Chapter 13: Aftermath
(Author's Note: Joe references some things, at the end of this chapter, that may make more sense if you've read The Secret of Idlewild Manor. You probably won't be too lost if you haven't...but of course my recommendation is that you should, because it covers the beginning of Nancy and Joe's relationship and it was a lot of fun for me to write.)
"Nan, are you sure about this?" Joe asked, for approximately the ten thousandth time.
Nancy picked up the clipboard lying next to her on the bed and sighed, wincing slightly. "I'm sure."
Joe sighed and steepled his fingers in front of his face, looking as though he were trying to gather patience. "You. Just. Got. Stabbed," he said, speaking very slowly and forcefully.
"I. Know," she said back, imitating his tone. She shook her head. "Trust me, I know. But he didn't hit anything serious. The blade hit a rib. I'm bruised and I lost some blood, but I can recuperate just as well at home as here." She paused, staring him down. "I've seen you and Frank do the same thing time and time again. Don't try to deny it."
"Shit. Yeah. I know," he said, passing a hand wearily over his face.
"Then let's get out of here. I had an idea while I was dozing earlier, and I'd like to pursue it." Nancy uncapped her pen and flipped through the paperwork, signing her name at the bottom of a few pages. "There. I'm out of here."
"As soon as the nurse comes back to unhook you from all that," Joe said, gesturing toward the bedside IV pole and monitor. "So much for the grand gesture, Drew."
"Janet said she'd be back soon an hour ago," Nancy said, lying back against her pillow.
"You have to translate that into hospital time. She'll be back sometime around midnight," Joe grumbled, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest.
Nancy had nothing to say to that. She reached for the TV remote and flipped channels until she found something to pass the time, and they both sat with their eyes fixed on the little screen, letting its foolishness dull the rawness of their emotions.
"We'll let you know if we find out anything important," the police officer who had interviewed Nancy had promised. He was very young and very earnest; Nancy had believed him. Another officer, an old acquaintance of Nancy's and Joe's, had bagged Nancy's clothes and swabbed her hands to check for evidence. The doctors had stabilized her, stitched her up, cleaned the abrasions on her knuckles, photographed her body to document every bruise and cut. Nancy felt naked, still. The doctors had told her she should stay overnight for observation, but she just wanted to go home, to get into her own clothes, to be safe among people who loved her.
"I'm going to get you another orange juice," Joe said suddenly, interrupting Nancy's thoughts. He practically leaped out of his chair and out into the hallway. Waiting was not Joe's strong point. He was back in a few minutes with a small bottle of juice.
"Joe, I appreciate your help, but this stuff is about to come out my ears."
"The doctor said you should drink a lot of fluids." Joe's eyes were dark-ringed and his jaw was set, just as it had been in the ambulance earlier. Nancy was struck, again, by how much he resembled Frank. Bess called that face "the Hardy stone wall"; Nancy knew it signaled unbreakable determination. He was going to take care of her, and he was going to get justice, and nothing in the universe could stand against him. Nancy took a sip of her juice and shivered slightly.
"Thanks, Joe," she said softly. "I'm sorry. I'm not a very good patient."
"I need you to take care of yourself," he said flatly. He prowled back over to his chair and sat, avoiding making eye contact with her, and they went back to staring at the TV. Onscreen, a peppy hostess was trying to teach them how to make carved pumpkin lanterns for their holiday table. Nancy glared at her for a few minutes while the tension between her and Joe drew itself out. Finally, just as she was getting ready to snap at him, Joe offered a truce.
"Only you, Nan," he said, shaking his head. He reached for her hand and squeezed it. "You just got your last set of stitches out. You're not supposed to celebrate by getting more."
Nancy laughed, and winced, and returned pressure on his hand. "I know. I really liked that dress, too," she said.
Joe stretched and shifted in his chair. "Okay, Drew. What's your great idea? If it involves a lot of action I'm vetoing it," he warned.
"It involves dinner," Nancy told him. "Am I allowed to eat dinner, Dr. Hardy?"
"That depends," Joe said warily. "Let's hear the whole story first."
"Okay. I want to get takeout and stop by Chet's garage and talk to him about helping us set a trap for this guy."
"Okay. Why Chet?"
"He's such a jack-of-all-trades. I bet he knows a lot about the 1940s and forums like the one we were on. We don't get involved in niche communities like that, so I bet we're missing all kinds of information Chet would notice."
