Disclaimer: Characters do not belong to me, but to the Stratemeyer Syndicate and Simon & Schuster. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: Thanks for all the kind comments and continued interest in the story. See, I updated faster this time;)
****
Bay of Peril
by Kristen Elizabeth
****
"Paging Dr. Thompson. Dr. Thompson to OB, stat."
"Frank? Are you awake?"
He opened his eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the harsh flood of the overhead lights. Nancy looked down at him, her delicate brow crinkled with worry. "What time is it?" he asked her, his voice hoarse.
"Nearly midnight." She sat down in the plastic chair next to his. "You've had quite a nap."
Frank sat up straighter and drew in a deep breath. "Where's Joe?"
"I sent him for coffee. He needed something to do." Nancy reached for his hand and surrounded it with both of her cool palms. "A nurse came out awhile ago and said it was still going to be an hour or so."
"That's not good, right?" He pulled away from her and scrubbed his hands up and down his face, feeling a faint shadow of stubble on his chin. "The longer the surgery takes…"
Nancy quickly interrupted him. "I don't think you can measure these things. You heard the ER doctor. Patrick has a very good chance of making it through this. Try to concentrate on that."
He nodded, but there was no emotion behind the movement. "This shouldn't have happened to him, Nan. Whatever he's mixed up in…he didn't deserve this."
"Of course not," she murmured, resting her forehead on his shoulder. "Frank, I'm so sorry." Before he could stop her, she continued, "I should have gotten closer, tried to get a look at the man he was arguing with. Maybe if they had seen me, they would have stopped and Patrick wouldn't have…"
"Or maybe the bastard would have taken a shot at you," Frank cut her off. "No, Nancy, none of this was your fault in any way whatsoever. And if anything had happened to you…" He stopped, shaking his head. "I don't even want to go there."
Nancy watched him as he leaned forward, supporting himself with his elbows on his knees. "After everything that's happened today, I want you know," she tentatively began. "I've always…I mean…there's always been feelings that…that I've always had and…"
"Nancy."
She blinked. "What?"
"Not now."
Just then, Joe reappeared carrying a paper container with three cups of coffee. "Caffeine has arrived," he said, rather grimly. "Ah, Sleeping Beauty is awake."
Frank ignored the comment, but took the cup his brother offered him. "Where's George?"
"I..um…I talked her into going back to the hotel to get some sleep." With trembling hands, Nancy opened the top of her drink and took a small sip.
"You should have gone with her," Frank said, gulping his coffee down like it was water.
Nancy froze with her cup halfway to her mouth. "Do you want me to go?"
"It's not like any of us being here is really going to help fix that gaping hole in Patrick's chest."
Joe gave his brother a discreet kick. "I think what Frank is trying to say is that he's worried about your well-being and wants you to get a good night's sleep so you'll be fresh to tackle your case in the morning." He nodded. "Yeah."
Frank set his coffee down on the shiny linoleum floor. "Why isn't Sarah here yet?"
"She was a basket-case on the phone when I broke the news," Joe told him, giving Nancy an apologetic look. "But still…you know Sarah; she's probably trying to figure out whether it would better for her to dump Patrick or help him recover."
"I know Sarah," Frank echoed. "And here she comes."
Nancy and Joe looked across the waiting room where Patrick's girlfriend had just entered, looking polished for that particular time of night. Her hair was neatly pulled back and her makeup was impeccable. She spotted them and started to make her way over. "Frank…Joe." Only her voice gave away any emotion; it was tiny and worried. "Is he going to be okay?"
The brothers exchanged a quick glance, but before they could answer, Nancy stood up. "Maybe I should go. I don't want to get in anyone's…" She trailed off as she caught a glance at Sarah's blond waves, smoothed back from her face and held in place by something very familiar.
The one-of-a-kind hairclip that had been stolen along with her handbag.
"You're not in the way," Joe assured her when Frank didn't. "Far from it, Nan."
Nancy swallowed. Her brain was processing things too quickly; she could barely keep up. "Still…I think…" She took a deep breath. "Frank, can I talk to you for a second?"
He stood with much effort and followed her a few yards across the waiting area. "What's wrong?"
