Chapter 4: A Dark and Stormy Night
Nancy knew a fair bit about engines. But at half past midnight, standing in a torrential downpour with the beam of her penlight flickering weakly under the raised hood of her blue convertible, she had to admit defeat.
"I need to run back out to Sebastian Walker's house, Dad," she'd said, peeking in the open door of Carson Drew's home office. Though father and daughter both kept irregular hours, as a courtesy they informed each other of their plans whenever possible.
"You spent all afternoon there," he had said, surprised.
"I know." Nancy gave a frustrated sigh. "I finished my preliminary investigating. But I think I missed something."
"Nan, it's past eleven, and didn't you hear the last weather report?"
"Severe thunderstorm warning," Nancy had said. "If it were a tornado warning I'd stay in. You know I won't be able to relax until I check out my hunch."
"Oh, I know," Carson had said, tapping a sheaf of papers against his desktop to straighten them. "Forgive your old dad, sweetie. I can't seem to shake being protective of you even now that you're all grown up."
"I'll be careful," Nancy had promised.
"All right, Nan. Good luck."
"Thanks, Dad. See you later."
"Don't forget your phone!" he'd called after her. And Nancy, her mind absorbed with the idea that she might have missed a secret compartment in Sebastian Walker's desk, had grabbed her jacket and purse and left her cell phone plugged into its charger in her bedroom.
Nancy took a deep breath and straightened, slamming the hood down. The noise was lost in a long rumble of thunder. Water dripped off her nose, trickled down her back, seeped into her tennis shoes. She gave her face a futile wipe with her wet sleeve and laughed ruefully.
"Not the worst situation I've ever been in," she said out loud, "but not the best, either. Well, Drew, you're just going to have to hike back into town and pray you don't drown on the way." Or get struck by lightning, her mind added helpfully. Nancy shook the thought into the back of her mind and, feeling determined, waded through a deep puddle to retrieve her purse from the car. She made sure the vehicle was sitting well off the roadway and started walking.
She'd only gone a few yards when a pair of headlights gleamed into existence at the bend in the road, watery and wavering in the gloom. Despite a little tentacle of fear that snaked its cold way up the back of her neck (who knew what kind of person this was, driving around in the dark and the storm?), Nancy ran back to stand beside her car and raised her hands to flag the vehicle down. With its engine muted by the roar of the storm, it reminded her eerily of a ghost ship sailing into port; but as it rumbled in out of the lashing rain and drew up in front of her it became a perfectly ordinary rusty Dodge pickup truck driven by a perfectly ordinary young man. He cranked his window down and yelled "Nancy, get your waterlogged butt in the truck!"
"Joe Hardy!" Nancy cried, her heart lifting. She ran around to the passenger side and climbed in, slamming the door on the storm.
"What are you doing here?" they both asked.
"You first," Joe said.
"I was on my way home from chasing a wild goose," Nancy told him, wiping water out of her eyes. She was shivering from a mixture of cold and relief; she hadn't realized how tense the whole situation had made her until she was safe in Joe's truck.
"Here," Joe said, tugging an extra sweatshirt out from the pile of gear in the center console and handing it to her. "I wish I could say I was on a case too, but the truth is I was just heading to the all-night gas station in River Heights for some ice cream."
"Luckily for me," Nancy said.
"Want me to take a look at your car?" he offered.
"Thanks, but in this storm it's not worth it. I'll have it towed in the morning."
Joe nodded and eased his truck back out onto the road. "It's bad out there, Nan. I'm really glad I was passing through."
"I was just starting to hike home," Nancy told him. Joe smiled.
"Figures," he said. "The indomitable Nancy Drew: neither rain nor sleet nor incipient tornadoes shall prevent her from completing her appointed rounds."
"At least I was doing something important. I'm not the one risking my life for a pint of Moose Tracks." Nancy smoothed her wet hair back. Her sodden jeans clung to her skin unpleasantly. She tucked her purple hands into Joe's warm sweatshirt and shivered again.
"You're cold," Joe said, reaching for the heat control. "I'm sorry. This old truck doesn't warm up the way she used to."
"I'll be fine. I'm afraid I tracked in a lot of mud, though."
"The only person that's gonna bother is Frank, and he rarely drives this truck," Joe said, clicking on his left turn signal. "So, no luck with your sleuthing tonight?" Nancy hesitated and he quickly added, "I understand if you can't discuss it."
"It's a complicated family situation," Nancy said. "I thought I might have overlooked a hidden compartment in an antique desk, but it turned out to be a reproduction."
