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 12
Frank couldn't help shuddering a little as he and Blair entered the vast structure known as Lincolnshire Tower. In his mind, it was only associated with Joe's disappearance. He'd thought it was magnificent at first; a beautiful building. Now it merely represented unhappiness.
Stop it! he scolded himself. It's just a stupid office building, and inside it there just might be the key to finding Dad and Joe and Jim! John Sartellis is going to know something that will help Blair and the other Cascade police officers locate them. He will!
They entered an elevator and pressed button number 25. Beside him, Blair stared grimly at the swiftly-changing numbers on the elevator panel, focused on getting to Sartellis' office as rapidly as possible. He made tiny irritated noises in the back of his throat when the elevator stopped on intervening floors to pick up or discharge others.
Frank moved a step closer. "You okay?" he whispered.
Sandburg glanced up at him, and the hard blue of his eyes softened. "Yeah...sorry, man. I'm acting like a...well, I'm sorry." He grinned a little shamefacedly. "I'm turning into Jim, here."
"Not a problem." Frank felt the elevator car slow once again and glanced at the readout. 25. He pressed closer to Blair as the detective moved toward the doors, murmuring 'Excuse me...pardon me...' as he pushed past the other passengers.
Once out of the elevator, Blair looked at the scrap of paper he'd written John Sartellis' office number on. "Suite 2555." Looking at the numbers mounted above the various doors, they made their way to Suite 2555 and entered.
Frank was impressed by the lush décor of the office, and looked around admiringly. Blair, however, had no eyes for interior decoration, and didn't beat around the bush. He advanced on the receptionist with his badge already in hand. "Detective Sandburg, Cascade PD," he announced curtly. "Mr. Sartellis is expecting us."
If he was looking for an argument, he didn't get it; apparently the woman had been warned of their impending arrival. She spoke briefly on the phone, then smiled at them and waved towards a door to her left. "Go right in, Detective."
John Sartellis rose from behind his desk as Frank and Blair entered his private office, his hand extended. "Good morning, Detective."
"Mr. Sartellis." It was clear that Blair didn't like wasting time on the niceties, but courtesy won out. "This is Frank Hardy."
"Sit down, please, both of you." Sartellis gestured to the guest chairs in front of his desk, and seated himself behind it. "Now, what can I help you with that is so important?"
"It's regarding your cousin, Darius Sutherland," Sandburg stated, without preamble. "We believe him to be mixed up in the disappearance of this young man's father, Fenton Hardy, his brother Joe, and my partner, Detective Ellison. Have you heard from Mr. Sutherland since we last spoke?"
Sartellis shook his dark head. "No, not a thing."
"We need to find him – and them – as soon as possible," Blair said urgently. "When Detective Ellison and I spoke to you before, you said that you'd given Mr. Sutherland keys to this office and the building, and permission for him to work here and use your office facilities."
"That's right, I did. He wanted to keep in touch with his business back east, and that seemed the easiest way – and no real imposition on me."
"Do you have any idea where Mr. Sutherland might be, if he does not seem to be in his hotel, or here in this office building?" Blair queried. "I'm talking considerable lengths of time, here, not just an hour or two. If you haven't seen him here lately, and he hasn't been at his hotel – where might he be?"
John Sartellis blinked thoughtfully, and then nodded. "Possibly I might, yes," he said slowly. "I also gave him a key to a rental house I own, and told him that he was welcome to stay there if he wished, while he was here in Cascade. It's currently standing empty; I had some renovations done, and haven't gotten another tenant since. Darius said he didn't think he'd need to use it, that his hotel was fine, but I told him to keep the key while he was in town, just in case he changed his mind."
Frank caught his breath, and felt Blair stiffen in his chair. A rental house! Of course! That made sense – all kinds of sense! No wonder they hadn't been able to locate Sutherland!
"Could I have the address of that house, please?" Blair was asking this all-important question in a very quiet, steady tone that revealed nothing of his inner turmoil.