Joe looked skeptical. "You're probably right, but that still seems like a lot of traipsing around for someone with ten stitches holding her together. Seriously, Nan, why don't you just stay overnight like the doctor wanted you to? We can call Chet from the comfort of your hospital bed."
"Because I'll go crazy, that's why." Nancy looked at him. "If he was desperate enough to come after me, we're hitting a nerve. One of these leads is the right one. Doesn't that make you want to keep chasing him?"
"Yes, but not at the expense of damaging you more. We'll get him, Nan. One night isn't going to make or break it."
"You don't know that," Nancy said, falling back against her pillow again in frustration. She huffed out a long breath and made herself calm down. "I'm sorry, Joe. I don't want to fight with you."
"I get it. Days like this put me on edge too." Joe shifted again, restless and uncomfortable in the plastic chair. "May I modify your plan? You stay here and get more rest, and I'll bring Chet and dinner to you."
"Or I could go home and rest there while you pick up Chet and dinner," Nancy countered.
Joe looked at her for a long moment. Nancy slipped her hand into his. "Please," she said. Joe's thumb was caressing her fingers, avoiding the bruises on her knuckles and the strip of tape holding the needle into her vein. She met his gaze, willing him to understand; because for all Hannah's good advice about being vulnerable, Nancy couldn't bring herself to say the words I had a scary day and I want to go home, like a child fleeing to her parents. But Joe seemed to understand. His face softened a little and he leaned in to kiss her forehead.
"I'll take you home, Drew."
A light tap on the half-open door startled them both. Janet, the nurse who had been caring for Nancy, walked in.
"How are we doing in here?" she said briskly, checking Nancy's monitor. "Looking good, hon. Are you experiencing any pain or disorientation?"
"I feel fine," Nancy said. "I'm a little sore, but that's normal."
The nurse raised an eyebrow at her. "You've been stabbed enough times to know what feels normal?" Her tone was assessing, rather than teasing. Nancy didn't miss the way the nurse's eyes flicked to Joe and then back to her patient.
"It comes with the territory," Nancy said, smiling disarmingly. "We're private detectives."
Janet's posture relaxed. "Maybe you should consider a new line of work," she said, adjusting Nancy's pillow. She paused, one hand on her hip. "Do I see discharge papers in your little hands? Nancy, honey, you're a sweet girl, but patients like you gave me a few of these grey hairs."
"I just need to go home," Nancy told her. "I'll be careful. This guy is going to make sure of that."
"Shoulda had this guy with you earlier. Maybe you wouldn't be in the shape you're in," Janet said, looking Joe's athletic frame over with evident approval. She took the clipboard from Nancy and flipped through the papers, nodding to herself. "Okay, sugar. It's all in order. Let me get you unhooked from all this mess." Pulling on a pair of gloves, she began releasing Nancy from the pulse oximeter and the IV.
"Here's what you need to do," she said, retrieving a bandage from a cabinet. "Take notes, Blondie, because something tells me Little Miss Detective is going to need reminding." She deftly pulled the needle out of Nancy's hand and placed a wad of cotton over the site. "Put pressure on this, baby. Good. Okay, so, Blondie: you take her home, you park her on the couch, you wrap her in the fluffiest blanket you own, and you turn on the TV. She needs to rest and keep up her fluid intake."
"Like when I donate blood," Nancy said, nodding.
"Except that you just donated an extra pint or so," Janet said, replacing Nancy's bit of cotton with a Band-Aid. "And you don't usually bruise any ribs while giving blood. I assume, anyway. Your life is evidently a boatload more exciting than mine." She looked into Nancy's eyes. "Your job right now is to rest and let your body heal. I don't want to see you back in here next week with an infection or needing a transfusion. Got it?"
"I understand," Nancy murmured.
Janet turned her gaze on Joe again. "Got it?" she repeated.
"Yes, ma'am," Joe said, so smartly that Nancy half expected him to salute.
"Okay," Janet said. "Given your level of experience, you probably don't need to be told this, but I'm supposed to tell you to keep your stitches dry and don't put any stress on the area. That means no excessive twisting or stretching or running around. No yoga, no trapeze acts, no rock climbing, no Kama Sutra stuff." She winked at Nancy. "If I had a bodyguard as handsome as that I'm not sure my common sense would hold out. But try to behave."
"I'll give it my best shot," Nancy said, returning the wink.