"So no compartment," Joe said. "Well, knowing one more place it isn't means you're closer to narrowing down where it is. Whatever the it in question is."
"Thanks, Frank," Nancy said teasingly.
"Hey, now. I can be methodical, too!" Joe protested. "You guys think I'm all gut, no brain."
"Your impulsiveness matched with Frank's deliberation is what made you guys a good team. But obviously you have a working brain in there, too, because you've been doing very well on your own these past few years."
"Aw, shucks, ma'am. Don't make me blush."
"Don't act coy with me. I can see your ego expanding over there."
"Can't put anything past the Drew girl," Joe said agreeably. "You know, Nan, the circumstances aren't ideal, but it's really great to see you again. You want to come on back and have some ice cream with me?"
"Just you?" Nancy asked, curious.
"Frank took Callie to a bed-and-breakfast in the mountains for a long weekend."
"Romantic!" Nancy commented.
"Terribly," said Joe. "So?"
"I don't know," Nancy said. "I'd love to catch up, but I'm soaked to the bone and I'm too cold to eat ice cream."
"We have a dryer. I'll lend you some sweatpants, make a cup of coffee. Or soup. Do you like soup?"
"You're really starved for company, aren't you."
"Be nice, Nancy. I have no case and no one at home to talk to and that could very well prove fatal."
"Okay," she said. "I could go for some coffee. May I use your phone to let Dad know what's going on?"
"Forgot it at home," Joe said. "You're welcome to use it when we get there, though."
Nancy laughed. "I forgot mine, too. Some detectives we are."
"It's all about attention to detail," Joe said, laughing too. He pulled into the gas station and popped open his door, leaving the engine idling. "I'll just be a second. What's your favorite, in case you change your mind?"
Nancy waved a hand at him. "Anything but black cherry, but I doubt I'll have any. Get what you like." She watched as Joe pulled his hood up over his blond hair and dashed across the wet parking lot, disappearing into the warm brightness of the convenience store. She felt inexplicably relaxed, content even, despite her clammy clothing and broken-down car. She'd forgotten how Joe Hardy could make the world feel like a brighter place. Joe had an irresistable vitality, a perfect combination of intellect, strength, tenderness, and recklessness that had always drawn Nancy in like iron filings aligning toward a magnet.
A few minutes later the young man in question came bounding back through the deluge, blue eyes beaming. He slid behind the wheel and threw off his hood, shaking water droplets across the cab of the truck like a surprised puppy.
"Jumping Jehosaphat, it's coming down out there," he exclaimed happily. "Doing all right, Drew?"
"Never better," she said, smiling.
"Onward, then. To the Bat Cave!" Joe said.
"This is nice," Nancy said, walking around the small living room of the Hardys' apartment. She'd already left a message on the answering machine at home, explaining her situation, and changed into the sweatpants and t-shirt Joe had picked for her.
"Thanks for not sounding too surprised," Joe called from the kitchen. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be right out with your coffee."
"Did Callie paint this picture?" Nancy asked, standing on tiptoe to examine a striking landscape hanging over the couch.
"Yeah. That's the waterfall down at the south end of the park in Benton."
"It's beautiful. I've never been to that park."
Joe handed her a steaming mug and shrugged. "They take her dog there for walks sometimes. I think going to the park is something only couples or families really do."
"George and I are planning to do some camping at parks this summer," Nancy said, wrapping her hands gratefully around the mug's heated surface.
"Camping's different," Joe said, disappearing back into the kitchen. "Chet and Frank and I still go camping a few times a year too. I just mean you don't see a lot of people walking around in parks by themselves."
Nancy settled onto the couch, drawing her bare feet up under her and letting the coffee and Joe's too-big sweatpants warm her chilled bones. Sounds from the kitchen let her track Joe's progress: the clatter of silverware, the clink of the bowl against the counter, the snick of the freezer door sealing.
"Does Frank plan to ask Callie to move in?" she asked, taking a cautious sip of her drink. Joe had remembered exactly the way she liked it, lots of cream and a sprinkle of sugar.
"Her parents would never stand for it. They don't even know she's with Frank this weekend," Joe said offhandedly, walking back in. To Nancy's surprise, he set his bowl down on the coffee table and turned away toward the bedroom, stripping off his shirt as he went and treating her to a glimpse of well-defined abs and a muscular back emerging from his low-slung jeans.
"Sorry, Nan. I'm a little damper than I'd like to be," he called back over his shoulder. Me, too. Nancy bit back the instinctive response. He rejoined her a few seconds later, tugging a dry shirt over his head, and collapsed happily onto the couch beside her. Rain lashed against the windows, reminding them both exactly how warm and comfortable they were in contrast.
