A/N: Thank you so much for the incredible responses to the last chapter! I know I left everyone wondering about what Nancy took out of Joe's jacket at the end, and you guys had some great guesses. I didn't want to keep everyone waiting too long, so I'm actually updating quicker than usual this time around!

Many, many thanks to my wonderful betas for all of their support and feedback, and to the readers for keeping me motivated!

Disclaimer: Witty disclaimers are difficult to come up with after midnight. What can I say, my brain's tired. Suffice it to say, I don't own any of these brilliant characters, though I sure wish I did, so that I could become a full-time writer. Nine-to-five jobs are for the birds.

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"Here will be fine."

The cab slowed to a stop, pulling up to the curb next to a plain, one-story brown building. Despite the late hour, the lights were on inside, and there were floodlights outside as well that lit up the bushes that flanked the front doors of the building. Beyond the stretch of building, however, the light was swallowed by the darkness of the run-down neighborhood around it, an island of manufactured light in its dilapidated surroundings.

The cab driver gave the building a dubious look, his black beady eyes surveying it, the other establishments on the street, and Nancy, standing at his window, holding out the cab fare. The light from the building caught on a long jagged scar that ran down the side of his face.

"Look lady, this ain't exactly the greatest neighborhood. Are you sure you don't want me to stick around, give you a ride back to that hospital I picked you up from?"

Nancy remained expressionless as she handed him the money. "Thanks, but I'll be okay." A small, humorless smile graced her lips. "Besides, I know karate."

The cab driver just shook his head. "Whatever, lady." As he sped off, Nancy barely caught his muttered last words through the open window.

"It's your funeral."

She watched the red taillights disappear around the corner, then turned around to face the building. Squaring her shoulders, she took a deep breath, then pulled open one of the glass doors and walked in.

There was a uniformed officer at a desk just inside the door, staring somewhat blearily at the computer monitor before him. Nancy guessed his age to be somewhere in his lower twenties, partly because of his youthful face, and also because it was usually the younger squad members that got stuck with the graveyard shift.

At the sound of the door, the officer looked up quickly, his green eyes sharpening into focus at the sight of his late night visitor. He gave Nancy a questioning look.

"Can I help you, ma'am?"

Nancy slipped Joe's FBI badge from her pocket and flipped it open, taking care to subtly cover Joe's picture with her fingers. She kept the badge close to her own body and far enough away from the officer that he wouldn't be able to read the name on the badge, and after giving him a few brief seconds to survey it, she quickly snapped it shut again.

"Special Agent Nancy Drew with the FBI. I'm here to see the suspect who was brought into custody this evening."

The officer eyed her suspiciously. "At this hour?"

Nancy gave him her best stern look. "Yes. I have some questions for him that can't wait." She cut him off as he began to interrupt. "You can confirm this with Special Agent Pennington, who brought him in, if you like. Although, Officer Douglas," she said, reading the name on his badge, "I'd caution you that it's a very career-limiting move to disturb any senior agent at this hour unless absolutely necessary."

Nancy held her breath as she finished saying this, not sure if the officer would buy her story or not. She didn't know what she would do if he didn't, if he turned her away. She wasn't sure when it had happened, but somehow, it had become imperative for her to speak to Jack Lerner tonight.

The young officer kept his green eyes fixed on hers, assessing. Whether or not he actually believed her story wasn't clear, but something in her face must have swayed him, because he stood from his desk, muttering, "Right this way."

Nancy followed him without another word, winding through the maze of desks, passing through a long hallway, and then finally, through a door that looked exactly like that of a prison holding block and required a swipe of a card from Officer Douglas to get through. Beyond that door was a row of six prison cells, three on each side. As they walked past the first four cells, Nancy saw that they were all empty. Apparently this police station in particular didn't see much traffic. As if sensing her unspoken question, Officer Douglas stopped and turned back to her.

"There's a penitentiary in downtown Helena, next to the courthouse, where all of our prisoners are sent. The cells at this station are typically only used for our 'overnight guests', as we like to call them." At Nancy's blank look, he continued with a slight smirk. "Our drunks and disorderlies." Nancy quickly schooled her expression into a knowing one, but not before she caught a glimpse of suspicion returning to his face. Once again, though, he shook it off, and instead pointed to the last cell on the left.

"There's your suspect."

