny."
"I look funny? – I'm fine...It's you that looks funny," Frank said evasively.
Joe stretched out a hand and turned Frank's face into the band of sunlight coming through the window. "Uh-uh, I know better. You're still not sleeping, are you?" He scowled darkly. "I thought you'd be okay now that it's over and everything's okay."
"I'm fine," Frank repeated; he pulled away from Joe's fingers and got to his feet. "Just leave me alone, Joe, can't you?" He walked out of the room, leaving Joe staring blankly after him.
That was how the day had gone. Neither Joe nor Laura had been able to break through Frank's moody depression. Frank tried to talk to Megan on the telephone, but each time he called, her mother had informed him that Megan was resting and couldn't be disturbed; no, Frank couldn't come over, and no, Megan wasn't leaving the house to come see him.
The boys had gone to the police station to fill out seemingly-endless reports and tell Con all the numerous details of the kidnappings, threats and assaults. Frank had recited facts and dates and been exceedingly polite to Con – but he remained withdrawn and silent otherwise, and only made the briefest responses to Joe's comments on the way home. Joe finally gave up attempting to get him to talk, but Frank was aware of his brother's blue eyes, watchful and considering, fastened on him at every opportunity.
The next morning, Joe was up early and on the telephone nearly as soon as he was out of bed.
"Hi, this is Joe Hardy; may I please speak to – Megan! I thought you were your mom – thank goodness; I need to talk to you!" Joe heaved a deep sigh. "Are you feeling okay now?...that's good...No, he's not, and that's why I called. Something's up with him; he won't talk to me or Mom, he's barely eating, and last night I heard him yelling in his sleep – more than once...Yeah, I know...Listen, is there any way you could come over and see him? I'm really starting to get worried...you can? Great!...No, I won't tell him...thanks – bye."
##########
Frank stared out the window at the yard, all outlines blurred by the whirling flakes drifting down. Megan will never forgive me...if it wasn't for me, she'd never have been put in danger...
"Frank?"
Frank whirled as the soft voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Megan!"
Four strides and he'd caught her in his arms. "Oh baby, I've wanted to see you so much, but your mom wouldn't let me come over; she said you had to rest – I was scared there was something wrong; she said you couldn't leave your house—" He rocked back and forth, smoothing her golden-red curls. "I needed to see you—"
"Shhhh," Megan placed her fingers over Frank's lips, halting the torrent of words. "Everything's all right...I was tired, that's all. And Mom got a little over-protective, but everything is fine now." She removed her hand. "Aren't you even going to kiss me?"
Frank bent his head to comply, but as he did so, the thought came unbidden: it was your fault she almost died - she'll never forgive you; she can't feel the same way about you anymore! He stopped, just before his lips touched hers.
"Megan, I – you—"
"What's wrong, Frank?"
Frank gently disengaged himself and walked over to perch on the arm of the sofa. "I think we need to talk," he whispered miserably.
"All right." Megan followed him across the room and stood in front of him. "What is it that we need to talk about?" she asked quietly.
"I've been thinking – the past two days...All this was because of me - everything that happened to you; the kidnapping, the fright you had to endure - My God, Megan, you were nearly shot, more than once – all because you were associated with me!" He gulped, and continued. "And – and now – I'm not the same person anymore...I'm a killer. I killed Dan Sullivan. I wanted him dead, Megan, do you hear me? I wanted to kill him, for what he'd done to make you suffer - you and Dad and Callie...I keep asking myself, was there something else I could have done; there must have been some other way...and then I realize I'm glad he's dead." Frank shuddered and stared into Megan's beautiful blue-green eyes beseechingly. "How can you ever feel the same way about me, now that you know what a monster I am? You must hate me."
"Oh, Frank..." Very gently, Megan put out her arms and drew his head against her shoulder. "Hate you? You crazy idiot, how could I possibly hate you? You saved my life – how many times is it that you've done that, now? – you rescued me from a homicidal maniac – you risked your life to find me – and I think now you're risking your sanity, too!" She stroked his dark wavy hair softly; laid her cheek against the top of his head. "You're not a monster, Frank Hardy – or if you are, then I am too. I'm not sorry Dan Sullivan is dead. He deserved what he got. The only thing I regret is the pain it's causing you."
