Chapter Six: Electricity
Author's Note: So much gratitude to Melbel1, Severedwasp, Rain From Nowhere, Cherylann Rivers, Fernweh, sm2003495, BMSH, max2013, Drumboy100, Caranath, and Guests for their reviews on the last chapter. It is always a delight to hear from you.
I *think* this is still a T rating. Enjoy!
For Nancy, the ride home that evening was exhilarating. She felt borne along on a rising tide of relief, anticipation, and excitement, and both her own fluttering pulse and the impatient roar of the motorcycle beneath them seemed to echo her emotions.
Only upon reaching their apartment did she discover that Joe's enthusiasm had flagged. He tugged off his helmet and swung himself slowly off the bike, fumbling for his phone with a show of reluctance which Nancy, had she not known him as well as she did, might have suspected was put on for her benefit- a carefully-staged performance, designed to reassure the current girlfriend that calling the ex-girlfriend was no tempting prospect.
"I should've made Frank call her before we left," he grumbled.
"Would you like me to do it?" Despite the tension suddenly gnawing inside her chest, Nancy kept her tone light. She remembered her own feelings the first time she had needed to consult Ned about a case post-breakup; and she remembered, also, with a surge of distaste, her encounter with Ned only that morning. There really was no easy way to navigate contact with an ex.
"You're not supposed to offer. You're supposed to tell me to stop sulking and make the call," Joe said, half-laughing at the ridiculousness of his own demand. He never could stay grouchy for long.
The twist of tension in Nancy's chest released. "Make the call, Hardy."
He was already dialing. He bent, scooped a small pine cone off the grass beside the driveway, and lobbed it at her good-naturedly. Grinning, Nancy dodged it and darted toward the door.
The air inside seemed even hotter than the air outside had been. Nancy made a quick circuit of the apartment, throwing windows open as wide as possible in the hope of letting in even the hint of a breeze. She felt stifled. Had it been this humid all day?
It's going to storm, Nancy realized, wrenching at an especially stubborn window. As though she had called it into being, thunder rumbled, soft and distant.
I hope Joe comes in before it rains. She lifted the curtain and glanced out. Joe was still pacing up and down the driveway, phone pressed to his ear, his face schooled into the patient mask he used when dealing with especially frustrating clients.
Nancy let the curtain drop back into place.
He used to like her enough to sleep with her, she thought, and stopped herself. Bess, she told herself firmly. I need to check on Bess.
...
Nancy had not checked her phone since before dinner. She expected to find a barrage of updates from George and lamentation from Bess, and was surprised to discover exactly one message awaiting her attention: an affectionate, rambling voicemail from Hannah, who had called to say hello and to confirm their standing Saturday lunch date.
Nancy stared at the phone, uneasy and undecided. A silent Bess was rarely good news- but would it be kinder to contact her and risk raking up the whole grievance again, or let her be?
In the end, after having composed and deleted three separate messages to Bess, Nancy opted for the simplest solution and called George.
"Nance, I was literally just texting you," George said, without preamble.
Being well used to her friend's blunt manners, Nancy did not waste any time in teasing Hello to you too, how are you, Nancy? Fine, thanks for asking, George. She simply sighed into the phone and asked "How is she?"
"She is..." George sighed, too. "She's at whatever stage of grief it is when you bake a shitload of cookies while calling the guy at least five times to shriek 'fuck you' and hang up."
"Anger. Definitely anger."
George groaned. "Isn't that, like, the first stage? How many more are there?"
Disregarding this, Nancy cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder and used both hands to push the bedroom window open.
"Is she still there with you?" she asked, casting an evaluating glance up at the rapidly-darkening sky. "Do you want me to come over?"
"No, she went home. She wants to keep things normal for the girls."
"And tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow, thank whatever gods you like, her mom is spending the day with her. I don't think I could handle another day like today."
Nancy bit back a wry laugh. Neither Bess's situation nor George's predictable exasperation and emotional overload were funny, of course; it was just the way George said it.