She refrained from telling him that she could ask him the same question. "I don't want to jump to conclusions, especially now, but I think Patrick is more involved in all of this than just being in over his head."
Frank frowned. "What does that mean?"
"Sarah's clip." Nancy paused. "It's mine, Frank. The one the mugger took."
He discreetly glanced over his shoulder; Sarah was sobbing into Joe's shoulder, her ponytail and the colorful clip that adorned plainly visible. "How can you be sure?"
"It was handmade by hippie throwbacks on Haight Street, Frank," she replied. "There isn't another one like it in the world. Somehow, Sarah got a hold of my clip."
"Are you implying that…"
"I'm not implying anything until we ask her where she got it."
Frank sighed almost to himself. "Nancy, in all probability the mugger went through the contents of your purse and decided to scrap whatever he didn't want. Sarah could have just happened to buy the clip wherever it was sold."
"I thought you said you didn't believe in coincidences anymore," she challenged, impatience creeping into her voice despite how much she tried to keep herself under control. "Frank, I have a gut feeling. I'm sorry, but I have to go with it."
"Her boyfriend, my good friend, is in surgery hanging onto his life by a single thread, and you're going to bother her about her hair clip?"
Nancy took a step back. "What…what's going on here? This is still an investigation, and I'm not doing anything out of the ordinary by following up on what could be a very important clue." Neither of them spoke for a long moment. "Are you afraid that maybe this isn't a coincidence? And if Sarah wasn't the mugger…then maybe someone else was? Someone like Patrick?"
"Patrick might be naïve enough to take money from the mob, but he would never, ever work for them. It's too much of stretch, Nancy. Too much."
"Don't you want to know for sure, though?"
"I don't need to question my friend," Frank shot back, hotly. "It's a matter of trust. I trust that Patrick wouldn't do anything like what you're suggesting."
His tone cut her to the core, but she pushed on. "Frank, we've always trusted each others intuitions, no matter what the circumstances were. You have to know that I'd never suggest Patrick was the mugger if there wasn't hard evidence to back it up."
"Your hard evidence is a hair clip, Nancy."
"It's more than that!" After taking a second to collect herself, she lowered her voice. "Last night, Joe said that Patrick left them at the club to go get his ID."
Frank crossed his arms. "And?"
"He also said that the club was only a block or two from Curacao. What if Patrick left the club not to get his ID, but to…"
"Set fire to the restaurant? No." He shook his head. "Patrick doesn't have that in him. He'd never do anything to hurt me or my friends."
"But how was he to know that anyone was in the restaurant that late, much less that you might be one of them? Also, you saw how he reacted to you telling him about the fire last night, that you were almost caught in it. He looked horrified." Nancy moved closer to him. "It's mostly speculation at this point, but…"
Frank jerked away from her. "You've been doing this for years. You should know by now that speculation is just that. Speculation."
Her eyes narrowed to fight the hot tears that threatened to spring up. "Why are you being like this, Frank? I'm following a clue and you're acting like I'm trying crucify your friend. Do you think I'm enjoying this or something? "
"I don't know, Nancy. Are you?"
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to take them back. The wounded look that spread across her face was painful to witness. Knowing that he had put it there made him feel like the world's biggest bastard. "Nancy, I didn't…"
She held up her hand, and Frank could see it shaking. He wanted to take it in his, take back everything he'd said, and try to explain the anger and resentment he was feeling that had nothing to do with her, but had lashed out at her nonetheless. "You don't owe me any explanations." Her voice shook. "I'm just…" She reached for her purse. "Going to go. Um…have Joe call me when you know anything." Nancy started backing away before he could see the tears in her eyes.
"Nancy, wait! I'm…" He stopped because she was already at the elevators with her back facing him. "…sorry."
With Sarah's face permanently pressed into his shoulder, Joe watched his brother walk back over, looking properly ashamed. Frank sank into one seat. "Don't say a word," he said.
"Wasn't going to," Joe replied, curtly.
A few minutes passed with nothing but the buzz of the hospital and the sound of Sarah's muffled sobs. Finally, Frank glanced over at Patrick's girlfriend. "Sarah, can I ask you something?"
She lifted her head; her eyes were puffy and red with tears. Sniffing, she nodded. "Okay. Shoot."
