A/N: I know Thanksgiving has already passed, but I'd still like to take a moment to say thanks. Thank you to all of the amazing reviewers out there for encouraging me and this story. Thank you to the supportive people in this fandom for demonstrating what community really means. And a special thank you to my friends and betas who are always ready with a word of advice, a listening ear, or simply a shoulder to lean on. I truly am thankful to be a part of such a wonderful group of people.

Disclaimer: In the spirit of thanks, I'd like to thank the writers for creating the amazing characters in the Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys universe. I don't own any of these characters, but I'm always grateful for the opportunity to partake in their world.

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"You're lucky that you don't need stitches, Miss Drew," the paramedic stated, carefully cleaning the cut on her forehead. Nancy risked a quick glance at Frank, who had yet to leave her side or remove the scowl that was plastered on his face. Catching her look, the scowl turned into a glare, and he opened his mouth to dispense the lecture that had been building since he first saw her risk her life during the explosion. He was interrupted by a deep male voice, however.

"Agent Hardy?"

"One of them," Frank responded, sizing up the man that was approaching them. He appeared to be in his late thirties, of stocky build and height, with thinning brown hair and shrewd blue eyes. He wore a standard-issue navy FBI windbreaker, with the agency's letters displayed in bold yellow. As the agent came to a stop by them, Frank noticed the paramedic tactfully pack up his medical kit, give Nancy a friendly pat on the shoulder, and then move to a discreet distance away. Frank turned his attention back to his colleague.

"And you are?"

"Special Agent Ken Pennington, from the Helena field office. We received a call from Assistant Director Burr about an explosive in this building. It's about an hour out from our field office. We got here as fast as we could."

"It's okay. We had the situation under control."

Pennington gave a pointed look at the ruined building, then at Nancy with her bandaged forehead. "Yes, I can see that," he said dryly.

Nancy's blue eyes flashed at the agent's words. "Everyone was safely evacuated from the building, and there were no casualties. How could you call that anything but a success?"

Pennington turned his penetrating stare on her. "I'm sorry, miss, I didn't quite catch your name."

"Nancy. Nancy Drew."

"And how exactly did you acquire that injury on your head, Miss Drew?"

"I was struck by a ceiling tile in the explosion."

Pennington turned back to Frank, an eyebrow raised in question. "I thought all civilians had been evacuated from the building."

"Nancy has been helping me and my brother with this investigation. She was the one who was able to save the hostage, a small child, before this bomb went off."

"She's still a civilian, Hardy," Pennington snapped. "Once A.D. Burr hears of this…"

"A.D. Burr is already aware of Nancy's involvement," Frank said icily, without elaborating on the level of the director's awareness. "And I don't think interrogating Nancy right now is appropriate considering her injury and what she's just been through."

"It's okay, Frank," Nancy said, placing a calming hand on Frank's forearm, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by Pennington. She gave the other agent a falsely bright smile. "Ask your questions, Agent Pennington."

"Agent Hardy said you were responsible for rescuing the hostage. How exactly did you do that?"

"After Agents Joe and Frank Hardy examined the bomb, they concluded that it couldn't be disabled. I suggested that there might be a way to remove the bomb from Iola – the little girl who was the hostage – without disabling it. When we investigated further, it turned out that the cables leading into the bomb were tied behind her back. I was able to undo the knots and remove the bomb from her body before it went off. Unfortunately, though, we weren't able to exit the bank entirely in time."

"And while you were in the bank, did you see anything that might indicate who was responsible for this? Something on the bomb, perhaps?"

Nancy shook her head. "No, I didn't see anything." Frank noticed that her right hand was still fisted, and that she didn't mention whatever it was that she had discovered just before she had been struck by the ceiling tile. He deliberately remained silent as well.

Pennington's eyes narrowed. Frank knew his original assessment was correct; this man didn't miss much. "Are you sure that's all, Miss Drew?"

"Yes," Nancy responded firmly. "Now, if you don't mind, Agent Pennington, my head is pounding and I'd really like to check on my friends."

Pennington looked at her for another moment, then nodded reluctantly. "Thank you for your cooperation." He walked off, joining a group of agents that were speaking to the local law enforcement.

Frank immediately turned to Nancy, giving her a penetrating gaze of his own. "Okay, Nan, spill it. What did you find that was so important that you just had to go back for, and that you didn't want to tell Pennington about?"

Nancy uncurled her fist, revealing a crumpled piece of paper.

