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 9

As Jim had foreseen, by the time they reached the Lincolnshire Tower and convinced the security people that they had a legitimate reason to search the place, the traces of Joe Hardy's presence the previous night had disappeared, even for a Sentinel. Too many people had gone in and out of that entrance and up those stairs.

But they tried their best. Ellison, Sandburg and Frank Hardy went over several flights of stairs inch by inch, with nothing to show for their efforts. They then moved on to search the basement level, for as Blair pointed out, it was a whole lot simpler to hide someone down there than in an upper-story office! If it came to searching offices and public waiting areas and restrooms and such, they'd be there for weeks.

Frank found himself with Sandburg most of the time, when all three of them weren't working in a group. He wondered about that a little, knowing that he was perfectly capable of searching for clues alone, and that the detective partners disliked being split up, for some reason; and then he figured it out. Ellison didn't want him to be by himself. Evidently Jim had come up with the same notion Frank himself had: someone from Fenton's past had discovered the man was in Cascade, had targeted him, and possibly was on a revenge-kick against the whole Hardy family. Therefore, Frank must be guarded at all times to prevent another kidnapping.

Frank himself had dismissed the idea almost as soon as he'd thought of it. Although it certainly was possible that one of Fenton's old enemies had either traced the investigator here or had simply been in the right place at the right time, it was highly unlikely that whoever it was would have hung around and waited for him and Joe to show up days later. But convincing Jim Ellison of that was easier said than done. Frank finally just decided to make the best of it for now, and do his arguing at a better time.

"Anything?" Blair moved close to his partner and spoke for Jim's ears alone.

"Somebody was here," the Sentinel affirmed. "These two rooms – this one with the heating/cooling machinery and the one right next to it. There isn't as much dust on things, and there's crumbs of food...and there's a chair in the middle of the furnace room, for God's sake! But nothing that points to any specific person. I mean, it could be anyone." He sighed. "We know what likely went on, but we can't prove it."

"Yet," Blair replied succinctly.

Jim winced as the air conditioning units suddenly kicked on and their roar filled the small enclosed room..

"You need to get out of here?" Blair asked.

"Don't need to, but I'll be glad to leave." Ellison's nostrils flared slightly, and he frowned in concentration.

"What are you picking up?"

"Some sort of aftershave or cologne. Very faint. And it's only in here. I didn't pick it up anywhere else." Jim raised his voice. "Frank, you know offhand what kind of aftershave or cologne your father wears?"

Frank had been circling the furnace room as the detectives quietly chatted, examining everything closely. He looked up at Jim's query. "It varies, but I think lately he's been using Carlos Santana."

Blair exploded into laughter and Jim nearly choked. "What? There's Santana COLOGNE?" he asked incredulously.

"Um...yeah." Frank looked at him rather oddly, wondering why this was such a big deal, then shrugged it off. "My mom gave it to him." His face sobered as he mentioned Laura; their conversation this morning had been...tense, to say the least. He exited into the corridor, still bent over to examine the floor, heading for the other room.

"I'll be damned and double-damned!" Blair was still giggling. "Santana cologne. Now I know EXACTLY what to get you for your birthday, partner!"

Jim, chuckling as well, waved him off, then noticed the Hardy boy's absence. "Go keep an eye on—" he started to say, when they were startled by Frank's yelp.

"JIM! BLAIR!"

When the police officers reached him, Frank was down on his knees beside a tall shelving unit. He scrabbled underneath it and came out clutching something tightly in one hand. "Look!" he gasped, and held up a battered cell phone. "It's Joe's!"

###

"We aren't any farther, but we're not exactly at Square One, either," Blair stated, gazing across the restaurant table at a somber-eyed Frank. The three of them were sharing lunch at a deli which purported to be 'just like New York,' and was located conveniently near the precinct. The detectives had taken Frank there hoping that he would be amused by the claim and enjoy the food – in other words, to try and cheer him up.

Frank had smiled, voiced his appreciation and was making a pretense of eating his lunch, but his dark eyes were hooded and remote, and he was keeping Joe's cell phone in his lap where he could constantly rest a hand on it.

"We know that your dad was probably there, and we know that Joe was there," Blair continued, "and I would almost bet that they haven't been...harmed. I don't know why someone's done this, but we'll get to the bottom of it, Frank; we will."

"I know – and I know you guys are doing your best." Frank toyed with his knife idly. "It's just that there isn't anything to go on. To run with."

"After lunch we'll go over to the Silver Reef," Jim proposed. "Maybe we can shake something loose if we search Sutherland's room, and Van Lansing's. Who knows, maybe we'll hit it lucky and one or the other of them will actually be there!"

