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Discoveries	By : vinsmouse Category: G through L > Hardy Boys Series Views: 2987 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own The Hardy Boys, not making any money, just cheap thrills.

Chapter List
- 1-Discoveries
- 2-Two
- 3-three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-Eight
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Eleven
- 12-Twelve
- 13-Thirteen
- 14-Fourteen
- 15-Fifteen
- 16-Sixteen
- 17-Seventeen
- 18-Eighteen
- 11
- 12
- 13
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hardy Boys, not making any money, just cheap thrills.
Warnings: Angst, Slash, Violence
Rating: FRT
Discoveries
Chapter 12
The Hardy's and the police arrived at Dale's apartment almost simultaneously. Fenton acknowledged Con Riley with a curt nod as he stepped in front of him to knock on the door. Beside him Frank shifted impatiently while they waited for the door to be opened. Fenton had just raised his hand to rap again when the door was replaced by a pale and trembling Dale Morris. Quickly, before he could fall, Fenton stepped forward, wrapping one arm around the younger man's waist. "Come on son, you need to sit down before you collapse," he cautioned as he led Dale to the couch.
"Don't worry about me, just find Joe," Dale plead.
"Can you tell us what happened?"
"I was walking Joe out to his van and all of a sudden he grabbed his neck and collapsed. I just barely managed to catch him. The last thing I remember is seeing a dart sticking out of his throat; when I woke up I was back in my apartment and Joe was gone. I should have been watching closer, if I'd done a better job that...Joe wouldn't be in danger."
Con exchanged a worried glance with Fenton, "Did you see anybody at all?"
Dale shook his head miserably. "Mr. Hardy, what's going to happen to Joe?"
"Nothing, because we're going to find him before Larson has the chance to do anything."
"Dad..." Frank began only to be cut off by an angry Dale.
"I know I'm not a detective but I'm not stupid. You don't know where Larson is or he would've been picked up already so please don't patronize me."
Fenton sighed, "All right, I'm sorry I did that but I can't answer your question."
"Can't or won't?"
"Won't," Fenton firmly replied. There was no way he was telling Dale of the horrific torture Joe was most likely facing. "Frank you stay here with Dale, Con and I will go outside and see if we can find anything." He didn't wait to see if his son would obey. Standing up, he followed Riley outside, though he was sure there would be nothing to find. Larson was too careful for that, if it was Larson.
"Are you sure it's Larson?" Con asked once they were outside.
"No," Fenton shook his head, "no I'm not. Larson always took his victims when they were alone and if he used a dart on Joe why hit Dale? He took a pretty big risk with that, if Dale had turned around Larson could have had a fight on his hands."
Con nodded, "That's what I was thinking, but if it isn't Larson then who else could it be?"
"That's what I intend to find out," Fenton grimly answered.
The moment the door shut, Frank turned to Dale. "Let me see your head," he quietly ordered.
"I'm okay," Dale mumbled.
"Probably, but you won't do Joe any good if you collapse so let me check you out." It only took a moment to determine that the older boy's head wasn't bleeding, though he had a nice goose egg going. Turning Dale's head, he looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of concussion. "Any dizziness or nausea?"
"Not now, I was a little dizzy when I first woke up, but it's gone now, as long as I don't stand up too fast."
"I'm not a doctor but I don't think you have a concussion. Of course you can bet Dad will still insist on you seeing a doctor, just to be safe," Frank warned.
"I don't need a doctor, I just need Joe."
"I know," Frank mumbled. This was the worst part of any kidnapping, the waiting.
"Frank?"
"Yeah?"
"Joe told your Dad that it wasn't his fault all the psychos came after him, how many times has this happened?"
"Too many," came the curt response. "Maybe it's because he's the youngest, that's what Dad thinks, but for whatever reason it seems Joe is usually the one to get kidnapped whenever somebody wants revenge against our father."
"How can he put you guys in danger like that?"
"It goes with the territory," Frank absently replied. He wanted to say more to defend his father, he really did, but it was a question he'd had himself. He'd never found a satisfactory answer. Their father helped a lot of people, had saved many lives through the years and wracked up as many enemies it seemed. How could they ask their dad to stop helping? How could he keep helping when he knew it endangered his family? Yet, Frank and Joe were following in his footsteps, in spite of knowing that if they ever had families of their own, they too would be put in danger. Knowing that, how could he question his father's decisions?
"I don't see how you can be so calm about it, guess you're use to it."