"I haven't had a chance to really look at it yet. I just noticed something on the floor, and I thought it might be important. The rest of the bank's floor was spotless, so I figured the cleaning crew must have already gone through. If that's the case, then there's a good chance this belongs to the kidnappers, since they were the last ones in the bank."

Frank nodded. "It's a good thought." He leaned down to examine the paper more closely. "It looks like a business card."

"Pinnacle Car Rental," Nancy read aloud, smoothing the crumpled paper. She blew out a frustrated breath. "I wish I hadn't grabbed it the way I did. We might have been able to get fingerprints off of it."

Frank gave her a wry look. "You were kind of in the middle of an explosion. I think you can be forgiven for that lapse in judgment."

Nancy returned the look with a small smile. "At least it's something. I hope you're okay with me not showing it to Pennington. I don't want to turn it over until we have a chance to figure out what it is."

"I agree. And I'm not exactly a fan of Pennington right now," Frank said dryly. Pulling out his cell phone, he took the crumpled business card from Nancy and dialed the number listed. After a few moments, he shook his head. "They're not answering. The recording says it's past their business hours. First thing tomorrow morning, I'll call this Pinnacle place and see if Krieger or any of his aliases rented a car from them."

He handed the card back to her, then gave her a pointed look. "That still doesn't mean that I'm okay with you risking your life for this. You could have been seriously hurt."

"I'm fine, Frank." She tapped her head lightly with her knuckles. "I have a pretty hard head, remember?"

"Don't I know it," Frank muttered. Then he sighed in resignation and dropped a light kiss on her forehead. "It just so happens I like that head of yours, Drew, so try to take better care of it, okay?"

Nancy smiled, her blue eyes twinkling. "I will."

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They found Joe and Iola by another ambulance not too far away. Joe gave his brother and Nancy a brief nod of acknowledgement before returning his attention to Iola. The little girl was sitting on the stretcher, and a female paramedic was shining a penlight into her eyes. The bright light made Iola's eyes water, and she blinked them rapidly. The paramedic shut the light off instantly.

"Sorry, sweetie," she murmured apologetically.

Then the paramedic turned to Joe, her voice low. "I can't say for sure, but my guess is that she was drugged. Her pupils are slightly dilated, and from what you told me, drugging seems like a logical conclusion since she was unconscious when you found her. I didn't find any external injuries on her, and she doesn't seem to have any internal injuries either. That's good news. We just need to find out what she was drugged with. We'll need to take her to the hospital for that, run some tests."

"Why don't we try asking her what she remembers first?" Joe responded.

The paramedic gestured for him to go ahead, and Joe turned to Iola.

"Iola, do you remember anything from when the bad men first took you away from Uncle Mitch?"

Iola nodded, and this time the water that filled her eyes were tears. Joe enveloped her little hand in his larger one and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"It's okay, sweetie, you don't have to talk about it right now. I just need to know if the men gave you anything that made you sleepy."

Iola nodded again. "It was sweet," she whispered.

"They gave you something to eat?" the paramedic asked.

She shook her head. "No, they put something soft over my nose. It smelled sweet."

"Chloroform," Joe, Frank, and Nancy said in unison.

The paramedic gave them a wry glance. "I take it you three have had prior experience with this drug."

Joe gave her a fleeting grin. "First-hand experience, unfortunately."

The paramedic shook her head. "I'm not even going to ask. And I agree with your assessment, but I would still recommend that you take her to the hospital to get her checked out and make sure there's nothing else in her system. Because she's lucid, I'm not going to insist that she go in the ambulance. But I do highly recommend the tests."

Joe nodded. "We'll do that. Thank you so much for your help."

"No problem." She smiled at Iola, then helped the little girl down from the stretcher. "You all take care."

Joe took Iola's hand in his again, and together, the group walked over to the garden that Justin had raved about. The landscaping was immaculate, and in the center of the greenery and flowers stood a statue of an older, distinguished looking gentleman, just as Justin had described. Low bushes formed semi-circles behind and in front of the statue; interspersed between these were inviting stone benches. Adding vibrancy to the scene were multitudes of flowers of all different shapes and colors. The general air of the garden was peaceful, as if it was a place meant to invite one to simply sit down, breathe in the fresh air, and delve into one's own thoughts. As it was, the garden was a little haven in the midst of all the chaos that were around them, and it would give them a much-needed chance to talk and regroup.

Joe led Iola to one of the benches and sat her down. He crouched in front of her so they were eye-level. She met his gaze, and he was relieved to see that some of the fear had faded from her eyes.

"How are you feeling, Iola?"

