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Note: I do not own the rights to the Nancy Drew characters or books. Nor do I own the rights to the ND/HB super mystery series, from which I took inspiration for this story and any others I write, which feature the above characters.
Nancy's dad was watching her thoughtfully, as she spoke to Frank on the phone. When she hung up, she asked what he was thinking about.
"Oh, nothing much." His brow creased as he toyed with his teaspoon. "You know, I said that Chircop fellow looked familiar. Do you remember that?"
Nancy nodded. "Yeah. I'm still waiting on that one. Have you remembered how?"
Carson Drew shook his head. "No. I haven't. I think I might have met him for work. But I'm meeting with an old colleague soon. Would you like me to ask him?"
Nancy said she would, and Mr. Drew excused himself for another phone call. When he returned, he needed to go meet with some more people. He asked Bess to join him, as there were going to be lots of meetings about what to do with the crippled remnants of the conference. But he reassured his daughter that he'd speak with his friend and let her know how he knew of Chircop if his memories were jogged. Nancy knew it was a big ask, what with his busy schedule, but Carson Drew had never let her down. And she didn't expect that he'd start now.
Nancy stayed where she sat and ordered another coffee, waited for Frank to return from his trip with Joe. As she waited, she opened up her new laptop and searched for Karen Chircop in the FBI files. At first, her laptop made a sound of complaint, indicating that some of the files in her search were classified to rank above hers. So, Nancy adjusted her search and was satisfied to see that it returned results that she could view.
As the waitress drew closer to hand her a cup of steaming coffee, Nancy dipped the screen down to hide the confidential information it showed.
She gave a smooth smile and thanked the server, then returned to her work when the coast was clear. It made her feel a pang, as she saw the now deceased Chircop's photo on the application file that had appeared under the surname "Chircop."
She wondered how their working relationship might have developed, had he lived. It had been going so well. He was so different from her other superiors. It had put her off, sure, but Nancy had been wrong about people before, and she'd been ready to concede that he might be a fresh air in the otherwise stuffy regimental affair that was the FBI's hierarchy.
She had so many questions, and she hated that some of them might never be answered. Nancy's mind started to return to the blame she'd been putting on herself, all day. She had no time to go there. She had to focus.
Karen Chircop. There. She clicked the third link down. The small amounts of information she could glean from her search showed that Deputy Assistant Director Luke Chircop's older sister was a sergeant who worked for the Bureau of Detectives within the Chicago PD. She had been promoted shortly after the death of her patrol partner, Jerry Simmons.
Her career was pretty uninteresting. She'd pulled over a few cars that weren't registered, fined a few people who had firearms, and did not possess a FOID or firearm owner ID card. But mostly, her achievements seemed to be for the police boxing team, and defensive driving programs offered by law enforcement.
Discouraged, Nancy glanced at her FOID and did a double-take. Her photo looked familiar. It showed a narrow face, with eyes the same shade as her brother Luke's. Nancy pushed through the memories of those eyes, trained on hers, unseeing and blank, and tried to remember where she'd seen Sergeant Karen Chircop before.
Then, it hit her. The female police officer who had stopped her, when Nancy was searching for the shooter. Had the officer carried a gun? Yes, she had. Nancy. Could see it now… if she scrunched her eyes closed, she could picture the cocked Sig Sauer P320, standard issue. It was a neat pistol; one Nancy had used before. But could it shoot Luke Chircop? Possibly. But why would Karen Chircop kill her brother?
She couldn't see anything in their files that hinted at any animosity. Besides, she had no reason to think Karen Chircop was involved. The female cop had merely stopped Nancy, who was armed, in a room where a senior FBI official had just been shot to death. That was normal. To be expected. But it was interesting that her partner had been murdered. Was there a possible link between the two cases?
Nancy was relieved when Frank pulled up outside the café in his new hire car.
"Am I glad to see you!" she said as he walked towards her. She started putting her laptop away and rose, giving him a quick kiss.
"I don't know, are you?" he pulled back to look intently at her. His eyes roved her face, then her body, searching to see if she was okay. It was a caring gesture. But it made her feel a thrill, as he sought out all her familiar features in such an intimate, transparent way.
