Disclaimer: It isn't mine, was never mine, and never will be mine. I'm talking about the characters of course. The plot is mine.
A/N: I decided to try something a little different and add one of Nancy's previous flings to this chapter. Just to see what would happen. Any Nancy Drew Files fans might remember Detective Sam Fanelli from the River Heights Police Department (and books 104 and 105 of the Files.) He's okay, but he's no Frank... Remember, as always, to read and review. In that order, preferably.
Bess was frowning. "What's going on, guys? Why did Nancy get this?"
Nancy studied the letter. "I wish I knew."
Just then, Joe entered the kitchen. "Hi Bess!" he said. Then he spotted the letter. "Whoa! How many magazines died to make that thing?"
Nancy gave him a look. "Joe, I'm worried. Whoever wrote this knows who you are and why you're here..." she trailed off.
Bess spoke up. "Does this have to do with the case you were talking about? What's going on? What do Frank and Joe have to do with it? What are you going to do now?"
Nancy was obviously used to Bess's impromptu interrogation sessions, because she replied, "Yes, it has to do with the case. I've been getting threats from an unknown person or people and the Hardys are helping me figure out who it is. And Frank, Joe, and I are going to the Chicago airport to find out who rented a silver '98 or '99 Saturn."
Bess nodded, quickly absorbing the information. She added one more question. "What about me?"
Nancy smiled. "Did you want to join us?"
Bess grinned. "You bet! After I cancel your date, of course." As she made her way to the phone she said, "I was just saying to myself, 'It's been almost a week since Nancy's been in trouble...'"
Nancy laughed and grabbed her purse. "Go ahead and call, we'll wait in the car." she said to Bess. She walked out the door and the Hardys followed her. After a few minutes, the four of them were on the road, Nancy and Joe in the front seat, Frank and Bess in the back.
Bess was telling them about the strange reaction she'd gotten from Nancy's would-be date. "When I told him you couldn't make it, he freaked out! He was really angry and he cussed and hung up on me! How bizarre is that? I mean, it's just a date..."
Bess continued to talk but the three detectives weren't listening. They were all wondering if it was just a coincidence or if Nancy's "blind date" could have been the stalker. Had Nancy unwittingly foiled the stalker's plan by not meeting him that night? So many terrible things could have happened... Or, it could have been a coincidence, plain and simple.
Bess's voice entered their thoughts. "Are you guys okay? You all seem really quiet."
The others assured her that they were fine as Nancy pulled into a parking space in front of the airport. The foursome got out of the car and walked into the busy airport.
"The Chicago Airport is always crowded." Nancy explained as a woman wheeled a suitcase over Joe's foot.
"Ow!" he complained, but the woman didn't even look back.
They finally reached the car rental desk and stood in a long line to see the desk clerk, a petite, dark-haired woman of about thirty with thick glasses. Nancy asked to see the rental records. The woman bluntly said no, that she wasn't authorized to let people see their records. Nancy explained their situation, but the woman didn't budge. Not only didn't she budge, but she told them that they were holding up the line and that if they weren't renting a car they should leave. The people in line behind them grumbled in agreement.
Nancy led the group out of the way, not discouraged at being denied a look at the records. "I have to make a phone call." she said, glancing around for a pay phone.
"Who are you calling?" Joe asked.
Nancy grinned. "I have a friend on the police force and I'm hoping he can help."
Bess cleared her throat. "Friend?" At that, Nancy blushed and hurried to the phone booth.
Frank turned to Bess. "What was that about?" But Bess refused to say another word.
Nancy came back to the group. "He'll be here in a few minutes." she told them.
Fifteen minutes later, a tall, dark haired man approached the group. Nancy ran up and hugged him. Frank nudged Bess. "Does she greet all policemen like that?"
Bess's expression was unreadable. "Just Detective Sam Fanelli." she answered.
Sam listened intently to Nancy and Joe's description of the letters, the phone calls, the dognapping, the silver car, and the uncooperative airport employee.
Frank and Bess stood back a little. Bess watched Frank study Sam. Sam was tall, about 6'2", with an athletic build, brown hair, and soft brown eyes to rival Frank's. He also looked about twenty five. Bess knew that he was, in fact, twenty six.
"Isn't he a little old for her?" Frank muttered.
Bess might have been a romantic, but she knew jealousy when she heard it. "Yes." she replied. "And Nancy knows that. She isn't serious about him." Bess didn't want Frank to get too comfortable, though, so she added, "At least, I don't think so." With emphasis on the "think."