Without speaking, John Sartellis reached for a piece of paper and a pen. He wrote briefly and pushed it across the desk to Sandburg, who scooped it up without looking at it. "Detective Sandburg, I don't know what's going on, what Darius has done or is involved with. I swear it. I hope this helps you find Detective Ellison, and the others."
"Thank you, Mr. Sartellis. Thank you very much. We'll be in touch." Blair got up; Frank did likewise, nodding a quick farewell to the businessman, and followed Sandburg from the room.
Once they were in the outer hallway again, Blair leaned against the wall as they waited for an elevator, and scanned the precious piece of paper clutched in his hand. "Okay," he murmured. "Let me set things up with Simon, and we're on our way."
#####
Boredom was ultimately setting in once again for Fenton and Joe Hardy and Jim Ellison. They had managed fitful naps during the night, with Joe mumbling that it felt like a fifth-grade sleepover he'd once gone to at Chet Morton's house, all of them sleeping on the floor like that. They had been given the obligatory bathroom visits and just after seven a.m. Ms. Van Lansing herself had brought them a quart carton of orange juice, some paper cups and a box of bakery muffins. But she had refused to meet their eyes or respond to their attempts at questions or conversation, and departed immediately after setting down the breakfast items, muttering only "I'm sorry," as she left.
"She's SORRY?" Joe expostulated. "That's all she has to say?" Grumbling, he bit into a muffin. "Hmmm...not bad, actually," he mumbled with his mouth full.
Ellison, who still was nursing a dull headache, languidly poured a cup of orange juice and sipped. He yearned for a cup of coffee – hot, strong, black with a spoonful of sugar – but evidently that wasn't on the morning's menu. Wistfully he thought of Blair's coffee at home – or Simon's fancy flavored brews in his private office...
"If they're being so nice to us, why don't we get any coffee?" Fenton rumbled.
Jim started, amused at their parallel thoughts. Feeling slightly comforted, since he wasn't the only one undergoing caffeine withdrawal, he took another drink of juice and reached for a muffin. Hmmm, Joe was right; not bad. "Maybe they don't have a coffee maker," he suggested. "Maybe that's what we heard being smashed yesterday."
Fenton snorted. "They bought orange juice and muffins; they could drop in at a Starbucks!"
"Dad, we're not tied up, we're not being tortured, we're being fed and treated nicely. Don't sweat the small stuff!" Joe took another muffin from the box as his father laughed.
Jim settled back against a wall and ate his meager breakfast, wondering if Sandburg and the rest of Major Crimes were having any luck trying to find him.
###
The morning passed slowly. The three men once again did some exercising, chatted, speculated on what their captors had in mind for them, napped, discussed what measures Frank and Blair – and the Cascade police – might be taking to locate them, and were often silent, each deep in his own thoughts. They could occasionally hear voices and movement elsewhere in the house, but no one came to disturb them. Ellison prowled the confines of their closet, looking for possible escape routes, but found nothing. Breaking the door down was feasible, certainly, but he was fairly certain that it was being guarded, and they had no clue about the firepower which might be outside that door. Better to hold off on any escape attempts for now.
For awhile, Jim and Fenton 'talked shop,' starting with their friend-in-common, Con Riley and going from there. They discussed New York City and Bayport and Cascade as far as police activity went, and reminisced about cases they'd been involved with over the years. They compared their respective military experiences and drifted from that into the various foreign countries they'd been in.
Joe listened, fascinated. He'd heard a lot of it before, at least Fenton's parts, but it was still interesting – and although Detective Ellison was close-mouthed about some of his military activities, he related enough to make it intriguing. When it came to the 'foreign shores' part of the conversation, Joe knew that Ellison wished his partner was there to join in; there were few places that Blair hadn't either been or knew a lot about from his anthropological studies.
He only hoped that his father would have a chance to be impressed with Detective Sandburg's extensive knowledge – and soon. Wasn't it time that Frank and Blair and the rest of the Cascade PD located them?
