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 5
Joe was awakened by the sounds of people moving about nearby – people who were endeavoring to be quiet but not succeeding very well – and softly whispered conversation. For a moment he was disoriented and confused. Where was he, anyway? He blinked his eyes open and discovered that his head was covered with a blanket, apparently tugged there at some earlier point to shield himself from the early-morning light.
Recollection hit: he was in Cascade, at Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg's apartment, and the soft noises he was hearing were probably the two police officers. Cautiously, he inched the blanket down and lifted his head. As he had suspected, Jim and Blair were in the kitchen. He looked at his wristwatch: 7:40.
"Morning," he rasped.
Sandburg turned, smiling a greeting. "Good morning. Sleep okay?"
"Yeah...'m good." Joe rubbed his face. "Tireder than I thought."
"Sorry if we woke you," Blair went on, but it was obvious that if Joe was awake it would make preparing breakfast easier, since they wouldn't have to try to be so quiet.
"It's okay...needed to get up anyway." Joe shoved back the blanket and got up. Locating his duffel bag he extricated clean clothes. "Okay for me to shower now?"
Jim grunted something vaguely affirmative, concentrating on measuring coffee into the machine, then growled: "Sandburg, we're almost out of this blend. There any of the Kivu around?"
Correctly assuming that Jim Ellison wasn't much of a conversationalist before he had his morning coffee, Joe headed for the bathroom.
By the time he returned to the main room, breakfast seemed to be well underway; the fragrance of fresh-brewed coffee and bacon filled the loft, and Blair was setting things on the table with the ease of long practice. Jim was sitting on the couch, cup in hand, scanning the pages of the newspaper, which was spread out on the coffee table in front of him.
"Frank not up yet?" Joe stuffed his sleepwear into his bag. "This is a first – me up ahead of him!"
"He's up now." The French doors opened and Frank appeared, looking tousled but alert. "Do I smell coffee?"
Jim glanced up and grinned. "You're in Washington state; of course you smell coffee."
Over breakfast they discussed plans for the day: Ellison and Sandburg intended to try again to contact John Sartellis at his home. Somewhat hesitantly, Frank proposed that he and Joe go to the Silver Reef Hotel and see if they could locate the elusive Bobbi Van Lansing.
"Maybe she won't be so skittish with us," Joe opined. He assumed his best innocent expression. "After all, we're these two nice, non-threatening kids—"
"Who just happen to be searching for our father," Frank chimed in, his voice saccharine-sweet.
The two Cascade police officers began to laugh. "You sound like characters in a 1930's novel," Sandburg spluttered.
They beamed contentedly. "Good," Joe said. "We do try."
Frank's expression darkened. "If she doesn't cooperate..."
"Keep in mind she might not even be there," Ellison put in. "She's been absent more than present."
"Then we hang around and wait for her," Joe replied. "Now the only problem is getting there!"
"Taxi, I guess," his brother sighed.
Blair caught his partner's eye. "We're taking your truck, I assume?" he asked softly. At Jim's affirmative nod, he went on, addressing the Hardys: "If you want, you can borrow my car."
"Better look that gift horse in the mouth," Ellison hissed, sotto voce.
Blair glared at him. "You are so not funny. You know perfectly well that it runs fine now!"
Jim grinned unrepentantly. "Gotcha."
"That'd be great," Frank interjected before Sandburg could come up with appropriate retaliation. "We'll be careful with it, I promise."
"In Cascade," Blair said gloomily, "never promise anything about being careful with cars. You're just asking for some dire fate to befall you out of a clear blue sky!"
#####
Although John Sartellis was quite surprised to receive a visit from two police detectives on a Sunday morning, he greeted them courteously enough, and invited them in. After assuring him that their visit was, for the most part, unofficial...yet... Ellison broached the question of why the businessman's telephone number and office building might have been found written in the motel room of a vanished private investigator.
Sartellis looked taken aback. "I honestly don't know, Detective," he answered. "I don't know anything about any private investigators. If someone's looking for me, I'm not hard to find. And I'm afraid I've never even heard of anyone named Fenton Hardy."
"He's from back east," Sandburg commented quietly. "Have you ever been acquainted with, or heard of a young woman named Roberta Van Lansing?"