"But I—" Frank's voice was muffled against her shoulder, and she felt him trembling.
"I love you, Frank. If being with you means I risk getting kidnapped occasionally—" Megan's voice held a ripple of amusement now, and her dimple was apparent in her cheek. "or shot at, or tied up and threatened – well, those are the breaks, I guess. I'll take the bad with the good – because there's so much more good, Frank!"
She put a hand beneath his chin and raised his head until his eyes met hers; to her consternation, she saw tears in those dark eyes. Now the dimple was gone; her expression was one of great tenderness. "It's worth it to me...because I love you."
"I love you – so much." Frank got to his feet, wrapped his arms about her, and hugged her tightly. He hastily swiped a hand across his eyes and cleared his throat. "Let's go see if Joe's called everyone – Mom wants to have a "welcome-home and we're-glad-everyone-is-safe" party this afternoon, and he was supposed to be contacting people."
##########
Around one o'clock, Joe arrived home with his father, newly released from the hospital. While his family members fussed about him, bringing pillows, blankets, cups of hot tea and glasses of water, Fenton calmly settled himself in one of the recliner chairs in the family room and waved them all off. Aside from the fact that one arm rested in a sling, one would never have realized that a bullet had gone through his shoulder two days previously.
"Go on, now...I'm fine, Laura, I'm fine... Yes, I'm comfortable. Thanks, Joe; I can reach it..." Patiently, Fenton shooed them back. "Go on honey, go get ready for the party."
"I'll help you, Mrs. Hardy," Megan volunteered, and followed Laura towards the kitchen.
Joe caught a glance from his father and mumbled something about having to sweep off the sidewalk before anyone arrived. "...all this new snow – what a pain!" he muttered as he departed.
"Frank?" Fenton called his elder son back just as Frank was exiting the room. "Just a minute, son."
Frank walked across the room and stood in front of Fenton, eyes downcast. "Yes, Dad?"
"Sit down; I'm not going to scold you!" Fenton said gently. "But your brother told me something on the way home...he said you've been very upset the past two days; and he doesn't know why. Want to talk about anything?"
Frank sank to a sitting position on the floor near his father's feet. "Dad - I want to – but it's so hard..."
"No rush, Frank, take your time." Mr. Hardy gazed at his son's bowed head. "It's about what happened at the house, isn't it?"
Now the words came in a torrent. "Dad – Dan Sullivan – I killed him, Dad! Because I was struggling with him for the gun, he's dead now – and it's my fault! There must have been something else I could have done; something that would have stopped him...I keep thinking about it; seeing it over and over in my mind...and I don't even know for sure which one of us pulled the trigger, but it probably was me..."
Fenton sighed. "You don't know that, and it's a 50-50 chance it wasn't you. I've been in your shoes, Frank - both as a police officer and in my current line of work. It isn't easy – it doesn't get easier, either. Taking someone else's life isn't something you do without batting an eye...not if you have a conscience, that is. Dan Sullivan, on the other hand, was ready to kill you, Megan, me – any of us – without a qualm. He would have done it with no regrets."
"That's another thing." Frank's voice was choked. "I – Dad, this is horrible! I – I'm glad he's dead! I wanted him to die – because of what he'd done to us. I told him I would make him suffer if he hurt Megan. I didn't know when he fired the shot that you had gotten hit – I just wanted him to pay for hurting Megan. Dad, have I turned into some kind of monster?"
"Frank, he was doing everything in his power to push you over the edge. He wanted you angry enough to lose control, so that he would have the excuse to shoot you." Fenton paused, shifted a little in the chair to make himself more comfortable. "But you didn't lose control, son...you put your gun down first, and surrendered because you didn't want Megan – or anyone else – to get hurt. If you were a monster – the kind of monster Dan Sullivan was – you would have shot him, rather than surrendering the gun; it wouldn't have mattered to you who else got hurt as long as you killed him."