"Okay, hon. You are free to go. I don't want to see you again, hear?"
"Loud and clear. Thank you for everything, Janet."
It was a long walk to Joe's truck. Nancy was grateful for Joe's arm to lean on. He supported her and lifted her gently into the passenger seat and never once suggested that if she found a short walk to the parking lot exhausting she should have stayed in her hospital bed. Nancy buckled her seatbelt, holding the strap slack to keep pressure off her aching side, and let her head fall back against the headrest.
"They gave me your purse," Joe said, pulling it out from behind the seat. "Nothing was taken. But I'd hold off on checking your texts until you have more energy."
"I need to call Dad and let him know I'm coming home," Nancy said, pulling her phone out of its pocket. One glance at the screen told her Joe was right. She had a completely overwhelming amount of missed calls, voicemails, and texts.
"Holy shit."
Joe glanced over at her. "A little popular this evening, are we?"
"I'll deal with them later," Nancy said, tapping the screen again until she had pulled up her father's number. He picked up almost before the phone had started to ring.
"Nancy? What's the news?"
"Hi, Dad. I just wanted to let you know I'm on my way home."
"Nance, last time we spoke you said the doctor wanted to keep you overnight." Carson paused. His voice, when he spoke again, was definitely suspicious- the tone of a parent who has dealt with an offspring's reckless behavior too many times to count. "Are you driving right now?"
"No!" Nancy said, a hint of teenage exasperation creeping into her voice in response to his tone. "Joe is bringing me home. I'll see you soon."
"Are you grounded?" Joe joked as Nancy dropped her phone into the center console.
"Don't joke. I may very well be," Nancy said, grinning. "He is not pleased with me."
"And you can't even climb out your bedroom window after curfew with those stitches," Joe said, mock-sadly. "You're just going to have to serve your time, Drew. Maybe next time you'll make better choices."
"Stick a sock in it, Hardy." Nancy closed her eyes. But after a moment they popped open again and she reached for her phone.
"I knew you couldn't ignore all those messages. Give it here," Joe said.
"No, I'm just going to text Callie," Nancy told him. Her fingers felt clumsy but she managed to type out a heartfelt thank you and an update to her friend. Then Nancy turned off her phone. She would deal with the rest of the world in the morning. Right now she had just enough energy to keep herself upright and ponder her idea for Chet.
Hannah met them at the front door- was out the door, really, before Joe had even parked his truck, and was there waiting to wrap an arm around Nancy and help her up the steps into the house despite Nancy's protests.
"Joseph Hardy, you should have handcuffed her to that hospital bed," the housekeeper scolded. From the sound of it, she was not really joking.
"Don't think it didn't cross my mind," Joe told her.
"People! I am a grown woman, and it was my decision to leave!" Nancy said. She gently slipped away from Hannah and approached her father, who was standing in the middle of the living room.
"Dad, I'm fine," she said. "I'm sorry I worried you."
"I wasn't expecting this to happen, now that you're working with a partner," Carson said. But he stepped forward and gathered her into a long hug.
"Speaking of which, where did Joe go?" Nancy asked.
"He stepped out to take a phone call," Hannah said. "It was his brother, by the sounds of it."
"Okay." Nancy looked around, feeling a bit lost.
"What can we do for you, Nance?" Carson asked gently.
"I- I don't know," Nancy said, looking around the room again. "I think I want to go wash my hair."
"Is that wise, dear?" Hannah asked. "I don't want you to get dizzy and fall in the tub. You could really hurt yourself."
"I can't spend the night like this," Nancy said, feeling embarrassingly close to tears.
Before Hannah could reply, Joe walked back into the room. "Sorry about that," he said.
"Frank?" Nancy asked, getting control of herself.
Joe nodded. "He says to tell you he's glad you're okay. And he's going to have Callie let all the girls know you're all right."
"Thanks," Nancy said, feeling better about her unanswered messages.
Joe looked to Hannah. "I'm under very strict instructions to make sure Nancy sits down on the couch and doesn't move for a good long time."
"She says she wants a shower," Hannah told him.
"And something to wear that wasn't issued by the police department," Nancy added, gesturing at her outfit.
"How can you do that without putting stress on your stitches?" Joe asked.
Nancy glared at him. We should have gone back to his place so he could help me wash it. I don't dare ask him to get in the shower with me in front of Dad and Hannah. "I'll figure it out, Hardy. I'm pretty smart."
