Psychedelic Hollow.

itsmeocean@hotmail.com

Chapter 3

"He's inside." Con Riley threw the door to the interrogation room opened and Nancy stepped past him inside, stifling a yawn. She sipped the coffee from the warm, disposable cup in her hands and thought about how right Joe was- Hotel Bayport, the hotel she was staying at, was in the heart of the city and close to everything and anything a tourist might need. Not just anything too. It was just opposite a Starbucks and her heart had leapt with joy at the wondrous sight when she drew the curtains opened and gazed out onto the streets right after she emerged from a tumultuous dreamland. The coffee chain had become an integral part of her life- as it was with Frank's. Ned had always preferred tea.

Nancy! She chided herself, Get out of that hole! The case, honey! The case! You're facing your biggest lead so far and you're thinking about correlations between boys you like and the drinks they prefer! It's not exactly professional!  

Shaking her head to clear it of distraction, she heard Con Riley closed the door and the vacuity of a tight, small space settled down upon her when the background sounds were shut out. There she was, alone in the tiny, sparsely furnished room with Con Riley standing guard behind the suspect. A large mirror, allowing officers in the adjacent room to observe every move made in the room, lent the illusion of extra space but it was not enough to fool anyone with an average sense of judgment. Taking a seat at the only empty chair in the room, she rested her briefcase on the table and looked up with steely eyes, facing her most prominent and pathetic-looking hope.

The hope had a name and a gender. Justin Daye; Male. He was a nineteen year old high school repeat student on his way to dropping out and looking excessively worn-out at eight in the morning. His rust-colored hair, grimy with sweat and dirt, had tousled into jutting tangles. A wreathing miasma of human stink, cigarettes, alcohol and the death of drugs coiled around him,  causing Nancy to almost gag during initial few short breaths had she not being taught decorum in the course of her work. The rancid stench of an unwashed body took some getting used to but the room didn't allow much ventilation and thus Nancy had not much choice. Despite the unwelcome smell, her heart almost twisted with pity for the young man and a part of her wanted to reach into the core of his being to discover what could have led him to willingly march onto the treacherous track of self-destruction. He could have been rather handsome if not for those vacant, dead-fish gray eyes, something he was definitely not born with. Gaunt cheeks hollowed out by drugs and aimless parties, stretched thin lips, and arms riddled with needles' marks told Nancy that this man had been substituting real food for junk and poison for a prolonged time.

"Hello. I'm Nancy Drew, FBI agent, and I have some questions for you. Maybe you can help me. And maybe in helping me, I can be of assistance to you."

"I told them 'redi. Don't know a thing." He cradled his head in his hands and clutched at his hair. Suddenly, he messed it up violently and stared at her, his emotionless eyes taking on a heartfelt plea.

"I need to see her. How is she? Liars told me she's dead!" He spat, turning his head around to shoot a deadly glare at Con Riley who tightened his thin lips in annoyance.

"She? You mean your companion two nights ago, Kimberly Crawell?"

"Yes! Kim… I… I called for help as soon as I can. She was still breathing when they put her in the ambulance…"

"She's dead, Justin." Nancy lowered her voice and the young man shook his head, entrenched in his own denial. Con Riley had told her that they expended much effort trying to dig out information from the "young punk" but all he did was moan about wanting to go see his girlfriend. They couldn't convince him that she was pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital and Nancy doubted that she could make him believe. She was no social worker and her gentler side had eroded somewhat during her experiences as both Nancy Drew, the person, and Nancy Drew, the FBI agent. Producing a copy of Kimberly's death certificate, she placed it on the table and pushed it in front of Justin. He glanced at it insipidly and let out a mocking laugh.

"You think that's going to work? I ain't dumb, ya know. These things can be easily faked."

"I can get the genuine copy, if that's what you want to see. Or do you prefer a trip down to the morgue?" Nancy took the copy back and slipped it into her briefcase. Combating her harshness with some tender touch, she looked at him, a picture of condolences.

"I'm sorry about it. But you can tell me the truth and at least, let her parents have some closure. I'll try my best to see that you get a lighter sentence, if in fact you are guilty. Can you do that for her?"