"It's not something you can get use to," Frank quietly spoke. "It's more accurate to say that I've learned getting upset not only doesn't help, it actually impedes the search." Realizing what he'd said, he quickly moved to reassure Dale, "You handled yourself pretty well for your first time dealing with something like this."
"Really?"
"Yeah, you're staying calm and not insisting on helping search for any clues Larson might have left behind."
"I'm not calm at all, but I don't see how ranting and raving is going to help. As for searching, I know I'm not a detective and I'd just get in the way, might even destroy a clue accidentally."
"Like I said, you're handling yourself real well."
"You find anything Con?" Fenton asked.
"No," Con sighed. "There's some prints here, but nothing distinctive about them."
Fenton dropped to one knee, examining the prints more closely. He was forced, however, to agree with Con, there was nothing that stood out about the prints. As he pushed himself to his feet the flash of something metallic at the far edge of the trail of prints caught his eye. "What is this?" he mumbled as he moved to pick the item up. It was a small, oddly shaped piece of metal with a number stamped on one side. It was strangely familiar, but he couldn't place it.
"What did you find?" Con asked.
"Oh, just a token of some kind," Fenton absently replied; his mind focused on remembering where he'd seen such a thing before.
"Do you think it's a clue to where Larson is?"
"It could be, or some kid could have dropped it." He handed the metal to Con.
"Weird, you ever seen anything like this?"
"I think I have but I can't think where. Damn it," he snapped, his frustration getting the better of him.
Con glanced at him, surprised, "We'll find Joe, I promise you Mr. Hardy."
"But will we find him in time?" Fenton quietly asked. "I need to go tell Frank what we found."
"I'll wait for forensics to get here." As Fenton started to walk away, Con called out to him. "Why don't you show this to Frank? Maybe he'll recognize it," he suggested.
Fenton nodded, accepting the small piece of metal.
He had waited for what seemed like hours, though he knew it had only been a short time since he'd arrived here. Most of the time since taking Joe had been spent driving to the place he'd chosen. He had imagined, as he drove the look on the other man's face when he woke up alone. He wondered how the Hardy's would react when they realized how easily he had taken Joe from them. By now he was sure they knew that Joe was missing, perhaps the forensics team would have finished what they needed to do at this time. He laughed, knowing it would do them no good to search the scene. He had been careful to leave no clues that would allow them to be found.
"What are we going to do now Dad?" It had been six hours since Joe's abduction and they had nothing to go on. Unless you counted the oddly shaped piece of metal. Like his father he thought it was familiar, but it could easily have been dropped by somebody else in the neighborhood; there was nothing to say it was connected to Joe's disappearance.
After his father had searched the area with Con, the two of them had insisted on taking Dale back to the house with them. It was funny how much things had changed, as far as his feelings towards Dale went, in the few weeks since Joe had come back home. He had spent enough time around Joe and Dale in that time to see that they genuinely loved each other. Besides Dale had the one ability guaranteed to get Frank on his side; he made Joe happier than he'd ever been. There was no way he would leave the other man alone with Joe missing, his little brother would never forgive him, nor would he forgive himself, if he let Dale deal with his fear alone and injured.
Fenton glanced at his son, clearly hearing the frustration in Frank's voice. It had been hours and they'd heard nothing. Now Con Riley had just left, after telling them that the forensics team had found nothing useful. "The only thing we can do son. We go through the files on Larson, interview anybody who knew him and pray that we can determine where he might have taken Joe."
"Excuse me Mr. Hardy, but it doesn't sound like you think there's much chance," Dale interjected.
Fenton glanced sympathetically at the shaken young man, "There's always a chance Dale and we won't give up until we have Joe back or..." He paused, how could he complete that sentence? It felt almost like a betrayal of his son to even consider the possibility of finding Joe too late, but he wasn't able to stick his head in the sand like so many others did. "I'm sorry Dale but we have to face the fact that we may not find Joe in time. I promise you, both of you," his glance taking in Frank as well, "I will do everything in my power to bring him home alive."
Dale nodded, "What can I do?"
"Help Mrs. Hardy to keep us in sandwiches and coffee while we go through the files?" Fenton hoped he wouldn't insist on helping with the files. It was bad enough that Frank was being forced to read about the things Larson had done, knowing his brother might be going through the same things, he didn't want to subject Dale to them too. At least Frank had experience with this sort of thing, the other boy had never seen anything so horrific.
