Sorry for the little delay in posting. I was sick again. But nothing to fear. I'm on the mend, and nothing helps me to feel better than writing and posting. I hope everyone is doing well. Remember to give me a review if you like this chapter, it'll make me feel even better!

Nancy's head spun. She felt sick.

Finn detected her distress and quickly reached out a hand to support her. "I know, it's a lot to take in. But nothing's going to happen at," he checked his watch, "midnight. You probably won't hear anything until the morning. So, I recommend you get some rest."

Nancy groaned. "Yeah. Right. I'll totally be able to sleep after hearing that."

Finn shifted, glancing at the door.

"Wait. I know you need to go but I have some questions. Why do they have my gun? If I was sitting right next to him, I couldn't have been then one to fire the shot."

"Nancy, I happened to overhear a phone call. I don't know."

"Okay, so why do they suspect me?"

"They got a tip. Something like that, from what I could hear. Maybe the tip happened to include your weapon. But… I think this is all just a plot to scare you off. Someone's pulling the strings, Nancy. So, keep your eyes open."

"Someone in the FBI? The Chicago PD?" Nancy was troubled. "You're saying there's a conspiracy?"

"Search me. I'm just the messenger."

"Of course. Thank you, Finn. I appreciate your help."

"Any time. Well, except now. I'm late for my replacement flight."

"I won't keep you."

Nancy promised her friend she'd try to get some rest, but Nancy didn't even get to bed. She paced up and down before deciding to pull out her phone and call O'Sullivan. She was actually surprised when he picked up. But he sounded distinctly rumpled.

"Any reason why you're calling me so late, Drew?" he demanded.

"I'm sorry, sir. I wouldn't… but…. I need to know what's going on."

"What do you mean "what's going on?" Drew?"

"I mean, what cause do the CPD have, to confiscate my weapon as evidence, when I've only been suspended? I haven't even had my appeal hearing yet, and I haven't been approached in any way, to explain how I'm suddenly the suspect in the murder of my supervisor. It's absurd. I was sitting right next to him in a crowded room-"

"I'm going to stop you right there. Have you been using drugs? Drinking?"

"You know me. You know my record. I've been responsible, kept my head above water. I've performed my duties, but there have been roadblocks. Chircop was uncooperative, and while I take responsibility for his death, it hasn't even been noted that security at the venue failed to protect him, not to mention the police and law enforcement present-"

"Alright. So, you've been suspended? And now you're a suspect?"

"Yes sir."

"I was never informed. This is highly irregular. Alright, sit tight. Keep your head down. Cooperate with the CPD until we sort this mess out. I'll need to speak with my superiors, find out what I can. But, until then, you'll need to stay put."

When Frank woke, he had a missed call from Nancy. He was surprised he'd missed it, but after all, he'd slept like the dead. His sleep had been interrupted by nightmares featuring his dad's ashen face, wedding rings, and Karen Chircop's dark clothed figure creeping through the shadows. When he woke to the sound of a slamming door, he thought it was a gunshot.

He gathered his surroundings then called Nancy.

She was with her father. But she filled him in on the events from the night before.

Frank had never loved Finn McNamara becoming such a big part of his girlfriend's life, but he only felt gratitude as she told him how Finn had put his career at risk to help her out. When those feelings of thankfulness faded, he only felt shocked.

How was Nancy a suspect? It didn't make sense.

He could hear Carson Drew in the background, cautioning her not to fly off the handle without a word from the police themselves. He was right, of course. It was all just hearsay at this point. All the same, Finn seemed to be on the ball. At least he'd given them a head start.

"Did you have any reason to want Chircop dead?" he asked urgently.

"Frank, I hardly knew the man. He was my boss. We had no personal interaction."

"Is that true, though? You said he was overly friendly, flirtatious even."

"So, what? I shot him?" Nancy snapped. "Please, Frank, be sensible."

"I am. You have to be honest, Nance. If you say you had no motive, you need to be consistent. He wasn't the easiest guy to be around, and any prosecutor could argue that he was unprofessional, making you uncomfortable. It's just how it is."

"And you'd know, because you'd be the one coming up with those outlandish theories, throwing anything and hoping it sticks, right?"

Frank stayed silent. It was unlike Nancy Drew to get so worked up. She was normally so clear and collected. And she knew the law, like the back of her hand. She'd grown up surrounded by leather tomes and meetings, where suited men and women spoke in measured tones.

Nancy seemed to realize that she was being unfair. She sucked in a breath. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. I'm just… I'm not great at this, being on the other side of suspicion. But I appreciate your insight. I do. It means the world to me, that you believe in me, care enough to evaluate things. It means more than if you'd just blindly hand me platitudes."

"If I thought that would help, I'd say it will all be okay."

"But it won't."

Frank noticed that Joe was gesturing for him to hang up. He waved his brother on, mouthing that he'd only be another moment. Then, he said to Nancy, "I'll come to see you soon, okay? Joe just needs me right now, but we can talk more about this."

"That sounds good."

"Now, just imagine I'm holding you close. I'm stroking your hair, okay? And no one can hurt you. Not when we've got each other." As he spoke, Frank briefly closed his eyes and imagined his words. He could almost feel her slender body between his arms, her fine, soft strands of hair between his fingers.

"Thanks, Frank. I… love you."

"I love you too."

Frank wanted the image to remain in his mind, but Joe snapped him out of his safe, soft reverie. "Are you done yet?" Joe demanded rudely.

"Yes. What do you want that couldn't wait? Nancy's kind of in crisis-"

Joe hesitated, evidently curious. But then, he blazed on. "okay, but I just found something out. I was on the phone with public records and I found out that warehouse 316 was owned by the family of Brone Chircop until last year when it was sold to a now-defunct trading company. Doesn't that seem significant to you?"

"Nancy Elizabeth Drew?"

Nancy looked up from her position at the hotel front desk, where she was glancing through her messages. A heavyset female police officer stood before, in full uniform. Behind her, a male office and the familiar form of Karen Chircop stood, alert and ready.

"Can I help you?" Nancy said pleasantly, although her heart was pounding.

"I'm here to advise you that you're under arrest for the murder of Luke Chircop."