This is a long one. Mostly because I indulged in some shameless fluff. I've been advised (and rightly so) to focus more on the mystery than trying to force a romance, but this first scene just sneaked itself in. Hope it doesn't take away from the rest of the chapter :)

Three yays for the chapter 6 reviewers: MCR-1993, Colie88, Nancy Hardy, Marie, KennaC - you are all awesome!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. I do own a set of salt and pepper shakers and some Italian spices.


The Cracked Badge

Chapter 7

Nancy awoke the next morning alert and ready to start investigating. Glancing at the clock, she remembered that Joe would be coming over in an hour to start brainstorming ideas on where to start. She climbed out of bed and put on her robe, listening for water in the bathroom. Hearing nothing, she decided to hop in the shower while she had the chance.

As she quietly padded down the hallway to the bathroom, she heard a curse coming from behind the door to Frank's room. The word was quiet, but sounded packed with frustration. Her heart went out to him. Frank was nothing if not independent, and she knew it was killing him to feel so helpless.

Knocking quietly on the door, she said, "Frank?"

"Shi – yeah?"

Nancy was taken aback by how annoyed he seemed and momentarily debated just saying hello and continuing to the bathroom. No reason to bother an angry bear. But he obviously needed help, even if he would never ask for it. Steeling herself, she turned the knob and pushed open the door to the small, neat room. Then she had to steel herself in a different way, so her laughter wouldn't make things worse.

Frank was sitting on his bed, his t-shirt half off of his body. His left arm was still through the sleeve while the right was free. The main part of the shirt was covering his head, which was caught inside the twisted mess. Nancy thought he kind of looked like an animal who had trapped himself inside a bag.

But, of course, she couldn't tell him that. Instead, she asked, "Is everything okay?"

"Yep. Just peachy," came the muffled reply.

"What happened?" She asked as she moved closer to him. He obviously had been working for some time to get the shirt all the way off on his own without success.

"I forgot which arm to take out first. It's less work on my bad arm if I do it a certain way. But I messed it up and now I'm stuck." He sighed in defeat, very unlike Frank.

"I can see that. Here, let me help you." Nancy stood in front him where he sat and gently tugged the shirt the rest of the way over his head. She slid his arm out of the short sleeve, brushing against his warm skin as she went.

"Thanks." Once freed, his dark eyes immediately found hers, and they were filled with relief and a little embarrassment.

She quirked a smile at him, feeling her body warm from his gaze. "I never thought I'd see the day that Frank Hardy is defeated by something as insignificant as a shirt."

He laughed pathetically. "Well, it put up a good fight."

Nancy looked down, finally letting herself notice how close to him and his naked chest she had become, standing between his legs. She was feeling a little overheated and debated shedding her bathrobe before remembering that all she was wearing underneath was a tank top sans bra and a pair of boy shorts. But, Frank had seen her in much less… she debated internally.

Frank must have been having similar thoughts as their eyes held, because his right arm came up to encircle her waste. She dropped the shirt on the floor and reached her hands up to his head, running her fingers through his messy hair. Being stuck inside a shirt had caused it to stick up comically, and Nancy couldn't resist trying to tame the locks.

But she didn't get much of chance, because after one pass through his hair he buried his head into her stomach with a groan, mumbling something intelligibly.

The bathrobe had parted slightly in his movement and his breath on her bare stomach tickled. "What? I couldn't understand you." She couldn't help the slight breathiness to her voice, though she blamed it on the tickling.

"I miss touching you," Frank repeated, turning his head to the side so she could hear him. Nancy didn't say anything in response, instead running her fingers over his strong shoulders and down his broad back, hoping to convey without words the same thing.

They stayed in that position for a while, neither needing to say anything or try to force it into something more. Both were content to simply hold the other, relishing in the skin on skin touches.

Finally, Nancy couldn't help but notice the movement of the clock's minute hand, which had traveled farther than she thought since she'd been in the room. Gently untangling herself from him, she stepped back, closing the gap in her robe.

"I've got to shower if we're supposed to meet Joe soon."

Frank smirked up at her. "What a coincidence. That's what I was about to do when you interrupted me. I think my arm still hurts and I may need help."

Nancy grinned in spite of herself. "Nice try, Hardy, but I'm sure you can manage. Parents' house, remember?"

"Then I'm going first," he declared as he stood up. This put his bare chest directly in her sightline instead of his eyes. She closed her eyes to keep her resolve from weakening before looking up at his face. What was it with the Hardy boys and arguing over showers?

"Not a chance."

"But I just called it."

"Then I'll just have to beat you to it," she said a she darted out of the room toward the bathroom, then let out a laughing shriek as she heard Frank tearing after her.

Barely making it to the bathroom before him, she slammed the door behind her, breathing hard. "I win!"

He pounded on the door. "You better not use up all the hot water!"

She cracked the door and peered out at him. "I promise."

Just then both of them heard Joe's voice downstairs, and Nancy had a flashback to the night before, instantly sobering her.

Frank noticed the change. "What is it?"

She knew it wasn't her place to spill Joe's secret, even if it was burning on her tongue. "Just… be nice to Joe, okay? He might have something important to say."

Frank looked at her quizzically, obviously understanding there was more she wasn't telling him. "Sure." He must have known it wasn't the time to push her, because he added, "Just hurry up in there so I can have my turn."

