Thanks all for sticking with me! I've finished all my school work so I have free time on my hands, now!

Note: I do not own the rights to ND/HB la la la...

Nancy:

Frank told Nancy that he had to go pick Callie up and take her to the art fair. While the thought of Frank and his ex together didn't fill Nancy with warm, fuzzy feelings, she knew he had to do it. If he'd said he wouldn't, she'd be the first to encourage him to "do the right thing." That phrase had been ingrained in her since she was a young girl. And her dad hadn't just spouted his altruistic ethics all day long, he'd actively demonstrated them, taking on pro bono work, volunteering on the weekends and befriending all the neighbors. Nancy was no different. And helping Callie was "the right thing" to do.

That didn't mean Nancy had to like it.

"I'll tag along," Joe said quickly.

"Joe, I trust Frank to-"

"I have extra muscles, okay? If there are heavy paintings..." Joe trailed off, wounded.

"Thanks, Joe. I appreciate it." Frank's face colored. "I know you're going to be okay, but if I go to get Callie..."

"I'll call a cab." Nancy rose on tiptoe to give Frank a quick kiss on the cheek. She didn't linger, even though she wanted to. Just the feeling of his warmth under her hand, the smell of him... it made her weak in the knees as if she could just stumble into him. If she did, he'd dutifully wrap those strong arms around her, as if he didn't have a single responsibility in his life aside from her.

And that's why she had to be the one to flash a smile and stride off in search of a ride. She didn't have far to go. The main street had a row of yellow cabs dribbling along, waiting for patrons to exit the assorted Italian restaurants. Their exhaust formed small plumes of cloud in the frigid air and Nancy clapped her gloved hands together as she moved toward the front of the queue.

Her cabbie knew all the backstreets and she was at the FBI HQ in a matter of minutes. But she made the most of each second, rubbing warmth into her limbs and watching her breath like smoke in the heated backseat.

She hurried up to the reception and was waved through to B1, where the FBI had their interrogation rooms. Recent bureaucratic bullshit had meant that "interrogation" had been replaced with "question" but she'd "questioned" enough suspects to know that there was a bold black line between the two concepts and they couldn't be used interchangeably. You questioned a kid who took the last cookie. You interrogated someone with plans to build a bomb.

Nancy swiped her pass and entered one of the viewing rooms. Singh was already there.

"Drew," Singh said with a curt nod.

Nancy took a seat and looked through the one-way glass window.

McNamara and the other agent were sitting opposite Vinnie, who had a Doctor Pepper in front of him. Typical. That same drink would have come from the vending machine Nancy used between meetings. The vending machine she had to jam sweaty dimes into when a suspect would get a drink or three for free. But it served a purpose: DNA... fingerprints... something to put the suspect at ease.

"No offense but I'm not sure we've got enough on this guy," Singh said.

"You mean it's not enough that the guy had a gun on me?" Nancy said incredulously. She felt her face grow hot. Calm down, Nancy. Get a grip, she told herself. But still. Although she'd been in worse situations she still felt that tingly feeling of relief and exhaustion in the wake of the morning's events. Chasing known felons and being held at gunpoint definitely had that effect on a person, and it made her fuse more than a little short.

"No. I mean that he's a VIP at this event and that he has a shirt that looked like the one someone was wearing when they threw a brick at you?" Singh adjusted her glasses. "It's hard enough to say, let alone convey in a way that sounds like probable cause." Singh grinned unexpectedly. "Lucky he had a gun on him, and lucky he chose to wave it at a federal agent. Otherwise, we'd have to trick him into walking in here."

Nancy frowned and said nothing. She didn't like being used as a pawn. Besides, Frank was a civilian. So was Joe, as of recently. She hadn't been the only one in the firing line. If anything had happened to the Hardy brothers... She glanced down at her phone. Nothing. She wondered how the boys were getting on.

"Something more important?"

"No. Sorry. Just... I'm keeping an eye on the time."

Singh started to say something but stopped as McNamara began speaking.

She shot Nancy a disapproving look but diverted her attention to the three figures gathered around the table. McNamara was shuffling through a pile of papers. Vinnie's name was on the front but Nancy knew the rest was probably blank paper. It was more for the show, to intimidate. And he was saying, "it looks like you didn't have such a great time in prison last time. You were sent to the infirmary twice in six months? Do you want to go back there?"

"No. But I've got no choice, do I? I almost shot someone!"

"Yeah. And that person is a federal agent, so a judge won't look too kindly on that. But if you help us out..."

Vinnie wet his lips and clamped both his hands around his soda can. He rocked nervously in his chair. If it had been detached, it would have risen and fallen with his violent movements. Instead, Nancy could just hear the amplified shuffling of his clothes against the cold metal. Screech... screech... the legs stayed stubborn, fixed to the floor. Vinnie passed a hand over his brow and his eyes skidded from McNamara to the other agent.

"I want my own cell. I want protection."

"You know we can't guarantee that-"

"Just say you'll try!" the irate man shouted.

"We'll do what we can."

"Fine. Fine... fine..." Vinnie patted his pockets frantically. "I need a smoke. I want a smoke."

"You can't have a smoke until you talk to us. Why did you threaten a federal officer?"

"She was asking questions... she knew I threw a brick at her. I think the guy with her saw me."

Nancy stopped suddenly. What other guy was he talking about? She'd been alone when Vinnie threw the brick. Hadn't she?

She didn't have time to work it all out. Vinnie was obviously on something, so it was no surprise that when he started talking he was twitching, he'd become a mess. He practically slipped from his seat and onto the floor. He spread his arms out on the table and rested his head between them. He moaned and rocked again like he couldn't stay still.

"I had to, you know. I had no choice. I was meeting a friend and I saw Nancy Drew walk out of a boutique. I called him and asked him what I needed to do. I needed to do something. I knew she was sniffing around. I knew she needed to be stopped."

"Who did you call?" McNamara asked, intently.

"I called my brother. Ted. He told me I had to get rid of her."

Frank:

Callie was waiting on the sidewalk when he arrived. She started shoving boxes and bags into the trunk no sooner had he pulled up alongside her.

"Hey, Cal. It's okay!" Frank said, jumping out to help her. He put a hand on either shoulder, holding her back so he could examine her. She looked pale, drawn. There were lines under her eyes that he'd never seen before. "We've got this. Come on. Let Joe and I do the heavy lifting."

"I'm not a sissy. I can do stuff-"

"-You've done all the work, Cal. Just let us do this bit, okay?" Frank wiped the tears from her eyes and ushered her into the backseat. Then, he and Joe finished packing up the car and took off for the art fair. Frank was fiddling with the controls, trying to find a station with good music, when his Bluetooth icon began to flash.

Nancy's gorgeous face appeared on his dash. She was trying to call.

"Hey, Nance. What's up?"

"Frank, are you on speaker?"

Frank glanced at his brother, who wordlessly handed him his headset. Frank adjusted the earpiece then said, "not anymore. What's up?"

"I just... Vinnie Hollis said he was working for his brother, Ted. He said Ted told him to throw the brick. I don't know why yet... I don't know how... but I think he's involved in all of this. I think he's going to bomb the art fair."