Mr. Hardy reached his hand out and laid it on Frank's hair. "And one more thing, Frank. This isn't going to go away immediately...it's going to remain on your mind for a long time. You know when a police officer shoots someone in the line of duty, he or she is usually put on leave for a while, don't you?" Frank nodded, without looking up. "Well, now you know why. It isn't just while the shoot's investigated. The officer needs time to come to terms with what happened, and that usually involves seeing a psychiatrist for counseling. The guilt factor is almost always there; no matter how justified the shooting was. It takes time to get over it. If you want to see someone – talk to someone professionally about it – you can have that option. But you will get over it, son, in time."
Frank raised his head and stared into his father's eyes. "You really believe that?"
"I most certainly do," his father assured him. "Joe will probably not understand - it's something that has to be experienced...don't let him bug you about it!" Fenton added with a twinkle in his dark eyes. Frank managed to smile a little in response. "And remember this, son – and this is important: everything did turn out all right. You saved Megan and Callie and me from an almost certain death - you saved several world leaders from death – and you captured three small-time crooks in the bargain."
"Thanks, Dad." Frank rose to his feet, leaned over and very carefully hugged his father. "I guess I should go help Joe shovel the walks." He headed toward the door, encountering Megan just entering the room. "Hey, beautiful!" He kissed the tip of her nose as he exited.
Megan smiled shyly at Fenton. "Is there anything I can get you, Mr. Hardy?" she asked.
"No thanks, Megan, I'm fine," he replied. Seeing her hesitation, he beckoned her further into the room. "Come on in, I won't bite, you know."
"I know..." Megan walked over to stand beside his chair. "I wanted to talk to you - if it wouldn't be a bother, that is..."
"No bother at all."
"Mr. Hardy – I – I just wanted to thank you for saving my life. For coming to find us in the first place, and then for pushing me out of the way—"
Fenton laughed a little. "If I remember correctly, you saved mine first, Megan! We're about even in that department."
"It wasn't quite the same," she murmured, flushing pink. "And something else, too...I know Frank did something really bad when he stole the security plans from you and gave them to that horrible man. Is he going to be in trouble for that? I tried to tell him not to do it..." Her voice trailed off wistfully.
"No, Megan; he's not in trouble for it." Fenton's deep voice was very gentle when he spoke. "I saw that night – when I found out what he'd done – just how much you mean to him. And I saw two days ago how much he loves you, and what he will risk for you."
Megan looked up, meeting Fenton's eyes for the first time. He smiled, and she saw again how much he and Frank looked alike. "You were so nice to us, when we were all being held prisoner," she murmured. "Frank is a lot like you – courageous and good-hearted and compassionate. I see now where he gets it from." She blushed even more hotly at this daring speech, and dropped her gaze to the floor again.
"Megan—" Fenton reached for her hand; clasped it gently. "You are very important to Frank. I understand now why he loves you. Let me tell you something, my dear little girl...Frank has a lot to work through right now – but if anyone can help him deal with this, it will be you." He paused a moment, then continued. "I'm very happy that he has you."
With a gesture so much like Frank's it brought tears to Megan's eyes, Fenton tugged on her hand until he could put his uninjured arm about her and hold her close in a tender hug. She put her arms around him, being careful not to touch his shoulder, and relaxed in his embrace for a long moment. For an instant it was like having her own father there again.
"Uh – excuse me—" Frank's voice came from the doorway, sounding somewhat surprised. "What's going on?"
Megan lifted her head, stood straight; exchanged smiles with Fenton. Neither one answered Frank's question.
##########
Two-thirty in the afternoon, and what Joe had termed "Mom's Welcome-home Bash" was in full swing. All the boys' friends and their parents were there; Tony Prito still sporting a dark bruise on his chin. Megan's mother Carolyn had arrived, and was sharing a laughing conversation with Andrea Bender. Callie Shaw and her parents were there. Laura bustled in and out of the kitchen, making sure everyone was well supplied with things to eat and drink. Fenton held court from his recliner, talking with whomever happened to be within conversational reach.
When the doorbell rang yet again, Joe raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Who's not already here?" he muttered to Biff, who doubled over in laughter. Joe's question was answered when Con Riley entered the family room behind Laura, and walked over to greet Fenton warmly. They spoke quietly for a few moments, then Con turned and raised his voice slightly, so as to be heard over the other conversations.
"I have some information that might interest several of you – things that we learned from the three hoods that Joe, Frank and Tony encountered the other day. Once they were in custody, and Dan Sullivan was dead, they were quite willing to talk about him."
