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 & Talefeathers
Chapter 3
"Anything on that phone number yet, Chief?"
"Not so far. No answer when I dial it, and I haven't been able to locate it by cross-reference yet. What about 'L. Twrs'?"
"Couple of possibilities we can check on. Nothing definite." Ellison glanced surreptitiously about the Major Crimes bullpen to make sure that no one was paying any especial attention to what he and Sandburg were doing. Since they looked to be busy and absorbed in running searches, no one questioned whether or not it was actually case-related. Late Friday afternoons were usually pretty relaxed anyway, unless a major bust was going down, so it wasn't likely that their activities would be noticed. "Keep looking."
"I'm going to keep trying Hardy's telephone numbers, too," Sandburg noted quietly. He'd already gotten an irritating 'The party you are trying to reach has either turned off the cell phone or is out of the service area,' recording when he dialed Fenton Hardy's cell number. He paused in his dialing as a soft 'ping' from his computer announced the arrival of e-mail. Putting down the phone he clicked the mouse to access the new message. He hastily scanned it and felt himself turning pale. "Jim?"
"What's wrong?" Ever alert to his Guide's stress levels, both physical and emotional, Ellison noted the elevated heartbeat and quickened breathing.
"I just got an e-mail from Joe Hardy," Blair muttered. "Wondering if we'd had lunch with his dad as planned...because he's missed his usual check-in time with the family."
"Uh-oh." The casual reply belied the detective's worry. "Chief, maybe you ought to give the kids a call, huh?"
Blair sighed deeply. "Yeah, I guess so." Reluctantly, he picked up the telephone receiver again, and with the other hand began twirling his Rolodex. After a few seconds he located the number and started punching buttons on the phone.
"Hardy residence."
Blair glanced at his partner; Jim had his head cocked in his familiar 'listening' pose and Blair knew he was keying in on the conversation. "Who?" Blair mouthed silently.
"Joe," was the soundless reply.
"Uh – Joe? Hi, this is Blair Sandburg. I just got your e-mail—"
"Blair? Wow, that was fast!"
"Uh, yeah, yeah, I guess it was."
"Did you and my dad get together?"
"Well, we were going to, but...uh...Joe? I think there may be a little problem—"
"Problem? What kind of problem?" Joe's voice sharpened.
"Your dad didn't show up for our lunch appointment—"
"Maybe something came up!"
"...which he'd confirmed with me only about fifteen minutes before...and he seems to have...disappeared. He's not answering his cell phone, and when Jim and I checked his motel room, it looked as if someone had tossed it."
"WHAT?"
Blair winced at the raw anguish in the cry and noted Jim's similar reaction. "We think maybe someone took him," he said quietly.
"H-hold on a second...lemme get Frank." The receiver dropped with a sharp clunk. Seconds later both Hardy boys were on the line.
"Blair? What's this about Dad disappearing?" Frank's slightly deeper tones came across the wire clearly.
As quickly as he could, Sandburg explained what had happened, noting absently that Jim was covering for him by looking busy and involved with file folders...and at the same time, was monitoring the conversation closely. When Blair finished his brief recounting of the situation there was a few seconds of silence, then Frank spoke again.
"I think maybe Joe and I had better get out there. Joe – go tell Mom that Dad needs us in Washington and then see what's the first flight we can catch."
"Right." There was a soft thud as Joe set down the phone he'd been using.
"Frank, you sure about this? I mean, I understand why you want to come, but—"
"Yeah, I'm sure. Dad's got too many enemies to just let this go and hope he turns up soon," the elder Hardy said grimly.
"Do you happen to have copies of his case notes?" Blair asked hopefully, as Jim shoved a hastily-scribbled note across their desks. "Everything was gone from his room...so either he took it with him, or..."
"We have a copy of his file, yeah," Frank replied. "Photos of the woman he was trying to locate, anyway, and names of her relatives."
"That will help," Sandburg said fervently. "Bring them along."
"All right. One of us will e-mail you as soon as we know when we'll be getting to Cascade and the flight number. I've gotta go and throw some clothes in a suitcase."
"Right. We'll meet you at the airport. See you soon – and Frank? I'm really, really sorry, man."
"I know." For a brief moment Frank's voice sounded choked. "See you in a few hours."
Blair hung up the phone and stared at his partner, shaking his head grimly.
#####
"Boys, are you positive you need to do this?" Laura Hardy looked from one son to the other, her blue eyes wide in her pale, anxious face. This wasn't the first time she'd received upsetting news about her detective husband, but it never got any easier to hear or deal with, no matter how often the situation repeated itself.
"Mom, if Jim and Blair are concerned about it, that's good enough for us," Frank stated. "You know that Dad would have called us if he possibly could, and since he didn't – and since he missed the lunch appointment with them AND they think his motel room was ransacked—"
"I know, I know," she interrupted. "I'm just worried that if you two go out there, something will happen to you, as well!"
"Mom, we'll be under the protection of two of the best police detectives around," Joe said persuasively. "Three, if you count Captain Banks. Jim and Blair won't let anything happen to us!"
"Who knows, maybe by the time we get out there, Dad will have turned up anyway," Frank added optimistically.
She nodded, looking slightly less unhappy. "I got you seats on a flight leaving at six a.m. It has a short stopover in Washington, D.C., and gets to Cascade about eleven in the morning, Pacific time. That's the earliest flight there is."
"Then that's the one we want. Thanks, Mom!" Frank got to his feet. "I'm going to try to catch a few hours of sleep. You'd better too, little brother." He nudged Joe's shoulder and then bent over to hug his mother. "Mom, why don't you figure on not getting up to see us off – just say goodbye now? There's no reason we can't get ourselves off to the airport."