"I ain't do anything! NOTHING!" He screamed. Suddenly, he stood up, causing his chair to clatter down onto the floor. Wiry hands shot out across the table as if to strangle her, a futile attempt since he was handcuffed and Con Riley, though not exactly muscular, could easily overpower him. The police officer pulled him back down onto the hard, wooden chair by his bony shoulders and he dissolved into tears, pitiable and broken. Through his wracking sobs, Nancy, a little startled but otherwise unperturbed by the outburst, proceeded to ask her questions. She wanted to sympathize with him but if he was guilty, then any shred of compassion she had for him would dissipate as easily as ephemeral vapors in the air.

"There are very prominent traces of alcohol and a new drug called Rofomyn in her blood- a drug very popular now for date rapes. The person who ingested it would be in a state of high and appear to enjoy whatever he or she was doing but after the drug wears off, there will be no memories, just an inkling of something bad happening. And the drug take effect pretty instantaneously and endures very long- enough time for the rapists to do whatever they want and with seemingly willing participants. However, for people like Kimberly who react badly to it, it's a death sentence. You were half- undressed and she was naked in your car's backseat. Kimberly's friends told the police that she's a strong advocate of non pre-marital sex. Did you give her the drug in order to, shall we say, score with her?"

"I don't know what you're talking about and I never gave Kim anything… I brought her around, meet my friends and… and got her a drink. I didn't… didn't give her anything…" He moaned, as if in physical pain as he hunched over, kicking his heels against the floor.

"But you were with her. And you were intoxicated with Ecstasy. Did you obtain drugs from the pub where you visited?"

"Don't know…I DON'T KNOW!"

"It was mentioned here in your file that you refused to tell anyone which pub you went to nor who gave you the drugs.  That's not very wise of you. Do you understand that if the guilt is fully yours, you will be charged heavily? More than you can even imagine?"

"I DON'T KNOW! DON'T CARE! I HATE YOU! HATE YOUR SICK FACE!"  He hawked and before Nancy could duck, slimy spit landed on her blouse. Con Riley restrained the wildly thrashing teenager, his mien apologetic. Nancy raised her hand, indicating that she was fine as she retrieve a tissue from her briefcase to dab the viscous saliva away.

"Hey, Cool it! COOL IT!" Con Riley commanded the rabid man who was trying to shake free from the officer's non-too-tender administration, grunting and growling in frustration when he proved to be the severely disadvantaged party. "I WARNED YOU!"

"SHUT UP YOU SICKO! S.O.B! Kimberly's not dead! ALL OF YOU ARE CRAP! WHEN I'M OUT, I"LL SHIT ON YOUR FACES! I'LL SMEAR MUD ALL OVER YOUR SICK CRAP-FILLED…"

He ranted and yelled until tears flowed freely down his cheeks and an attack of hiccups assaulted him. Hyperventilating and weakened by his explosion of rage, sorrow and desperation, he slumped against his chair and wailed wretchedly.  Nancy loathed continuing. Nodding at Con, she shook her head and gestured towards the door.

"I think I'll take a break. Let him calm down first. He's useless to me like this."

"No worries."

"Ten minutes. I'll be back." Nancy stood up and walked out of the room to finish her coffee.

***

"I need to speak to Frank." Conrad Daye, seated on the long couch in the Hardys' living room, stated blandly, "Not you."

Joe bristled- as if he wanted to see Conrad. He didn't like being woken up so early in the morning. Moreover, to be waken up by someone whom had almost allowed his gang members to kill him years ago if Frank had not intercede by banking in on a favor, wasn't exactly too auspicious an event to start the morning with. Fenton was MIA, Aunt Gertrude went down to church to meet her friends, Hallie was still sleeping and Laura didn't know what to do with Conrad. Frankly, Joe thought that maybe his mom was a little frightened by Conrad. Now, at the age of twenty-five, Conrad had evolved from a street gang leader to a bona fide veteran hoodlum if not in lifestyle then at least in appearance. He had bulked up and kept a beard as dense as the forests in Maine. Strong, dark eyebrows sheltered menacing black eyes and his trademark red bandana kept his long, brown hair out of his face that seemed strangely more wearied than threatening.