"Nancy, honey, what if I wash it for you at the laundry room sink? We'll set up a chair for you so you don't have to bend," Hannah said sensibly. She reached for Nancy's hand. "Come on. Let Hannah work her magic. Joe, would you mind running upstairs for Nancy's shampoo and a set of clean pajamas?"
"On it," Joe said.
"I'll make cocoa," Carson said to the world in general, and headed for the kitchen.
With the grime of that alleyway rinsed out of her hair, Nancy felt better. She dressed in the pajamas Joe had fetched for her and let Hannah walk her back out to the living room, where Joe draped her in a blanket and Carson pressed a steaming mug of cocoa into her cold hands.
"Now, dinner," Hannah said. "I'm afraid I didn't have much planned. Us old folks were just going to have some toast before bed. Oh, but I think there's some chicken soup in the freezer. I can defrost that."
"We were talking, earlier, about getting takeout," Joe said hesitantly. "We don't want to put you to any trouble."
"It wouldn't be any trouble. Do you really want to go driving out again to pick up food?"
"Not exactly," Joe admitted, his eyes on Nancy.
"What about Chet?" she asked him. "Did you talk to him?"
"I did. He said he'd come over pretty soon."
Hannah stood up. "I'll go warm up that soup. There's plenty for Chet, too."
"Thank you, Hannah," Nancy said. She took a sip of her drink and leaned back against the cushions, enjoying the warmth of her surroundings. For the first time since lunch, she was beginning to feel safe. She closed her eyes, letting the sounds of home wash over her: Hannah working in the kitchen, the fire crackling in the fireplace, her father and Joe calling out "Jeopardy!" answers at the television. When the show went to a commercial break Joe leaned back and captured her free hand, twining his fingers with hers.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"A little tired," Nancy admitted. She sat up a little and looked over at her father. "Dad, I just remembered. Aren't you supposed to be in New York City with Camille? Don't tell me I ruined your special weekend."
"You certainly didn't. This is still Thursday. We're catching an early train tomorrow morning." The lawyer hesitated. "Well, that was the plan. I don't feel right leaving you."
"Dad," Nancy said. "No! I'm fine. Please go."
"Camille would understand, Nancy."
"But she won't have to, because you're going." Nancy set her empty mug on the end table. "Dad, don't make me wear myself out arguing with you. I want you to have your weekend together. Does she know what you have planned?"
Carson shook his head. "If she has any suspicions, she's kept them to herself." He unfolded his tall form from the couch and grinned at her. "Wait here."
"Where would I go?" Nancy called after him. "Hannah will break my legs if I get off this couch!"
"And I won't stop her," Joe said.
"Some bodyguard," Nancy retorted, leaning into him anyway and winding an arm around his neck to pull him in for a kiss. "I forgot to thank you for coming."
Joe looked surprised. "Why wouldn't I have come?"
"I'm sure you had better things to do than sit in a hospital room all day."
"No. No, I didn't." He cupped her face gently, smoothing his thumb over a bruise on her cheekbone. "You are the most important thing in my life."
Nancy blushed. She couldn't come up with any words big enough to express how she felt, so she settled for kissing him again.
"Ahem," Carson said loudly. The young detectives jumped apart like a couple of guilty kids. Carson sat down between them, his eyes twinkling.
"Excuse me, young man. I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said innocently.
"Dad!" Nancy protested, laughing.
"I wanted to show you this," Carson said, and he held out a small black box. Joe peered over with interest as Nancy opened it.
"Is that your ring, sir?" he asked.
"It is," Carson confirmed.
Nancy paused with the box half-open. "Dad, you're blushing like a teenager with his first date to a dance," she teased. "Frank wasn't even this excited when he showed me Callie's ring."
"Am I not allowed to be happy?" Carson protested.
"I suppose I'll allow it," Nancy told him. "In fact-" And she broke off mid-sentence, because she had finally looked at the ring, and it was exquisite. Nancy actually gasped. She had never really been blown away by an engagement ring before, not even her own. They were pretty, of course, but they were all a little generic, and she had always felt a little cynical of the promise behind the flash. Most of the time, she felt, there was more flash than promise. But this ring...oh, this ring was spectacular: a simple white gold band crowned by a single pearl nestled between two clusters of smaller diamonds. Nancy slipped it reverently out of the box to show Joe, and an etching on the inside of the band caught her eye. She looked closer.