Frank started. He hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud. He frowned at Bess and the two of them went to join Joe, Nancy, and Sam.
Detective Fanelli looked questioningly at Nancy. She realized he wanted an introduction. "This is Joe's brother, Frank." she said.
Sam shook his hand and asked, "Another detective?"
Nancy answered. "Yes, he is. Frank, Joe, and I have worked together several times. We're old friends."
"Ouch." Bess murmured in Nancy's ear.
Nancy looked at her confusedly. "What?"
Bess wore an amused expression. "I feel sorry for Frank. He's so jealous and you're killing him." She said it in a low voice so no one else could hear her.
Nancy frowned at Bess, then Frank. "Excuse me," she said, grabbing Bess's sleeve. "I need to talk to Bess for a minute." Sam nodded and smiled at her, and Nancy was blushing as she pulled Bess to a corner.
Bess laughed. "You just did it again!" Nancy looked confused again, so Bess said, "You're flirting with Sam!"
"I am not!" Nancy retorted. "Now tell me what you were talking about." It was a command, not a request.
"Come on, Nan! Frank is jealous of you and Sam! I'm surprised you couldn't see that." Emphasis on the "you."
"He is?" Nancy said. Her expression was a cross between disbelieving and scared rabbit.
Bess nodded. "He still loves you. And you still love him. Right?"
"No... Yes... I'm so confused! What did I do to deserve this?" Nancy said in exasperation.
"I'd say you have it all under control. He's probably only inches away from confessing his undying love for you as it is and you've still got the next few days to work on him." Bess was enjoying being the one with the answers, for once.
"I don't want to work on him, I don't want to make him jealous, and I don't want him to confess his undying love for me! I just want to find out who drives a silver '98 Saturn!" Nancy's outburst caused a group of Indian women to glance at her worriedly and shoo their children past.
"Or '99." Bess earned a death-glare for that one.
Nancy glanced back at the group of guys and saw that they were all watching her. She panicked. "Bess, what should I do? I like Sam, and I don't want to use him."
"Well, you can turn tail and run and I'll explain to the guys that you contracted bronchitis in the airport restrooms..."
"Bess, be serious!" Nancy pleaded.
Bess patted her friend on the shoulder. "Okay, pretend we never had this talk. Just do what you were doing. Keep your mind on the case. Everything will turn out fine."
"Right." Nancy put on her confident face and headed back to the group.
"You okay?" Frank asked her.
Nancy smiled at him. "I'm fine." she said. "Let's go!"
Half and hour later the five of them were standing around a computer screen in the back of the car rental booth. The dark-haired woman had no problem with giving out records as long as it was "police business." Sam had flashed his badge and gotten them a private viewing of the past week's rentals. They slowly scrolled down the list looking for models, colors, and makes that met Joe's description. Whenever they found one, Frank wrote down the person's name and rental and license plate numbers. By the time they were done the list they had twenty seven silver Saturn drivers.
"Any of these names sound familiar?" Frank asked Nancy.
"Well," Nancy paused to read the names. "This one sounds vaguely familiar, but I can't place it."
Frank glanced down at the name she was pointing to. Daniel Morgan. Rental 6048193, plate number DEM1148.
Sam jumped into the conversation. "We could go back to the station and see if this Daniel Morgan has a record."
"That's a start." Nancy said, trying really hard not to meet Sam's gaze. "Um, if you don't mind, I'd rather not drag everybody to the station, so if you don't mind, the rest of us can go back to my house and make sure it's still standing and everything and you could just call and let me know the results of the check, if you don't mind?" Nancy smacked herself mentally. She wasn't even sure if that made sense. She wanted to kill herself and save the stalker the trouble. And why was everyone staring at her?
Both Hardys were looking at her like she'd just sprouted a second head. Bess bit her lip. Poor Nan.
Sam just laughed and said, "I don't mind. I'll go run the check and call you when it's done. I know your number." He winked and took her hands. "Take care of yourself, Nan. Be careful, and if you need me, just call, okay?"
Oh, please, Frank thought. What a line.
Nancy smiled despite herself. "Right. I know your number too. Nine-one-one."
Sam looked at the Hardys. "Nice meeting you. Bye, Bess." Then he walked off.