"I'm sorry, George. If it would help you out, I can take the cookies over to Chet's garage. He and Jay will eat them."
"I doubt it. They're disgusting."
This time Nancy felt no impulse to laugh. She blinked in shocked silence. Bess had never made inedible cookies in her life.
"So, listen," George said, after a moment. "We're investigating this prick, right? Where do we start?"
"Are you sure we should get in the middle of th- "
George interrupted. "It's Bess. I was never not in the middle of this."
"You're right."
"Damn right I'm right. So? Where do we start?"
Nancy hesitated. She had considered this, off and on, over the course of the evening, and had concluded that the odds of Tom breaking down and confessing everything to Bess were pretty high. But she also knew that George's peace of mind would be greatly improved by taking action, and she did have a few ideas...
"C'mon," George coaxed, evidently mistaking Nancy's pondering for reluctance. "I know you've already thought about this. Give me something."
"Okay," Nancy said. "I do have a job for you. Recon, maybe some light infiltration. You know the Bay View Motel?"
George snorted. "Yeah, I'm familiar. Bit sleazy for Tom's taste, though, don't you think? I mean, the place actually has a negative-star Yelp rating- "
Nancy cut in. "I know. Just call it a hunch. I'd check it out myself, but the desk clerk there recognizes me."
"I'm on it."
"Talk to the staff, look around. Get a look at the guest records on the computer, if you can. You could take Burt along."
"Very funny, Drew."
"For backup!"
"Uh-huh."
"Hey, if sleazy is what turns you on..." Nancy let the teasing fade away. Her mind was racing. "It might be worth checking on Myra's preschool, too. Maybe someone on staff there is 'N,' or maybe Tom let something slip to a teacher or another parent at drop-off or pick-up. Oh, and there's Tom's job to think about. We need to get an employee roster for the company and go through that for 'N' names. She could be anyone, though. Literally anyone. A coworker, a teacher, a babysitter, a waitress, a mail carrier, a random woman he met online...or even a man, George, I should've thought of that sooner! Though maybe not, based on the necklace he bought. But we can't rule it out. I think we should even- "
"Whoa, whoa, hold on," George protested. "That's enough to start with. I'll do some poking around online tonight and hit up the Bay View in the morning."
George hung up, ending the conversation as abruptly as it had begun.
Joe was still outside, still on the phone.
What could they possibly have to talk about for this long? I thought he was just confirming our arrival time.
Nancy took a deep breath and closed her eyes, making a conscious effort to let go of her irritation and impatience. If she wanted to work this case, she was going to have to get comfortable with Vanessa's presence.
Meanwhile, she told herself, grabbing a notepad and pen off Joe's desk, it can't hurt to organize my thoughts about the investigations.
She was seated cross-legged on the couch, notepad balanced on one knee, utterly absorbed in her notes on the Tom conundrum, when the front door swung open and Joe stalked in, carrying a battered and dusty oscillating fan.
"Jumpin' catfish, that woman can talk!" he growled, raking his free hand through his already-tousled blond hair.
He dumped the fan on the floor and kept going without waiting for a reply- which was just as well, Nancy decided, feeling sure that a diplomatic silence would go over better than any of the responses which came to mind. She tucked her pen into the notepad's spiral binding and waited. A few moments later Joe reappeared, carrying two glasses of water and looking slightly less like one of the thunderclouds outside.
"What did she say?" Nancy asked calmly.
Joe handed her one of the glasses and folded himself onto the other end of the couch. He was still fully dressed in his motorcycle gear, minus the helmet, and must have been sweltering, because he took a long drink from his own glass before answering.
"Among other things, she said that there will be a cabin ready for us by Sunday morning, and that she and Vince will be around to brief us when we arrive." He took another long swallow and set his empty glass on the coffee table.
"You told her to expect all three of us?"
"Yep. Three detectives for the price of two." He had stripped off his jacket, now, and was beginning to unlace his boots, but he looked up when Nancy spoke. She watched his expression shift from neutral to curious and became suddenly aware of how defensive her own posture had become.