"A rose, and a lily of the valley?" she said, glancing at her father for confirmation. The lawyer nodded, looking anxious now.
"Is it too much?"
Nancy looked again, dredging up a half-forgotten memory. Victorian flower language! Of course. "The rose is 'love,' and the lily of the valley is...um...'respect?' No, wait. 'Return of happiness,' " she said aloud.
"Your memory never ceases to astound me," Carson said.
"I didn't know you were such a romantic!" Nancy said.
"Is it too much?" he asked again.
"Dad. This is perfect. Camille is going to bawl."
"Well, that doesn't sound perfect," the lawyer said.
Nancy slipped the ring back into its nest of velvet and handed it to Joe to examine. "Take my word as a woman, Dad. It's perfect."
"It really does look nice," Joe said, returning the precious box to its rightful owner.
"Are you showing off your ring?" Hannah asked, setting a tray of food on the coffee table.
"I think I've made poor Hannah admire it a hundred times," Carson said, slipping the box into his pocket.
"Camille is a lucky woman," Hannah said, passing out bowls of soup. She settled into her usual chair, pulling her knitting into her lap. "Is NCIS on yet?"
"By which she means, change the channel," Nancy told Joe. Carson was already reaching for the remote.
"Hannah, that's not the kind of show you usually watch," Joe said, a little surprised.
"All these years of dealing with you kids has given me a taste for adventure," Hannah said. "Besides, that Gibbs is so handsome."
Nancy exchanged a glance with Joe, trying not to giggle at Hannah's crush. Who knows, she thought. Maybe even Hannah will start dating again. Everything is changing so much.
The doorbell rang just as the episode was wrapping up. Joe jumped up to answer it, a gesture both courteous and wary. It was highly unlikely that anyone still pursuing Nancy would begin by ringing the doorbell; but still, the interruption had raised everyone's heart rates a little.
"It's just Chet," Joe called from the entryway. Nancy relaxed.
"Just Chet?" their friend repeated, sounding miffed. He came into view, holding out a plate of cookies. "Hi, everybody. Mom sent these over."
"Are those Jill Morton's famous snickerdoodles?" Hannah said eagerly. "Set those right on the coffee table, Chet. Can I get you some soup or a cup of coffee?"
"No, but thanks," Chet said, depositing his plate on the table as instructed. He looked at Nancy and hesitated, shifting his weight awkwardly from foot to foot. Nancy took pity on him.
"Sit down, Chet. I'm not going to spontaneously combust."
"You don't know that. Nobody can know that. Hence the name, spontaneous combustion," Chet said; but he did take a seat in an armchair.
"How's business, Chet?" Carson asked genially, helping himself to a cookie.
"Can't complain," Chet said modestly. "Things have been pretty busy. We're even thinking about hiring some help. Little Hardy, how do you feel about handling oil changes and state inspections?"
"Forget it. I'm not going to give up detecting to be your grease monkey," Joe said good-naturedly. He had wandered out to the kitchen after letting Chet in, and had just returned with a large glass of water for Nancy. Carson slid over to the end of the couch and patted the middle cushion, inviting the younger man to resume his place next to his daughter.
"I drove past your shop the other day and I thought I saw a Corvette parked out front," Carson began, and Chet lit up. From there the conversation became very technical. Nancy, too tired to try to follow it, tuned them out and watched a set of commercials.
"How did things go with Delilah?" she asked, when the subject of Corvettes seemed to have run its course.
"I haven't asked her," Chet said.
"Why not?"
"She's...she's really pretty," Chet said mournfully.
"And why should that stop you?" Hannah asked kindly. "You're a handsome boy."
Carson reached over and clapped him on the shoulder. "Carpe diem, my young friend!" he advised.
"Dad's a bit enthusiastic about romance right now. He's going to propose this weekend," Nancy explained, taking an obedient sip of her water.
"Congratulations, Mr. Drew!" Chet said heartily.
"Let's not jump the gun," Carson said, shaking his head. "She hasn't said yes, yet."
"She will," Hannah said firmly, reaching for a cookie and handing one to Nancy while she was at it.
"Cinnamon has healing properties," she said firmly. "Eat up."
Nancy smiled. "That sounds like something Bess would say."
"Bess knows how to feed people right," Hannah said, rising from her chair. "All right. I think I'm going to call it a night." She bent and kissed Nancy's forehead. "I'm glad you're safe, sweetie."
"Me, too. Good night, Hannah."