"You can talk to me first. Frank's busy."

"I know he's getting married…" Conrad threw Joe a smirk, "Oh, don't look so shock, baby brother. The whole town knows about Frank Hardy's wedding. Of course, the likes of me aren't invited."

"Conrad, do you want some water? Tea? Cookies?" Laura came bearing a tray of goodies even before Conrad could make his choice. Joe clenched his fists, ready to punch the daylights out of Conrad if Conrad was rude to his mom.

"No, thanks. Madam. But the cookies smell good."

"Then take some… and the tea- I bought this new blend recently. It's very fragrant…" Laura smiled warmly at Conrad and Joe was rather surprise to see a genuine, grateful look on the hooligan.

"Okay. Thank you very much."

"Don't mention it. If you want to, do stay for breakfast. I'm preparing Joe's." Laura beamed at Conrad before exchanging a worried glance with Joe, asking Joe silently if Conrad was bringing trouble to them. That was Laura- she wasn't faking niceness- she treated everybody with kindness. But she loved her family fiercely and as long as Conrad wasn't a threat, he was welcomed. If not, then he better prayed hard.

Joe didn't reply her- he didn't know the answer yet. She then retreated into the kitchen and Joe could hear the sizzling of butter and breathed in the tantalizing smell of bacon soon after. But the aroma was all he was getting- Laura was making breakfast for Hallie and Hallie loved bacon. For him, Laura had a different menu altogether.

"Your mother is cool." Conrad commented and sipped the tea. "Pity you have to break her heart the way you did. At least I didn't go knock up some girl. I know what responsibility to a girl is."

"I don't think you're here to trade life stories with me." Joe pulled his lips tightly, glaring at Conrad. "Out with it. What do you want?"

"I want act like an elder brother, be like Frank in that aspect. I always respected him for keeping you alive. Must have been real hard on him."

"So you're asking Frank for pointers?" Joe almost burst out laughing, the hilarity moderating the umbrage he took from Daye's roundabout insult. "For that you had to wake us up so early in the morning and probably scared the living daylights out of my mom with the roar of your Harley? Wait a minute; I'll go see if my brother has a guidebook somewhere. He must have the book 'How to be a great elder brother for hairy dummies,' lying around, collecting dust. "

"No. Not for pointers." Conrad didn't even blink an eye at Joe's jibes. If he did, Joe knew his mother might have to dial 911. Just like him to shoot his mouth off without thinking about who he was targeting. "It's a little too late for that. I'm here to borrow some money. My kid brother, Justin, is holed up in the cell for two nights. I want to bail him out. He's a good kid. Can you…" Conrad let out a growl, not accustomed to begging. Joe absorbed in the details and decided to let him off, knowing that Conrad was atypically vulnerable. Besides, the scenario of brothers looking out for each other could always find sympathy from a soft spot within him. He picked up the phone's receiver and dialed for Frank.

"I'm not sure if he's at home but we'll try. If he isn't, I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you, Joe Hardy. You're beginning to be cool too."

Joe let out a grunt as he listened to the ringing of the phone, praying Frank would pick it up and rid him of Conrad Daye.

***

Nancy left the police station after three grueling hours. Justin wasn't talking, in severe denial and basically, too emotional for her to gain any valuable insights into the case. If she was to go with evidence, there would hardly be any lingering doubt left. But a niggling prick kept her from labeling him guilty. Justin seemed guilt-stricken but for reasons that seemed to differ from spiking his girlfriend's drink- during the questioning in which she tried her best to stick to a gentle approach despite the aggravation mounting in the face of an unmovable and noisy wall, he kept banging his own head against the table and muttering things like he shouldn't have brought her there.