"Then we just have to pack!" she said lightly, uncrossing her legs and lowering the notepad which she had been clasping loosely to her chest.
"And decide on undercover identities." The second boot clunked to the floor. Joe bounced up restlessly and retrieved the fan from the floor near the door.
"Look what I found in the garage," he said. As bids to change the subject went, it was fairly transparent; but Nancy decided to go along with it.
"Does it work?" she asked skeptically.
"I don't see why not." Joe's voice was muffled. He had reached behind the couch, in search of a free outlet.
"Anything yet?" he called.
The fan whirred to life, rustling the pages of Nancy's notepad. She dropped her phone on top to pin them down. "It's on!" she called.
Joe emerged looking delighted. "I can't believe I forgot I had that."
"I can believe it," Nancy said playfully. "It was probably buried under motorcycle parts out there."
"Oh, we're going there, are we?"
"We're going there."
Joe had sprawled at the other end of the couch, eyes closed, enjoying the breeze. Now he sat up and directed a mock scowl her way. "There may be more parts off the old girl right now than on her, but I don't throw them around willy-nilly- "
"Willy-nilly?" Nancy echoed, smirking.
"Don't pick on my vocabulary. It's all Aunt Gert's fault."
"Excuses, excuses."
"What's with the notebook?" Joe asked, changing the subject again.
Nancy glanced down at it. "I wanted to write down a few ideas."
"You can take a night off, Nan. We're going to have to go over everything again with Frank, anyway."
Nancy shrugged. "I know."
"Lots of ideas?" he asked, nodding understandingly.
"They're coming on like gangbusters," Nancy said, teasing him with another Gertrude-ism.
Her self-satisfaction lasted only a moment before Joe retaliated by plucking her notepad off her lap. When she made a bid to get it back, he captured her, winding an arm around her waist and pulling her close.
"I wasn't done with that!" she protested, wriggling. Joe's arm only tightened around her middle.
"First you make fun of me, then you forget to say please," he said, shaking his head gravely.
"I know. I'm terrible."
"Are you going to make it up to me?"
"I can try," Nancy murmured. Abandoning her efforts to free herself, she leaned in slowly, pressing her breasts into his chest and brushing the merest promise of a kiss against his smiling mouth. The moment she felt him respond, she tugged the notepad from his loosened grip and dove back to her own end of the couch.
"Damn it!" Joe griped, laughing.
Nancy blew him a kiss over the top of the page. "That was too easy, Hardy."
"Oh? I can definitely make things harder for you, Drew."
His voice had slipped into that rough tone, dark with promises, that she found nearly impossible to resist. For a moment she considered getting back into his lap, letting those strong arms encircle her, and giving in for real this time. Then she gathered up the shreds of her willpower and planted her bare foot against his abs to hold him back.
"Keep your innuendos and your muscles over there for a minute," she said sternly. "I'm not finished. I only got as far as my thoughts on the Tom case."
"How is Bess?" Joe asked, settling himself obligingly onto his designated couch cushion. He gathered Nancy's feet into his lap as he did so and held them there, idly stroking the delicate skin in the hollow of one ankle.
"About as you'd expect," she replied, wondering whether she should pull her feet away. There was no way his touch was really as innocent as he was pretending. "George said she's spending time with her mother tomorrow."
"I wish we could do more."
"I know. And we will."
Thunder rumbled, louder this time, filling the momentary silence between them. A fitful gust of humid air made the living room curtains billow wildly. Nancy sighed, took out her pen, and flipped to a fresh page.
"What I'd like to do is start listing what we know about the camp case and compiling some background data. Do you think I should wait for Frank?"
"You've worked with him before. What do you think he's doing right now?"
"Research," Nancy admitted.
"Exactly." His wandering fingers ventured higher, trailing softly up her calf and back to the ankle. "Remind me again why I wanted to work this case with both of you nerds?"
"You're complaining, but your face looks like you just won the lottery."
Joe grinned openly. "Fine. I love working with both of you nerds. Where do you want to start?"
Nancy was already typing a search query into her phone's web browser. "The boyfriend."