"I'm okay." Her voice was still nearly a whisper, but it had lost some of its shakiness. Joe brushed a stray wisp of hair away from her face.

"I'm going to talk to your Uncle Frank and Nancy for a minute. Will you be okay? We're just going to be right over there." He pointed to a nearby bush, and Iola nodded bravely.

"I'll be fine, Uncle Joe. Daddy says I'm a big girl."

He smiled at her. "Your Daddy's right about that."

Rising to his feet again, he walked a little distance away, with Frank and Nancy following. As soon as they were out of earshot, Frank spoke.

"Did you call Chet?"

"First thing I did," Joe affirmed. "He was…relieved." It wasn't the word he was looking for, but Joe could find nothing that could encompass the emotion that had been in his friend's voice when he had told him that his daughter was alive and well. "I had to talk him out of coming out here – I told him it would be difficult to get through all of the police barricades and that we would bring Iola home as soon as we got her checked out."

"She needs to go to the hospital and get a more thorough examination."

"That's fine," Joe agreed. "We can call Chet and have him meet us there."

"She also needs to be questioned."

Now Joe glared at his brother. "Are you kidding me? After everything she's just been through?"

"Joe," Nancy said calmly. "We don't want to upset her either. But the fact is, she may know something that can help us. The kidnappers didn't leave us their usual clue this time, and you know that's not good."

"Iola's more important than a clue," Joe snapped.

"Joe," Frank interjected, his calm voice a contrast to Joe's agitated one. "You know Iola means as much to me as she does to you. But the bottom line is, the feds aren't going to let her leave until she's been questioned. We've already met the lead agent from the Helena field office, and trust me, you don't want him talking to her. It's better if we take her statement ourselves and at least spare her that."

Joe sighed. "Fine. But let me ask the questions. If we all start in on her at the same time, it might frighten her again."

Frank and Nancy nodded simultaneously.

"We'll just listen, Joe," Nancy assured him. "We won't say anything."

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After nearly ten minutes of gentle yet probing questions from Joe, and mostly monosyllabic answers from Iola, Nancy sighed softly. Dusk had fallen, and with the loss of the sun, the cold mountain air had returned with chilling force. Joe had already bundled Iola up in his coat, and Nancy tucked her own closer around her as a light gust crept under the woolen material. There was a tightness in her chest that refused to go away. The lack of a new clue worried her deeply, and with it, the loss of the connection to her father, however ephemeral, cut at her.

"We're not getting anywhere with this, Frank," she whispered. "Iola hasn't been able to tell us anything that Mitch didn't, and obviously she doesn't remember anything that happened after she was drugged. And the poor thing is exhausted – we need to get her home."

Frank dragged his hand through his thick brown hair in frustration. "You're right. I just wish we had some answers."

Something caught Nancy's attention out of the corner of her eye. The security guard, who had been unconscious until now, was slowly being raised to a sitting position on his stretcher. His eyes were open.

"I think I may know how to get some of those answers. I'll be right back."

Frank followed the direction of her gaze, then her line of thought. "Go for it. We'll be right here."

She pulled the rental car agency's card from her pocket and handed it to him. "When you get a chance, let Joe know what we found." Frank nodded in agreement.

Nancy turned and made a beeline for the security guard. She wanted to talk to him before Pennington even noticed that the man was awake.

As she approached, the paramedic gave her a cursory glance before turning back to his patient.

"Can I help you, miss?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Actually, I was hoping to speak to your patient here, if that's okay."

"Are you a cop?" the paramedic asked suspiciously.

"No, but I was one of the people in the bank with your patient when the bomb went off."

The paramedic finally turned and gave her his full attention. After a moment's appraisal, he nodded.

"Go ahead. I need to get some more supplies anyway."

Nancy smiled her thanks, then turned to the guard, who had been watching the exchange speculatively. Though his skin was still rather ashen, his deep gray eyes were alert. Nancy estimated his age to be around sixty, but with the good physical shape that he was in and the shortage of gray in his thick black hair, he most likely often passed for fifty.

"Do I know you, young lady?"

"No, sir, you don't. When my friends and I found you, you were unconscious on the floor of the bank."

Instinctively, the guard touched his hand to the gauze bandage that was wrapped around his head. "Those bastards," he muttered. "And I'm a stupid old coot for falling for their trick."

"Trick?" Nancy prompted.

The guard eyed her shrewdly. "You still haven't told me who you are, and why you were in the bank."

