A/N: I can't thank you guys enough for all of the reviews and encouraging comments. You guys are my inspiration and reading your reviews definitely adds fuel to my fire to finish this story. Every time I find myself hitting writer's block, I go back and read some of the amazingly insightful comments that people wrote, and it helps me get past the block. So thank you, and please keep letting me know what you think!

To my absolutely awesome, absolutely wonderful betas: Katie Janeway, TesubCalle, and msnancydrew – you guys rock. Thank you so much for always being there with feedback and support!

Disclaimer: I don't own Nancy, Frank, Joe, or Chet. I'm just borrowing them, and I promise to return them in one piece…or at least I'll try.

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At Chet's words, Frank and Joe breathed small, simultaneous sighs of relief. Justin stepped forward.

"I'll go with ya'll. It'll be a heckuva lot easier to take you to the bank than to try to tell ya'll how to get there."

Joe nodded. "Take your own truck. We'll follow you. Once we get there, you need to leave. We don't need to endanger any more people than absolutely necessary."

Justin opened his mouth to argue, but subsided at Joe's stern look. Frank leveled a steady gaze at Nancy.

"Nancy, I think you should stay behind with Chet and Mitch."

Nancy's eyes flashed, but before she could argue, Frank continued. "Look, I know I was being a bit over-protective before, but I promise that's not what this is about. I know you can handle yourself. It's just that the kidnappers think you're dead. We shouldn't risk them finding out that you're not by exposing you. What if they're watching the bank?"

"Do you honestly think it makes a difference at this point, Frank?" Nancy asked softly. Then her voice firmed. "Besides, every time we've followed a clue, Kreiger and his accomplice have been long gone. So they won't even know that I'm with you guys."

"Nancy," Frank began.

She stepped forward, resting a hand against Frank's cheek. "Look, I know that despite what you say, you do want to protect me. And I know that there's a slim chance that the kidnappers might figure out that I'm alive. But you were both there for me when Bess and George were in trouble. Now let me be there for you. You might need me out there."

Frank covered her hand with his own.

"I'll always need you, Nan," he said quietly. Then his expression turned rueful. "So I guess there's no chance that you're going to stay here?"

"Nope," she replied, smiling. "Now let's go."

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Once it was decided that only Nancy, Frank, and Joe would be going to the bank, with Justin leading the way, they wasted no time in getting on the road. Joe drove, with Frank in the passenger seat and Nancy in the back of the cab. As they had been leaving, Mitch had tossed Joe his keys, mumbling that Iola's toys and schoolbag were in his truck, and that she might want them to play with when they found her. He stumbled slightly over the word 'when', but he refused to use the word 'if'. Joe had nodded in understanding and climbed into the truck, his brother and Nancy following wordlessly after Frank had grabbed his bag from their rental.

Justin had told them that it was approximately a twenty minute drive; by Joe's estimate, they had about another five minutes to go. Nancy broke the silence from the back seat.

"Joe, earlier when you said that you didn't want Iola to lose both parents, what did you mean?"

Joe glanced at his brother, then back at Nancy in the rearview mirror. He sighed.

"Chet's wife, Mary, died of cancer shortly after giving birth to Iola. The doctors found the cancer while she was pregnant, but she refused to receive any chemo treatments for it because she didn't want to harm the baby. Her oncologist had even gone so far as to suggest an abortion, telling her that she could get pregnant again, but Mary didn't want to hear it. She wanted to have her baby. By the time Iola was born, the cancer had spread too much. Six months later, she was gone."

Frank shook his head. "It tore Chet up inside. If he hadn't had Iola to care for, I don't know what would have happened to him. He and Mary met while they were in college, and from that point, they were inseparable. Mary was a farmer's daughter herself, and all they wanted was to graduate, get married, buy a farm of their own, and have lots and lots of children. It should have been simple, but instead, they lost it all."

Nancy's blue eyes glistened with tears. "That's so sad," she murmured.

"Yeah," Joe agreed softly. He cleared his throat. "Which is why we have to find Iola and bring her home safely. I can't imagine putting Chet through something like that ever again."

"We'll find her, little brother." Frank clapped Joe on the shoulder. "We'll find her."

But Nancy noticed that, as his voice trailed off, so did the confidence in it.

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Minutes later, Joe pulled into a parking spot next to Justin's truck, and he, Frank, and Nancy immediately climbed out. He assumed that Justin would take off now as planned, but instead, the cowboy shut off the engine and climbed out of his own vehicle.