"Vince?"
"Vincent Salvatore Luttrell, according to the county property tax records," Nancy said absently, tapping her pen against her lower lip as she read.
Joe's hand skated higher up her leg as he leaned in to peer at her phone screen. "He bought the property. Why would he vandalize his own business?"
"I don't know, Joe. I'm just being thorough. Why did he buy that specific property? Did he have any prior connection with it?" Absently, she handed her phone off to Joe, freeing her hands for jotting down the man's birthdate. She made some quick mental calculations and looked up, shaking her head.
"He would've been a kid when those girls went missing."
"Okay, so he's probably not personally involved. There could still be a family connection," Joe said, scrolling. After a moment, he returned the phone, its screen displaying the resort website with its list of amenities.
"He bought the place really cheap," he started.
"No surprise there," Nancy interjected.
" - but based on the amount of work he's had done, he's sunk a small fortune into it since then."
"Again, no surprise. It was sitting vacant for decades. I can only imagine how much renovation it must have needed."
Joe nodded. "True. He bought part of an adjoining property to add on to the camp, too. We should definitely talk to the neighbors, put out feelers for any resentment or complicated history there."
Nancy nodded in her turn. "That would be the simplest explanation. Someone local with a grudge, for whatever reason- "
"Increased traffic to the area, noise, disputed lake access..." Joe suggested.
"Exactly. Something like that would be more than enough motivation for our saboteur."
"You sound disappointed," Joe teased, stroking his hand down her leg again. When he traced a fingertip lightly, suggestively, along her foot and between her toes, Nancy's foot curled reflexively and she gasped. The touch had tickled a bit, but it had also sent a spark zinging directly down her spine.
"I'm not," she said breathily.
He repeated the action, slowly, deliberately. "You want this to be connected with the missing girls."
The fan was still bathing the room with cool air, but Nancy felt suddenly prickly with heat. She sat up straighter, pulling her foot out of Joe's lap, and blurted out "Social media!"
Joe raised an eyebrow.
"If someone has a grudge, they might have left comments. We should skim the accounts."
"Sure, if he has any."
There it was: that tone again. He was not even touching her and she was still burning. Nancy swallowed hard and said "Vince doesn't seem to have any personal accounts, but the resort has all the standard ones. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram. They all look pretty active and professional."
They were also, she was fairly sure, Vanessa's handiwork- but she felt disinclined to bring that up, now, with Joe's eyes locked on hers, Joe's lips pressing a decadent line of kisses along the inside of her wrist. This time, when he took her notepad, she let him. This time, when he pulled her close, she moved eagerly into his lap, clutching at handfuls of his t-shirt in a mute demand for more. One of his hands slid up to gather the clinging red-gold strands of her hair and tug, making her tip her face upward. Their lips met in a kiss as wild and sweet as summer rain.
Thunder crashed overhead. The electricity in the air was practically tangible. When Joe broke the kiss to yank his shirt over his head, Nancy half expected to see sparks.
"We'll need to get a full list of staff," he said unexpectedly, tossing the shirt away. "Not just the contractors. Reception, maintenance, lawn service, kitchen staff, activities directors..."
"Stable hands," Nancy offered.
"Lifeguards," he contributed.
Nancy pressed her lips to his collarbone, his shoulder, licking the faint taste of salt from his skin. "What happened to taking the night off?"
Without any warning, he scooped her up and deposited her on her back. He hovered over her, holding most of his weight on his forearms. "I tried, but my massive brain finds your company just as stimulating as my massive- "
Nancy pressed a hand across his lips, stifling the end of the sentence. "Why do I love you so much?" she demanded, laughing. "You're the absolute cockiest- "
"That's what I was trying to say!" he interrupted with a wink. "Hey, what are you doing?"
"Taking you down a peg," she retorted, hooking a leg around his for leverage.
He tried to glare down at her in his best intimidating fashion- an effect which was largely spoiled by the laughter shining in his eyes.
"Bring it on," he growled.