"I'd rather help you look through the files. I know I'm not a detective, but that might be an advantage. Maybe I'll see something a more experienced eye would dismiss as unimportant," Dale suggested.
"He has a point Dad."
Reluctantly Fenton gave in, "All right. You look at the files Frank has, after he's done, see what you can pick up."
It had been too long, he should have woke up by now. Maybe he had used too much of the tranquilizer. Pacing the small room, he glanced repeatedly at the figure chained to the bed, growing more worried with each passing minute. Just as he was about to begin shaking Joe, a small moan sounded from the blond's throat.
Joe slowly blinked open his eyes, man his head hurt. It was his attempt to bring his hand to his forehead which alerted him to the presence of the chains on his wrists. Looking down at his body, he shook with a combination of fear and anger as he took in the matching chains on his ankles and the absence of clothes on his body. "No, please no," he moaned. Larson had gotten to him, in spite of their precautions.
It was then he remembered where he had been and who was with him when he passed out. "Dale!" he cried out, instinctively trying to sit up, only managing a couple of inches before the chains tugged him back to the mattress.
"You won't be seeing him again."
Joe turned his head, his eyes widening at the sight of his captor. "If you hurt him I'll kill you!"
"He's fine, a bit of a headache but that couldn't be helped."
"What did you do to him?" Joe demanded.
"Knocked him out," came the calm reply. "Or would you rather I had brought him along?" he taunted.
"No! You leave him alone."
"You're in no position to be giving orders."
Joe hated the smirk on the other's face. "If I wasn't chained I'd wipe that look off your face," he growled.
"Of course you would," he amicably agreed. Stepping away from the bed he picked something up from the nearby dresser. Lovingly he caressed it, this was the first step in getting what he wanted.
Joe nervously watched his captor, wondering what he was doing in front of the dresser. "What are you going to do with me?" When he turned to face him, Joe wished he hadn't asked.
"You have to be punished," he calmly informed the boy in the bed.
"Why? Because I dared to love a man?" he yelled.
"No," Biff replied. "Because you refused to love me," he snarled as he let go with the whip he held. As if the sound of the leather striking bare flesh had released something primal inside him, he began to beat Joe with an unbridled rage.
Joe had been reduced to nothing more than a mass of painful welts by the time Biff finally dropped the whip. He tried to focus on the other boy as he moved about the room, gathering supplies, for what he didn't know. He didn't think he wanted to know either. As he lay on the bed, consumed by the pain of his body and the pain of betrayal, he found himself praying that his father and Frank would find him soon. You know they won't, he reminded himself, they'll think Larson has you. It'll never occur to them to look here.
"I'm sorry I had to do that Joe, but you had to be punished," Biff calmly stated.
Joe watched his former friend, his eyes filled with confusion. How could he be so calm right after beating him until he was on the verge of passing out? "Will you let me go now?" He had to ask, though he was pretty sure of the answer.
"No, this was just the first step."
"The first step?" Joe nervously questioned.
"Yes," Biff confirmed. "Now you must be cleansed."
"Cleansed?" He had a feeling Biff wasn't talking about a simple bath.
"Yes. How can I make you mine if I don't cleanse you of his touch?"
The question was asked in such a matter of fact way that it took Joe a moment to process the full implication of it. When he did, horror lighted his eyes. "No, please Biff, don't do this," he begged as he struggled uselessly against the chains.
"I have to Joe, don't you see? We belong together, you'll realize that soon," Biff confidently went on.
"I will never accept that," he glared.
Biff ignored him as he set about making his preparations. Putting the bedside table to use, he laid out a scrub brush and a bar of strong lye soap. It hadn't been as hard to find lye soap as he had feared it would be. All he'd needed to do was stop at one of the many farm stands that dotted the scenery in Vermont. He'd purposely chosen one fifty miles from his family's fishing cabin. He didn't want anybody in the area to wonder why he would want lye soap. "I'll be back soon Joe, have to heat the water."
Joe eyed the items on the nightstand nervously. He could smell the strong scent of lye coming from the soap. He knew that it, along with the hard bristled scrub brush would be agony on the welts covering his body.
"The water is heating," Biff announced as he returned.
"Please Biff, if you really care about me you won't do this."
"I don't want to Joe, I have to. I've loved you for years, but I never thought you'd be interested in a guy. Then you come back from the city and tell us you're in love with that...that... He's not good enough for you Joe, you should be with somebody worthy of you."