Joe gave his friend a reproachful look. "Justin, you need to get out of here." he stated.

"No way," Justin shook his head emphatically. "Chet's my friend too, and I care about Iola. I'm not leaving until I'm sure she's safe."

"You promised us you would leave after you led us here," Joe argued.

Justin's moss-green eyes flashed. "I promised nothing. You demanded that I would leave, and I just didn't respond. That's not the same thing as agreeing with you."

Joe opened his mouth to argue further, but Frank cut him off.

"Justin, what else is in this building?" There was a note of dread in Frank's voice. Joe glanced over at his brother, who was looking up at the building in front of them. He followed Frank's gaze and felt his stomach drop.

The building before them was a mixture of concrete and reflective glass, tastefully designed in a modern architectural style. And it was tall…very tall. With many floors. And many floors meant many people.

Justin looked puzzled. "I don't know for sure. I know there are a bunch of offices and such, and of course the bank, but to be honest with ya'll, I haven't really spent much time in this neck of the woods."

"Offices," Frank repeated softly, going pale. Nancy stepped forward, grasping Justin's forearm in a firm grip.

"Justin, listen to me. We do need your help. We need you to evacuate this building as quickly as possible. Take Joe's FBI badge with you – they'll listen to you when you show them that. Tell everyone they need to exit the building in an orderly fashion as quickly as possible due to a potential security threat. Don't tell them any more than that, or else they'll panic."

"How can I tell them any more than that when I don't know any more than that?" Justin exclaimed. "What security threat?"

Nancy took a deep breath. "There's a good chance that there's a bomb in the building."

"A b…bomb?" Justin stuttered. "Oh my God." His face blanched. "Iola…"

Joe grabbed his other shoulder in a painfully tight grip. "Focus, Justin. Nancy's right, we do need your help. Take my badge and go." Joe thrust the item into his hand. "And when you get the building evacuated, you need to clear out of here too. Don't take any unnecessary risks. We know what we're doing – we've done this before. You have to trust us on this."

Justin nodded slowly. "Okay. I'll show ya'll where the bank is, then I'll make sure the building gets cleared out."

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The bank was situated to the rear of the lobby, its darkened interior clearly indicating that it was closed for business. Justin waved them in that direction before heading for the elevators himself. As the trio approached the bank, they glanced around them. There was only one other business in the lobby, a florist shop that was also closed for the day. Sculptures were fashionably interspersed throughout the open area, some in glass cases and some standing of their own accord. Large ceramic flowerpots completed the décor. The lobby itself was eerily devoid of people – even though common sense told Nancy that most people didn't typically loiter around the lobby of an office building, she couldn't suppress a shudder at the emptiness. In her experience, most office buildings at least had a security desk in the lobby – this building didn't even seem to have that.

"Have we thought about how exactly we're going to break into a bank?" Joe asked, his voice hushed.

"It may be easier than we think," Frank replied slowly, his gaze sharpening on the slightly open glass door leading into the bank that was now before them. Nancy and Joe followed his gaze, and Joe let out a low whistle.

"I'll be damned. Krieger sure does want to make this easy for us, doesn't he?"

"Almost too easy, Joe," Nancy replied. "And how exactly did he and his accomplice manage to break into a bank themselves? Aren't banks supposed to be some of the most secure places in the world?"

Frank shook his head grimly. "I'm afraid I may have the answer to that too." He pointed to a large sign standing inside the bank, advertising low interest rates on home mortgages. Nancy's brow furrowed in confusion until she caught sight of a human hand, just barely visible on the floor behind the sign. She gasped as Frank yanked the door open, and the three detectives rushed in. Behind the mortgage sign lay a security guard sprawled on the floor, arms flailed out on either side of him. Frank dropped the bag he was carrying and crouched on the floor beside the prone figure, placing two fingers on the side of his neck. After a moment, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"He's alive."

"No thanks to that huge lump on his head," Joe remarked, pointing. There was clearly a raised area on the man's head, and blood clotted his hair together and stained the carpet beneath him.

"These men are ruthless," Nancy muttered.

Joe spun around on his heel, the security guard no longer capturing his attention.

"Where can she be?" he asked frantically.