"Thanks for the coffee. It's perfect," Nancy said, desperate to jolt her brain off the track it was headed down.
"Sure you don't want ice cream?"
"No, thanks. I'll wait until I regain feeling in my extremities."
"Fair enough." Joe spooned in an alarmingly large mouthful of his dessert. "It's so weird that I met up with you today. Ned and I were just talking about you this afternoon." Nancy raised an eyebrow at him and he hastily continued. "I ran into him at the gym, that's all. He said you're back in town for good and you're living with your dad?"
"Joseph Hardy. You're really going to start the conversation by bringing up my ex and my juvenile living situation? Why don't we talk about my poor dead dog and my nonexistent dating life while we're at it?"
"Shit. I didn't mean it like that."
"Dad and I both travel so much for work we agreed it would be a waste for me to get my own place right now," Nancy said, annoyed with herself for feeling defensive. "We split all the bills. I pay my own way in life. It's not ideal, but it works for right now."
"No judgment here. That's a smart way to handle it," Joe said. "I'm really sorry."
Nancy couldn't stay irritated with him. "I'm honestly not sure how you managed to fit your foot into your mouth alongside all that ice cream," she said, taking refuge behind her mug. Joe looked astonished for a moment before her twinkling eyes gave her away and they both laughed.
"Let me start over," Joe said. "So, how have you been?"
"That's much more diplomatic," Nancy told him.
"Frank's department. But hey, I really want to know. I don't think I've seen you since before you left town."
"It really has been awhile, hasn't it," Nancy mused.
"A year? Maybe more."
"More, then. Because I've been gone for a little over a year."
"Yeah, so I've heard. Good adventures?"
"No mysteries to solve, if that's what you mean. Well, no big ones. I did track down a stolen bull in Italy. Mostly I was travelling and working. It was a fantastic experience."
"I was so happy for you when I heard you'd left town," Joe said, licking his spoon. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're back. But damn, did it feel good watching you break free."
"That's a really sweet thing to say," Nancy said, surprised. Joe shrugged.
"What are friends for?"
Nancy took another sip of her coffee to hide the blush rising in her cheeks. She liked knowing Joe cared. "So, what about you?" she said.
"Oh, let's see. Caught a thief working at DeLuca's Jewelers, then spent a few months on a big case with Dad and Frank. That was a bad one. Drugs. I was undercover but somebody tipped them off. Big nasty fight ensued in which I took a bullet to the shoulder. Frank dragged me out of there unconscious as the building started to burn. Pretty cool, right? Straight out of Hollywood."
"Joe!" Nancy gasped. He coolly pulled the neck of his shirt aside to show her the scar, watching her face for her reaction.
"It's not a big deal. I ran a half-marathon in May; that was a big deal. Enrolled in some online college classes too."
"Are you thinking of giving up being a detective?" Nancy asked, reaching over to push his shirt back into place. She'd certainly seen her share of violence, had been threatened and even injured, but the idea of someone shooting sweet, lively Joe made her stomach turn.
"Honestly, I don't know," Joe said. "I've never wanted to do anything else. I enjoy being a P.I. and I'm good at it. But I have to admit it's not as much fun now that Frank has a badge. Like you said, we were a good team." He shrugged. "What did you get your degree in, Nan?"
"Pre-law," she told him. "I think Dad is still a little bit disappointed that I didn't go on to take the bar exam. What are you majoring in?"
"Undeclared," Joe said sheepishly. "It's just basic courses right now, stuff I should have done right after high school. I'm coming to realize that twenty-six-year-old Joe has a lot less pride than seventeen-year-old Joe did. Somebody should've knocked some sense into me back then."
"Seventeen-year-old Joe would've punched right back."
"Yeah, you're right."
"Don't beat yourself up about it," Nancy told him, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "It's a sign of maturity that you recognize your past shortcomings. I have a lot of respect for what you're doing."
"Thanks for the encouragement," Joe said, returning the squeeze. "More coffee?" He snagged his bowl and her empty mug from the coffee table and headed for the kitchen.
"No, thanks. I don't want to be up all night."
"You're joking, right? It's already almost 3." Joe came back and settled himself on the couch again, draping one arm along the back of it. Nancy stiffened, fighting the urge to lean back, to curl herself within that extended arm and lay her head on his un-scarred shoulder.
"No way," she said, jumping to her feet. "I didn't realize it was so late. I should go!"