"Where did you get that clip…the one in your hair?"
Sarah sniffed again, reaching up to touch the top of her head. "This? I got it…" Her face crumpled. "I got it from Patrick. It's not diamond earrings, but it's…it's the thought that counts, right? Oh god…he's just got to be okay!!"
Frank ran his hands through his hair. "Damnit!" He shot to his feet. "Joe, I have to…"
"Go." His brother jerked his head towards the elevator bank. "Apologize to her for whatever you did."
He hesitated. "I really messed up this time."
"I doubt it'll be the last," Joe shrugged.
****
Nancy shivered on the corner of the curb, waiting for the pedestrian light to come on. For the thirtieth time since she left the hospital, she wondered if she should just get a cab. But she steeled herself against the sweeping cold wind and crossed the street when the light changed. The walk would do her good, she decided. If she walked enough, maybe she could figure out what on earth had just happened. Even now as she thought about it, she wanted to cry. But she wouldn't. She wouldn't spend any tears. Whatever was bothering Frank had nothing to do with her. Nancy wiped her cheek. Nothing at all.
She was shivering, but she just kept walking, hoping that eventually she'd warm up. How had things gone so downhill, so fast? Was it just Patrick that had Frank so upset…or was it something she'd done? Nancy shook her head fervently. No, she wouldn't do that. It wasn't her fault. It was not her fault.
"Nancy!!"
His voice was recognizable even over the honks from the street. Nancy closed her eyes for a brief second before continuing on her way.
"Nancy, please! Wait!"
Something compelled her to stop after rounding a corner into an empty street illuminated by a lone light many feet away. Frank ran up behind her, but she didn't turn around. "What is it, Frank?"
He took a moment to catch his breath. "I've been trying to think of what I could possibly say to you all the way from that damn waiting room."
"You really don't need to…"
"Of course I do. Nancy…" He reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. "Of course I do."
She finally turned around, but she couldn't meet his eyes. "You're under a lot of stress. My speculations…"
Nancy never got to finish her sentence, and Frank never got the chance to correct her or apologize. The next thing either of them knew, something heavy slammed into the backs of their necks, and both of their worlds went black.
****
To Be Continued
Author's Notes: Thanks for all the kind comments and continued interest in the story. See, I updated faster this time;)
****
Bay of Peril
by Kristen Elizabeth
****
"Paging Dr. Thompson. Dr. Thompson to OB, stat."
"Frank? Are you awake?"
He opened his eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the harsh flood of the overhead lights. Nancy looked down at him, her delicate brow crinkled with worry. "What time is it?" he asked her, his voice hoarse.
"Nearly midnight." She sat down in the plastic chair next to his. "You've had quite a nap."
Frank sat up straighter and drew in a deep breath. "Where's Joe?"
"I sent him for coffee. He needed something to do." Nancy reached for his hand and surrounded it with both of her cool palms. "A nurse came out awhile ago and said it was still going to be an hour or so."
"That's not good, right?" He pulled away from her and scrubbed his hands up and down his face, feeling a faint shadow of stubble on his chin. "The longer the surgery takes…"
Nancy quickly interrupted him. "I don't think you can measure these things. You heard the ER doctor. Patrick has a very good chance of making it through this. Try to concentrate on that."
He nodded, but there was no emotion behind the movement. "This shouldn't have happened to him, Nan. Whatever he's mixed up in…he didn't deserve this."
"Of course not," she murmured, resting her forehead on his shoulder. "Frank, I'm so sorry." Before he could stop her, she continued, "I should have gotten closer, tried to get a look at the man he was arguing with. Maybe if they had seen me, they would have stopped and Patrick wouldn't have…"
"Or maybe the bastard would have taken a shot at you," Frank cut her off. "No, Nancy, none of this was your fault in any way whatsoever. And if anything had happened to you…" He stopped, shaking his head. "I don't even want to go there."
Nancy watched him as he leaned forward, supporting himself with his elbows on his knees. "After everything that's happened today, I want you know," she tentatively began. "I've always…I mean…there's always been feelings that…that I've always had and…"
"Nancy."
She blinked. "What?"
"Not now."
Just then, Joe reappeared carrying a paper container with three cups of coffee. "Caffeine has arrived," he said, rather grimly. "Ah, Sleeping Beauty is awake."