From the angle at which she stood, all Nancy could see of the cell was a dim interior, closed in by evenly spaced metal bars. Still, her heartbeat quickened, because she knew that Lerner was behind those bars. Officer Douglas gave her another assessing look.

"Are you going to be alright here, Agent Drew?"

Nancy nodded, not trusting her voice. Officer Douglas gave her a small nod in return. "Okay, then. You know where to find me if you need anything." With that, he returned through the door at the end of the hallway, leaving Nancy alone with Jack Lerner in the row of cells.

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The sparse light from the single light bulb hanging in Lerner's cell left his face in shadows. He sat on a cot that was pressed against the grey cinderblock wall at the back of the cell, but as Nancy approached, he rose smoothly to his feet and walked forward, until there were only the metal bars separating them. Back on the ridge, she hadn't really taken in his appearance; she had been more focused on the gun that he had held in his hand and what he was going to do with it. But now, she noted the differences between the well-mannered man she had once known, and the hardened criminal who stood before her now. He had been middle-aged when they had first met him on the mystery train excursion, and the years had grayed his black hair further. But that was the only toll the years appeared to have taken. Jack Lerner still stood tall, proud, even more physically fit than before, with the bearing of a man who clearly had no doubts as to his own righteousness. Even the garishly bright orange of his prison jumpsuit didn't detract from this image. He wore a congenial smile on his face that did not reach his cold grey eyes.

"Ms. Drew," he greeted.

"Lerner." Nancy all but spat the name.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this late night visit?"

"I wouldn't exactly call it a pleasure," Nancy countered, the hostility in her voice a sharp contrast to the smoothness in his.

"But you're the one who's visiting me, Nancy, not the other way around. If you're not here for the pleasure of my company, then why are you here?"

"Because I want to know why." She had wanted to remain cold, impartial, but she could not stop the slight tremor that crept into her voice. Lerner heard it and smirked. "I'm afraid you're going to have to be more specific than that, Ms. Drew."

His attitude grated on her already frayed nerves, and Nancy drew an imperceptible breath to calm herself. Her voice was deceptively even when she spoke. "We checked your records. You were released from jail early on parole for good behavior. You were a free man, Lerner. You could have moved on, done anything with the rest of your life. So why come after us? Why were you so desperate for revenge, that you were willing to go to such lengths? Was the Comstock diamond worth so much to you and Laurie?"

Lerner's tether on his control shattered. He lunged forward, gripping the metal bars of his cell so tightly that his knuckles went completely white. There was only an arm length's distance between him and Nancy; he could have reached out and grabbed her, she could have easily stepped back.

Neither moved.

"Don't you dare talk about Laurie," Lerner growled, all illusion of civility gone.

Nancy just stared at him, unable to conceal her confusion. From the moment that they had realized that Lerner was the second kidnapper, her subconscious assumption had been that this tied back to the diamond somehow, that his thwarted greed for the jewel had fueled his desire for revenge. But just now, the pain and rage that had been in his voice when he had spoken of his wife…it had reminded her vividly of how she had felt when Frank had been shot, when she had contemplated life without him, and the anger that had driven her here.

"Is Laurie…" But she couldn't bring herself to finish the question.

"Dead!" Lerner shouted, his face flushed a bright red. Nancy felt herself go pale in contrast.

"How?" she whispered.

"They said it was an accident," Lerner related bitterly. "That she was on one of those highway cleanup teams, and she somehow tripped onto the road, and the oncoming truck didn't have time to stop. That's what the wardens said, when they came and told me. But I know otherwise." His fists clenched tighter on the cold metal bars. "You'd hear things, in the penitentiary. Word had a way of traveling, even through locked jail cells. There were some women in Laurie's block who had taken a particular disliking to her. Uncouth women, the violent sort. They had it in for her from the beginning. Laurie didn't fall onto the road in front of the truck that day, she was pushed."

Nancy's throat was dry, painfully dry. The words "I'm sorry" were lodged in there, stuck because she wasn't sure if that was the appropriate sentiment. Lerner was speaking of a woman she had known, his wife, someone she had interacted with, even liked, until Laurie's criminal activities and greed for her ancestor's diamond had been exposed. For those reasons, she felt a small sense of loss, if not grief, for the woman. But she couldn't bring herself to offer condolences to Lerner. This was a man who had just tried to eliminate everyone that she loved from her life, who was responsible for Frank being shot and fighting for his life. She didn't feel sorrow for this man. She didn't feel empathy. She couldn't.