Joe yanked his arm back as though she'd bitten it. "I'm sorry! I wasn't trying to make a move on you."
"Is the thought of making a move on me that distasteful?" Nancy shot back, irrationally offended. Joe opened his mouth, paused, and closed it again.
"That's not what I meant," he said, bewildered. "Of course it isn't. I- Nan, I've been planning to call and ask you out. But I thought I was making you feel uncomfortable."
"Oh," said Nancy, the fight going out of her. "I'm sorry. Honestly, I felt very comfortable. But I thought I was misreading the situation and anyway, I don't want to overstay my welcome."
"You could stay all weekend and I would kiss your feet in abject gratitude. I'm so bad at being alone," Joe said with a self-deprecating laugh. "Besides, it's really late. I can drive you home if that's what you want, but you're welcome to camp out here."
"It still sounds bad out there," Nancy said slowly.
"Exactly," Joe said, patting the couch invitingly. Nancy sat. Joe dug the remote out from between the cushions and clicked on the television.
"Yes," Nancy said, looking over at him.
"This one?" he said incredulously, pausing his rapid flipping through channels. Nancy glanced at the screen. It was an infomercial for a home fitness program.
"Not that. I meant yes, I'll go out with you. What did you have in mind? Dinner?"
"Oh!" he said, enlightened. "Actually, there's a dinner dance to benefit the Bayport Retired Policemen's Fund next Wednesday. I was going to call you in the morning and ask if you'd like to go with me. But in person works too."
"I'd love to!" Nancy said. "Do you remember the time we went undercover at that ballroom dancing competition?"
"How could I forget? I still have my trophy. That one's got to be in my ten favorite cases." Joe's face sobered. "Maybe I should tell you the catch, though."
"Are we going in a professional capacity?"
"No, no. Nothing like that. It's just that it's traditionally more of a square dance type thing, not ballroom. Chief Collig calls the dances. It's a lot of fun, Nan. I know it sounds lame."
"No, it does sound like fun," Nancy said, giving his knee a pat and wishing she could make herself stop touching him. Joe didn't seem to mind. He covered her hand with one of his own, trapping it against his leg.
"We don't get dressed up like cartoon hillbillies or anything," he said uncomfortably.
"I didn't imagine you did," Nancy said, reassuring him. "Don't worry, Joe. I really enjoy community events like that. I like feeling connected to history."
Joe smiled and resumed clicking through channels with his free hand. "I knew I'd asked the right girl. Thanks, Nancy."
"Hold on," she said suddenly. "Go back to the local news."
"Weather report?" Joe said shrewdly, backtracking.
"Tornado watch," Nancy said, and the scrolling bulletin across the bottom of the screen agreed with her. A news anchor was standing in front of what might once have been a barn, struggling to keep her umbrella from turning inside-out and frowning concernedly behind her microphone. Joe let out a low whistle.
"And you were going to walk home in this."
"I hope my car is still where I left it."
Joe nodded. "That definitely settles it, though. You're staying here tonight. I'm sorry, Nan. I should've taken you home before getting my ice cream. I admit I was getting a bit lonely here but it was not my intention to take you hostage."
"I'm happy with how things turned out. It's been a fun evening. Anyway, if I were home I'd just be driving myself crazy thinking about my case."
"The best thing to do when you hit a dead end is to think about something else for a while," Joe said, and was it her imagination or was there a suggestive quality to the remark? He let go of her hand and slung his arm back along the couch, fingertips brushing her shoulder this time. Nancy couldn't help leaning into his touch; she had been keeping herself in check all evening but now every nerve in her body tingled its awareness of his warm proximity. Joe brushed his thumb along the base of her neck and watched her shiver.
"I can think of a few ways to distract you," he said softly.
"Is this why you asked me over?"
"No!" His fingers eased up her neck, cupping the back of her skull, turning her very gently toward him. "I promise there were no ulterior motives."
Nancy closed her eyes, savoring his touch. Joe had strong, capable hands, hands she had seen do everything from aiming a gun to coaxing music out of his old guitar; and now these same hands were cradling her face as though she were made of glass. Maybe it was the storm lowering their inhibitions; maybe it was simply and at long last the right place and the right time; whatever the reason, the sparks they had kept dampened between them blazed suddenly into undeniable life. Nancy leaned in slowly and pressed a kiss to Joe's lips. He smiled shakily against her mouth.