"I'm Nancy Drew. My friends and I were searching for a little girl who had been kidnapped. We were led to believe she was in your bank. When we got there, we found you unconscious and a bomb strapped to the girl. Luckily, we were able to get both of you out in time. I was hoping you could fill in the blanks for me, and tell me what happened."

"Is the girl okay?"

Nancy nodded. "She is." A look of relief crossed the guard's face. He sighed deeply. "The men came up to the bank doors about halfway through my shift. One of them held a little girl in his arms, and even from a distance, I could tell something was wrong with her. When I came up to the door, the man holding her told me that she was really sick, and that he needed to use the phone in the bank to call 911. We have strict orders not to allow anyone into the bank after hours, but that little girl…well, she just looked so helpless. And the men both looked frantic. I figured, it'd be wrong not to help them out and let something happen to the little one. I have grandkids of my own; if one of them was in trouble, I'd want someone to do the same for them. So I opened the door. The men walked in, stepped behind me. Next thing I knew, sharp pain going through my head. Then I remember nothing till I woke up out here, with the world going to hell in a hand basket around me." He shook his head in disgust. "What is this damn world coming to when people start strapping bombs to our kids?"

"I don't know, sir," Nancy murmured softly. "But I do know that we're going to do our best to find those men, and to bring them to justice. And what you just told me certainly helps. Even if there are bad people like those men in the world, there are good ones like you who help balance them out." She covered one of his hands with her own. "Thank you."

Nancy started to walk away when the guard called out after her. "Nancy."

She turned and gave him an inquisitive look. "Yes?"

"My name's William. Will for short." He gave her a wry grin. "Figured you should know the name of the old coot you helped out."

Her eyes sparkled. "Iola." When he gave her an questioning look of his own, she returned his grin. "Figured you should know the name of the little girl you helped out."

As she turned away again, she could hear Will chuckling behind her.

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Justin caught up to Nancy as she was making her way back to the garden. The police had interrogated him first, as Frank had refused to leave Nancy's side and Joe had refused to leave Iola's. Now Justin dragged a hand through his sun-bronzed hair, a familiar gesture that reminded her of Frank.

"I thought those questions would never end," he muttered.

Nancy gave him a sympathetic smile. "Interrogations are never fun. But you know the cops are just trying to cover every angle."

"I know." He sighed. "And if it helps them catch the men that did this, then they can interrogate me for hours for all I care." Anger tightened his handsome features. "But if I get my hands on those bastards first…"

Nancy laid a soothing hand on his arm. "Easy, cowboy," she said lightly. "I know how you feel, but anger isn't going to solve anything. And I know a little girl who's pretty eager to see her Uncle Justin right now – try to focus on that."

A reluctant smile appeared on his face. "You're right. How is she?"

"She's doing well. Frank and Joe are with her right now, trying to see if she remembers anything. We're going to take her to the hospital so they can run some more tests, but the paramedic said she seems to be fine."

This time his sigh was one of relief. "Thank God. If anything had happened to her…"

Nancy squeezed his arm in reassurance. "It didn't. And thanks to you, hundreds of other people are safe as well." She gave him a grateful smile. "Myself included."

A hint of red appeared on Justin's cheeks, and he shoved his hands deep into his jean pockets. "It was nothing, really."

"Don't brush it off," Nancy chided gently. "The fact that you came back for us, knowing full well what the dangers were – that took a lot of courage. And I'm grateful, because it meant that we all got out alive."

Embarrassment was plainly written on his face, but he covered it with a charming grin and deliberately deepened his drawl. "I couldn't let ya'll have all the fun now, could I? Besides, I never could resist helping a damsel in distress."

Nancy choked on a laugh. "I don't think I've ever been called that before in my life. Still, I appreciate the thought, and the gesture." She linked her arm through his good-naturedly. "Come on, let's go find my other two knights in shining armor then."

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After seeing for himself that Iola was okay, Justin decided to head back to the ranch to check on Mitch while Frank, Nancy, and Joe took Iola to the hospital. Frank called Chet to let him know where they were headed, and all Chet said was that he would meet them there. Joe opted to sit in the back of the cab with Iola, while Frank drove and Nancy rode in the passenger seat beside him.

"Look, Iola, here are some of your toys and puzzle books." Joe waved a stuffed frog in the air enticingly. When he was sure that he had Iola's attention, he held the frog in front of his face so that it hid his features.

"Hi, Iola," he said, in his best impression of a froggie voice. "Won't you play with me? Ribbit. We sure could have lots of fun. Ribbit."

Iola giggled. "You're funny, Uncle Joe. Frogs don't talk!"