Frank looked a little cheered at this idea. He began to actually eat his lunch instead of playing with it, and Blair favored Jim with a congratulatory wink and a slight nod of approbation.

"Did you get anything from Sneaks?" Blair asked Jim now. The older man shook his head, looking morose.

"Not a thing. There's no sign of any criminal activity moving into Cascade, at least as far as Sneaks knows. New, I mean; nothing otganized." A grin etched itself across his face briefly. "At least I didn't have to waste any shoes."

"That's because your feet are too big; he only wants mine! Well, you tried, anyway." Sandburg attempted comfort. Jim just grimaced in disgust at his failure.

Their arrival at the Silver Reef was greeted with definite coolness. The desk clerk practically sneered at them when they inquired about searching some of the guests' rooms – but when Jim casually mentioned kidnappings, the involvement of federal agents, laid his badge on the counter and innocently rested a hand near his holstered revolver, the desk clerk became a little more cooperative. He looked up the room numbers of Darius Sutherland and Roberta Van Lansing and handed each detective a pass-keycard. As they turned to go and start their search, the man called them back.

"Did you want to search the room Mr. Sutherland's associates are staying in, as well?"

Blair spun around. "His associates?"

"Yes, Detective. Mr. Muscaletti and Mr. Tambura. They arrived together. With Mr. Sutherland, I mean. They share a room."

"In that case, yes, we would. What's the room number?"

Stepping away from the desk, they paused to regroup. "It'll be faster if we split up," Blair suggested.

Ellison nodded and mentally assessed their little group. There was no question of each of them taking one room, which would of course have been the most logical solution – although he trusted Frank Hardy to do a thorough and careful job of searching for clues, he didn't want the kid left alone and unguarded. His father and brother had disappeared; Jim was determined that Frank was not going to be taken as well. If he took Frank along with him, all well and good, but he would have to monitor his use of enhanced senses. He'd learned how not to be terribly obvious about it, but explaining how he found something and making it sound believable got tedious and was always a calculated risk.

Decision made, Jim spoke: "Chief, you and Frank want to go through Sutherland's room and Ms. Van Lansing's? I'll take the other one."

Blair gave him one swift glance before nodding; Ellison suspected he'd been doing his own calculations of risks and benefits. "Okay, that works. We have two rooms to cover, but there are two of us, so it ought to go faster." He gestured to Frank. "C'mon, let's go."

Left alone, Ellison made his way to the room occupied by Muscaletti and Tambura. He entered using the passkey-card, donned a pair of thin plastic gloves, and began his investigation.

Fifteen minutes later, cultivating a headache from using his expanded senses in a room full of the mingled scents of people and cigarette smoke – despite the fact that the room was designated non-smoking – Jim was ready to call it quits. He had found nothing unusual – nothing incriminating. How frustrating this was! He gratefully pulled everything back to 'normal,' sense-wise and sighed with relief. It didn't help the headache much, at least not initially, but at least input wasn't pounding at him quite so relentlessly. The headache would ease up soon enough, once he got out of here.

Checking carefully to make sure he'd left no evidence of his search for the room's occupants to find, should they return, Ellison moved toward the door. He opened it, flipping the light switch nearby, then turned back into the room, realizing that he'd left one of the bedside lamps on. The door began to ease shut softly on its self-closure mechanism.

At that moment a figure appeared in the doorway, shoving it fully ajar. "HEY! What're you doin' in here?" an angry voice yelled.

Jim whirled, leaping for the door, automatically reaching for the gun in his back holster, his senses kicking into overdrive – and at that crucial instant a car alarm activated in the parking garage just outside. As the strident klaxon hammered at his sensitive hearing, the Sentinel cringed, gasping with pain and clutching at his ears.

Rico Tambura took one long stride into his hotel room and calmly smacked his blackjack against Jim Ellison's unprotected head. The weapon struck the detective's temple, and blood spattered the wall as Ellison crumpled to the floor.

Rico stood over him, blackjack still raised, muttering furiously to himself about intruders and people bothering him and Bruno and Darius and Bobbi, but at last he came to realize that he couldn't just leave whoever this was lying in the hotel room. It was sure to be noticed eventually.

Might as well add him to the others. Rico thought about it for a moment, and then went in search of a luggage cart. He'd seen some near the elevators, he was pretty sure. It would be a simple thing to put this guy on the cart, toss a blanket over him, and get him to the car. He could be put in with those Hardy guys; it was a big closet.

It was handy, after all, to have a room overlooking the parking garage!