"Not that I recall."
Knowing Blair would be taking notes and keeping the man's attention fixed on him, Jim was free to let his senses scan over Sartellis, seeking any hints of deception. There were none; the businessman was telling the truth, so far as Sentinel probing could tell. He tried a question of his own. "Can you think of anyone who might have written your building name and telephone number there, in Mr. Hardy's motel room? We believe it was someone other than Mr. Hardy."
John Sartellis thought about it for a few moments, frowning. Finally he looked up and said slowly, "I have a cousin in town. He recently came out from New York to ask me to invest some money in stocks he brokers. I suppose it's possible he might have done so, although why he'd be in contact with Hardy I don't know..."
Ellison automatically noted the elevated kick-thump of his partner's heartbeat as Blair assimilated this new piece of information. "His name?"
"Darius Sutherland."
"Do you have a number where we could reach Mr. Sutherland, or an address?"
Sartellis nodded. "I believe he is staying at the Silver Reef."
Jim managed to keep his face bland, but he heard Blair's quick intake of breath as Sartellis' comment registered.
"You've been in contact with your cousin recently? Has he been to your office in Lincolnshire Tower?"
"Yes, of course. As I said, he's been after me to invest in his business dealings."
"And are you going to?"
"I haven't decided yet. He's asking me to risk a fairly sizeable amount."
"Understandable," Jim nodded. He rose smoothly, tucking his notebook into a pocket. "Thank you, Mr. Sartellis. We won't take up any more of your time today. If we have any further questions, we'll come back another time." Blair got up too, murmuring his own thanks and goodbyes.
"Detective?"
"Yes?" Jim turned back, eyebrow raised.
"I loaned Darius a key to the building, so that he would have a place to work from while he is here in Cascade. You know, access to copy machines, fax, all that. He has access to my office and other places in Lincolnshire Tower. Just thought you might want to know."
#####
"Is Miss Van Lansing in?" Frank used his most ingratiating smile on the desk clerk at the Silver Reef.
The clerk didn't seem impressed. "I'll dial her room number and see," he offered, and scowled darkly at Joe when that young man craned his neck in an attempt to watch him dial the number. Joe settled back, irked, and they waited while the clerk made the call. After a minute or so the clerk hung up. "Sorry, no answer."
"Can we leave a message?" Frank was still trying to be polite.
"Sure." A message pad was pushed across the desk, along with a pen.
"Well," Joe fumed, when they were outside the lobby again, "wasn't that just a lovely little exercise in futility!"
"It was better than nothing," Frank replied, although he sounded disheartened as well. "At least she's still registered there. What if she'd left? We'd have no idea where to look for her!"
"I suppose," Joe conceded. He leaned against the side of Blair's Volvo. "So, now what? Stake it out and hope she shows up before we die of boredom or starvation?"
"You can't be hungry. Blair and Jim fed us enough breakfast to fuel stevedores!"
"True, but I could die of boredom," Joe grinned. Suddenly he straightened up. "LOOK!" he hissed. "Isn't that her?" He pointed to a woman just alighting from a car at the hotel entrance. The man driving it pulled around the building after she got out.
"Yeah! Let's go!"
They hurried back into the lobby, pursuing the striking auburn-haired young woman.
"Miss Van Lansing? Miss Van Lansing!" Joe increased his speed fractionally and caught up with her just as she reached the elevators.
"Yes?" She turned, and the Hardys were struck anew by her attractive face and figure, by her air of poised sophistication. "Is there something I can do for you?"
"I'm Frank Hardy," Frank took charge. "This is my brother, Joe. We're looking for our father."
She smiled questioningly. "And you think I could help you...because?"
"Sorry, I didn't make myself clear. Our father, Fenton Hardy, is a private investigator. He's been looking for you. Your family hired him to find you. And he's disappeared."
She blinked, looking momentarily confused and wary. Then she shook her head, tossing back that mane of auburn hair. "Sorry, but I've never met the man, or heard of him. If he was hired to find me, he isn't doing a very good job, now, is he?" She smiled sweetly at them and pressed the call button for the elevator. The doors slid silently open at her touch. "Goodbye."
