Author's Note: You're all being SO PATIENT and I love you for it. I promise I haven't given up on this project- I'm just struggling to find regular writing time!

Chapter Twenty-Five: Impatience

By the time Nancy returned to the cabin, sunlight was streaming through the trees and birds were singing all around.

"Hush," she said to a particularly loud blue jay perched in a tree beside Joe's truck. "There might be people trying to sleep in there!"

As she spoke, however, the door opened and Joe looked out.

Or not, Nancy thought. I hope he got at least a little sleep while I was gone.

Joe pushed the door a bit further open and stepped into the gap, crossing his arms impassively. "Who goes there?" he called playfully. "Friend, or foe?"

"Friend," Nancy answered, smiling up at him. Up close he looked cheerful enough, if tired. It took every fiber of her self-control to maintain her cousinly distance; she wanted desperately, viscerally, to take him by the hand and lead him to the closest bed for a long makeout session and an even longer nap.

"Tell me, friend," Joe said, lowering his voice to a confidential tone. "How is your grandmother's goat?"

"My grandmother's goat had twins again," said Nancy, improvising wildly and somehow managing to keep a straight face. They did have several pre-established sign and countersign sequences, but none, so far as she could remember, involved goats.

Joe's eyes were bright with amusement. "Then congratulations are in order!" He stepped aside to let her in.

Inside, the cabin was fragrant with freshly-brewed coffee. Frank looked out from the kitchen, a spatula in one hand and a salt shaker in the other.

"Eggs will be ready in five minutes," he said. "If you two are done playing spy, that is."

"One man's melodrama is another man's common sense," Joe said flippantly. "What if she'd been an enemy agent impersonating Nancy, and I hadn't checked?

"If someone can impersonate your girlfriend without your noticing it, I have some questions about your relationship," Frank said, turning back toward the stove. "Coffee, Nance?"

"I'd love some, thanks, but I'm going to get changed and doctor my ankles first." She met Joe's look of concern and shook her head slightly, assuring him that nothing terrible had happened. "I walked into some nettles in the dark," she explained.

"Now I feel like a dick for keeping you waiting outside," Joe said.

"It's not so bad. Just some residual stinging," Nancy assured him.

"There's baking soda in my first aid kit," Frank offered. "That should help."

"Of course there is," Nancy said, teasing him. "Is there any type of emergency you're not prepared for?"

Frank seemed to consider this. "Well, I'm not sure I have enough painkillers to perform an emergency appendectomy…"

Nancy left the Hardys debating home surgery and the relative outcomes of shock versus peritonitis and made her way into the bedroom, picking up the pillow Frank had tossed the previous night in passing. She tossed it into a corner of the bedroom. There was no way she was going to put that back on the bed after it had spent the night sitting on the shag carpet.

Frank's well-stocked first aid kit was sitting conveniently atop the neatly-folded clothes in his suitcase. Nancy opened it and found the words "je t'aime" splashed across the inside of the lid in emphatically bright purple marker. There was no signature; none was needed.

"I hope you're doing all right," Nancy murmured, touching the familiar elegant lines of Callie's handwriting. "I'll get him back to you soon. I promise. Meanwhile, where did he stash the baking soda? Oh, here it is."

She took the box into the bathroom and quickly applied a paste of baking soda and water to her irritated ankles. When she washed it off in a few minutes, the stinging should be soothed. In the meantime, Nancy reached for her phone, resigning herself to a few minutes of catching up on social media. She had hoped that Joe would follow her so she could talk to him about some of the conclusions she had reached on her solitary walk, but a muffled rumble of masculine voices told her that he was still very much engrossed in his conversation with his brother.

Her phone buzzed in her hand, drawing her attention to a series of incoming messages.

Nancy drew did u kow there ateno rulesss

Like duck

Duck

Fuck!

