* Thank you all so much for the reviews, this is such an encouraging fandom! I hope the characters and the crime all work out and are not disappointing in the end. LOL. Seriously, I appreciate each of you so much for reading along and for each of you who have taken the time to leave a comment. :)

Chapter 8 — I've been doing this job a long time.

It was almost nine by the time they'd boarded up the door, cleared the entryway of glass, and headed back to the station. Joe climbed into the passenger side of the car and stared fixedly at Frank as he got behind the wheel and buckled his seat belt. As they pulled away from the dry cleaning store, Joe threw his hands up in the air. "What on earth do you think you're doing?!" he burst out.

Frank glanced over at him. "Did you want to drive?"

Joe rolled his eyes. "You aren't the least bit worried that you've lost some objectivity here? Since when do we call in favors to get lawyers for suspects?"

"She's not a suspect," Frank replied in a calm, measured voice. "Fernandez is the suspect. She's a witness coming to give a more complete statement and fill in some gaps in the suspect's background."

"You don't even see it, do you?" Joe sighed, shaking his head. "You know, up until this case I would have thought you capable of always remaining unbiased. Up until this case I would have thought you capable of leading an impartial, ethical investigation against me if I ever wound up on the wrong side of things."

"Maybe I think you more likely to wind up on the wrong side of things," Frank muttered. "That explosive passion is bound to get you into trouble once in a while."

"Now you're deflecting," Joe protested. "Or projecting. Whichever one Mom says Dad does when he doesn't want to talk about whatever she wants to talk about. The issue here is that you care about this woman, and since you never talk about your feelings, I'm getting blindsided by the fact that you're putting your career on the line for someone you barely know!"

"I don't think she did it," Frank said simply, choosing to ignore his brother's attempt at psychology. "I don't think it necessary that she have a lawyer, but she certainly has the right. It's a smart move, and by recommending Chet I know she's got someone good and someone we can trust. He won't pull any shyster-y tricks."

"And you're just going to ignore the fact that she was connected to the victim and didn't choose to share that information? Not just a connection, the victim was implicated in the death of her husband!"

"You were there," Frank countered, hearing his voice take on that dark, gruff quality that he used with suspects. "She didn't recognize the victim that night. And you didn't think so either. So whatever is going on, I don't think she's the killer."

Joe shook his head. "But she was a PI. She knows all the tricks and ins and outs of an investigation. You don't get to start playing loosey-goosey with the rules because you're attracted to her! Under normal circumstances I would support this whole-heartedly, but she could also be playing you."

Frank sighed. "Joe, we've been doing this job a long time. When have I ever been played by anyone?"

"Besides Callie?" Joe muttered under his breath, turning to look out the car window.

Ah. Well, that wasn't strictly true. But Joe considered Callie the worst of all traitors, claiming she was happy enough to marry Frank when he was on track to become the Bayport Chief of Police, but equally happy to divorce him when he wanted to pursue something more challenging. For her part, Callie had said she was blindsided by his decision to apply for the New York job. Blindsided…that was the word Joe just used.

Frank turned everything over in his mind. Callie had felt blindsided, even though staying in Bayport had seemed nonsensical to him. And now Joe felt blindsided, even though proceeding as though Ms. Drew was a viable suspect seemed just as nonsensical. Out of the recesses of his memory he heard his father say, "Frank, you have to remember to take other perspectives into account. Your view might be right in the end, but if you don't consider other options, people can get hurt." If he remembered the incident correctly, he and Joe had gone traipsing off into the woods looking for buried treasure. He'd been seven or eight at the time, convinced he knew exactly what he was doing. A surprise thunderstorm and his mother's wrath said differently.

"Ok, I hear you," Frank said, nudging his brother with his elbow. "Here's my thought process…Based on my years' of experience, her reaction to seeing the body, and observing her over the last year, I do not believe Ms. Drew is capable of committing a murder like this. Now, I'm not saying I know her well enough to know that she'd never commit murder," he continued, cutting off Joe's rebuttal before he could open his mouth, "but this one? We know the dumpster isn't the primary scene. Why would she bother to kill the girl somewhere else, dump the body in the alley of her own store, and then proceed to call the police to report it? That's sloppy and convoluted. I think if Nancy were going to commit a crime, she'd be smart about it. This is not about me being attracted to her."