Immediately all voices were hushed, and everyone turned expectantly toward the police detective. Con gazed about the room a moment, then continued speaking. "It seems that Dan Sullivan had a brother who was involved in the situation that took place a while back, down in Waco, Texas. This brother was killed at that time – and apparently something snapped in Dan Sullivan's mind. He had, before that, a record of small, insurrectionist-type activities. After Waco, his anti-government sentiments apparently grew enormously. He wanted to discredit the U.S. government any way he could – and he decided that this conference coming up was the place to strike."
Con glanced around the room. "He intended to kill the president of the United States, the Prime Minister of Great Britain, and the Chancellor of Germany. Possibly others too, but those three were definite targets. Exactly what else he had in mind, we're not sure. His henchmen didn't know either."
Mr. Hardy cleared his throat. "In passing, I might add that the location of the conference has been changed. It will be held at a second-choice site – and the security arrangements are being handled by the CIA and the FBI – for which I am offering prayers of thankfulness!" he added, to laughter from the rest of the room.
Con grinned, gave a half-salute, half-wave, and turned to speak to Mr. Shaw.
Conversations were resumed; voices rose in laughter and talk once more.
For some reason Frank had felt acutely uncomfortable during Con's recitation. He slipped away now, toward the kitchen; noting that Megan was talking with Joe and Vanessa. She's okay; she's safe – everything's all right.
"Frank?" A soft, familiar voice – but it wasn't Megan's voice.
"Callie?" Frank turned, surprised. He gazed at his former girlfriend, noting the bruise still in evidence on her cheek, and the butterfly bandage on her temple.
"Do you have just a minute?" The blonde girl's cheeks flushed, then suddenly went pale again.
"Sure; what is it?" Frank pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. "Here, sit down."
"I just wanted to thank you for what you did for me, rescuing me from Dan Sullivan," Callie said, seating herself. Frank leaned against the table, arms folded across his chest. "And to say again that – that I—" She broke off, swallowing hard.
"Kind of hard, isn't it?" Frank said quietly.
"Frank, I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry for the breakup-by-email thing. I was wrong to do it that way; I know that now. Please, can't we part as friends?"
His eyes softened. "I know you didn't mean to hurt me, Callie. And it's okay; really it is. After all, if you hadn't done what you did, I might not have gotten together with Megan." He smiled. "And that would have been a real catastrophe."
"I'm leaving for Colorado tomorrow," Callie said. "And Jonathan will be waiting for me. I really like him a lot, Frank – and I think he feels the same way about me."
"So this is goodbye." Frank leaned down and kissed her cheek gently. "Best wishes, Callie, and good luck. And tell Jonathan for me that he's a lucky guy to have you for a girlfriend. And—" his dark eyes twinkled. "also tell him that he'd better treat you right...because you have a friend back home who'll hunt him down and make him regret it, if he ever hurts you."
She blinked back tears. "Frank Hardy, there's nobody in the world quite like you."
"Come on, let's join the others." Frank held out his hand to assist Callie to her feet. "You need to tell people goodbye, if you're leaving tomorrow."
As they re-entered the family room, Megan came to Frank's side, and he slipped an arm about her, hugging her tightly against him. Vanessa smiled at Callie, and made room for her in the circle of laughing friends.
Over the noise of conversation, the telephone shrilled. Joe picked up the cordless, and walked into the hallway where he could hear who was on the other end. When he returned, he was grinning broadly, and he signaled a thumbs-up towards Frank.
"Who was it, Joe?" Fenton asked, loudly enough that conversation stilled once again, and everyone listened for Joe's reply.
"It was Allen Thomas," Joe stated. "Denise has decided to let him see Rachel every weekend until her marriage, and she's reconsidering the move to Chicago. He thinks it may be Philadelphia, instead."
Chet, Biff and Phil all broke into applause, Frank and Joe high-fived; Vanessa yelped "Yes!" and hugged Tony.
Everyone blinked at them in bewilderment.
"What in the world are you talking about?" Mr. Hardy demanded, with a laugh.
"It's a long story, Dad," Joe chuckled, "and it definitely has a happy ending!"
THE END