"Sure they do. What about Kermit?"

"Kermit is a puppet." She said this so matter-of-factly that Joe just blinked. Recovering quickly, though, he bopped her lightly on the head with the frog.

"Actually, if we're getting picky here, Kermit's really a muppet," he countered.

In the front seat, Frank laughed.

"It's always fun to watch Joe match wits with a five-year-old," he murmured to Nancy, just loud enough so that his brother could hear.

Joe glared at the back of his brother's head but refrained from commenting, given the fact that he had a little girl with very big ears seated right next to him. He turned back to Iola.

"Okay, if you don't want to play with the frog, what do you want to play with?"

She caught her lower lip with her teeth, appearing to ponder the question very seriously. After a thorough survey of all of her play things, she pointed to one of the puzzle books.

"That one!"

Joe picked up the book and flipped it open. "Boggle, huh?"

Iola nodded and handed him a crayon. "You're s'posed to help me figure out which way the letters go so they can spell words. We're learning spelling in school right now. Mrs. Bell says I'm real good at it. So Daddy bought me this book so I can pr…pr…prak…"

"Practice?" Joe supplied.

"Yup!" Iola agreed excitedly. "C'mon, Uncle Joe, let's Boggle!"

As Joe involved Iola with the popular game, Nancy took that opportunity to speak to Frank in a low voice.

"You've been upset since you called Chet. What did he say?"

Frank gave her a wry glance. "And here I thought I was hiding it well."

"This is me we're talking about, Frank. I have superior powers of observation, remember?" She gave him a sassy grin and was rewarded when the corner of his mouth lifted a little.

"Or you just know me really, really well."

"Well, that too," Nancy replied, her voice a little softer.

Frank turned his head to give her another small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I've never heard Chet sound that distant before, Nan," he said, keeping his voice low so he couldn't be heard in the back seat. "He just didn't sound like himself."

"He's been through a lot today, Frank," Nancy replied, her voice equally low. "He's probably just still trying to process it all."

"I don't know. Maybe," Frank said, but he sounded doubtful. He started to say something else but stopped as the hospital finally appeared, true to Justin's directions.

"We're here," he said instead.

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Chet was already waiting outside the doors of the Emergency Room when they arrived. As soon as Iola was out of the truck and saw her father, she was running towards his open arms. Chet caught her halfway, lifting her in the air and squeezing her small body to him wordlessly. His shoulders shook, and moisture seeped out of the edges of his tightly shut eyes. When Iola pulled away from him slightly, she caught sight of the tears.

"Daddy, why are you crying?"

"They're happy tears, honey. I'm just so happy to see you."

Iola patted his face with her small hand. "Don't cry, Daddy. I'm okay. Diane said so."

"Who's Diane?"

"The paramedic," Joe supplied. Chet barely bothered with a glance at him before turning towards the entrance to the hospital. "I still want to get her checked out," he said over his shoulder. Behind him, Joe struggled to keep the hurt from showing on his face. Frank gave Nancy a concerned look before they both followed Joe and Chet into the ER.

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Chet's behavior towards them had not improved when they arrived back at the ranch, despite the fact that Iola had received a clean bill of health from the ER doctor. Mitch and Justin had met them at the door of the main house, and Chet had been animated in his responses to them. But he had barely said a word to the Hardys, except when it was absolutely necessary. After bidding Justin and Mitch good night and finally walking into the house, Chet started to head straight for Iola's room, with Iola sleeping safe and sound in his arms. However, at the last minute, he seemed to realize that there were still some basic civilities to be seen to. As Frank, Nancy, and Joe paused awkwardly in the living room, Chet turned to face them at the foot of the stairs.

"I had Mrs. Paulie prepare your usual rooms for you. Nancy, your room is next to Frank's. I'm taking Iola up to bed." Chet headed up the stairs without another word. Frank felt the sting in his friend's tone. Looking at Joe, he knew that what Chet had said, and more importantly, what he hadn't said, was hurting his brother deeply.

"Well, at least he didn't turn us out into the night," Joe murmured.

"You know Chet would never do that, Joe," Frank said.

"I wouldn't have blamed him."

"Joe," Frank began, but Joe shook off the comforting hand that his brother had laid on his shoulder. "Don't, Frank. I'm going to bed."

He went up the stairs without looking back. At the top of the staircase, they heard a door open, then close softly.

Wordlessly, Nancy slipped her hand into Frank's. He squeezed her fingers gently.

"I don't know what to say to either of them."

"Everything will look better in the morning, Frank," she said softly. "It always does."

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