"Hey, Nan!" Joe waved at Nancy from the corner bistro a few streets away from the police station. He had given her excellent directions and she found it on first attempt- the bright blue canopy printed with its name in block letters sheltering its entrance helped a lot as well. Now that it was daylight and she was of clearer faculties than when the sun was still floundering in the ocean, she noticed a change in Joe that was more than the two scintillating ear studs on his left ear and his leaner physique. She guessed he thinned down due to the injuries sustained in his previous case- Frank wrote to her about it and she could tell, from Frank's choice of words, the sense of failure looming over him for almost losing his brother to a perverted serial child killer.

The change in Joe was probably a by-product of growing up and if there was anyone she could name who was forced to mature quickly, it was Joe. His eyes, though still bright and startling, had a poignant shadow mellowing the mischievous glint. And he looked tired- being a single father was no easy task and she knew that extremely well with all her heart. She had always been grateful to her father for doing a good job- for being a father she couldn't fault. To Nancy, despite some trivial flaws, Carson was irreproachable when it came to his fatherly responsibilities. He always did his best and still strove to do better, and for that, Nancy never felt like she was shortchanged. In fact, she felt much more blessed than those kids with a complete set of parents who were never there for them.

"Hello! So, where's your daughter? I'm kinda hoping you'll bring her along. Frank sent me some pictures and she's absolutely adorable." Nancy took a seat beside him and placed her orders with the waiter. Joe waited until she was done before replying.

"I think I may be able to persuade you to talk about the case, which is why I didn't bring her along. She's at home now, baking a chocolate cake with my mother."

"Can't wait for school to start huh?" Nancy remarked, pointing out the bags under his eyes. "You look like you aren't sleeping much."

"Neither do you." Joe smiled, raising a brow. "But you still look pretty good."

"Flirt."

They broke into light-hearted chuckles, dispelling the heavy clouds of morning's gloom for her. Soon, Nancy's order came and the muffins smelled really delicious. Her stomach growled- the interrogation had zapped her of energy and she needed to replenish. Biting into one freshly baked muffin, she swooned as its rich chocolate flavor exploded on her tongue. Joe laughed heartily and pushed his plate of uneaten muffins to her.

"Take them. My mom had made me a scrumptious, low fat breakfast. I ordered these on impulse."

"Too much of a good thing is bad for me." Nancy grinned before taking in gulps of ice water. "Got to watch my figure."

"Yup, you should. I am." Joe teased. She threw a bunched up paper napkin at him and he ducked, causing the napkin to fly right into the face of a bewildered senior. He hurriedly rushed to the older man and picked up the napkin from the floor, apologizing profusely. Nancy thought she saw him winced a little while he straightened up.

"I'm sorry, sir. My friend's rather crazy this morning… No harm done…"

She heard the old man mumbled something grouchily before shooing Joe off like he was some detested mosquito. The handsome blond returned to his seat, a frown on his lips.

"I think he just called me a loony toon."

"I'll make it up to you. This… ahm, brunch is on me. Are you all right? Thought I saw you winced earlier. I'm sorry about that… I should have gone pick it up…"

"Nah, forget it." He smiled crookedly, emphasizing his disaffection with a wave of his hand. "Just some souvenirs from the last case. The muffins don't cost much; make it up by telling me about your case?" Joe straightened up as his eyes shone like a terrier who had just heard the faintest noise, "I'm all ears."

"I know you are. I may need some help but for now…"

"C'mon, Drew. Satisfy my curiosity…" Joe grabbed her arm, shaking it like a child cajoling a parent, "Pretty please? I'll chip in to help you… you'll solve it by tonight and then I can show you around town and we can have some fun! I promise! I won't bring the party pooper along."

"Party pooper?" Nancy arched her brows even though she knew who Joe was jokingly referring to. The younger Hardy rolled his eyes exaggeratedly.

"Ow… you're just pretending to have a few fried brain cells, right? Party Pooper is Frank? Duh?  When do I use such terms of endearments for anyone else?"

"You know something? I can't believe you're a father. In fact, I can't believe you still recognize me after all these years."

"I'll always remember a pretty face. And you're already in my long-term memory, can't erase that. Speaking of pretty faces, how are Bess and George?"