Imean u can open a bottk= of gin at 6 am, no one can TECHNICALLLLY stop you

"Oh, god, Bess," Nancy said aloud, caught between laughter and concern. Before she could type out a reply a new message popped up.

Hey, it's G. Ignore her, it's all good, gin and phone have been confiscated.

Is she okay? Nancy sent.

Yeah. Wasted, obviously. I'm making coffee.

Do you know what she found out from Tom's phone? Nancy typed eagerly.

Not a clue. Sorry. Will fill you in if she says anything.

Thanks, George.

Nancy sighed.

"I need answers," she said, addressing her own reflection in the mirror. The darker-haired version of herself she found there still came as a minor shock. She pulled her top off impulsively and stepped back, angling her body to reflect her tattoos for inspection.

"You need to solve this thing, and get back home," she said sternly, turning back to face the stranger in the mirror.

With a renewed sense of urgency, Nancy rinsed the baking soda paste from her ankles, combed her hair, and slipped into fresh clothes from her suitcase. A quick application of eye makeup and lipstick, a crescent moon necklace, and several rings completed the look. Nancy hesitated, then grabbed the puzzle ring as well. She was beginning to feel an odd, almost superstitious, attachment to the trinket.

In her focused state, Nancy had not noticed the shifting timbre of the conversation taking place in the kitchen– so it came as a big surprise when she walked out and found Vanessa sitting at the table with Joe.

"Nancy, I hope I didn't wake you," the blonde said immediately. "I know I shouldn't have come over so early, but Mom made a big batch of danishes this morning and I couldn't resist bringing a few up to trade for information."

Vanessa smiled brightly and held out a large plastic container, offering Nancy her choice of the pastries within. The gesture, the words, the smile– all were calculated to be as disarming as possible.

You're good at this, Nancy thought, manufacturing an answering smile and accepting a danish. They were mere seconds into their encounter and already Vanessa had managed to imply that Nancy was lazy and that the entire team of detectives had been slack in keeping her informed. She had also inadvertently blocked Nancy from discussing any of the things she had hoped to talk about with Joe, for the time being, which was quite frustrating.

"Thank you," she said aloud. "And no, you didn't wake me."

"How are the ankles?" Joe asked, pushing out the chair beside his in a tacit invitation for Nancy to sit.

"Soothed," Nancy assured him, raising one foot to show him and feeling inwardly gratified when he wrapped a hand around her calf and pulled the foot into his lap for a closer examination.

"This is delicious," Nancy commented, holding up her danish. "Please thank Andrea for us."

Vanessa nodded. "Of course. Did you hurt yourself?"

Nancy extracted her foot gently from Joe's grip and explained about the nettle mishap as Frank joined them at the table with a pan of eggs.

"Help yourselves," he said, turning to grab the stack of paper plates from the counter before sitting down in the empty chair next to Vanessa.

"I'm sorry you came all the way out here for no reason," he added.

Nancy smirked down at her plate. Trust Frank to be as blunt as possible.

"Not for no reason, I'm sure," Vanessa protested. "Don't hold out on me, boys. You must have captured something on one of those cameras last night."

"We haven't checked the cameras yet," Joe said, helping himself to a generous serving of eggs. "It's not even- hell, what time is it?"

Frank checked his watch. "Six fifty-one," he said. "I wouldn't go in there yet. I'd give it an hour or two."

"An hour?" Vanessa repeated.

"If we go in there to get the camera cards and the guy is still in the building, we'll completely blow our cover," Joe pointed out. Nancy could hear the strain of attempting to remain patient in his voice. Evidently Vanessa recognized the tone, too, because her expression sharpened slightly.

"What are we supposed to do in the meantime?" she demanded.

"Finish breakfast," Frank said.

Joe nodded. "Eat, read, research. I don't know, maybe a bit of light birdwatching."

Nancy laughed. "I saw a blue jay earlier," she told him.

"One point for Nancy," Joe said.

"I'm not sure birdwatching involves points," Frank said thoughtfully.