Around nine o' clock that evening, the phone rang, interrupting a game of crazy eights. When Nancy and the Hardys had returned from the airport, Nancy's front door was open. Nancy wouldn't let Frank and Joe go in without her, so the three of them ventured in and found that whoever had been there was certainly not there now. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed. They were beginning to doubt if the stalker had been there until Nancy discovered that the threatening letters were missing. The stalker must have returned to get rid of the evidence. Nancy was on edge. The Hardys had made it their personal mission to keep her mind off the stalker. Since then, they had played about every board game she had. Sorry!, Clue, Trivial Pursuit, three-hour game of Monopoly, you name it. After that, they had played gin rummy, poker, "spit," and "go fish."
The phone rang again. "I'll get it." Nancy said flatly, but she didn't move. Ring. Nancy sighed, put down her cards, and picked up the phone. She held it to her ear and breathed a sigh of relief. "Sam." she mouthed. She listened for a minute, then said, "Alright. Thanks anyway." Sam said something else, and Nancy blushed and said, "I will. Bye."
Nancy hung up the phone and groaned. "No criminal record." She told Frank and Joe. "All they know is that Daniel Morgan is around our age and lives in Colorado."
Frank ran a hand through his dark hair. "So we're back to square one?"
Nancy slumped next to him on the couch. "Looks that way. If only I could remember why he sounds so familiar..." She sounded frustrated.
Frank squeezed her hand encouragingly. Nancy turned to him; stared into his eyes. "Your turn." she muttered grumpily. She really did appreciate Frank and Joe's distracting her, and she had had fun, too, but she knew she had hit rock bottom when she lost at "go fish" six times in a row.
She leaned her head against the back of the couch, suddenly realizing how tired she was. "I'm done." she said, throwing her cards on the table. "Joe wins. Again." At this point, she considered Joe to be the luckiest person on the planet. He had won at least three fourths of all the games they had played. Then she scooted over and stretched out on the couch. "I just wish I knew who Daniel Morgan was. It's driving me crazy." she said.
"Maybe he's from one of your previous cases?" Frank suggested.
"Probably. But no one obvious. I would remember. But I've met so many people..."
"Right." Joe said. "We know what you mean."
After a few minutes of silence, Frank pointed out, "Nan's asleep."
Joe nodded. "She was wiped out. I think I'll head to bed, too." He nodded at Nancy's sleeping figure. "Should we bring her upstairs?"
Frank shook his head. "I'll take care of it. I have an idea I want to try first. You go on up."
Joe left. "Good night."
"'Night." Frank headed over to Nancy's computer and turned it on. He logged on to the internet and typed in "Daniel Morgan." He groaned as over two hundred entries popped up on screen. Apparently Daniel Morgan was a fairly common name. Daniel Morgan, revolutionary soldier. Dr. Daniel Morgan, plastic surgeon. Daniel Morgan Middle School. Nothing that would help him. Then some businesses. Morgan's Motors. Morgan, Morgan, and Farmer publishers. Morgan Mining, specializing in anthracite coal.
Frank was getting irritated by now. He knew Nancy wasn't being stalked by a revolutionary soldier, a plastic surgeon (he was too old, Frank had checked), or an auto repair shop. He was positive that she wasn't being stalked by a middle school. This was getting him nowhere.
Frank turned the computer off and looked at Nancy. She had shifted and her shirt had slid up slightly, revealing her flat stomach. Her blond hair framed her face. She looked serene, at ease for the first time in days. Frank almost didn't want to disturb her, but he had to. If the stalker came in the middle of the night, she would be a sitting duck down here.
He walked over to her and gently picked her up, resting her head on his shoulder. Despite that she was only a few months younger than him; he had little trouble carrying her up the stairs and into her room. As he bent to put her on the bed, her eyes opened slowly and she smiled tiredly at him. "Thanks." she whispered, leaning toward him, their lips only inches apart.
A flash of light illuminated the room and Frank and Nancy jerked apart.
That was no lightning, Nancy thought. Her eyes met Frank's, and she knew they were both thinking the same thing. That light had come from a flashbulb. Someone was photographing them!
A/N: Well, that's Chapter 6. I tried to balance the amount of mystery and romance, but this chapter is admittedly unbalanced. Sorry, for you mystery people. Also, I think this story should be wrapped up in the next two or three chapters. Then I can concentrate on finishing The Columbus Connection. And I will.
A/N: Just out of curiosity, does anyone know the difference between the words "blond" and "blonde?" Could you explain it to me?
A/N: Remember to review!