"Bess' fine. She's having a ball doing modeling and landing parts in sitcoms but somehow, the 'big break' is being deliberately elusive. George is doing something very admirable- she's a teacher in a special school teaching physical education."

"Hmm, that sounds like something they would do. I thought I saw Bess on an episode of something once. And Ned?"

"Ned isn't a pretty face. And Bess isn't going to take too kindly to you seeing her in 'something'. At least try and remember the show's name." Nancy tried to evade the question with humor but Joe wasn't letting up.

"You broke up with him, right?"

Casting her muffin aside, she leaned back against the metal chair and smiled wryly, "About three years."

"Oh… I didn't mean to pry… but is Frank the reason?"

"You're always so direct. Candor can be rather galling, you know?" Nancy narrowed her eyes at Joe whose lips grew thin in an apology.

"Sorry, just that judging from your reaction last night and why you rejected the wedding invitation when you and Frank are so close…"

"Frank doesn't tell you everything right?"

"Can't blame him. I don't tell him everything too. Being so far apart in distance can be rather daunting for heart-to-heart talks." Joe admitted, "And I'll confess to one more thing- I'm asking out of concern and curiosity."

"Curiosity kills the cat. I don't know if I should confide in you… with you being Frank's brother and… let's just say that we used to be close once and then…" She shrugged, smiling to hide the struggles inside her to keep her tears in check.

Nancy! Don't let such thoughts turn you into a pansy!

"Well?" Joe probed softly, almost cautiously, as he reached over and laid a hand over hers on the checkered table.

"And then." Nancy replied with finality and pulled her hand away and listlessly poked at her muffins, "Whatever it is, the cause isn't Frank. Or rather, Frank might not be in the picture and the break-up with Ned would have happened anyway. Ned was flamed up with helping the underprivileged after a backpacking trip to Nepal with some of his church friends and, suddenly, he was flying off to foreign countries for months at times. From building schools in Tibet to distributing aid in Africa with the Red Cross, he's now working for UNICEF and bent on carrying on his mission. His chosen profession is something that kept us apart and... . Well, this will sound like double-standards but I can't be with someone who's never there, though I'm so proud of him. I know what he had to give up for pure altruistic reasons and I bet in the eyes of many, I'm a real moron to give up a guy like Ned. It's hard to hear a man cry over the phone, especially him. But I believe that I shouldn't hold him up from pursuing his dreams when I don't love him that way anymore, neither should he."

Joe smiled awkwardly, probably hearing too much than he asked for. His cheeks flushed crimson as he remarked tentatively, "Wow. I didn't know you'll actually open up somewhat to me… I mean, you were right last night, or shall I say, the early morning. We haven't been close for a long time. Thanks for trusting me with that… maybe the things you told me are not secrets to your peers but I appreciate you confiding in me."

"You did ask for it." Nancy wrinkled her nose and popped another morsel of muffin into her mouth, instantly gratified. Chocolate in any forms- the most effective comfort food.

Joe watched her for a while, as if ruminating over something concerning her. He gulped his water, appearing like a perfect non-alcoholic mirror image of a man downing alcohol in order to ingest Dutch courage. 

"You have anything to say?" Nancy set her fork down and rested her chin on her hands propped up on the table by the elbows. "I'm all ears."

Joe sucked in a deep breath and gushed, "I have a selfish reason for prying though I'm really concerned. I saw how you looked last night and if you want my opinion, you looked like some angry spurn lover at times and it's scary. Callie and Frank are truly happy together- they have weathered through a lot and all that's going in my mind when I saw you was, 'Oh no. There it goes. I'm going to have to keep some terrible secrets again.' I know you and Frank kissed more than once behind Ned's and Callie's back and it kills me to have to know such things because even though I did it myself a couple times while dating my previous girlfriends, I know it's wrong and I can't, like, tell you and Frank it's wrong and it'll be so wrong if it happens again so close to his wedding or worse after the wedding. When the both of them are actually married. I know Callie and Frank loves…"

"Calm down, Joe. I know. I catch your hint. Don't worry. I'm not here to demand anything from him… I know that he had made a choice. I'm really here on a case." Nancy assured the rambling Joe who swallowed the rest of his water in one mouthful before sagging against the back of his chair like a sack of potatoes.