"Wake me if you need anything. I mean it."
"I will," Nancy promised.
"All right," Chet said, when the housekeeper had gone. "You said you needed my help. Tell me what kind of insanity I've let myself in for this time."
"We just need that fantastic brain of yours," Nancy said, sitting up a little.
"Inside my head, right?" Chet said warily.
"Come on, buddy. We're probably never going to need to dissect you," Joe said, grinning. "We need you in an advisory capacity. We don't know anyone else who has a working knowledge of both World War II and antiques."
Chet brightened. He leaned forward. "This doesn't sound too dangerous. What do you need to know?"
"There's this forum," Joe said.
"A World War II forum. Our victim and chief suspect were very active on it prior to the murder," Nancy added.
"Um," said Chet. "What's the name of the site?"
" 'The Homefront,' " Nancy said.
"I know that look. He has an account there!" Joe said gleefully.
"What's it to you?" Chet retorted. "There's nothing wrong with being interested in things."
"No, it's great," Nancy said. "That will save a ton of time. We were wondering if you could help us analyze the dynamics of the forum, for starters. There are hundreds of threads there and we don't have the knowledge base to pick apart what could be unusual or significant. We want to know if anyone was acting...well, odd, or aggressive, or overly curious. Especially in their interactions with our two guys."
"The second part of the job is to help us set a trap," Joe said.
"I don't like how your traps usually go," Chet said.
"We're not reckless kids anymore, man. We have a pretty solid plan." Joe glanced at Nancy. "Well, we will by the time it all comes together."
"I'm going to regret this." Chet grabbed another cookie. "What's the plan?"
"We're going to put word out that we found another ammo box buried near the one Brendan dug up, and it contained another very valuable painting. And we'll say we're going to be taking it from a specific appraiser to a specific bank vault on a specific day, and see who shows up to steal it. Or something along those lines," Joe said, shrugging.
"We'll have it exhibited somewhere, maybe? So no messengers get harmed?" Nancy suggested.
"Okay, but nobody's going to trust you if you just pop up as a new account, claiming to have a treasure. They'll think you're a scammer," Chet said.
"And that's why we consulted you," said Nancy. "Your account is well-established. Can you start talking about it for us?"
"I've never given any indication of knowing your victim before," Chet pointed out. "Won't that look weird? Why can't you have his friend do it on his account?"
"Keith is one of our top suspects," Joe said. "We can't tip him off to the trap."
"What if you make another new account, claiming to be George's friend?" Carson suggested suddenly. He had been listening with great interest to the whole conversation. "Forgive me for interfering. It's just a thought."
"Kate?" Nancy asked.
"And we say that after Brendan found his artifact we got curious, did a little digging of our own, and found a second box!" Joe guessed.
"Exactly," Carson confirmed.
Chet looked thoughtful. "I guess that could work. It's still kind of suspicious, but it's more credible than a completely random person. People would have to believe it, just to be on the safe side."
"What I want to know is, why are people so fired up about treasure hunting on a World War II interest forum?" Carson asked.
"It's just one of the sub-forums," Chet explained. "People talk about a lot of stuff. Military stuff, life back home, sewing patterns, recipes, politics, you name it. And there are a lot of people interested in objects from that period."
"I see."
"Anyway," Chet said, shifting his attention back to Nancy and Joe, "I haven't been too active on there lately, but I can take some time tonight to look around and see if anyone is acting funny."
"Thanks, Chet," Nancy said gratefully. "We owe you one."
Chet took his leave after not too much longer, and Carson excused himself to finish packing for his trip and go to bed, leaving Nancy and Joe alone on the couch. Nancy nestled back against the cushions, sighing a very long, contented sigh.
"Feeling better, now that we talked with Chet?" Joe asked.
"Much," Nancy said, yawning.
Joe toyed with a loose thread on his cuff. "Nancy," he said, "do you think the guy who stabbed you is the same guy who stabbed Brendan?"
Nancy thought about this. "It seems likely, doesn't it? I'm glad he traded his bayonet for a knife though."
Joe shuddered. "Don't even think about that."
"Sorry." She reached out and took his hand. "What became of that bayonet, anyway? Did the police get any hits on anyone trying to sell one?"
"Not as of this morning."
Nancy sighed again. "At least we gleaned some new information from all this. I couldn't see his face, but I have a general idea of the guy's height and build. And he'll probably have some bruises on him, if we catch up with him quickly," she said, looking ruefully at her swollen knuckles. Joe looked, too, following her gaze.