About eleven o'clock, Jim cocked his head slightly, trying to be unobtrusive in doing so. He was picking up on something going on outside the house, noises that were familiar to the experienced cop. The sounds of safeties on guns being removed, the soft sliding noises as weapons were checked one last time; oh glory! the long-awaited sound of Sandburg's voice saying "On my signal, move in." Blair was here at last! Thank God! He tuned into his Guide's heartbeat, cherishing the familiar sound. He heard a decisive knock on the front door, and Sandburg's clipped "Cascade police! Open up!"
He refocused his gaze and found both Joe and Fenton looking at him curiously. "I think I heard something," he said, hoping that would satisfy them. Joe already knew he had very good hearing, after all. "There's something going on out—"
The noise that interrupted him was easily heard by all three. Yells, feet tramping, doors slamming, more feet running in panic. Fenton and Joe got to their feet, listening as best they could. Joe pressed his ear to the closet door. Jim concentrated, resting one hand on Joe's back, trying to be subtle about it but dialed up to catch each word, each action. It was almost like listening to an old-fashioned radio play.
Simon Banks' bellow: "POLICE! FREEZE NOW!"
A scream from Bobbi Van Lansing: "No! Don't! We're not armed! Bruno, don't! Darius, stop him!"
Steps pounding on the stairs, loud despite the carpeting, more than one person.
Blair again, nearer now: "Jim! JIM? Where are you? Move, damnit, move – get out of my WAY!"
Roars of outrage from several different people, most notably Bruno and Rico.
Simon: "Sandburg, watch it!"
And then a sudden smack-thump! sound of flesh meeting flesh and a body colliding with a wall, followed by Inspector Megan Connor's shrill "Hold it right there, ya bloody dipstick yobbo!"
The Sentinel could stand it no longer. He could tell by the abrupt changes in Blair's heartbeat and respiration that the smack-thump had involved him, and Jim didn't like what those vitals were telling him right now. With a furious snarl he lunged against the closet door, intent on battering it down one way or another. Joe and Fenton flanked him, adding their efforts. "Sandburg! SANDBURG!"
A shout from outside the door made them pause. "Jim? Hang on, we'll have you out in a second." Something was dragged away from the door, and then it was opened. Jim, Joe and Fenton spilled out, nearly knocking down Simon Banks in the process. All three men paused momentarily to assess the situation.
They were in a minimally-furnished bedroom, but only Simon was there; all activity seemed to be located in the hall. Jim plunged across the room to the doorway, closely followed by Joe, Fenton and Simon.
Rico and Bruno were huddled together at the end of the hallway, with Connor keeping them covered, her gun rock-steady in her hands. Joel Taggart was standing at the top of the stairs with his gun also trained on the two, and behind him, peeking around the big cop's bulk, was Frank Hardy. At the sight of his father and brother, Frank pushed past Joel and surged into the upstairs hallway.
"Dad! Joe!" He flung himself on his father, grabbing at Joe on the way by. The three embraced tightly, oblivious of what else was taking place around them.
Jim had eyes for only one thing: the crumpled form of his Guide and partner lying altogether too quietly on the floor. He shoved Simon aside and dropped to his knees beside the fallen man. "Sandburg?" His hands reached, hovered, descended to tenderly touch and assess. "Chief? You all right?"
Blair let out a small groan, and then coughed, gasping for breath. "Y-yeah..."
"Easy, easy." Jim was still gently feeling for injuries. "You got the wind knocked out of you, that's all; it's okay, partner – it's okay. Take it easy." With Banks' help he turned Blair onto his back, and cradled his head in the crook of one arm.
Blair took one short, painful breath, then another, and opened his eyes. "Jim?" he wheezed. He stared at his partner in dazed incredulity. "Man, you look awful."
Ellison chuckled grimly. "I've seen you look better too." He touched Blair's rapidly-swelling cheek with careful fingers. "Thought I'd taught you not to lead with your face," he chided. "I don't think anything's broken, but that shoulder's going to be sore for awhile. And your face."