She smiled in relief before closing the door and letting the hot water melt away her tension.


Surprisingly, when Nancy made it downstairs Frank was already seated at the table with Joe and their father. She didn't think she had taken that long getting dressed, but then, boys generally had it easier, she mused as she joined them.

"I'm sorry to have to do this to you three, but I need you guys to cover a couple of my cases while you're home."

"The cheating husband cases?" Joe asked.

"Yes, those. I'm supposed to be staking out a house today, but I may need to the time to look into a few things."

"Things that have to do with Con and the chief?" Nancy supplied.

"I'm going to try to call in a few favors. Hopefully by this afternoon I'll be able to get in to speak to Con about what happened last night. But I'll need the morning to do some prep work."

"And bribing," Joe added, ignoring his dad frowning at him.

"You know we'll do anything to help," Frank reassured.

"I know. You three haven't let me down yet. And I'll try to get you in to see Con with me, if I can," Fenton said as he packed up his briefcase and left the table.


Three hours, two bags of chips, six sodas, and a plate of cookies later found the Hardy brothers and Nancy camped out in Joe's car down the street from the suspected adulterer's house.

"Can't we leave yet?" Joe whined from the driver's seat for the eleventh time. "We're all out of food."

"No, we're here until Dad calls us. And you're the one who ate most of it, anyway," Frank replied, his eyes never leaving the house. So far he and Nancy had nothing to show for their time spent listening to Joe complain. A couple times they thought they'd seen something suspicious, but nothing specifically related to the man they were targeting.

One time in particular, a blond girl pulled up in a flower delivery van and knocked on the door to the house, but no one answered. At this point, Joe was bored enough to sacrifice their cover and introduce himself to the "hot girl," but Frank was able to convince him otherwise, citing their father's trust in them. She looked around, made a call on her cell phone, then got in her van and left after leaving the vase on the doorstep.

"I suppose I should feel lucky that you two haven't spent the whole time making out in the backseat."

At that statement Frank did remove his steady gaze from the house to roll his eyes at Nancy sitting next to him. They hadn't even so much as touched each other since that morning, even though it had taken all of their combined self-control after the heated exchange in Frank's room. Sort of like the heat shooting between them as she caught and held his gaze.

Nancy jumped at the sound of Frank's cell phone ringing, shutting her eyes and breaking the contact.

"Hey, Dad," he answered. There was a long pause as Fenton spoke, and then Frank said, "We'll be there," and hung up.

Joe started the car. "Where to, big brother?"

"Police station. Dad was able to pull some strings and got us ten minutes with Con. He's still being kept in their holding cell for questioning."

Nancy shot him a worried look as Joe pulled away. Things were about to get interesting.


"You have ten minutes. No longer. If you want to leave before your ten minutes are up, knock on the door."

"Thank you, Officer Jackson," Fenton said. The young cop nodded curtly before exiting the room. Con sat handcuffed to a chair in front of a table, the only furnishings in the sparse room.

Having four visitors was extremely uncommon and if Fenton didn't know enough people it would have never happened. They were lucky to get those few minutes and knew it, so they all took seats and got down to business.

"Con, what happened? Start from the beginning," Fenton requested.

Surprisingly, the man glared at the brothers. "I thought I told you boys to stay out of it."

"They can take care of themselves," Fenton said quickly before Joe could say something without thinking. He added just a bit of command into his next words. "Tell us what happened and do it quickly since we don't have much time."

"I got a phone message from the chief saying he needed to talk to me. Said it was important, and that I needed to come over right away. The old man sounded, well, not himself, so I did what he asked."

"Was the house broken into when you got there?" Frank asked, remembering how the door had been when he and Joe had arrived.

"No," Con said flatly. "I did that."

"Why?" That wouldn't look good for him, Frank thought, if he left his fingerprints all over the door.

"I was worried about the guy. He didn't come to the door when I knocked, and the house looked empty. So I broke in, hoping he hadn't had a heart attack or stroke."

"What did you find?" This time Nancy asked the question, impatiently wanting to get to the climax of the story.

"I called out to him, and I heard him shout my name. He sounded like he was struggling, so I rushed over to the study where I thought his voice was coming from. I was right. When I got there, well," he hesitated. "You saw him."

"Wait a minute, you heard him call your name but he was dead on the floor when you got there?" Joe asked skeptically.

"He took his last breath right in front of me," Con replied, trying to sound calm even as he described the death of an old friend.

"Why wouldn't you have heard the shot?"

"The gunman used a silencer. I saw him disappear out the window right as I entered the room. And before you ask, no, I didn't get a good look at him. I'm pretty sure it was a man, but that's all I know. And he was wearing a dark trench coat."

They group sat quietly for a few seconds as they debated what questions and answers would be the most helpful.

"Why were you holding the gun, Con?" Joe asked quietly, avoiding the sharp looks he could feel coming from Frank and his father. "I saw you put it down."

Con sighed. "Well, honestly, it wouldn't have made much difference if I touched it then or not, and I had to be sure."

"Had to be sure of what?" Frank asked with a hard voice. He didn't like information being withheld and then sprung on him like that.

He stared in Frank's face with a rueful look. "That the gun was mine."


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