Chapter Seventeen: Preparation
In the grey light of early morning Nancy dressed and made her way to the kitchen, where she found Frank already at the table.
"Good morning," he said, looking surprised. "I thought you'd gone running with Joe."
"No, he couldn't talk me into it. I'm pretty sure it's about to rain," Nancy said, trying to hide her amusement.
"What's so funny?" Frank asked.
"You are," she said. "Looking like that, and reading that." She made a gesture which encompassed first his appearance, then the well-thumbed copy of Ina May Gaskin's Guide to Childbirth in his hands.
"Says the girl dressed as a young Stevie Nicks," Frank retorted, laughing and giving his necklace a self-conscious tug.
"I like this outfit, thank you very much," Nancy said, twirling to make her flowy floral skirt flare out beneath her fitted black crop top. She came to a stop beside the counter, where the boxy old Mr. Coffee was gurgling away busily.
"Coffee's almost ready," Frank said unnecessarily, returning his attention to his book. "Hope you don't mind that I made it extra strong."
"No, that's perfect."
Both Frank's and Joe's camera cases sat on the counter, ready for the day. Nancy slid them aside, clearing enough space to slice herself an apple while she waited for the coffee to finish brewing.
"Callie seemed to enjoy that book," she remarked. "She was telling me a little about it, last week."
Frank nodded and politely closed the book, holding his place with one finger. "It's certainly informative," he said, glancing down at the sleeping baby on the cover.
He sounded uncertain, or possibly just overwhelmed- an unusual tone, coming from self-assured Frank Hardy, and one Nancy found oddly touching.
"Are you nervous?" she asked, pouring the coffee into two paper cups. She slid one across the scratched tabletop toward Frank, then settled herself across from him with the other cup and her plate of apple slices.
"Thanks," Frank said. "And yes, in a way. Like when you've studied enough for a test and just want to get started."
"Bess always gets impatient toward the end, too."
Frank nodded, acknowledging this, and then changed the subject. "Looks as though we don't have to worry about arson today," he said.
Nancy turned and looked out the window. The strip of leaden sky visible between the brown curtains had given way to a steady, drenching rain. Water was already dripping off the tightly-closed blooms on the morning glory vine outside.
"Oh, poor Joe," she said. "He'll be soaked."
Frank just shrugged. "He knew what he was getting into."
The elder-brotherly lack of sympathy in his tone made Nancy giggle.
"Nice to see you're so concerned," she joked.
"That's what I'm here for," Frank joked in return, shooting her a quick smile before opening his book once more.
Nancy took a sip of the too-hot coffee, flipped open her notebook, and pulled up the web browser on her phone.
All right, she thought, trying to rally her tired mind into action. I should start with...newspaper archives, maybe? She suppressed a yawn and rolled her neck and shoulders, hoping to release some tension and get the blood flowing.
Maybe I should have gone running, after all.
"Nancy?" Frank said.
His voice was not loud, but Nancy jumped.
"Hm?" she said, wrenching her unfocused gaze back up from the blank page in front of her.
"If there were something wrong, you'd talk to someone about it, right?"
It was more a statement than a question. His brown eyes met hers across the table with a probing, evaluating intensity which made her feel uncomfortably exposed.
"Sure," she said; and then, when he kept looking at her, she added "If there were something wrong, yes. But I'm fine, Frank. I haven't been sleeping well lately, that's all."
This was technically true. It had taken her a long time to fall asleep last night, and even then she had found herself trapped in a restless cycle of waking and sinking back into vivid dreams.
"Nightmares?" Frank asked.
"Not exactly."
Nancy stared down at her untouched apple slices, which were beginning to turn brown around the edges. Frank said nothing. And though she knew this tactic, knew that his silence was calculated to make her want to talk, she felt herself responding.
"They're about my mother," she said, finally. "They're not really nightmares, but they're very intense. I've had the same ones since I was very young. They seem to pop up when things have been especially busy or stressful, and they always go away eventually."
Frank was kind enough not to push more than that. He released the pressure of his silence by nodding and saying "Psychologically speaking, that makes sense. I'm sorry if I intruded."
"There's no need to apologize," she told him, but he shook his head and went on.
"I've seen you tired, before, and I've seen you worried, and I thought I could tell the difference."
Though his tone was gentle, rather than accusatory, she began to feel cornered again.
"To be completely honest," he added, "I thought that it might have something to do with Vanessa."
Nancy groaned. "Not you, too," she said irritably. "This case would be so much easier if everyone would stop walking on eggshells. I'm aware of their past, I'm aware of her current intentions, and I'm aware that Joe would never betray my trust. She doesn't bother me."
Frank simply raised an eyebrow.
"Okay," Nancy conceded, laughing a little now. "She bothers me a little bit. But I just want to work the damn case and not think about her."
"Wouldn't that be a luxury," Frank said.
It was Nancy's turn to wait. She watched Frank frown down at the cover of his book. Rain drummed against the roof, filling the silence.
"Personally," he confessed, after a long moment, "I would have been happy never to see her again. She makes me angry." He huffed out a mirthless laugh and met Nancy's gaze across the table. "Is it juvenile of me to hold on to resentment this long? It was never her job to take care of him. That was my job. That's on me. But I'll never forgive her for being selfish enough to encourage his stupid, reckless choices. She could have reined him in, Nance, but she put the spurs on instead, just for the hell of it."
"Psychologically speaking," Nancy said, echoing his words with just a hint of teasing in her tone, "That makes sense. She's a personification of the guilt you feel over not protecting your little brother from...I don't know. Probably a lot of things."