Frank ignored the comment, but took the cup his brother offered him. "Where's George?"
"I..um…I talked her into going back to the hotel to get some sleep." With trembling hands, Nancy opened the top of her drink and took a small sip.
"You should have gone with her," Frank said, gulping his coffee down like it was water.
Nancy froze with her cup halfway to her mouth. "Do you want me to go?"
"It's not like any of us being here is really going to help fix that gaping hole in Patrick's chest."
Joe gave his brother a discreet kick. "I think what Frank is trying to say is that he's worried about your well-being and wants you to get a good night's sleep so you'll be fresh to tackle your case in the morning." He nodded. "Yeah."
Frank set his coffee down on the shiny linoleum floor. "Why isn't Sarah here yet?"
"She was a basket-case on the phone when I broke the news," Joe told him, giving Nancy an apologetic look. "But still…you know Sarah; she's probably trying to figure out whether it would better for her to dump Patrick or help him recover."
"I know Sarah," Frank echoed. "And here she comes."
Nancy and Joe looked across the waiting room where Patrick's girlfriend had just entered, looking polished for that particular time of night. Her hair was neatly pulled back and her makeup was impeccable. She spotted them and started to make her way over. "Frank…Joe." Only her voice gave away any emotion; it was tiny and worried. "Is he going to be okay?"
The brothers exchanged a quick glance, but before they could answer, Nancy stood up. "Maybe I should go. I don't want to get in anyone's…" She trailed off as she caught a glance at Sarah's blond waves, smoothed back from her face and held in place by something very familiar.
The one-of-a-kind hairclip that had been stolen along with her handbag.
"You're not in the way," Joe assured her when Frank didn't. "Far from it, Nan."
Nancy swallowed. Her brain was processing things too quickly; she could barely keep up. "Still…I think…" She took a deep breath. "Frank, can I talk to you for a second?"
He stood with much effort and followed her a few yards across the waiting area. "What's wrong?"
She refrained from telling him that she could ask him the same question. "I don't want to jump to conclusions, especially now, but I think Patrick is more involved in all of this than just being in over his head."
Frank frowned. "What does that mean?"
"Sarah's clip." Nancy paused. "It's mine, Frank. The one the mugger took."
He discreetly glanced over his shoulder; Sarah was sobbing into Joe's shoulder, her ponytail and the colorful clip that adorned plainly visible. "How can you be sure?"
"It was handmade by hippie throwbacks on Haight Street, Frank," she replied. "There isn't another one like it in the world. Somehow, Sarah got a hold of my clip."
"Are you implying that…"
"I'm not implying anything until we ask her where she got it."
Frank sighed almost to himself. "Nancy, in all probability the mugger went through the contents of your purse and decided to scrap whatever he didn't want. Sarah could have just happened to buy the clip wherever it was sold."
"I thought you said you didn't believe in coincidences anymore," she challenged, impatience creeping into her voice despite how much she tried to keep herself under control. "Frank, I have a gut feeling. I'm sorry, but I have to go with it."
"Her boyfriend, my good friend, is in surgery hanging onto his life by a single thread, and you're going to bother her about her hair clip?"
Nancy took a step back. "What…what's going on here? This is still an investigation, and I'm not doing anything out of the ordinary by following up on what could be a very important clue." Neither of them spoke for a long moment. "Are you afraid that maybe this isn't a coincidence? And if Sarah wasn't the mugger…then maybe someone else was? Someone like Patrick?"
"Patrick might be naïve enough to take money from the mob, but he would never, ever work for them. It's too much of stretch, Nancy. Too much."
"Don't you want to know for sure, though?"
"I don't need to question my friend," Frank shot back, hotly. "It's a matter of trust. I trust that Patrick wouldn't do anything like what you're suggesting."
His tone cut her to the core, but she pushed on. "Frank, we've always trusted each others intuitions, no matter what the circumstances were. You have to know that I'd never suggest Patrick was the mugger if there wasn't hard evidence to back it up."
"Your hard evidence is a hair clip, Nancy."
"It's more than that!" After taking a second to collect herself, she lowered her voice. "Last night, Joe said that Patrick left them at the club to go get his ID."