"Maybe only for rare species?" Joe suggested. "Point revoked, Drew. Go look for a better bird."

"If it's all the same to you, I think I'll finish my breakfast first," Nancy told him.

Vanessa interrupted the conversation. "You're serious? You're really going to hang around for a few hours?"

"I'm afraid so," Nancy told her.

"God, I forgot how boring detective work is," Vanessa said.

"You don't have to hang around. We can update you when we have anything to tell," Frank pointed out, to Nancy's private satisfaction.

"I'll wait. I'd rather be bored here than go back and see what kind of chores my mother has cooked up for me." She smiled her practiced smile, flipped her blonde ponytail over her shoulder, and added "Now I really feel like a teenager again. Playing hooky, watching you boys solve a crime…it's like going back in time."

"All that's missing is the cringey haircuts and questionable fashion choices," Frank said.

"Speak for yourself," Nancy told him, gesturing to her own outfit. "This isn't exactly my best look."

She wished, as soon as she had spoken, that she had not called attention to her clothes. She still felt ill at ease comparing the false skin of her Nadia persona with Vanessa's perpetually sleek and flattering attire. But the remark did its job of moving the conversation forward; and what remained of the meal passed in fairly easy small talk.

"Now," Vanessa said, pushing away the crumbled remains of her danish. "I saw your guitar in the other room, Joe. If we're going to waste a little time, why not waste it with some music?"

Joe glanced at Nancy, who shrugged. "Go ahead," she said, though he had not exactly been asking for permission. "I'm going to clean up in here. Some background music would be nice."

"Any requests?" he asked, collecting his plate and fork before moving into the other room. Vanessa trailed after him, leaving her own plate sitting on the table.

"Anything is fine," Nancy replied. "Frank, you did all the cooking. You can go relax."

Frank raised an eyebrow at her and continued clearing the table. He looked tense– a little hollow around the eyes, a little clenched around the jaw. Exhaustion, she wondered, or something else?

"You can wash the egg pan," he conceded. "I'm going to make another pot of coffee. Want some?"

"Yes, please."

It only took them a minute or two to deal with the breakfast cleanup. Then Nancy settled herself back at the table, murmuring thanks to Frank for the fresh cup of coffee, and pulled out her phone to catch up on her latest round of messages. Carson and Camille, both innocuous enough. One from her friend Helen. And one from George.

"Poor George is going to run away if this goes on much longer," Nancy murmured, firing off a quick supportive response.

"No improvement there?" Frank asked, under cover of Joe's playing.

"Not really. It's going to take time," Nancy said.

Frank nodded, accepting this and not pursuing the topic any further. Nancy looked at him over the rim of her cup, watched a muscle twitch in his cheek. Something was definitely going on with him, she decided. She took a moment to ponder how best to probe into this without getting his hackles up, and decided to start on neutral territory.

"How's Callie? I haven't heard from her yet today."

"I'm not surprised. She has a prenatal checkup pretty early this morning," Frank said, checking his watch. "It feels funny not to be getting ready to go with her."

"Is this the first appointment you've missed?"

"No, I've missed one or two already because of work." Frank turned his coffee cup around in his hands. "Callie said this one's going to be quick, anyway. Routine."

"Bess always has lots of quick appointments when she gets close to her due date," Nancy said vaguely, watching Vanessa watch Joe. His fingers on the guitar strings, strong and skillful– his eyes focused somewhere beyond the ugly little room, his lips parted slightly–

"That really bothers you," Frank observed, startling Nancy slightly. She dragged her gaze back toward her companion and found him looking at her in that unsettling Hardy way, seemingly seeing right through her.

"He's not playing for her, you know," Frank said, in a very low tone Nancy knew could not be heard in the other room. "He's just playing."

"I know that," Nancy said.

Frank tilted his head slightly, waiting for her to say more.

"Maybe he's not, but she absolutely is flirting, and I hate watching it," Nancy admitted. "And on top of that, I miss him. We never seem to get a chance to talk freely."