There followed a fierce but brief wrestling match which ended in an abrupt thud when they both rolled off the couch. Nancy, pink-cheeked with exertion, scrambled up to straddle Joe's waist before he could get up.
"I win!" she declared.
She knew that Joe could have freed himself with ease, but he played along. He groaned theatrically and dropped his hands to the side in surrender. "Thou hast bested me, valiant warrior maiden. I beg of thee, dispatch me quickly."
"Quickly?" Nancy asked, leaning in to kiss him again, deeply and without haste. She pulled back just enough to murmur against his lips, "Are you certain you wouldn't prefer to be dispatched very, very slowly?"
"Fuck, Nan." He was reaching for her, his hands spanning her ribs, her waist, curling forcefully at the curve of her hips; pulling her body flush against his own, bucking up beneath her with more urgency than finesse.
"I don't think you want to do it slowly right now," he panted.
She did not choose to waste her breath arguing that point. Not when she was already half-breathless with desire. Not when her mouth could be better occupied kissing him until they were both dizzy as well as breathless. Nancy closed her eyes and sank into the sensations: the air, thick and humid now that they were below the fan's level; Joe's hands on her body, his body between her thighs; hot skin sliding slickly against hot skin. When the thunder boomed again it was loud enough to fill the room, loud enough that she felt its vibrations in her chest.
What little clarity she still possessed was nagging at her, telling her to stop grinding against him like an experimenting teenager and get the rest of his clothes off. She sat up and got as far as releasing the button of his jeans before his hands were tightening on her waist again, pulling her closer and making her arch in mindless pleasure.
"We have all night, baby. Don't stop."
Nancy braced her hands on his thighs and let her head tip back in surrender.
"Just like that," Joe growled. "Fuck. Fuck, yes, don't stop. God, you're gorgeous. I love watching you."
And then, disconcertingly, he went still.
Nancy's eyes flew open. "Joe? What is it?"
His answering groan sounded more frustrated than aroused. "I just remembered the Queen."
To Nancy, in her lust-fogged state, this meant nothing. "I'm sure Her Majesty will understand," she said, tugging at his jeans again.
"No, it's just- knowing Chet, he left all the windows down, and there's a storm coming." Joe sat up and then stood in one effortless, athletic motion, taking Nancy with him.
"I knew it. You let me win," she sighed.
"I was pretty sure I was the winner," Joe said, kissing her. "Damn Chester and his goddamn jalopy. I'm really sorry, Nan."
Nancy slipped down to land lightly on her own feet. She felt disheveled and breathless and more than a little frustrated, but her head had cleared enough for her to say "We should go, then. Before it rains."
"Yeah," he agreed. "We should."
He did not move. Neither did she. She was still close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, close enough to appreciate the clean lines of muscle highlighted by the slight sheen of sweat on his skin. Close enough to hook her fingers into the waistband of the unbuttoned jeans which hung low on his hips and pull him in for another kiss.
Another loud peal of thunder broke them apart.
"This isn't over," Joe promised, stumbling a few steps backward.
"I know." Nancy handed him his shirt. "Come on. The sooner we get back, the better."
...
They were, as it turned out, just in time. The swollen clouds overhead burst just as Nancy pulled her roadster alongside Chet's beloved jalopy in the mostly-empty gym parking lot.
"Good timing!" Joe said happily. "See you at home, Nan."
"Not at the Mortons'?"
"Our place is closer. Besides, it's not like Chet's going anywhere tonight," he pointed out. With that, he bounded out into the rain.
Back in their own driveway several minutes later, Nancy followed suit, scrambling out of her own car and into the Queen, breathless and rain-spattered.
"Hi," she said. "Ugh. The seat is damp."
"So are you," Joe pointed out, laughing.
"I know. It's really coming down out there."
Joe reached over and brushed a damp tendril of hair off her cheek. "Deja vu," he commented.
"Yes." Nancy smiled, remembering the night to which he was referring.
"You know, Frank's not home tonight, and I could use some company," Joe said, over the rattle of the rain pelting the windshield. "Want to come in for a cup of coffee and some dry clothes?"