This time, Frank's laugh held genuine amusement. "Spot on, Dr. Drew."
Nancy grinned back. "Now," she said. "I don't know about you, but I'm ready to focus on the investigation."
He nodded. "So," he said, tapping her notebook. "What are you working on?"
"Just a hunch," she said. "Something I thought of last night. You know those long-shot connections your brain makes when you're not actively thinking about the facts?"
Frank nodded. "Those are usually helpful," he said. "I hope it pans out."
"With any luck, I"ll let you know in a few minutes," Nancy said.
Joe would have asked more questions and offered to help with her research. Frank simply nodded, reached for his book, and opened it to a chapter titled "What Happens in Labor."
Focus, Nancy told herself, picking up her pen. What I need is more information about those missing girls' families.
Fortunately- for her purposes, anyway, though the grieving families craving privacy may have disagreed- the journalists of the day had been thorough. Before long, she had unearthed the piece of information she needed.
"Bingo," she whispered. "Frank, look at this." She turned her phone, her notebook, and the guest list Joe had procured toward Frank, then tapped one of the names.
"This man is Elizabeth Langley's step-brother. I didn't make the connection earlier, because the last name is different. The question is, why is he here? To get some kind of closure? To cover up his involvement in his step-sister's death? Or maybe because they weren't close enough for the place to mean anything to him?"
"I should've guessed your hunch had something to do with the cold case," Frank said affectionately. "Nancy the Bulldog, never lets go of an idea."
"I don't believe in coincidence," Nancy said stubbornly.
"I agree that this is worth following up," Frank said, growing serious again. "How do you think- "
Before he could finish his question, the cabin door flew open and Joe breezed in.
"You two missed out on a great run!" he declared, shaking water from his rain-darkened hair.
"Do you mean a great swim?" Frank asked.
"Yeah, yeah, very funny. I mean it. There's a nice, easy six-mile loop. Smooth trail, not too many hills, a damn good view of the mountains- " He broke off and changed tack, suddenly. "You're not eating yet? I'll get some eggs started."
"At least towel off first!" Nancy objected.
Joe paused, looked down at himself, and grinned ruefully. "Good call. Just a sec."
He changed course and veered off into the bedroom, leaving a trail of wet footprints in the shag carpet.
"I'm not sure why I was worried about him," Nancy remarked. "He's no worse for wear, clearly."
"Running endorphins," Frank muttered. "He's going to be insufferably cheerful all morning."
"I heard that!" Joe yelled.
He had not closed the bedroom door. Nancy closed her eyes for a second and imagined following him, imagined watching him peel off his clinging shorts and t-shirt and stepping closer to put her mouth on his rain-damp skin. It truly was only a second of indulgence; but when she reeled in her wandering thoughts and opened her eyes, she found Frank looking at her as though he knew exactly what she had been thinking.
"You can, um. Go," he said carefully.
"Honestly, Frank!" Nancy objected.
Much to her annoyance, she could feel herself blushing. She raised her cup for a long sip, Frank stared determinedly into his open book, and the next few minutes passed in a moderately awkward silence. Mercifully, it was not long before Joe re-joined them, grabbing an apple from the bowl and saying "I would've been better off standing naked in the rain than using that shower" in tones of disgust. His hair was still damp and tousled from a quick toweling, but he was fully dressed in jeans and a tight black tank.
"Who's hungry?" he added, swallowing a bite of apple.
"I could eat," Frank said.
"Nan?" Joe asked, side-eying her oxidized apple slices.
Nancy was surprised to find that she was hungry, after all. "Yes, please," she said.
Joe was already in motion: slicing a potato thinly, dropping butter into the pan, retrieving a pack of sausages and a carton of eggs from the refrigerator.
"What do you have planned for today?" Nancy asked, watching him crack an egg into a bowl.
Joe tossed the eggshell into the trash. "I'm meeting that reporter to talk about the preservation society. He called back while I was running. Do either of you want to come?"
"Yeah," Frank said. "I'll come."
Nancy hesitated. "I was going to follow up with something here at the camp," she said reluctantly.
"She found a connection between a guest and Elizabeth Langley," Frank said to Joe, whose eyes widened.
"What've you got?" he asked.
"Elizabeth's step-brother is staying in the campground," Nancy told him.
"And you want to talk to him," Joe guessed.
"I want to know why he's here," Nancy said.
"What motive would he have for sabotaging the camp?" Frank asked.
"Maybe he thinks it ought to have stayed closed," Nancy said, shrugging. "Out of respect for her memory, or out of a desire to keep something hidden."
"I'm going to ask Vince what he plans to renovate next," Frank said, pulling out his phone.
"But unless the vandal works closely with Vince, or with the construction crew, how would they know what he's planning?" Joe argued.
Frank sent the text anyway.
"How are you going to approach this guy?" Joe asked.
Nancy, who had been pondering that very question, grinned at him. "I think a combination of campground camaraderie and feminine charm might do the trick."
"Meaning you're going to wander through the campground and wing it," Frank interpreted.
"A time-honored tactic, and one which has always served me well," Nancy told him. The haughty tone she was aiming for was rather spoiled by her laughter.
"You do have a way of making your own luck." Joe slid plates of food onto the table and took a seat between Nancy and Frank. He dropped a hand lightly onto Nancy's knee and rested it there, a gesture of casual intimacy which warmed her heart. "I think this'll be good. You cover the past angle, we'll cover the current events, and maybe we'll start narrowing some things down."
"I certainly hope so," Nancy murmured.