"That was a terrible thing that happened," she said, finally, "but that doesn't explain why you came after us. If you wanted revenge, shouldn't you have gone after the people you suspected of killing your wife?"

"It was your fault she was there in the first place!" Lerner shrieked, his voice reverberating through the empty cells. "If it weren't for you and your meddling friends, she would still be alive!"

Nancy shook her head in disbelief. "That's what all this was about? Because you think that we were responsible for her death?"

Without warning, Lerner struck out, his hand reaching through the bars to grab Nancy. His face was contorted with rage, flushed a deep, dark red. Nancy stepped back swiftly, just out of reach. But she did not call out to Officer Douglas. His outburst had not shaken her resolve to get to the bottom of this, to try to find some sense of understanding as to why he and Krieger had acted the way they had. She needed that knowledge, whether for a sense of closure or just a desperate need to understand, she did not know. But she wasn't leaving until she heard it all, every last bit of it.

"You bitch," Lerner snarled, his hand uselessly returning to wrap tightly around the metal bar again. "I wanted them all dead, every last one of them. I wanted you to know what it was like to lose the ones you loved."

Anger clawed at Nancy. "Then why this elaborate drawn-out game? Why not just kill them when you had the chance?"

Lerner laughed, and the sound spoke of his unstable state of mind. "Now where would the fun be in that? I wanted you all to suffer, to give you the illusion of hope of saving your fathers, knowing that the hope was futile. And you…" Lerner's grey eyes gleamed. "Even when we first met, it was apparent to me that the elder Hardy had feelings for you. Your death was meant to be an example of what it is to lose the one that you love." Grief tightened his voice, laced with rage. "You were supposed to make up for Laurie. Why didn't you die, damn you!"

Nancy look at Lerner, at the madness in his eyes, and felt a sick, nauseating churning in her stomach, mixed with an odd sense of triumph. It was the latter feeling that had her stepping closer to Lerner again, her blue eyes darkened with emotion.

"You're right, Lerner, I didn't die. Nor did our fathers. We survived, despite you, despite Krieger, despite everything that you did. You're wrong for thinking that we were responsible for Laurie's death. You were both in jail as a result of your actions, not because of me, Joe, or Frank." Nancy took a deep, cleansing breath as she felt something inside of her finally click into place. "I came here tonight because I wanted to know why you had done what you did. And before I even talked to you, I think some part of me felt responsible for everything that had happened, for Memphis, for our fathers, our friends. But now I know that I was wrong. I'm not responsible for your actions or Krieger's, or any other crazy person out there who thinks that revenge is the answer. I can't live in fear of the next person who comes along who wants to get back at me for exposing their crimes. But seeing you behind bars, realizing that someone as dangerous as you can't harm anyone anymore -- it reminds me of why I became a detective in the first place. I suppose I should thank you for that."

She fixed Lerner with a piercing stare, her blue eyes cold as ice. "But I won't thank you. Right now, Frank is lying on an operating table, fighting for his life, because of you. Krieger may have pulled the trigger, but I hold you just as responsible for this. And if Frank doesn't make it, know this: I will make sure that you never see the light of day again. I will make sure that you can't even get the death penalty, that you live out the rest of your miserable life behind bars, all alone. You are not the only one capable of avenging someone that you love."

She left Lerner with a stunned expression on his face, her head held high and her back ramrod straight as she walked down the row of cells and back out into the brightly lit station. She did not wait for a response from him, because the conversation was over. She had her answers, and she had said what was in her heart. That was enough.

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It was nearly eight a.m. when Nancy finally returned to the hospital. She had set out from the police station on foot, needing the walk to clear her head, despite the seedy nature of the neighborhood. Part of her had wanted to rush back to the hospital, not knowing what had happened to Frank, if he was out of surgery or not. But she had contented herself with checking the voicemails on her cell phone, which she had turned off when she had gone into the police station. There were two messages from Joe, one frantic, and one angry and frantic, demanding to know where she was. But there was no mention of Frank's status, which meant that he had nothing new to report. She had deleted these messages guiltily, wanting to call Joe back to reassure him, but not relishing the thought of the ensuing conversation. So instead, she had just walked, in no particular direction, allowing the cold, brisk air to revive her senses and clear her mind. She had eventually come across a main road, where she had finally hailed a cab, the quickly rising sun telling her that she had stalled long enough.