"Somebody like you?" Joe sneered. "You think beating me and cleansing," he emphasized the word, "me are the way to prove you're worthy? If you really loved me, you'd never do something like this to me."
"Shut up," Biff snapped, punctuating the order with a hard slap that rocked Joe's head to the side. "The water should be hot by now."
Joe dropped his head back to the pillow. There had to be a way to get through to Biff; he didn't want his first time to be like this. Raped at the hands of somebody he'd thought was his friend. Please God help me, don't let this happen, he silently prayed. Biff chose this moment to return, carrying a large pan of steaming water. "No, Biff don't do itttttttt!" The final word ended with a scream of agony as the pan of scalding water was suddenly thrown over him.
"Have to cleanse you darling," Biff mumbled as he ran the lye soap over Joe's reddened, welt covered body. Picking up the scrub brush he went to work, determined to rid his love of Dale's touch. "You'll see Joe, I'll make it special for you I promise. As soon as you're clean I'll let you rest," he smiled. "I've thought about nothing else since you told us of the discovery you'd made about yourself. I'm going to be your first and last lover darling, you'll never want another after you've been with me. Would you like to know what I have planned for our first time?"
Joe could hear Biff talking, but it was as if he were at the other end of a long tunnel. Every word was muted by the intense pain as his skin was viciously scrubbed by his would be lover. He wanted to beg him again to stop, but no words would come, moans and whimpers were all he was capable of as the pain threatened to overwhelm him.
"I know, it's hard to wait but you must," he soothed, misunderstanding the moans and whimpers. "I want your first time, our first time to be as special as it can be. After you've been cleansed you can sleep. I will wake you shortly before dawn and as the sun peaks over the horizon I will claim you as mine. The way it should have always been," he nearly growled.
The horror and pain finally becoming too much, Joe lapsed into merciful unconsciousness.
Biff smiled at his sleeping love. "Yes darling, rest now. With the coming of the dawn, we will become one."
It was nearly midnight when Fenton received the call that changed everything. Hanging up the receiver, he glanced at the worried faces of Frank and Dale. "That was Ezra Collig," he needlessly informed them.
"We heard," Frank said. "What's wrong Dad? Is," he swallowed hard, "is Joe dead?"
"No!" Fenton just barely kept from yelling. "No son, but you can put those files away now."
Frank shared a confused look with Dale, "Why?"
"Frederick Larson has been found twenty-five miles from Bayport...dead."
"No," Frank whispered. "How will we find Joe now?"
"Larson never had him."
"How do you know that Mr. Hardy? Did he tell the police that before he died?" Dale asked.
"No, he's been dead at least three days according to the coroner," Fenton sadly shared the news he'd just been given.
Dale's already pale face lost what little color it held, "Who has Joe then?"
"I don't know," Fenton was forced to admit.
Frank stood, pacing his father's office as he tried to wrap his mind around this latest development. A flash of metal caught his eye, drawing him to the desk. Picking up the small metal token, he turned it in his hand, not really aware of what he was doing.
Fenton watched him for several minutes. He could see Frank's agile mind working as he processed the changes this news made in the search for Joe.
"Biff," Frank whispered.
"What?" Fenton was confused, what did Biff have to do with this?
"I know where I've seen this token, or one like it. There's a convenience store near his family's fishing cabin in Vermont. They hand these out to every customer and once a week they have a drawing for a free tank of gas."
"I don't understand, how would that have...," Dale trailed off as realization set in. "You think Biff took Joe?"
"Why would he do that?" Fenton asked.
"He was furious when Joe told him about Dale. What if his apology was just an act to get close to Joe? Maybe he decided to take advantage of Larson's escape to teach Joe a lesson," Frank suggested.
"Oh god," Dale gasped. He knew what kind of things bigots had done to those they didn't approve of. The thought of those things happening to Joe sickened him.
"Frank gather up first aid supplies. I'll leave a note for your mother and call Collig. I'll have him call the police in Vermont and ask them to provide back-up for us. We'll take my car, we can make better time with it than with your van."
"I'm coming too," Dale interrupted.
Fenton nodded, he knew there was no way he could keep the boy away, no more than he would have stayed away if somebody had taken Laura. He dialed the phone as Frank and Dale left the room to gather supplies.
As the clock struck twelve, the three men were walking out the front door of the Hardy home. Each of them praying that they would reach Joe before it was too late.
- 11
- 12
- 13
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Discoveries