A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I told you I'd have this chapter up in a jiffy. (Some of you are going to hate me by the end of it, but oh well.) Please review!

Disclaimer: See Prologue

For a moment, Frank couldn't find a word to speak as he looked into the face of Nancy Drew. He wasn't sure what shocked him more- her savage disposal of the gunman or her physical appearance. Her tall, slim figure was barely obscured by her dirty cutoff jean shorts and revealing tank top. The angry pink of a long, shallow cut marred her throat, and there was a band-aid on the tip of each finger on her right hand. A fading yellow bruise marked her cheekbone, and her normally bright blue eyes had a dark, haunted look to them. Frank exchanged an incredulous look with Joe, whose shocked and concerned expression mirrored his own.

"Nancy." Joe spoke first, always trying to relieve the tension. "I guess I owe you one."

Nancy's dark gaze softened as she looked at the younger Hardy and for a moment Frank saw the Nancy he knew in her half-smile. "No, let's call it even." she answered. "You're just lucky I was around."

Joe nodded slowly. "I guess we were." He looked back at the still-bleeding form of the gunman. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Nancy acknowledged. "Now, did you want to get this scumbag down to the station or should I?"

"We'll take care of it." Joe said. He walked over and knelt beside the clearly-unconscious man, checking for a pulse in his neck. "You really did a number on him." he remarked conversationally, pulling out his cell phone and dialing the police.

Nancy did not respond, and Frank, finally trusting himself to speak, took a step closer to her. "Nancy," What happened to you? his mind was screaming, but from her hard, beaten look he knew that he would have to be tactful with this new, dangerous Nancy. "Are you on a case? How did you find us?"

"I guess you could say I'm on a case." Nancy replied with a bitter smirk. "As for how I found you..." she gestured up at the building on their left and Frank noticed for the first time that it was a dilapidated hotel. "I saw the whole thing from my window. Home sweet home."

She must be joking, Frank thought. The idea of Nancy living in a dirty, crime-ridden neighborhood like this wasinconceivable. She's on a case, it must be a cover. But he knew he was only kidding himself. This was not a joke and Nancy was not simply playing a part. Something was very wrong. He took another step forward, noting that at this short distance her tough facade began to crumble- her hands were shaking badly. He reached out and took her left one in his own. It was cold, dirty, and unresponsive. "Nancy, are you alright?" he asked in a low voice, his gaze troubled, almost fearful.

"I'm fine, Frank." she answered coolly. Her eyes met his own but there was no connection; the mutual understanding the pair usually shared was conspicuously absent.

How could this be? Frank was still racking his brain, trying to fill in the gaps between the last time he had seen her and now. He and Joe had solved a case with her only six months ago, and though their correspondences had stopped suddenly soon afterwards Frank had just assumed she'd been busy... it had only been a few weeks... He suddenly felt guilty. Whatever was going on here, he and Joe should have known about it. They would have been here for her. I would have been here for her. He reached out and tucked a strand of reddish-blonde hair behind her ear, his thumb gently lingering over the sickly yellow bruise on her face. "Nan... How can I help?"

Nancy shrank away from his touch. "You can't." she said shortly, retreating. "I have to go."

"Wait, Nancy." Frank did not release her hand.

She pulled it from his with a pained look. "Frank..."

"Stay with us for a while? At least until the police come. Maybe we could get dinner." Frank suggested desperately. Although she seemed perfectly capable of holding her own, he somehow did not want her to be alone now.

"No thanks." she answered. "I'm sure you and Joe can take it from here." She was backing out of the alley now. "You stay out of trouble, now." she said to Joe with a hint of sarcasm as she left, turning the corner and disappearing from sight.

Frank was still trying to process everything that had just happened. He went to Joe, who was still on the ground, and laid a hand on his shoulder. "What was that all about?"

Joe shook his head. "I dunno. I've never seen Nancy like that. I thought she was going to kill this guy." And as an afterthought- "Did you see the way she was dressed?" At a glare from Frank he shook his head, indicating that he hadn't been talking about Nancy's liberal display of skin. "It wasn't like her. Something's wrong, Frank."

The screech of approaching sirens told them that Joe's phone call had been heeded. Frank looked down at the unconscious thug and then stared off in the direction Nancy had gone. "I know."

It wasn't until they had finished talking to the police that Frank and Joe came back to the topic of their old friend.

"Joe, I've been thinking." Frank started. "Do you still have Bess's phone number?"

Joe furrowed his brow. "I think so." He pulled out his cell phone and confirmed it. "I have Nancy's too, you know."

Frank shook his head. "Something's telling me she wouldn't answer if we called. If she even still has that phone, that is." He sat on the bed in their upper East Side hotel. "I think we need to find out what's been going on with Nancy. I'm betting Bess will have all the news." Bess Marvin was one of Nancy's best friends. She always had the latest gossip, and she had a particular soft spot for Joe.

Joe nodded and dialed. Bess picked up on the second ring. "Joe Hardy! It's been a while." she said, with a false brightness in her voice. "How come you never call me anymore?"

"I'm calling you now." Joe teased back, gently. "Listen, Bess, we need a favor."

"Mm?" Bess made a noncommittal murmur.

"It's about Nancy. We saw her today, but she didn't stay and talk... Bess, do you know what's going on with her?"

Bess gasped. "You saw her? Where? Is she alright?" Before Joe could answer, she continued, "Tell her to call her father, Joe. He's worried sick about her. Just a phone call."

Joe was struck by the sadness in Bess's voice. "Yes, Frank and I saw her, Bess. But she's not with us now." he hesitated, trying to decide how much of their encounter to divulge to the girl. "She's not looking too good. She looked... tired. And sad. When is the last time you saw her?"

"It's been about, I dunno, three, three and a half months." Bess answered. Her voice sounded shaky now, like she was on the verge of tears herself. "No one knew where she went. She left without saying a word to anybody, not me, George, her father. Where is she, Joe?"

Joe wasn't sure if he should tell her. She sounded like she was ready to jump on a plane and run to Nancy's side at a moment's notice... and what would she find? "She's in New York." he said, being deliberately vague about which part of the city she was currently residing in. "Why did she run away, Bess? What happened to her?" Frank was by Joe's side, listening intently, trying to make out Bess's side of the conversation. From Joe's side, though, he could piece it together... and the picture it was forming wasn't pretty.

"What happened to her?" Bess repeated in disbelief. "You didn't hear? Joe, Ned is dead."