I'm back with another chapter! Thanks for all the lovely responses and feedback, as always.

In response to my prompt last chapter, I got into Nancy Drew by picking up The Spider Sapphire Mystery at a thrift shop. My mom was a fan as a kid, so she was excited when I got into the books. However, she hadn't remembered them being violent, so she did question their appropriateness for an eleven-year-old when she heard there were guns!

Anyways, I'm more a contemporary crime/thriller fan, and of course, I love all the feminist classics. But I will pick up an ND/HB Supermystery book every once in a while!

What do the rest of you read? X

"They've read your rights?" the attorney asked Nancy, as he joined her in the interview room. He looked vaguely familiar. A similar age to her father. Nancy could vaguely remember him being around when she was a young girl.

He seemed to read her thoughts. "David Fowler, of Fowler, Folk & Associates."

"You really chose your partner for the alliteration, huh?"

Mr. Fowler grinned. "Dry. Feisty. I like it. You probably don't remember me, but I worked with your father on a few cases when you were, well… a lot smaller. I'm glad to see you've still got your spark. It seems like you've really pissed the CPD off, somehow."

Nancy started to reply when her arresting officer entered the room with an unfamiliar uniformed man. She bit her tongue.

"You ready to proceed?" the arresting officer asked Fowler.

"Sure." Nancy wished she had Fowler's calm. He sat back in his chair with his hands folded in front of him. He looked alert but distinctly unruffled. He reminded her of her father. After all, they both wore similar glasses and distinguish graying hair. It was soothing to have him by her side. If she couldn't have her dad by her side, she'd take what she could get.

"Okay. I'm Sergeant Ramsell. This is Officer Kopp." She listed off the date and time and introduced Nancy and her attorney. Then, she told them the interview was being recorded. Ramsell outlined the reasons for which Nancy was being detained.

"What would you say your relationship with Luke Chircop was like?"

Nancy explained that she hardly knew her superior. She remembered what Frank said, sticking to the facts. And she must have done well because Fowler gave her a small nod of encouragement. "He was my superior. His protection was my assignment," Nancy finished.

"We'll come back to that later. What were your movements, the day of the shooting?"

Nancy tried to hide her frustration. She felt like she was on a carousel and everyone was watching her go around in circles, waiting for her to fall off. But she wasn't going to do that. She was determined to prove her innocence and find out why she had become the central suspect. It just made no sense. She'd have to keep an eye on the police, maybe do a bit of her own detective work. She'd have to see if Ramsell would let anything on.

After a few more repetitive, unnecessary questions, Nancy leaned forward. "I'm curious about why I'm a suspect, here. What evidence do you have to detain me?"

Ramsell and Kopp glanced at each other. Ramsell cleared her throat.

"We received a tip."

"From whom?"

"That's none of your concern-"

"Meaning you don't know," Fowler interjected in a matter-of-fact tone. He made a note.

"We don't need to reveal our source at this juncture. But we can reveal that they had some incriminating evidence, which compelled us to look into you as a suspect, Ms. Drew." Ramsell frowned at Nancy and drew some print outs from a folder.

"That's Special Agent Drew-" Fowler started.

"Her status as an FBI agent is not relevant-" Kopp interrupted.

"That's not strictly true. Special Agent Drew has contacts and resources not available to civilians," Ramsell said flatly. She slid the pages across the desk. "In fact, these email correspondences are between you and your boyfriend who has contacts in law enforcement, too, does he not?"

Nancy glanced at Fowler who shook his head.

"Mr. Hardy is a prosecutor. Whatever angle you're trying here isn't going to work, Sergeant Ramsell. He works with authorities. You'd be better off insinuating I have contacts because I work with clients in the criminal justice system. Now, what are these?" he motioned toward the pages, which Nancy was already poring over.

"For the benefit of the recording, I, Ramsell, have just shown Special Agent Drew print outs of email correspondence between the former and her boyfriend. In these emails, Drew says she wants to "get rid" of the deceased, as he was harassing with her."

Nancy shook her head. "I never said that. Not in email. Not in person. Besides, this is an old email of mine. I haven't used it since college. And that's not Frank's email, either."

"Are you sure? The email has been used to sign you up for Starbucks and other loyalty programs. And it's been used to send emails to family and friends, consistently, over the last six months. How would you explain that?"

Nancy couldn't. Her mind was blank. And there was screaming in her ears.

"My client has no comment," Fowler jumped in, his posture suddenly changing. Gone was the relaxed, confident attorney. In his place sat a tightly wound, stressed man, who was hungrily grasping the pages, eyes frantically raking their small font.

Nancy had been sitting in her cell for several hours when her father visited. He told her he didn't have long, so he lingered outside her cell. She knew he was telling the truth, but she also suspected she didn't want to stay for other reasons. One of them was that he didn't want to say or do anything to further cement her in the glare of the police's searchlight. The other was that he didn't want to have to see her like this, huddled up in the corner of a solitary cell. With this thought in mind, she put on a strong front.

She held her chin high and planted a smile on her face.

"How are you? How's Bess?" she asked.

Carson shook his head. "We're managing just fine. Have you eaten?"

"As much as I could stomach."

"Prison food isn't Michelin star, that's for sure. Is it giving you a stomach-ache?"

Nancy realized with a flicker of guilt that she'd worried him. "It's fine. Remember, I subsisted on cafeteria food, at college, and during training at Quantico. Speaking of which, have you heard anything from them? I haven't."

"They'll be letting the CPD take it from here until something changes. They're not going to tread on toes for a single agent. You know that, honey."

Nancy retrieved her smile before it slipped. "Ah, of course."

"Anyway, I need to go. But I brought you something to cheer you up." Carson touched Nancy's fingers through the bars of the cell. It was a gentle, fatherly gesture. That is until Nancy felt the roughness of paper between his fingertips. A small, lined page was folded into a tiny square, and it parted his hand to join hers.

They exchanged a small. Then, he was gone.

Nancy made sure she was alone before she retreated to her corner. Then, in the deepness of a shadow, she unfurled the page and rested it against her exposed forearm, lying on her stomach, she managed to feign rest, as she read the contents of the note.

Missing you. Loving you. Wasting time until you come back. Joe says I'm being a geek. But what else am I supposed to do?

Bless Frank Hardy. What seemed to be a benign note, the rambling of significant other biding time until he saw his imprisoned partner, was actually a clever clue. Frank Hardy might be called a geek by some. But he'd only really been one in college, when he enjoyed gaming, hacking, pulling apart computers, to offset the stress of law school.

He'd spoken to Fowler. And he was going to work out where those emails had come from. Nancy swiftly kissed the note, then she folded it carefully, making sure the folds all lined up. Then, she slid it safely inside her sock and lay down. She could rest, knowing she had such good friends watching her back. If only she could help them out.