"Phew that was easy. A case…" He laughed nervously, "Of course. You're with the FBI. Frank mentioned it in one of the emails. He was actually headhunted, as were you."

"But he gave it up. I don't know who made the smart choice, me or him."

"So, the case… what is it about?"

Nancy chuckled lowly and broke her muffin into small chunks with her fork. "You're relentless, you know that?"

"Yup. I'm a Hardy Boy. And you're a Drew. Good thing it didn't take you too long to know that you can't really stop me from finding out or I'll think you're losing your touch."

"Hmm, I needed that reminder." Nancy nodded, humoring Joe with a deadpan smile, "The case is about drugs- a date rape drug to be exact. Rofomyn."

"Rofomyn? I think I read about it somewhere." Joe crinkled his eyes, as if trying to peer into the clutter of memories inside his mind. It was a few seconds after when the blond man snapped his finger excitedly, "Yah! I remember now. Two weeks ago, on newspaper. A girl cried rape after contracting a venereal disease but there wasn't evidence and she couldn't remember the man or what exactly happened- except for a round pill found in her bag, most likely planted."

"Right. Rofomyn. An improved version of Rohypnol. More effective and it doesn't show up in those drink-safe coasters." Nancy chewed on another chunk of muffin frowningly, "Not like those coasters are a hundred percent accurate though they do help to some extent."

"Hmm…" Joe muttered, his eyes hooded with some disturbing thought as he gazed upon those muffins, "These drugs and some other stuff make me wonder what we are using our technology and knowledge for. Seems like all we're advancing towards is moral decadence."

"The coming of Armageddon." Nancy breathed eerily and Joe shuddered, playing along. "But not everyone and every aspect of our progress is bad, Joe. There's still quite a lot of good left."

"Remind me of that again when they start to do things like, say, clone little nagging Franks. Back to Rofomyn, why are you here? You found something to do with Rofomyn in little old Bayport?"

"Rofomyn is a small little white pill and your little old Bayport can easily contain hundreds of millions of them. But what I'm looking for is just an insight into the supply and distribution of Rofomyn so the Feds can move on with more precise investigations. We have some vague ideas but our informer turned and went missing. And things died down for a while, or maybe not, since those people who got raped probably never knew about it or have too little evidence working for them. However, a girl died of a bad reaction to this drug a couple of nights ago over here. Her boyfriend was caught. I hope to find out from the boyfriend how he obtained the drugs as, from our previous investigations; Bayport is one of the little old towns with underground rave parties organized by drugs dealers with powerful backing. But that's where our leads start and end."

"The girl, is she called Kimberly Crawell?"

"Yes. A senior in high school."

"What a waste. In our papers, it is reported that she's an ace student…"

"Who got involved with the wrong guy, apparently. I just questioned her boyfriend, Justin Daye. He's a messed-up kid."

Joe bit his down on his lips again. Shaking his head, he reached inside his pocket and drew out a few small pills. Popping them into his mouth and washing them down with water; he raised a hand in a silent request for Nancy to be patient as she observed him with some concern.

"Enzyme pills. I need to take them before meals and snacks. Half my pancreas' gone- it's quite a drag watching what I eat, yadda, yadda, yadda. Now, I want some muffins." He explained, dabbing his lips with his napkin.

"Are you sure you can?" Nancy knitted her brows as Joe tore off a little of the muffin and dunked it into his mouth unceremoniously.

"Aw, a little won't kill me. Besides, I'm lucky. I just got to watch my sugar level. Me not diabetic, yet. And I do need some energy. I have a funny feeling we'll be working together again."

Nancy threw him a questioning look, dying to know what he meant as her heart leapt with a surge of excitement. However, Joe merely shrugged and polished off half-a-muffin, swiping the crumbs casually away from his shirt.

*Conrad Daye appeared in Hardy Boys Case file, No. 45, In Self-Defense.