Joe stole the remains of her coffee and sunk into Carson's vacated chair. He looked exhausted; Nancy realized. He'd changed clothes, but she could imagine the blood smeared on his earlier attire. They'd all be messed up for a while, she thought.
"Are you okay?" Frank asked Nancy, just as she asked the same thing of Joe.
There was a beat, then the three laughed nervously.
"Oh, you know," Joe said. "My dad is missing, and I couldn't save some guy."
"You tried. You did what you could," Nancy whispered.
"I know. Thanks."
Frank knelt beside Nancy's chair and twisted his fingers through hers. He squeezed a little too hard. But she didn't mind. He was close. And he cared.
"And we'll find your dad," she said to both of them. "He'll be okay."
"We know. But I'm starting to get worried. This case… it's big…. Drugs are always bad. And police corruption is even worse. But now, we're seeing a trail of bodies. And if it involves the FBI as well?" Frank whistled softly, still gripping Nancy's fingers in his. "Well, let's just say… I almost don't want to find out what we've got into."
"Well, we've got backup." Grimly, Nancy filled the two brothers in on what her conversation with O'Sullivan. "My friend Finn is coming to help out. You remember him, right?"
"Oh, yeah."
Joe snorted, despite himself. "Yep. Frank remembers his charming Irish competition well."
"It's not like that! Besides, he's got contacts. It'll be good to have a fresh pair of eyes on this mess. Come on. Let's find Bess." Nancy laid a few notes and a tip on the table, waved to her waitress to let her know it was there, then she grabbed her jacket and lead the way back out into the street.
As they made for the car, Joe's phone rang. It was his mom. What was he supposed to say?
"Hey, mom. I was just about to call you." It was a white lie, but he wasn't sure how to tell her that he was paralyzed by fear, unsure of how he was supposed to express his feelings. He told her what he'd found out, promised to let her know if there was anything else.
"I'll send you his files," she said after a beat. "I've got some notes here. The name Rhodes sounds familiar. And I know he has some newspaper clippings from the Simmons murders. You know me. I try not to pry, but I slept in his office last night. Joe, your dad… he's had scrapes like this before. I know he'll be okay. But god, I'm worried…"
"Maybe he did this himself, mom. We know he was onto something, so he's probably just doing it on the DL. You know, he'll let us know what-"
"The DL, Joseph?"
"Dow low. He's probably following a lead."
"Okay. Well, I love you. Would you put your brother on?"
As Frank talked to his mom, Joe was distracted by the sight of a familiar blonde approaching. So, Bess had found them. The sight of her filled him with residual warmth. Bess was a summer breeze personified, smelling of flowers and freshening the stale weight of dread that was in the air all around him.
She gave Nancy a hug and Joe a kiss on the cheek.
"Are we all holding up?"
Nancy shrugged.
"I'll be holding up better if you buy me dinner and tell me how great I look," Joe flirted automatically.
She gave him a look of consideration. "Okay. It sounds like a date."
"You two," Nancy said. "I'm going to check out the stage, see if there's anything I missed. Do you want to come along?"
A few hours later, their grumbling stomachs drove Joe and Bess to a group of food trucks on a green park slope. They had hotdogs with their shoes off, sitting in the grass. They ate in companionable silence, enjoying the muted sunset and the sounds of idle conversation as other diners drifted from truck to truck with loaded containers.
"Screw fine-dining," Bess said at last. "This is perfect."
"Yeah, it is." Joe looked over at her, realized that she had a smear of ketchup, just next to her lip. Without thinking, he raised his index finger to wipe it off.
He froze, staring into her wide blue eyes.
"Joe," she said.
"You had-"
He broke off, as she surged forward, kissing him with an enthusiasm he'd been unprepared for. It wasn't a flirty kiss. It was a kiss with feeling. A kiss with passion.
"What was that for?" he asked as they pulled apart for air. He'd kissed her back, he knew that. But he felt confused. It had really come out of the blue. Not that he was complaining.
"I…" she looked down at her hands, blushing cutely. "I… I know it's a bad time and we're all worried, but… I just… I can't hide it anymore. I think… well, I think I like you for real. I want to be with you, Joe. I'm going crazy. I am crazy. About you."