"Is that partly my fault? Am I disrupting the team dynamic?" Frank asked.

"Of course not–" Nancy began.

Frank shook his head slightly, impatiently, cutting her off; and she realized that he wanted the courtesy of a real answer, not the reassurance of a knee-jerk denial. She closed her mouth and thought for a minute.

"I don't think so," she said slowly, considering the past few days. "The three of us have worked together with good results in the past. Something does feel off this time, but I don't think it's you."

She paused, struck by a sudden thought. "We haven't really been working together, though, have we? We keep going off in separate directions. Why do we keep doing that?"

Frank shrugged. "Divide and conquer? Doesn't seem efficient to have a three-man team and not split the work."

"I know, but maybe we need to close ranks a little bit. Look at the way we handled last night," she concluded, warming to her subject. "Solitary wandering, each one lost in his or her own thoughts and theories and ideas. It's not efficient or productive."

"You have a point," Frank said.

"Speaking of which," Nancy said, glancing into the living room again. Vanessa was asking Joe to show her the chords to some pop song; it sounded vaguely familiar, but Nancy did not want to dwell on the scene long enough to identify the music. She shook her head impatiently and looked back at Frank.

"Speaking of last night?" he prompted.

"It occurred to me, while I was walking, that Vince may well be a target," she said quietly.

"I doubt the other B&B owner would take it that far," Frank said. "Property damage is one thing. Assault is a whole other level."

"We don't know that it's about the business," Nancy said.

Frank shrugged. "We don't know anything at all," he said sourly.

Nancy was quiet for a moment. She twisted the puzzle ring on her finger and listened to Joe picking out a melody. Then she turned back to Frank. She could sense that he was not in a talking mood, but she was unable to resist her own curiosity.

"Have you heard back about those fingerprints yet? Or about the autopsy results?"

"Not yet, and I'm not going to pressure anyone. I'm calling in enough favors as it is."

"I apologize. I didn't mean to sound pushy," Nancy said, concealing the sting she felt at his curt tone.

What is his deal?, she wondered. These little outbursts of snippiness were new for him. Is this going to be how he is, now that he's a father? Or is it just the strain of waiting and being away and being tired?

As though she had given voice to these thoughts, Frank suddenly sighed and rubbed a hand across his eyes. "God damn it," he muttered. "I'm sorry, Nance. I'm lashing out."

"You have a lot on your mind," Nancy said.

"It's not that," he said. "Well. It is that, a little bit. But it's also this." He leaned down and gingerly pulled up one leg of his jeans. "I see your nettle rash and raise you one case of poison ivy," he said wryly.

"Oh, Frank, that looks awful!" Nancy said. "How long has it been like that?"

"I got it the first day we were here, I guess. Probably when I was blundering around by the lake looking for Joe," he said, letting his jeans drop back down to hide the blistered and swollen leg.

"Don't tell me you don't have something for it in that first aid kit of yours," Nancy said.

"Yeah, I've been treating it," he said nonchalantly. "I've always reacted pretty badly to poison ivy. Worse than Joe, anyway."

"I'll say. You should see a doctor," Nancy told him.

"If it gets worse, I will." Frank made a dismissive gesture. "Meanwhile, we have work to do."

"Work," Nancy echoed, scoffing. "What should we do first? Join the sing-along over there or eat more danishes?"

"The answer is always danishes," Frank joked. But he stood up instead of reaching for the pastries, rolling his shoulders as though to ease stiffness. "Actually, I thought we could grab a laptop and walk down to the main campground. By the time we get there it should be safe enough to go out and grab those SD cards, and then maybe Vanessa will let us use the office to look at the images."

"Did I hear my name?" Vanessa called, rising gracefully from the sofa.

"Time to go?" Joe asked.

"Grab your laptop," Frank said.

"Keys?" Joe asked.

"Nope, we're walking."

