Author's Note: Well, it has been a long time, and it was not an easy time, nor was this easy to write. I haven't been able to get much written lately, even with the fact that the revelation in this chapter was planned back when I posted the last chapter.


Lawyers and Legal Trouble

"I think you should have a seat," the lawyer said, gesturing to one of the two chairs on the other side of his desk. Frank gave it a glance, and Nancy shook her head, escorting both of the boys over so they were sitting. Joe was pushing his wound too far, and Frank just kept getting hit by one emotional blow after another, and neither of them seemed aware of any of their limits. She wasn't one to talk, since she had issues with boundaries and knowing when to stop herself, but she knew that she might have just the slightest bit of an advantage, having a minute amount more distance than they did from the situation. That left her as the one who had to help.

Too bad she was bad at that, as her record with Ned clearly showed.

"This... Madeline," Joe said, darting a glance toward his brother, even as he struggled a little to breathe—just in pain, she actually hoped, since she didn't want it to be a sign of anything worse. If that knife wound was more than they'd thought, if the doctors missed something, if he'd left the hospital too soon—Nancy didn't want to think about all of those possibilities. "She used to work for you?"

"Yes. She was a very bright young woman, up and coming. Everyone liked to joke about how she'd be the next partner," the other man said, smiling with fondness at the memory. Nancy grimaced. She wanted to like him. He reminded her of her father. Trouble was, she didn't know that they could trust any of what this man Newell was saying.

"But she died," Frank said, though she wasn't sure that his voice matched his words. "How?"

"A terrible car accident. She was far from the only one involved—that tragedy took almost forty lives—but the one that mattered to all of us was hers," Newell told them. "Madeline was a bright spot in all our lives. She was dedicated, but without surrendering her soul to it. She never lost sight of who she was or what mattered."

Joe smiled. "Sounds like a good person. Wish I could have met her."

Frank gave his brother a dirty look. "It sounds ridiculous. Why would you, a partner in a prestigious law firm, be so enthusiastic about a woman that wasn't giving body and soul to the firm? To sacrifice everything? Eighty hour workweeks were the minimum anyone would expect from someone trying to get advancement. You're lying, and we're done here."

Frank forced himself up from the chair, starting toward the door. Joe started to rise, but Nancy waved him off. As much as she knew it was better if Joe helped his brother, she was still worried about him and wanted him to rest. He could finish the conversation with Newell. They seemed to have a rapport.

She hurried after Frank, finding him outside the office. He leaned against the wall, head in his hands, breathing hard. Joe would know this, would know just how to handle his brother in this state, and Nancy was not sure she did. She wanted to do everything that she could, but she didn't know if it was enough.

"Not every law firm demands that their people have no lives," she told him, and he snorted, but she thought she saw a smile on his lips. "And yes, I know I'm biased. I can't judge everyone based on my dad, but I like to think he's more than just an exception to a rule."

Frank looked at her. "I think I'd like that, too. I'm just not as... trusting as I used to be—"

"Were you ever all that trusting? Because some people—I'm not naming names—might say you were practical enough to be a cynic. More than that, even. Though it was Joe they'd accuse of rushing to judgment, you were always the more cautious and therefore... less trusting."

Grimacing, Frank ran a hand over his face. "There's something about having your mind screwed over that takes away any sense of... peace. Even things that should be... innocuous, they aren't. Like him saying that he was glad she wasn't dedicated to her job. It just felt... wrong. Only... everything feels wrong."

"I know," she said, touching his shoulder. "And I can't fix that, as much as I want to. As your friend, I wish I had some way of stopping all of this pain, but I can't. And I feel like I can't help with any of it. Which—this is not the time to talk about that. I left Joe in there so that he could... maybe catch more flies with honey—"

"An expression that usually only gets applied to Joe when he's charming a girl."

"Oh, Joe can schmooze more than just girls," Nancy said, shaking her head. While Frank had his own special brand of charm, and it was one she happened to like, most people found it easier to befriend and like Joe. He was just one of those people, even if his flirting with everything female could be annoying at times. "I think he can handle that conversation, and I wanted him to stay still. He needs to rest."

"You noticed that, too."

She almost laughed. "It was hard to miss. I'm worried about him, too, and with this whole inheritance thing hanging over you none of us have had any time to deal with the fact that your aunt stabbed him."

"Realistically, there is very little that we can do. Hire a deprogrammer and hope for the best, but... hoping for the best hasn't really worked lately," Frank said, looking down at his hands. "I... I suppose we'd better go see what Joe has found out, if anything. Can't put it off forever, and the idea was to deal with this because it's something we could pursue. We'd better finish pursuing it."

"We don't have to. I know we said we had to find this woman before she disappeared, but it does seem like we're a little late for that already."

Frank laughed bitterly. "Yeah, by about two years."

Nancy moved her hand to his cheek, waiting until he looked at her. "This woman, whoever she was, must have been chosen... for the purpose of messing with your mind. She was either dressed up to look like a dead woman or picked because she resembled her close enough to pass for her. It was deliberate, meant to—"

"To cause me a mental breakdown and make me question what's left of my sanity? Again?" Frank finished. "It's working."