"I'm glad my girlfriend can fight like hell," he said softly.
"I wouldn't want to meet me in a dark alley," Nancy said, trying to interject some bravado into her voice. "Oh. Here's another thing. He fought hard, but he had no discipline. It was like he completely lost his temper and went for me. I don't think anyone that combustible can be the brains of the outfit. I think he's the muscle, and he takes his orders from someone who doesn't mind unleashing him to achieve his or her ends."
Joe nodded. "Good theory. Do you think it could have been Keith or Diarmid?"
Nancy considered this. "They're both around the same height, aren't they? Keith isn't as bulky, but the guy today was wearing a puffy coat. And we still have to wonder who could have seen Keith's forum posts and decided to help himself." She paused. "I almost forgot. He smelled like perfume, like he'd just been in very close proximity to a woman. I know I'll recognize it if I smell it again."
"Perfect. Let's just visit all the suspects tomorrow and take a good whiff," Joe said.
Nancy gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. But that bastard better pray the cops get him before I do." Joe stood up abruptly. "Come on. I'll carry you up to bed."
"I can walk," Nancy told him, standing and folding up her blanket.
"I'll walk you up, then. And we're going really slow on those stairs."
"In that case, let me run to the bathroom first. You've been pouring liquids into me all day," Nancy mock-complained at him.
In the end he did carry her up, more because he lacked the patience to ascend slowly than because Nancy really needed the help. He set her down on her bed and she reached for him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down to sit beside her.
"Nan," he protested.
"You could stay," she mumbled into his shoulder.
"I'm not sure your dad would like that," Joe said gently. But he lifted her into his lap and held her close, enclosing her in his warmth and strength.
"Are you okay, baby?"
"I'm just tired," she told him.
"Then let me tuck you in."
She shook her head. "In a while. This is nice."
"Okay. Just a few minutes, though." They were quiet for a few minutes. Joe was stroking Nancy's hair, and Nancy was almost starting to drift off.
"Do you remember that summer when we were fourteen and we all believed that my barn was haunted?" Joe said suddenly.
Nancy smiled against the curve of his neck. "Yeah. That was a fun summer."
"We can talk ourselves into believing some pretty dumb stuff, can't we."
She craned her neck to look into his face. "What are you getting at, Joe?"
"I realized, the other day, that one of the things I had reasoned myself into believing was totally stupid. And I know you don't feel the same, and I know it might make you take off, but I need to say this. Damn it, Nancy, I do want to marry you."
"What?" Nancy exclaimed, sitting up to look at him. She felt every bruise, scrape, and stitch in her body protest the sudden movement.
"I'm not proposing!" he said hastily. "I'm just saying, what I said to you at the diner hasn't been sitting right with me. I didn't know my feelings had changed until I told you I wasn't ready to make a commitment."
Nancy closed her eyes. Be vulnerable, Hannah had advised. Well, she would give it her best shot. "I feel the same way," she said softly.
"You do? This isn't the pain meds talking, is it?"
"They wore off hours ago," Nancy said, frowning at him. "It's the truth. Ask Hannah."
"I believe you." He laughed suddenly and shook his head. "We're awesome detectives. We can't even figure out our own feelings."
"Too close for perspective," Nancy said, letting her head drop back to his broad shoulder. "Is this why you've been acting so weird?"
"Me? I've been weird?"
"Joseph. You practically dressed me like a doll this morning."
"What's so strange about that?" he demanded, laughing again, and Nancy cupped his jaw to draw him in for a kiss.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
Joe pulled back slightly. "This doesn't mean we're letting people pressure us. They can keep throwing rings at us till the cows come home. We'll get there when it feels right."
Nancy smiled up at him. "That works for me. I did what I said about not barging into things."
Joe kissed her again, nipping gently at her lower lip. "I'm not barging anywhere. In a way, I've been waiting a long time for this."
"Is that so?"
"I fell for you the day we met. You know that."
"The day we met you flirted with Bess, stole my gum, and told me girls couldn't be detectives," Nancy reminded him.
"I was trying to look cool. Ten-year-old Joe was a bit of a knucklehead."
"Funny how much things don't change," Nancy said, her eyes sparkling.
"Wow. That stings, Drew," Joe drawled at her, raising an eyebrow. "May I remind you that you are now dating that knucklehead? What does that say about you?"