Frank crossed his arms. "And?"
"He also said that the club was only a block or two from Curacao. What if Patrick left the club not to get his ID, but to…"
"Set fire to the restaurant? No." He shook his head. "Patrick doesn't have that in him. He'd never do anything to hurt me or my friends."
"But how was he to know that anyone was in the restaurant that late, much less that you might be one of them? Also, you saw how he reacted to you telling him about the fire last night, that you were almost caught in it. He looked horrified." Nancy moved closer to him. "It's mostly speculation at this point, but…"
Frank jerked away from her. "You've been doing this for years. You should know by now that speculation is just that. Speculation."
Her eyes narrowed to fight the hot tears that threatened to spring up. "Why are you being like this, Frank? I'm following a clue and you're acting like I'm trying crucify your friend. Do you think I'm enjoying this or something? "
"I don't know, Nancy. Are you?"
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to take them back. The wounded look that spread across her face was painful to witness. Knowing that he had put it there made him feel like the world's biggest bastard. "Nancy, I didn't…"
She held up her hand, and Frank could see it shaking. He wanted to take it in his, take back everything he'd said, and try to explain the anger and resentment he was feeling that had nothing to do with her, but had lashed out at her nonetheless. "You don't owe me any explanations." Her voice shook. "I'm just…" She reached for her purse. "Going to go. Um…have Joe call me when you know anything." Nancy started backing away before he could see the tears in her eyes.
"Nancy, wait! I'm…" He stopped because she was already at the elevators with her back facing him. "…sorry."
With Sarah's face permanently pressed into his shoulder, Joe watched his brother walk back over, looking properly ashamed. Frank sank into one seat. "Don't say a word," he said.
"Wasn't going to," Joe replied, curtly.
A few minutes passed with nothing but the buzz of the hospital and the sound of Sarah's muffled sobs. Finally, Frank glanced over at Patrick's girlfriend. "Sarah, can I ask you something?"
She lifted her head; her eyes were puffy and red with tears. Sniffing, she nodded. "Okay. Shoot."
"Where did you get that clip…the one in your hair?"
Sarah sniffed again, reaching up to touch the top of her head. "This? I got it…" Her face crumpled. "I got it from Patrick. It's not diamond earrings, but it's…it's the thought that counts, right? Oh god…he's just got to be okay!!"
Frank ran his hands through his hair. "Damnit!" He shot to his feet. "Joe, I have to…"
"Go." His brother jerked his head towards the elevator bank. "Apologize to her for whatever you did."
He hesitated. "I really messed up this time."
"I doubt it'll be the last," Joe shrugged.
****
Nancy shivered on the corner of the curb, waiting for the pedestrian light to come on. For the thirtieth time since she left the hospital, she wondered if she should just get a cab. But she steeled herself against the sweeping cold wind and crossed the street when the light changed. The walk would do her good, she decided. If she walked enough, maybe she could figure out what on earth had just happened. Even now as she thought about it, she wanted to cry. But she wouldn't. She wouldn't spend any tears. Whatever was bothering Frank had nothing to do with her. Nancy wiped her cheek. Nothing at all.
She was shivering, but she just kept walking, hoping that eventually she'd warm up. How had things gone so downhill, so fast? Was it just Patrick that had Frank so upset…or was it something she'd done? Nancy shook her head fervently. No, she wouldn't do that. It wasn't her fault. It was not her fault.
"Nancy!!"
His voice was recognizable even over the honks from the street. Nancy closed her eyes for a brief second before continuing on her way.
"Nancy, please! Wait!"
Something compelled her to stop after rounding a corner into an empty street illuminated by a lone light many feet away. Frank ran up behind her, but she didn't turn around. "What is it, Frank?"
He took a moment to catch his breath. "I've been trying to think of what I could possibly say to you all the way from that damn waiting room."
"You really don't need to…"
"Of course I do. Nancy…" He reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. "Of course I do."
She finally turned around, but she couldn't meet his eyes. "You're under a lot of stress. My speculations…"
Nancy never got to finish her sentence, and Frank never got the chance to correct her or apologize. The next thing either of them knew, something heavy slammed into the backs of their necks, and both of their worlds went black.
****
To Be Continued