Laura smiled, hugging him tightly. "If I'm awake and hear you get up, I'll get up too – but I won't set an alarm if you don't want me to. Stay safe, sweetie."
"Bye, Mom." Joe took his turn embracing Laura. "We'll be home before you know it, Dad in tow and his missing person found!"
#####
Two very bedraggled young men trudged through the Jetway and into the concourse of the Cascade International Airport at noon, PST, the next day, duffel bags slung over their shoulders. They were weary from hours of flying exacerbated by very little sleep the night before, and their whole outlook was jaded by intense worry over their missing father. During their flight they had alternately fretted and reassured each other of Fenton's wellbeing, trying to keep up a brave front – but their resolve was slipping badly.
"I don't remember this place being so huge," Frank muttered, plodding wearily past gate after gate, his gaze fixed on the distant security checkpoint. "It never took us so long to walk it when we were here before, did it?"
"Maybe they added on to it," Joe offered.
"Since August? Remodeled an airport in less than a year? C'mon."
Joe shrugged slightly. "It was just an idea."
Finally they slogged past the barricades, relieved that incoming passengers weren't subjected to security checks, and paused to look around.
"See anything of them?" Frank asked wearily.
"No. Blair said he'd meet us," Joe mumbled. "Maybe he got delayed or something."
"Or not," a somewhat-familiar voice broke in. The Hardys turned, surprised, and discovered both Detectives Sandburg and Ellison standing nearby, smiling at them. "How are you two doing?" Ellison continued, his blue eyes studying them keenly as he stepped forward and relieved Frank of his duffel. "C'mon, it's not too far to the car."
"We fudged and parked in a No-Parking zone – used the Mars lights," Blair chuckled and took Joe's bag. "You okay, Joe?" he added, his gaze nearly as sharp as his partner's.
"Just tired. Long flight." Joe shook himself alert. "You haven't heard from Dad—?"
"No. Sorry." Ellison patted his shoulder gently and again urged them forward. The boys tried to move a little more energetically, but it took effort, and they appreciated the fact that neither detective attempted to make casual conversation. They were glad to step out of the terminal and find Blair's car, a green Volvo sedan of indeterminate age, parked close to the huge revolving door. As Sandburg had said, a flashing portable red-and-blue light was perched on the dash, indicating an 'official' police visit.
"People will think you arrested us, or something," Frank muttered gloomily, scooting into the back seat as Jim put their bags into the trunk and Blair slid behind the wheel.
Sandburg laughed. "You aren't cuffed," he reminded them. Joe and Jim got in and shut the doors. "Would you two rather stay in your dad's motel room, or come home with us?" he continued. "Or maybe get another room?"
Frank and Joe shared a glance. Somehow neither one of them felt like being on their own just now. "Um...if we wouldn't be a bother to you..." Frank began.
"If it was a bother we wouldn't offer," Ellison said. "And I can appreciate how you might not want to stay in what might be a crime scene. As long as you don't mind sleeping on the couch or a sleeping bag on the floor of the living room—"
"Or in my room," Blair interjected. He spared an oblique look at Jim, and his lips moved, murmuring words only a Sentinel could discern. "Protector of the tribe – even tribal members from out of state..." Ellison winked at him and turned to gaze serenely out the front window.
"That's fine; we're not picky." Frank nodded his appreciation, and sat back, trying to relax. He was exhausted, yet wired at the same time. It's hard to categorize these two, the elder Hardy thought, surveying the police partners through half-closed eyes. Ellison was just about old enough to be his and Joe's father, if Jim had been the sort who started early – but he didn't really seem all that paternal in nature. Protective, yes. Authoritative, definitely. Paternal?...uh-uh! Blair wasn't even remotely father-like; there was a youthful exuberance about him that belied his age, and yet...and yet...that protective aura surrounded him as well. Frank sighed and decided that perhaps 'younger uncles' might fit – or maybe way-older brothers. Or just really good friends, he mused, and stopped trying to compartmentalize them into boxes. Whatever they were, right now Sandburg and Ellison were comforting and reassuring.
"We're very close to the motel; would you like to stop in and see the room, before we go over to the loft?" Blair asked.
"I would," Joe answered quickly. "Like Frank said, we don't want to stay there, but maybe there's something – some clue – we could pick up, that you guys might have missed. Something that might help us locate Dad."
Sandburg's mouth quirked slightly; evidently something amused him, but he nodded and flipped on the turn signal to take an exit ramp. In moments they were pulling into the parking lot of the modest motel, and only minutes later were being allowed access to the room in question.
The Hardys stared around the room as if to wrest information from it by sheer force. "Is this the way it was when you found it?" Frank asked.
Ellison shook his head. "There were clothes pulled out of the dresser drawers lying on the floor, and some blank paper torn from a legal notepad," he said. "After we went over the room for clues we put them back. And I put his briefcase in the closet. It was empty, except for a pen and the notepad."
"Dad wouldn't throw his clothes on the floor," Joe stated emphatically. "He's like Frank – a real neat-nik."
"We figured as much," Blair concurred. "It didn't seem in character. That's one reason we think he was taken from here by someone – and very likely against his will. And they took whatever information he had, as well."
"Fingerprints?" Frank inquired.
"Ones we think were your father's," Jim replied, "and probably motel staff."
Joe opened the dresser and gazed down at the neatly folded articles of clothing for a few seconds. Chewing his lower lip, he shut the drawer again and sighed. Frank had ducked into the bathroom, but now returned, shaking his head.
"Nothing unusual," he said glumly.
"Let's head over to the loft," Blair encouraged softly. "You guys need to relax and unwind for a little while."
"And then we can decide where to start looking for your father," Jim added.
Silently, the boys followed the two Cascade detectives from the empty motel room.