"I'm good." Blair sat halfway up, leaning into the support of Jim's arm. "God, I thought we'd never find you."
"It's only been what – twenty-four hours? Not even that."
"It seemed longer than that!" Blair grumbled, thinking of the frantic hours he had suffered through.
The rest of the Cascade Police officers calmly went about the business of taking their suspects into custody, ignoring the dramatic reunions as best they could, although both Taggart and Connor patted Jim fondly as they passed him.
"Jim, do you need to go to the hospital?" Banks asked, eyeing the bandaged head with concern.
"No, I'm fine. It's just a little cut – there weren't any Band-aids," Ellison replied absently. His attention was still concentrated on Blair – who in his opinion looked altogether too drawn and haggard. "But maybe he should...?" He indicated Sandburg with a tilt of his head.
"Not a chance," Blair stated without hesitation. He looked up as the three Hardys moved nearer, and sat upright. "Hey, Joe, good to see you!"
"You too," Joe grinned.
"Dad, this is Detective Blair Sandburg," Frank put in. "Blair – our dad, Fenton Hardy."
"Good to meet you." Sandburg held out his hand and found it gripped tightly by the tall, dark-haired man.
"Thank you," Fenton said huskily. "Thank you for finding us – and for taking care of Frank," he added.
Blair smiled. "Frank doesn't need much taking care of. And finding you was a great pleasure, believe me."
With some assistance, Sandburg gained his feet and stood close to his partner. Jim kept one supportive hand on the younger man's elbow.
"Sandburg, why don't you two go on home?" Captain Banks suggested. "I know you're lead on this, but we can sort out the details later. Everything's under control here."
Blair glanced up at Jim, noting his pale, unshaven face, the bandage that made him look like an extra from a World War I movie set, and the unmistakable lines of discomfort radiating around his eyes. His Sentinel had been hurting, no question of that. And right how, he, himself, was kind of hurting as well. An almost overwhelming wave of exhaustion washed over Blair. "Jim? Want to go home?"
"Oh yeah." Ellison sighed, then abruptly pulled himself together. "What about..?" He gestured toward the Hardys.
Fenton smiled. "Well, if we can find the stuff they took from me, like my wallet and keys and such, I still have a room at the Best Western, and I'm willing to share it with my sons."
"That's right," Ellison nodded. "They took everything in my pockets, including my gun and my shield – I'm not leaving here without them."
"Me too," Joe piped up. "I mean, they have my wallet and phone and keys." He grinned. "No badge or gun."
"I have your phone, Joe," Frank noted. "We found it in the basement of Lincolnshire Tower. One of them must have dropped it."
Joe blinked. "Oh – okay. Good. Well, I want the other stuff."
"We'll find them," Banks assured him. "Connor! Find out where these guys stashed all the things they took from these three."
"Right, Captain."
"As soon as we have them we can go to the motel," Fenton told his sons.
"Their things are at our place..." Blair began.
"We'll get 'em later," Joe said. "This afternoon – or evening, okay?" He stretched, arching his back. "Right now I just want to take a nap in a bed instead of on the floor!"
"Simon? Can someone give them a ride to their motel?"
"Yes, Jim, I'll take care of it. Now – go home as soon as Connor finds your things. I mean it."
The two Cascade detectives obeyed without further argument.
The police rescue team focused on securing the site and preparing the prisoners for transport. The Hardys drifted to an unobtrusive corner to wait, content just to be together. Fenton stood between his two sons, one arm around Frank's shoulder, the other hand resting lightly on Joe's upper arm.
"Boys," Fenton sighed, giving each son a tight squeeze before withdrawing his arms, "I think I'll call your mother."
Frank handed his father his cell phone; Fenton smilingly took the phone and moved away from them, into the hallway, to make his call.