"I've always wondered what it would be like to kiss you," he whispered, pulling her closer. They kissed again and then again, spinning it out into a long series of soft, sweet kisses that made Nancy's blood surge with electricity. Ned's kisses had always been careful, respectful, and proper; Sergei's had drowned her with raw need and possession; but Joe's were the kisses of an equal, a meeting of mind and soul as well as lips, tinged with a deep hunger that both exhilarated and frightened her. He deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue between her parted lips; his hands caressed her shoulders, slid down to her waist. Nancy surfaced, trembling.
"Joe," she gasped.
Those blue, blue eyes met hers, dark with desire but filled with concern. "We can stop," he said, releasing her waist.
"Can we?"
"Unless I'm mistaken, we've ignored a certain amount of sexual tension for almost a decade. We can keep ignoring it if that's what you want."
"After a kiss like that?" Nancy asked, and Joe laughed.
"It wouldn't be easy," he said, smoothing a strand of hair back from her face. "But I'd do anything to keep your friendship. I can put clean sheets on Frank's bed for you for tonight."
Nancy hesitated. Teetered. Stepped over the edge. "And what about your bed? Are the sheets clean?"
Joe kissed her exuberantly. "For now," he said.
Joe's bedroom was tidier than she'd imagined it would be. The common areas of the house held all the clutter of several people's daily activites and showed definite touches of Callie's influence; here, in Joe's personal space, the decor was sparse, purely and cleanly masculine. There was a square dresser and a tall bed frame in a natural wood color, and one tall bookshelf, filled with classics and back issues of Popular Mechanics. Every surface was bare except for his desk, which was covered with his laptop, a stack of notebooks, a fingerprint kit, boxes of ammo, a locked gun case, and a half-assembled circuit of some kind. The bedspread had one ragged corner and the pillowcases didn't match but the bed was neatly made and did indeed appear clean. Nancy sat on the bed and glanced around, expecting to see some memento of Iola- a photograph, maybe, or a piece of jewelry- but there was nothing in the room to indicate that Joe Hardy had ever been in a relationship with anyone.
"You can use my toothbrush, if that doesn't gross you out," Joe said, coming back out of the adjoining bathroom in his t-shirt and boxers.
"Thanks," Nancy said, slipping past him to take her turn in the bathroom. She surprised herself by taking him up on his offer and using his toothbrush, feeling a surreal sort of familiarity rather than disgust. She left his sweatpants on top of his jeans in the clothes hamper and stepped out into the bedroom wearing only Joe's t-shirt. She found Joe sitting up in bed, Frank's spare pair of glasses perched on his nose, squinting through them at what appeared to be a lawn mower engine repair manual.
"It says here all we need to do is insert tab A into slot B," he said, pushing the glasses up onto his head. "Looks easy enough. Wanna give it a shot?"
Nancy climbed into bed, reaching for a pillow to smack him with. "Not anymore, smartass."
"Dammit!" Joe said, tossing the glasses and manual onto his desk chair. "And after I studied so hard."
"I've found that hands-on experience is much more informative," Nancy said innocently, pulling the blue blanket up over her bare legs. Joe clicked off the lamp and rolled over, gathering her into his arms.
"I can't believe this is you and me," he whispered, suddenly serious. "I've had dreams about this but I never thought I'd be so lucky. I was sure you were going to marry Ned." He found the hem of her shirt and worked his hands up under it, smoothing them across her bare back.
"Joe," she said tenderly, kissing his jaw, his earlobe, his neck. "I had no idea you felt this way."
"Well, I wasn't pining around like some fruit loop in a fairy tale."
Nancy laughed. "I've always had a crush on you. Always. But we're such good friends I never let my mind explore it."
"Explore it, sweetie," he all but growled. With typical Joe impatience he was tugging at her shirt, easing it up over her head. Nancy let him toss it away into the dark before reaching out to reciprocate, pulling his shirt off and sliding sensitive fingertips across his broad shoulders, down his back, up his side again (Joe squirmed a little there. Ticklish. Nancy filed that away for future use.). Joe was smiling. She couldn't see him, but she didn't have to. Her roaming fingertips encountered the roughness of his newest scar suddenly and she stopped there, heart aching, to push him flat onto his back and straddle him, leaning in to rest her forehead on his.
"Don't you ever get yourself shot again, Hardy," she ordered.
"Yes, ma'am," Joe said, wrapping his arms around her. They kissed again, slow and deep. Nancy felt weightless, buoyed by his strength and the isolating, pounding roar of the storm outside. They came together slowly, joyfully, with humor and friendship and intensity; and as the sun came up Nancy fell asleep in Joe's arms, a smile on her face.