"Nothing good, I imagine."
"I've got to know. Did I impress you even a little bit back then?"
"As George so helpfully reminded me today, I did have a crush on you for awhile. So did Bess, by the way."
"And now here we are," Joe said, looking pleased.
"Here we are," Nancy agreed. "We sort of took the scenic route to get here, though."
"If we had gotten together back then the whole thing would have blown up in our faces," Joe said confidently. "I was much more hot-headed, and you were one double dog dare away from walking into the wrong place at the wrong time and getting yourself killed. I know our line of work is all about learning as you go, but I'm amazed we all made it through some of those stunts we pulled."
"Would you change it?"
"Not one damn day." He paused, frowning slightly. "Well. Maybe one or two damn days. Things could have gone better."
"I'm sorry, Joe."
He shook his head. "At this point I'm sadder for her than for me. She was too young. She's missing out on so many awesome things. It's not fair. But we really don't have to talk about her."
"She's part of your life, Joe, and I don't resent the time you spent with her. I have my own history." Nancy hesitated. "Do you resent Ned?"
"Not really. Ned's a good guy. We're still friends."
Nancy was yawning. Joe gently slid Nancy off his lap and pulled her blankets over her. He knelt beside the bed to look her in the eyes, fumbling under the quilt until he found her hand to hold.
"I want to tell you a bedtime story," he said quietly. Nancy pressed his fingers, encouraging him to go on. "It's about a lonely guy who was driving to town in a storm to pick up some ice cream, and a girl whose car had broken down in the storm."
Nancy smiled. "That's not very story-book-like. Call it a knight and a princess."
"Okay. Well, this princess didn't need rescuing, but the knight did, so he asked her to hop up on his steed and accompany him to his castle. And she did, which was awesome, because he expected her to royally decline." Joe looked at her, as if gauging how close to sleep she was. Her eyes were still open, so he continued.
"So this princess went home with the knight, and she borrowed some cloth- some raiment, because her own raiment was soaked. The knight ate ice cream and the princess drank coffee and they talked for hours. And the knight- the knight was so nervous, Nan, because he had known this princess since she was a child, and had loved her, deep down in his heart, through all his perils and misadventures and amorous pursuits. But then the princess kissed him-" Joe broke off. Nancy was smiling at him, a smile of pure love without a hint of mockery. He leaned in and kissed her.
"You asked about our first night. You wondered if it meant something," he said.
"Were you really nervous?"
"You have no idea. I was a mess. I hadn't seen you in a year and I didn't want to mess up our friendship, but I wanted you so badly, and then you kissed me, and I was just gone."
"It felt right. It felt like- like when you're picking a lock, and it's resisting, and then suddenly there's that little click and the whole door swings open," Nancy told him.
"Just when I think she can't get any more perfect," Joe said, laughing. "I know what you mean, Nan. Now I'm going to stop telling you sappy stories and let you get some rest."
"Are you going home?"
"No. I'm going to sleep on the couch," he told her. "With one eye open," he amended. "I don't know if that bastard plans to come after you again, but he'll do it over my dead body."
"Don't let it come to that," Nancy said, shivering at the ice in his voice. "Please get some sleep. We have a really good alarm system."
"Don't you worry about me. I'll see you in the morning, Drew."
It was just past midnight when Hannah Gruen, shuffling slipper-shod toward the kitchen for a glass of water, discovered Joe Hardy sleeping curled up on the couch like a watchdog. The young man had pulled his coat over himself for warmth. Even in sleep his face seemed to be wearing a determined scowl. Hannah looked at him for a moment, a surge of grateful affection bringing tears to her eyes. He had obviously stayed to watch over Nancy, forsaking the comfort of his own bed and the discourtesy of Nancy's. A moment more, and Hannah's mind was made up. She bent close to the sleeping figure, reaching out to touch his shoulder.
"Joe," she whispered. "Joey."
He sat up immediately, and there was a hunting knife in his hand a split second later. Hannah bit back a squeak of surprise.
"It's Hannah!" she whispered.
He lowered his weapon. "Is something wrong? I didn't mean to fall asleep."
"Nothing's wrong," Hannah assured him. She reached for his coat, which had slid to the floor when he sat up, and tossed it onto her armchair. "Go to her, Joe. It's all right. Thank you for taking care of our girl."
He rose, kissed her cheek wordlessly, and disappeared up the stairs into the dark.