"But—" Joe lunged at the door as it smoothly closed. "Damn it!" he snapped, missing. "DAMN it!" he swore again. "What a bi—"
"She's lying," Frank said with certainty. "I'd swear it."
"Of course she is!" Joe blew through his teeth in frustration. Suddenly he whirled about and headed for the front desk. Frank followed, regarding him questioningly. Reaching his destination, Joe leaned over the desk and spoke to the clerk. "All right, we spoke to Ms. Van Lansing. Now I have a question for you. Did a man come to see her on Thursday or Friday? A man named Hardy? Did he leave any messages?"
The clerk blinked uncertainly at the furious blonde youth addressing him. "Um, well...uh..."
"Check. The. Message. Log." Joe gritted. "Now." Frank leaned against the desk, smiling blandly.
The flustered clerk hastily leafed through the carbon copies of messages taken. "Uh – yeah. Yeah, he did. Thursday afternoon and Friday morning. None after that."
"Did Ms. Van Lansing receive the messages?"
"Well...I assume so," the man replied. "They were picked up."
"Thank you." Joe's bared teeth could have been a smile...if one had a good imagination. Without another word he turned and strode out of the building. With an equally insincere smile, Frank followed him, leaving the slack-jawed clerk staring after them.
"Now what?" the elder Hardy asked, when they were once more seated in Sandburg's car with the windows rolled down to let in the sweet summer air.
"What do you think?"
Frank's grin was a carbon copy of Joe's bared-teeth smile. "We know she knew about Dad. We know she's lying. So we wait. And watch. And maybe she'll lead us somewhere interesting."
"You got it, brother."
###
Several hours of watching later, both brothers were hungry, bored and frustrated. There had been no sign of Bobbi Van Lansing. The car she had arrived in, complete with driver, had parked briefly in the lot, and they had eyed it with interest, but the man stayed for possibly fifteen minutes, then pulled out again and drove away. That prompted a discussion.
"Maybe we ought to follow him."
"And what if he's just going to get a hamburger and while we're chasing him around, Bobbi leaves and we miss it?"
They stayed, unwilling to give up the stronger lead for the possibility of nothing better.
###
"Joe, do you think that she might have something to do with Dad's disappearance? Or not?"
"If she hadn't lied to us, I'd say not. But since she did, well...I don't trust her any farther than I could throw her."
"She didn't look all that heavy. You can throw pretty far..."
"Don't push it, Frank."
They waited.
###
Morning became afternoon, became late afternoon...and at long last their patience was rewarded. The car, with the same dark-haired man driving, returned, and after a few minutes' wait, Bobbi Van Lansing exited the Silver Reef and got in. They pulled out into the light traffic.
Frank had started the Volvo's engine as soon as the other car reappeared. He swung into traffic behind their quarry, carefully placing two cars in between them. "Can you keep an eye on them?" he inquired of his brother, who had whipped small binoculars from his pocket and had them trained on the car containing Bobbi.
"So far, yeah." Joe grinned tightly. "I love pursuits!"
"Anything to keep you happy, little brother."
But when the car pulled up in front of an elegant high-rise office building in downtown Cascade, both boys drew in breaths of mingled recognition and excitement. The discreet sign on the building announced it as The Lincolnshire Tower. They parked and watched closely as Bobbi got out and was admitted to the edifice by her driver, who followed her inside and relocked the door.
"Do you suppose...any chance at all...?" "That Dad's there?"
Frank chewed his lip in thought. "How the heck did we manage to leave without our cell phones? They're back at Jim and Blair's place. If we had one, we could call and ask them for some advice. Maybe they'd come and get us into the building."
Joe sighed. "We can look for a pay phone...not that they exist anymore, much."
"I don't know about you, but I don't have their numbers memorized; they're in the phones! Let's..." Frank, who seldom dithered, was dithering now. "Let's...oh hell, let's assume she's going to be there for awhile. We wasted hours sitting in the hotel parking lot. Let's run back to the loft and see what Jim and Blair say, and then come back. And we can pick up our cell phones!" he added grimly.
Joe blew out a frustrated breath, but nodded agreement. "Okay, but you'd better be right."