Nancy let Frank explain the plan to Joe and Vanessa. Meanwhile, she finished her coffee and changed into a pair of cute but comfortable sandals which would not give her blisters. She had been hoping that Vanessa would finally lose interest in the slow process, but no such luck. The blonde accompanied them all the way down to the main campground area, walking deliberately beside Joe as much as possible, and then waited with Nancy at Caldwell House while Frank and Joe, in character as early morning joggers, ran off down the trail toward the abandoned sanatorium.

"Has Frank hurt his foot?" Vanessa asked.

Nancy had noticed the slight hitch in the elder Hardy's gait, now that she knew what to look for. She was surprised that Vanessa had also observed it.

Don't underestimate her, she reminded herself. You know she's smarter than she likes to make people believe.

Aloud, she simply said "No, but he has a nasty case of poison ivy."

Vanessa nodded, accepting this. "Should we wait inside?" she suggested.

"Yes, thank you. That would be less conspicuous than loitering here," Nancy said. She shifted Joe's laptop bag to her other shoulder and followed Vanessa into the coolness of the mansion.

"It seems funny to be in here so early," Vanessa remarked, unlocking the office. "You can set up at the desk."

Nancy did pull the laptop out of its case and open it on the desk, which was disappointingly clear of any paperwork; but she left it powered off for the time being.

"He still doesn't give out his passwords?" Vanessa asked, sinking gracefully into a free chair.

"No, I know it," Nancy said. "But there's not much point turning it on until we have the camera card."

Vanessa looked surprised. "He trusts you," she commented.

"With his life," Nancy said. "Passwords aren't such a big deal, comparatively speaking." She knew she ought to have downplayed the importance of the gesture, ought to have said something politely innocuous; but it was clear that password sharing had been a point of contention in Joe and Vanessa's relationship, and Nancy could not resist the wicked impulse to flaunt her own superior level of trust.

"How very wholesome," Vanessa said. She had pulled out her phone and begun scrolling. Now she lowered it slightly and looked at Nancy. "I don't believe in not taking my shots," she said bluntly. "Life is too short for that shit. If he's monogamous, that's his decision, not mine."

"I appreciate the honesty, if not the ethics," Nancy said.

They waited, after that, in a silence made only slightly less awkward by Vanessa's air-clearing honesty. Vanessa seemed content to scroll through her Instagram feed without making small talk; Nancy did her best to release her anger and sink into the patient, meditative headspace she used on long assignments. Still, she felt profound relief when she heard two sets of footsteps approaching.

That relief faded as soon as Frank and Joe entered the room and she caught sight of the frustration on both men's faces.

They look so much alike when they're angry.

Nancy rose, meeting Joe's eyes, asking without words what the problem had been.

"The cameras are gone," he said.

"Gone?" Vanessa echoed.

Nancy's heart sank. It was always disappointing when a calculated risk did not pay off.

Grimacing, Frank dropped into a free chair. "We did see something interesting."

Joe brightened. "Yeah. Our annoyingly observant friend either has access to the guest dining room, or has somebody smuggling out food for him. We found a set of utensils and a cup matching the stuff in the dining room."

"They shouldn't be able to do that," Vanessa said. "I'll have a word with the hostesses. They need to keep a better eye on people."

Joe was shaking his head. "It could as easily be a staff member as a guest," he reminded her. "We don't want to tip our hand."

"But–"

"We're going to find out who it is," Frank interjected. "You can worry about your staff training issues after that."

"Why would any member of staff risk stealing supplies?" Nancy mused.

"Personal connection," Joe suggested.

"What's in it for them, though?" Frank asked. "If they're trying to force Vince to close, they're not trying hard enough."

"If that's the endgame, things are going to escalate," Joe said.

"And if it's just a troubled individual," Nancy began.

"Troubled or not, it's a serious problem," Vanessa said.

Nancy nodded. "Of course. And we will get to the bottom of it."