Frank rose smoothly to his feet, and the three fanned out, looking behind desks, signs, potted plants, and anything else large enough to conceal a small little girl. Joe tried the door that led behind the teller booths, but it was locked. He rattled the doorknob in frustration, then realizing it was futile, stepped back to eye the teller booths speculatively. Mentally sizing up the height of the counter, he braced his arms on the smooth surface and lifted himself up and over. As his feet hit the ground, so did his stomach.

"Frank! Nancy!" he called in a shaky voice. "I found her!"

Frank and Nancy quickly vaulted over the teller counter. Joe was crouched on the floor, kneeling over the prone form of a little girl whose blond hair was the only part of her that was visible around Joe's body. Nancy gasped in horror and Frank's fists clenched painfully.

"Is she…"

But Frank couldn't bring himself to finish the question.

"She's alive," Joe said, his voice cracking. "She's unconscious, but she's alive." His gaze was riveted to the rise and fall of Iola's chest, as much to reassure himself of the truth of that statement as his inability to look away from the black box strapped to her chest. But staring at it would not make it go away, and time was precious.

"Frank…" Joe said, and moved aside to allow his brother and Nancy a full, uninterrupted view of the bomb.

"Oh my God," Nancy whispered. "Not again."

She had known, a part of her had known, that this was likely what they would find. Another bomb, another countdown threatening the life of a loved one and other innocent people. It was why she had asked Justin to evacuate the building, just in case. And yet, the reality of the sight of a young child with a bomb strapped to her small body nearly overwhelmed her.

As Frank leapt back over the counter to retrieve the bag that he had left by the security guard, Nancy dropped to her knees beside Joe.

"It looks similar to the one that was used on Bess and George. Do you think it could be the same thing?"

Joe frowned. "I can't tell for sure. It's definitely got the same red, black, and green wires, but something just feels different. I can't explain it."

"Never ignore a gut instinct," Frank reminded him, dropping back behind the counter. "First thing they taught us at Quantico." He knelt on the floor on the other side of Nancy and studied the bomb himself, while trying his best to ignore the large red numbers illuminated in the LED display.

Nine minutes and forty-eight seconds. Damn.

Frank opened the duffel bag and pulled out his bomb kit. He unscrewed the faceplate on the bomb and carefully removed it. The explosives themselves were easy enough to identify, and he traced the wiring leading up to them. That wiring followed through to the cables that were wrapped around Iola's thin frame and led into the outside of the device. All three of them: the red one, the black one, and the green one.

The green one. Damn!

"Joe," Frank said quickly. "Get A.D. Burr on the phone now. Your gut instinct was right…and we're going to need all the help we can get with this."

As Joe dialed, Frank and Nancy's attention was drawn back to Iola when a small sound came from her. Looking down, they could see her eyes start to flutter, then slowly open and begin to focus. Frank placed a gentle, but firm hand on her shoulder, effectively keeping her from moving.

"Iola, listen to me. It's Uncle Frank. You're safe, you're okay. But I need you to do something for me. I need you to be very, very still. Don't move at all, okay?"

Iola stared at him, her large brown eyes wide and frightened.

"Are the bad men gone?"

Frank's chest tightened painfully. "They're gone, baby," he whispered, brushing a stray hair from her cheek. "I promise I won't let them come near you again."

"I need Assistant Director Burr on the phone now! Tell him this is Special Agent Joe Hardy and that we have a situation!" Out of the corner of his eye, Joe saw Iola's eyes grown even wider at his harsh voice. He touched her leg lightly in reassurance, wishing desperately that he could just hold her and comfort her, but knowing that getting Burr on the phone was infinitely more important.

"Uncle Joe's here too?" Iola directed this question at Frank, and he nodded. Her gaze then shifted to Nancy.

"Who are you?"

Frank couldn't help a small smile at the characteristic directness of Iola's question. Those three words reassured him more than anything else could have – despite everything, she was okay.

At least for now.

"I'm Nancy," Nancy replied quietly. "I'm a friend of your Uncle Joe and Frank."

"Assistant Director Burr." The relief was evident in Joe's voice. He paused to listen. "Yes sir, we asked Chet Morton to call you and inform you of the situation with his daughter. We've found her, sir. There is an incendiary device attached to her that we need your assistance in defusing. We need the FBI's most experienced technician on the phone, ASAP."

Joe covered the mouthpiece with his hand. "He's connecting me."