When she entered the surgery waiting room, Joe was pacing, cell phone out and in his hand. He snapped the phone shut when he saw her, the worry in his blue eyes quickly turning into a glare.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Nancy winced, knowing that she deserved the harsh rebuke in his voice. Not only had she left him without saying anything, she had also taken his FBI badge. She didn't know what she could say now to make up for that. But she needn't have worried, because Joe didn't even give her the time to answer.

"Do you have any idea how worried I've been? How I felt when I woke up and found you gone? Being worried sick about Frank is bad enough, but then not knowing what had happened to you…you even had your cell phone off!" Joe finished heatedly.

"Joe, I'm sorry," Nancy said softly. She laid a tentative hand on his arm and was relieved when he didn't shrug it off. Underneath her hand, she could feel him shaking slightly, and that caused her own worries to ratchet up a notch. Those concerns pushed even her desperate need to apologize aside. "Have you heard anything about Frank?" she asked, her shoulders tightening in fear as she braced herself for his response. To her surprise, though, some of the tension on Joe's face dissipated.

"Frank's out of surgery," he told her, his tone softening. "I was just about to try you on your cell again to tell you. He came out about half an hour ago. I've already told Dad and talked to the doctor. He's in post-op recovery right now, and after that, the doctor said we should be able to see him briefly." Joe dragged a shaky hand through his curly blond hair. "He's not out of the woods yet. The surgery was a tough one, and even though they were able to extract the bullet and repair most of the damage, he's still in critical condition. With chest injuries, apparently, the first twenty-four hours after surgery are critical."

Nancy was torn between relief and a gnawing fear. Frank had survived the surgery, and that was a blessing in and of itself. But she hated hearing that there was still a chance that he wouldn't make it. The very thought clenched her stomach into knots, and she saw the same fears on Joe's face. That made her feel even more lousy for adding to his worries.

"Joe, I'm really am sorry that I left this morning without saying anything. There was just…something that I needed to do." She pulled his badge from her jacket pocket and handed it to him, chagrined. "And I borrowed this without asking. I don't know what to say, other than I never meant to make you worry so much and I truly am sorry."

Joe took in her appearance: the dark circles under her eyes, the stray wisps of reddish blonde hair hanging limply around her face, the pallor of her skin. Despite himself, he felt a stir of sympathy.

"You went to see Lerner, didn't you."

It wasn't a question, because he already knew the answer. The guilty look in her blue eyes just confirmed it.

"You should have told me, Nancy. I would have gone with you."

"I know you would have, Joe. It was just something that I needed to do alone." Her gentle smile was meant to take the sting out of her words, but Joe just gave her a look that was a mixture of exasperation and anger. Before he could say anything, however, his attention was diverted by a shadow in the hallway leading to the waiting room. Anger subsiding, he gave Nancy a rueful smile.

"Here's a couple of people to remind you that you're not alone, Nan."

Nancy gave him a puzzled look, then turned around to follow the direction of his gaze. There, in the hallway, stood Bess and George, both looking travel-weary and exhausted. George's skin was pale under the tan that she perpetually sported. And Bess had no makeup on -- a sight that only a privileged few were ever allowed to see, and on the rare occasion at that. But despite their weariness, the look they gave Nancy was full of joy and relief.

As Nancy stepped forward into their embrace, the tears finally came.

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A/N (continued): For those of you not familiar with the Super Mystery books, Jack Lerner is a character from Mystery Train, and Laurie was his wife. The diamond that Nancy referred to was the Comstock diamond, which Jack and Laurie had tried to obtain through illegal means, only to be thwarted by Nancy, Frank, and Joe. I know there are still some unanswered questions, and I promise that future chapters will reveal more about Lerner and Krieger's end of things, how they put this elaborate scheme together.

Also, I want to apologize if there are any medical inaccuracies in this chapter regarding Frank's surgery. I've done research on chest injuries, as well as drawn upon my own limited knowledge of the medical field, but unfortunately, there's a lot of contradictory information out there. I did the best that I could with the information that I had in hand, but if there are any doctors out there reading this, I'm sorry!