Gone: A Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys Mystery

3. Joe

"Well, that was fun," I shrug sarcastically.

Frank rolls his shoulders back and straightens his crumpled tuxedo. "Yeah, I have always wanted to talk to the police until three in the morning about a guy who we have no clue who he is about how he tried to kill everyone at a ball."

Frank and I had finished talking to the police about mysterious Gorgo the killer about ten minutes ago. Now we are downtown at a local hotel.

"I can't believe Nancy left us with that mess," I comment. I slump onto my bed and pull off my shoes with my feet, kicking them across the room and praying I don't break a lamp. They hit the wall and fall down to land on Frank's perfectly placed outfit and sneakers that he plans to wear tomorrow.

"That's it!" Frank yells suddenly, bolting up from the bed next to me. I thought he was mad about my dirty shoes on his clean clothes, but even for Frank, this excitement is a little overboard.

"What?!" I shout back at him.

"That was Nancy Drew!" Frank exclaims.

I groan and sprawl out on my bed. "How did you make it as an A.T.A.C. agent if you have no facial recognition skills?" I moan.

"She had a lot of make-up on and her hair was different," Frank counters. "Besides, I am not the one who recognizes every girl he has ever met."

"You were dancing with her!"

Frank rubs his forehead. "Joe, I'm tired. Can we stop and go to sleep now?"

"Does that mean we can continue this some other time?" I grin.

Frank throws a pillow at me. "Go. To. Sleep."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I think I am going to die. An intruder opens the door of our hotel room. He has a gun and he is walking over to my bed. I lay motionless; my eyes are barely open. Closer, closer he creeps. He stands by my bed and aims his gun. Should I move? Or should I stay still and hope not to die?

Why do I hear music? Is that my ringtone? I roll over to reach for my phone. That doesn't work out in my favor. I fall out of bed and thump onto the floor, hit the wall and roll into the base of my bed, taking the corner to my eyeball. I clutch a hand to my irritated eye. The man is gone. It was all a dream. I sit up and unzip my backpack pocket. I pull out my vibrating and ringing phone and after a yawn, answer it.

"Hello?"

"Who is it?" Frank groggily calls from his bed.

I listen for a moment. If I was asleep, I wasn't anymore. I hang up and push my phone back into its pocket. Frank is lying in his bed and staring at me through the moonlit darkness.

"Was that HQ?" he asks.

I pull my shorts on and dig for a shirt in my bag.

"Joe!" Frank insists.

"No," I answer, jamming my feet into my shoes.

"Was it Vijay?"

"Not Vijay either." Vijay is another agent that often plays contact for us. I pull a shirt over my head and ruffle my blond hair. I head to the bathroom and grab my comb. I switch the light on and blink while my eyes adjust.

"Was it a girl?" Frank guesses. He is sitting up in bed, running his fingers through his wild hair.

"At this time?"

Frank appears in the bathroom doorway pulling on his jeans. "Joe, it's ten o'clock in the morning."

I shrug.