"Good," Frank replied. "Hey Nan, switch places with me." He didn't elaborate, but he didn't need to. He wanted more direct access to the bomb, and he wanted her to sit closer to Iola's face and block her view of what he was doing. If she could distract the little girl in the process, that would be ideal.

As Joe and Frank communicated with the technician on the phone, describing the bomb to him, Nancy tried to shut out their voices and focus on Iola. The little girl's brown eyes were wide with fear, and even though she was following Frank's instructions and remaining unnaturally still, Nancy wasn't sure how long that would last.

"Is Uncle Mitch okay?"

The small voice startled Nancy, and her gaze focused intently on Iola. In hindsight, she should have realized that the girl might have seen Mitch get attacked. She did her best to give Iola a reassuring smile.

"He's fine, Iola. He's the one who helped us figure out where you are. He's at home now, safe with your daddy."

Iola's lower lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears.

"I want my Daddy."

"Oh sweetie," Nancy murmured. "We're working on that, okay? We just need you to stay calm and to stay as still as possible."

"Why?"

"Because your Uncle Joe and Frank are trying to make sure you're safe, and they need you to stay still so that they can do their job."

"Why?"

If it had been any other situation, Nancy might have laughed. Some might have found the repetitive questioning of a child annoying, but she clearly remembered pestering her father the exact same way when she was younger. There was no question she had always had an inquisitive mind since she was little, so she could hardly fault Iola for being the same way. The thought of her father added another weight to Nancy's already heavy heart, and she tried to shake the feeling away. She needed to keep a clear mind, especially now. She had to try to find a way to satisfy Iola's curiosity without alarming the little girl.

"Iola, those men that took you from Uncle Mitch, they were very bad men. They did something so that when you woke up, if you moved at all, it would hurt you and everyone around you. We don't want you to get hurt, which is why we need you to be very still, okay?"

"What did they do?"

She should have known that her abbreviated explanation wouldn't have stopped the questions. "It's complicated, honey. I promise I'll try to explain it to you when this is all over and you're home safely." Only if you remember to ask, Nancy added silently. Because this is one thing I wouldn't mind not having to explain.

Before Iola could continue her line of questioning, Nancy interjected with one of her own.

"So what did you do in school today, Iola?"

Iola blinked at the change of subject, but then her delicate blond brow furrowed in thought as she tried to remember.

"Today was finger-painting day. I love finger-painting. I made a cow, just like we have on the farm. Then Carl started picking on Christie. She's my best friend in the world, so I told him to stop. He poked me, so I pushed him. Then Mrs. Bell got mad, and she made both of us sit in time-out. But she still let me feed Mr. Pig, 'cuz today was my day to feed him."

Nancy couldn't help but smile at the summary of what sounded like a rather exciting day at pre-school. "And who is Mr. Pig?" she asked.

"Mr. Pig is our class guinea pig. He's really cute. He doesn't do much. He just runs around in his wheel all day. I asked Mrs. Bell if we could get a dog for the class, but I don't think she liked that idea. I asked Daddy if we could get a dog too, but he made the same face Mrs. Bell did, so I don't think he wants a dog either." At this, she pouted, and Nancy's smile grew a little wider. Before she could commiserate with Iola on the pet situation, though, Joe's voice made her smile disappear completely.

"What do you mean, we can't defuse it?"

Nancy turned to Frank in alarm. "What is he talking about?" she whispered, not wanting to alarm Iola. Without looking at the little girl, she placed a supportive hand on her shoulder and felt Iola's small muscles tense under her hand. Nancy's eyes locked with Frank's, and the grimness in his terrified her. His right hand was clenched in a fist around the tweezers from his bomb kit, and she was almost certain they were cutting into his hand. He turned back to look at the bomb, and Nancy followed his gaze. She could see where he had cut the casings of the red, black, and green cables and separated them, exposing the wires beneath. It looked almost exactly like the bomb at Bess and George's apartment had, except in this case the green wire was not made of a different alloy. Frank spoke, as if sensing her thoughts. "The green wire's not the same as last time. If we cut it, it'll go off. We tried to see if there's another way to defuse it, but from everything we've described to the tech, he doesn't think there's anything we can do. At least, not in the amount of time we have left." He and Nancy both looked at the LED display, which now read five minutes and twenty-seven seconds. Nancy's breath caught in her throat and she placed her free hand over Frank's clenched fist. "What are you saying, Frank?"

"I'm saying that we've got a problem."

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