Joe fidgeted in his chair. The wound on his side was starting to bug him, even itching a little. He knew itching was supposed to be a sign that things were healing, but he didn't feel much like he was healing. He was tired, more than he should be, and he knew both Frank and Nancy had noticed, or he wouldn't have been left behind in this chair.

He gave Newell a smile. "So... um... my brother's kind of under a lot of stress right now. The whole seeing a dead woman thing..."

"Understandable," Newell said. "I admit, if one of us had seen Madeline, we'd be upset. Overjoyed, in some respects, but still upset. I don't think there's a person here who wouldn't love to know that Madeline is alive. We all adored her, despite what your brother thinks."

Joe grimaced. "Look, it's not that—Frank questions everything and everyone these days. It's... He has to. It's... a very long story, but he has reasons. And issues, I guess you could say. We were actually not just here to track down a woman who gave him papers. We're trying to deal with the papers themselves. We've already spoken to the notary, who said by his opinion they were legal, which led us back here and—"

"I'm sorry. What papers?"

They hadn't mentioned them yet, had they? They were all too wrapped up in this Madeline woman and what she might mean to have discussed the papers that had sent them down this whole twisted path. Joe swallowed, trying to find the right tactic.

"When this Madeline lookalike came to see my brother," Joe began, "she gave Frank papers that were supposedly dealing with an inheritance."

Newell blinked. "Well, that is interesting. Madeline, of course, was never a courier, but we do have several that work for the firm. None that look like her, I'm afraid, and I don't recall any cases going into probate, but we can check our records. Perhaps, given that this notary was not directly employed by our firm, these documents are not as legal as the notary made them sound."

Joe nodded. "That, I think, would actually be a relief to my brother."

The lawyer smiled. "Well, then, let me see the documents you have. I can, I hope, shed some light on the situation. If it was handled by our firm, I can direct you to the right lawyer, or I can give your brother the peace of mind you say he needs—perhaps the document is not half as legal as that notary thinks. Remember, a notary is not a lawyer. He may have put his seal on the papers, but he did not draft them."

Joe knew that. He reached into his coat and took out the papers, passing them over to the lawyer, letting Newell see them. It wasn't like the guy's name wasn't on the letterhead.

Taking the papers, Newell started reading. Joe leaned back in his chair, knowing that he was going to be here for a while.


"You are sure you're okay to go back in there?"

Frank grimaced. He wasn't, but then he also didn't know that he was ever going to meet the definition of okay again. That was something Zollner had taken from him, and he was not likely to get it back. He glanced back toward the office before meeting Nancy's eyes.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I think that I'd like to just turn and run from all this, to go back to burying my head in the sand—or my bedroom, as the case may be—and staying there, but I don't know that I can. I have to do something about all of this. I... I was almost back on track. I still had doubts about what was real and what wasn't, but I was out of my room, again. I had finally convinced Joe to leave me alone for a day. This... was progress. And then that woman shows up at my door, and I lost it. All of it."

Nancy bit her lip. She held out a hand to him. "You haven't lost everything. Your family—minus Gertrude, I admit—is still here for you. And you still have friends. Your support network is not gone, and one thing Zollner never managed to take from you was that. He tried to, making you doubt everyone, but you still have all of us."

He forced a smile for her. She was trying to help, but she was right—the doubts made it hard to believe he had anyone. Plus, Zollner had used the people in his life, some of the people he was closest to—against him. Against the world, even.

"Let's go get Joe. I think he should have wrapped up the conversation by now, and even if he didn't, we're probably going to have to force him into a bed soon. We know your brother. He does not know when to quit."

"That's true enough," Frank agreed, and she gave his hand a squeeze before tugging him forward, back toward the office. They could collect his brother and go.

"Ah, Mr. Hardy," Newell said as Nancy opened the door for them. "I've just been looking over the papers your brother gave me."

Frank tensed. "And?"

"And I'm afraid I do recognize the documents in question. I remember fielding several questions about the complexity of the bequest," the lawyer answered, making Frank feel sick. He grabbed the doorframe, trying to keep himself steady. Nancy gave him a look, not too different from the one Joe had. "All and all, it is some of Madeline's best work."

Frank gagged. "Madeline wrote that will? That's not—you said she died two years ago. That cannot be the document she was working on before she died. No. Not possible."

Newell shook his head. "I'm certain it is. I didn't see it in its entirety, but I recognize passages of it, and I know that it might not seem like it due to the legalese, but this has Madeline's voice all over it. This is her work."

"It can't be," Frank insisted. "You said she died two years ago—I didn't—the case that put me on Zollner's radar, the one on campus... That was only a little over a year ago. Maybe a year and a half, all told, even with the recovery and... No. Something is wrong here."

"Are you sure you're not wrong about the dates? You did lose a lot of time when you were kidnapped and—"

"I know what day it was when I started looking into the thefts," Frank insisted. "It hasn't been two years. That will has to be fake. It has to be."

"Frank—"

"Zollner didn't even know me two years ago."