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The Divine Right of Kings	By : vinsmouse Category: G through L > Hardy Boys Series Views: 5917 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hardy Boys, not making any money, just cheap thrills.

Chapter List
- 12
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Chapter 13

The day after Fenton’s return to Bayport the Hardy family returned to their home. It wasn’t a comfortable homecoming for any of them. Fenton had considered renting an apartment for a while but knew the longer they stayed away the harder returning would be. Perhaps even more importantly coming home was a vital step in recovering as a family.

The morning had seen Fenton taking care of a few necessary things before his family could return home. So it was that it was nearly lunchtime when they walked in the door. Though he hadn’t planned it that way Fenton thought it might be a blessing in disguise as it would provide them all with something normal to do. Hopefully it would lessen some of the awkwardness he knew Laura and the boys were feeling.

“Why don’t I help you with lunch love?” he suggested.

Laura paled. “Couldn’t we order something?” she asked. This had been a mistake, she thought as she glanced at the boys. Clearly none of them were ready to be here. “Fenton maybe…”

“It’ll be alright Laura, I promise,” Fenton quietly interrupted her. “Come on,” he said, taking her hand and walking towards the kitchen. He knew it was important that she and the boys face their fears. “You too boys,” he called over his shoulder.

Frank looked at Joe. “Come on little brother, I’ve got you,” he encouraged the trembling teen. Wrapping an arm around the younger boy’s shoulder he steered him to the kitchen.

“Fenton what? But how?” Laura gasped as she stepped fully into the kitchen. The room gleamed, there was no sign of the nightmare they had endured. Her gaze swept the space, stopping at the new table and chairs.

Fenton wrapped his arms around Laura, holding her loosely within his embrace. “I hired a company that specializes in difficult cleaning jobs. While they were here cleaning I was downtown at the Henderson’s looking at kitchen sets. I didn’t think any of us would want to keep the old one.”

Laura turned in his arms, kissing him soundly. “Thank you Fenton. You don’t know how I dreaded seeing that table, this room.” She faltered, unable to go on as emotion overcame her.

Fenton held her tight, allowing her as much time as she needed to compose herself. Looking over at the boys he saw his wife’s surprise mirrored on their faces. “Boys?”

Both boys turned his way, Joe’s eyes glistening suspiciously. “It’s a nice looking table, different,” he said. He blushed, embarrassed by his reaction. He had expected to walk into this room and see himself lying across the table, shirt in bloody tatters as Alex stood over him, a belt held in his hand. Instead, thanks to his father, he saw not the rectangular table he’d expected but a smaller, cozier, round table in its place; a table with no memories to torment him. Even the chairs had been replaced, nothing of the old kitchen set was left to remind any of them of that horrible day.

“I like it,” Frank smiled, offering his father a grateful smile.

“Why don’t you boys go outside, enjoy some fresh air, while your mother and I put some lunch together,” Fenton suggested.

“You want to sit out back for a while Joe?” Frank asked. Once more Frank was thankful their father was here. His quiet strength and consideration making the uncomfortable homecoming easier than it might have otherwise been.

“I’m not really hungry,” Joe mumbled. “Maybe I’ll just go lie down.”

“Joe you need to eat,” Frank said. He hadn’t been able to talk to Joe about what they’d learned yet. The few times he’d tried Joe had cut him off, claiming he was too tired or his head was hurting. Frank knew they were just excuses to avoid hearing what he saw as a defense of their mother, but how could he insist without alienating his brother?

“Let him go Frank,” Fenton cut in. “You do need to eat later son, okay?” he added.

“I will,” Joe quickly agreed. He wasn’t ready to sit down at a table with his mother. Joe knew he would have to, eventually. No matter how he felt she was his mother, he couldn’t avoid her forever, nor would his father allow it.

Frank watched his brother leave the room, his dark eyes sad as he took in the tired slump of the younger boy’s shoulders. He was fourteen, he shouldn’t look so defeated! It wasn’t right. “Should I go after him? Try to tell him again what Sam found out?” he asked, turning to his father.

“Do you think he’ll listen?” Fenton asked.

“No,” Frank reluctantly admitted.

“We have to give him some time son, no matter how hard that is,” Fenton counseled. “Forcing him to listen will only make him tune out what we’re trying to tell him.”

“I guess I’ll go call Phil, see how he’s doing,” Frank said, leaving the room. As much as he hated to admit it he knew his father was right.

Squeezing his wife’s shoulder, Fenton brushed a kiss into her hair. “You won’t lose him love,” he whispered. He knew it was what she would be thinking.

“How can you be so sure?” Laura asked in a small voice.

Turning her so she faced him, Fenton caught her in a serious gaze. “Because we won’t stop fighting for him, even if we have to fight Joe himself.”

Laura seeing the truth in his eyes gained strength. “Lunch?” she asked, a tremulous smile crossing her face.

While Fenton worked on rebuilding his family, his partner Sam Radley and the police chief Ezra Collig were investigating the history of Tomlinson and Wyndham. What they found explained a lot even as it left them with questions unanswered. Questions both men secretly feared would never be resolved.

The day after the Hardy’s returned home, Sam knocked on the door. “Hello Frank,” Sam greeted the dark haired teen. “Is you dad home?”

“Yeah, he’s in his office,” Frank replied. Stepping aside he let Sam enter the house, shutting the door behind him. “Do you want me to get him or…”

“I’ll just go to his office,” Sam said. “Is he alone?”