The conversation was short, but joyous. Promising Laura that he would call her later when they were back at the hotel, Fenton bid her adieu and ended the transmission. He was slightly surprised to discover that he must have paced, without realizing it, while he was chatting with his wife, because he now found himself in front of the end room of the hallway, looking through the open door into the sorrowful eyes of Ms. Roberta Van Lansing.
The young woman was sitting on the bed, handcuffed; apparently, the officers present didn't believe she posed much of a threat, and were content to leave her close by while they conducted a quick search of the adjoining bathroom.
"I'm sorry," the young woman stated softly. "It never was supposed to happen like this."
Fenton approached the entryway to the room, and leaned casually against the door frame. He nodded a quick greeting to the officer who peeked out from the bathroom at Bobbi's sudden remark; the officer, apparently satisfied, nodded back before once again focusing her attention on her search.
"And just how was it supposed to happen?" Fenton asked evenly.
"We were just here to convince Dar's cousin to agree to invest in a new project Darius was all excited about. I mean, that's why Darius was here. I just came to...to be with him. And to get away from...well, sometimes my family can be a little...smothering. We never meant to kidnap anyone."
"And yet, you wound up with three kidnapped people, not one."
Bobbi dropped her head and sighed. "Yeah, I know. Believe me," she muttered softly, "I was well aware of the fact that we could be brought up on three counts of kidnapping."
"So why did you keep us? Why not just let us go?" Mr. Hardy was honestly mystified.
The young woman gave a small snort of mild amusement before raising her eyes up to return Fenton's steady gaze. "Would you believe that we wanted to do that, just weren't sure that we could – I mean, could do so without getting into trouble?"
Fenton thought for a moment, then inclined his head ever so slightly to indicate that yes, he could believe that.
Her gaze once more returning to the bedspread she sat upon, Bobbi continued. "Darius – he's really rather a nervous type. His friends – Bruno and Rico – are a bit overprotective of us. They thought you were...harassing us, trying to talk to me when I didn't want to be found. They knew I was sort of hiding out from my parents. So they tried to...help. They grabbed each of you thinking Darius and I would be pleased. A bizarre sort of proof, I guess, of how far they were willing to go to protect us." She looked up as she said this, her pretty face thoughtful, as if she had just realized why Bruno and Rico had acted as they had.
"Anyway," she continued, "Darius was afraid for his friends at first – I guess they've run into trouble with the law before, and after they grabbed you, he wanted a day or two to figure out what to do with you. I thought – I really thought – I could persuade him to let you go, and that we could somehow convince you that it was merely a case of a joke that went too far."
"But before you could do that, these friends took Joe," Fenton stated quietly.
"Yes," Bobbi answered with a small nod. "And then we realized we were in a world of trouble. No one would believe us now if we tried to claim it was a harmless mistake." She sighed. "And then Rico found that cop searching his room and hit him and brought him back here, and...things just kind of spiraled out of control. We've never – this against-the-law thing. We didn't ever...before."
Ms. Van Lansing fell silent. Fenton straightened up from his slouch against the doorpost with the intention of returning to his sons. But Bobbi suddenly began speaking again.
"We finally decided to just run." She raised her head up to look the tall detective in the eyes. "We decided last night to leave you all here and run – leave the country. It wouldn't have taken you very long to figure out we were gone, and you'd have been free. But I had left my passport at the hotel. I couldn't get to it until this morning. It took Dar all morning to find a charter pilot willing to fly us where we wanted to go at such short notice – guess it's a busy season this time of year," she added, a rueful smile touching her lips. "But everything kinda came crashing down before we could leave."
"Yeah," Fenton responded, not unkindly, "police raids can have that effect on one's plans."
Bobbi shook her head in wry amusement at that. However, anything further she might have said was cut off by Joe's clear shout:
"Come on, Dad, our ride is ready to leave!"
Fenton nodded his head in farewell to his erstwhile captor, and turned to rejoin his sons. Yes, he thought, his son was quite correct: it would be rather nice to sleep in a bed again.