Nancy played along. "That does sound tempting. I haven't seen you in so long; it would be nice to catch up."
"Perfect," he said. He held out his arm. "Shall we?"
"Wait," Nancy blurted, deviating from the script. She bit her lip and looked up at him through half-lowered lashes, making a show of hesitating. "I don't know. I've always been taught that nice girls don't go home with young men," she murmured.
His eyes darkened with understanding and approval. "It's just coffee, Miss Drew," he said. His voice was soft, persuasive. Dangerous.
Nancy shivered- partly from the chill of the raindrops evaporating off the bare skin of her arms and legs, and partly from the intensity of the need building between them. I've never been good at resisting danger.
Lighting forked across the sky. Thunder rolled, filling her senses. The rain lashed the side of the car, wind-driven, furious. Nancy looked up again and shook her head.
"Maybe it starts out as 'just coffee,' " she said, letting innocence and curiosity color her tone, "but who knows where it might end?"
The question had hardly left her lips before Joe was sliding closer, pressing her back against the seat and forcing her chin up with one strong hand. Heat blossomed beneath her skin, radiating out from that point of contact. He bent his head, and she closed her eyes, expecting a kiss which never came. Instead he stopped scant millimeters away and spoke eight simple words: "Tell me you don't want to find out."
He could not have said anything sexier. Nancy swayed into him, exhaling shakily, twining her fingers in the rain-damp collar of his shirt.
"Oh," she gasped, overwhelmed with sensation- his teeth nipping at her neck, his hand caressing her breast. "If I really were a virtuous maiden, I'd be safer- oh! yes, there- taking my chances in the storm than accepting a ride from you."
Joe grinned a rather predatory grin. But he also pulled back, slightly, and raised her hand to his lips to press a tender kiss to her palm.
"I'm glad you're you," he said, kissing the other palm for good measure. "I'm glad you did accept a ride. I love you, Nan."
"I love you, too."
There was no need for words after that. All pretense dropped away, leaving only two bodies, two souls, alone and adrift in their haven of warmth and protection in the storm- an isolation which would have been seductive all on its own, even without the influence of their previous state of arousal. The whole world was reduced to lips and skin and need, his hand working between her thighs, their lips meeting in kiss after decadent kiss...
And then lightning flashed, painting the whole scene like a photo negative, and Nancy remembered where they were. She pulled back.
"Wait," she whispered. "We're not having sex in Chet's car."
Joe groaned. "Why not? We wouldn't be the first ones."
"What?"
"I'm serious!" Joe rummaged on the floor by her feet for a moment and sat up, holding something aloft in triumph: a pair of pink and lacy bikini-style panties.
"I found this when I was rolling up the windows earlier. Either Chet's fashion sense has taken a turn for the feminine, or someone's been banging in here."
"That still doesn't mean we have to," Nancy said, as firmly as possible through her laughter.
"Fine. Race you inside, then," Joe challenged.
Nancy lunged for her door handle. "You're on."
"Wait!" he yelped. "Let me just- there." He draped the underwear carefully, decoratively, over the steering wheel. Then he turned back to Nancy with his most wicked grin. "On your marks...get set...go!"
Afterwards, Nancy would maintain that she had won. In the moment, neither of them cared about the contest. They tumbled into the apartment nearly on top of one another, laughing and dripping rainwater. Mirth quickly gave way to passion. Nancy pushed the door closed and allowed Joe to crowd her against it, lifting her, fitting his hips between her thighs in a way that instantly rekindled the aching, burning need she had tamped down earlier.
"Please," she breathed.
Before we get interrupted again, was what she meant to say. Before the universe finds another excuse to pull us apart. And though she lacked the breath to finish her thought, Joe seemed both to understand, and to share her urgency. Their bodies moved together with a kind of elemental elegance, their rhythm a primal counterpoint to the storm lashing against the door at her back. It was fast and rough, overwhelming in the best way; and it was, Nancy thought, as she surrendered to the first wave of pleasure, well worth the wait.