Frank nodded. “Sam…did you find out anything?” Considering what they already knew, Frank wasn’t sure he wanted the answer, but it wasn’t in him to ignore information even if it was unpleasant.

“I did, but I don’t think I should tell you until I talk to your dad.”

“I have a right to know” Frank nearly growled, surprising the older man.

“He’s right Sam,” Fenton said, coming into the hall. “Why don’t we all go to my office,” he suggested.

A couple of minutes later found the three of them settled in the small room. “What did you find out Sam?” Fenton asked, starting the conversation.

Sam opened the file folder Frank just now noticed he was carrying. “Alexander Tomlinson is the only son of Richard and Annaleise Tomlinson. Richard Tomlinson made his fortune in real estate. By all the parameters set by society he is a highly successful man. When his son was young the family was seemingly perfect. The boy was a certified genius, dedicated to his studies though he was as equally driven in sports and other pursuits as well. The boy’s mother, Annaleise was a psychiatrist, specializing in the treatment of children, particularly adolescents.

As often happens in such cases, it seems the perfect family only existed in the public eye. Behind closed doors, the happy family wasn’t so happy. Both parents were busy with their careers with the result that they often ignored their son. When Alex was fourteen his mother suffered a breakdown. Apparently she developed schizophrenia, she was hospitalized for a short time and three months after her release she was found, by her son, hanging from the chandelier in the dining room. “

“Jesus,” Fenton sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. He was beginning to get some idea of how Tomlinson had become the monster he had.

“Fenton?” Sam asked uncertainly. He wasn’t sure if he should continue.

“Go on,” came the steady reply.

Sam gave Frank a glance, seeing the same determination in the teen’s face. “Father and son began to fight quite a bit after that. The boy blamed his father for his mother’s fate. When he was sixteen his father, fed up with the fighting and the discipline problems that followed, enrolled the boy in a military school. This is where he met Gary Wyndham, sent there by the courts in an attempt to save him from himself. Wyndham was nothing more than a petty criminal and street thug before meeting Tomlinson. In school they became fast friends, Tomlinson often protecting Wyndham from the other students, most of whom came from backgrounds similar to that of Tomlinson. After school the two boys drifted from place to place, living off the generous allowance provided to Alex by his father. Five years ago they began the path that led them to your door that morning.”

“Is that all you know?” Fenton asked.

Sam nodded. “We’re still tracking down former friends, trying to find all we can. I’m sure the FBI are doing the same. Unfortunately I suspect most of the answers needed are locked in Alex Tomlinson’s head.” He shuddered when he remembered the interview he’d witnessed at the police station. He’d never come across anyone as coldly calculating as Alexander Tomlinson. “Frankly I’m not sure we could trust anything he would tell us.”

“Thank you for handling the investigation Sam. I couldn’t be very objective right now,” Fenton admitted. It had been one of the reasons he’d asked his partner to handle things, the other being the need to be here for his family.

“I’ll let you know when I have anything else, if I can find anything,” Sam told him. “How are you all holding up?”

Fenton exchanged a look with his oldest. “About as well as can be expected. Joe won’t give us a chance to tell him what we found. He sees any attempt as nothing more than a means of deflecting blame from Laura.” Fenton sighed deeply. “I can only hope he’ll listen soon.”

“He will Fen, he just needs some distance from the events,” Sam said, hoping to reassure his friend.

“I hope you’re right Sam,” Fenton responded with heartfelt honesty.

Frank had listened silently as Sam told them of his findings. He couldn’t help a bit of sympathy towards the young Alex but that was obliterated by the path the older Alex had chosen to follow. Many people suffered unhappy childhoods, even tragic childhoods, they didn’t grow up to visit similar destructive pain on other innocent children. “Maybe we shouldn’t tell him,” he spoke up for the first time.

“What are you suggesting son?” Fenton asked.

“What Sam said about distance,” Frank began, “maybe he needs to hear the truth from somebody who isn’t family.”

“You mean a psychiatrist?”

Frank shook his head. “I was thinking somebody closer to his age…Phil.”

“Why Phil?” Fenton asked.

“He was here for most of that day so Joe won’t feel embarrassed or ashamed like he would with somebody else, especially a stranger. But Phil isn’t family. He has no reason to defend mom. Maybe Joe will listen to him.”

“Do you think he’d do it?” Fenton asked. “It might be asking too much,” he pointed out.

“He told me yesterday that he wants to help,” Frank replied.

“Alright, you ask him,” Fenton agreed.

In a small apartment in a quiet Boston neighborhood a young woman sat at her kitchen table, sorting the day’s mail. An envelope caught her eye; the handwriting though not seen in many years was as familiar as her own. With trembling hands she slit the envelope, pulling two bundles of folded paper from within. Her own name written on one, on the other a name she had never seen. Knowing all would be explained she opened the letter. A small gasp escaped as she read the letter. Though she had hoped she would be what Alex needed she had long ago realized it wasn’t to be. Still he had helped her in the aftermath of her ordeal; she could do no less for him.

Moving to her desk she retrieved a writing tablet and wrote a short note, explaining who she was and giving her address. Sealing this and the letter Alex had entrusted to her in a new envelope she quickly addressed it as Alex had instructed: Joe Hardy, 400 Elm St. Bayport N.Y. Placing her own letter, with the address of Alex’s lawyer, in the desk drawer she hurried to the corner to mail the letter.

TBC...

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A/N: Don't know if the books ever said their address so I just chose a number at random.
- 12
- 13
- 14
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The Divine Right of Kings