Joe rolled his eyes dramatically. "I feel like I could take that statement two ways. Do you mean you're not attracted to her or your attraction is not influencing your behavior— No, you know what, I'm calling BS on both of those. What happens when we catch the murderer and a judge decides to start throwing out evidence because you got too friendly with a suspect?"

Frank started straight ahead. "I'm still going to do my job. I do think this involves her somehow, I just don't want the wheels of justice to grind her up before we can figure out if she's being framed or targeted somehow."

His brother was quiet for a moment. "Soooo, if all of this hadn't happened, were you planning to ask her out?"

"And we're done talking about this," Frank huffed a small laugh and elbowed him. "If it makes you feel better, you can question her. I'll stay in the observation room."

Nancy arrived at the station shortly before noon, and Joe escorted her to an interrogation room to wait for Chet to arrive. Frank was watching through the one-way mirror from the observation room. Joe hesitated in the doorway and then turned back towards her. "I'm going to grab a coffee," he said, smiling. "Can I get you anything?"

"No thank you, I don't care for coffee," she said, with a nod, but not smiling in return.

Frank ducked out of the observation room and met Joe over by the coffee station. "Tea, not coffee," he said, grabbing a cup and glancing over the tea bags stuffed into a small jar. "And she's not a fan of your devil-may-care attitude. She thinks it's unprofessional."

Joe grabbed the Styrofoam cup out of Frank's hand and filled it from the hot water spout on the side of the coffee maker. He picked a tea bag at random and dropped it in the cup, tag and all, then he threw in one of the little wooden stirs and gave Frank a stony stare. "You said you would stay in the observation room. Now get in there before I ask you to be pulled off this case and turn the whole mess over to Cahill and Ferlito."

Ok. That was a little over the top, even for Joe. Frank stepped out of his way and returned to the observation room, fighting the impulse to text his brother the specifically worded questions he thought would be the best start to the interview. Chet arrived a few minutes later, giving the entirely false impression of a scattered, absentminded professor. Chet had always been one to hop from one hobby to another, messing around with cars, studying botany, or learning to fly a hot air balloon. Why law stuck when so many other endeavors fell by the wayside, Frank never could figure out. But stick it did. And now Morton & Morton was one of the top firms in the city. Flopping into the chair beside Nancy, Chet made a half-hearted attempt to straighten his tie and run a hand through his hair. "Good to see you Joe," he said cheerfully, before turning to Nancy and offering his hand. "Ms. Drew, thank you for entrusting our firm with your case."

Nancy raised her eyebrows skeptically as she took his hand. "Well, you were…recommended," she finally said. "I didn't want to have to call the guy from the billboards."

Chet smiled. "I would have thought you would call Ned's firm, or your father's. I crossed swords with both of them a couple times in the courtroom. Ned was a good lawyer. A good man. I was so sorry about what happened."

The words seemed for a moment to breach Nancy's stiff, aloof manner. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then she turned away from Chet and faced Joe across the table, her defenses firmly back in place. "I did not kill Marisol Williams," she said in a clear, cold voice. "Let's get this over with."

Alone behind the one-way mirror, Frank nodded approvingly. She'd probably been a good investigator. He was still waiting to get all the copies of the court proceedings from the trial after her husband's death, and the original police reports from Marisol's parents. He wanted to know exactly what had happened five years ago. He had been wrapped up in his own drama at the time, and didn't remember the case.

The conversation between Nancy and Joe continued in calm, quiet voices. To his credit, Joe didn't try to get her to warm up to him. He remained cool and detached, not typical for him, but it was working. She went robotically over the details of her own case to find the fifteen year old runaway that had ended so horrifically. Marisol had been given community service. Micah Fernandez had been sentenced to five years and served three. It was his first offense. Prisons were crowded. He did two years in juvie and one in state and then was paroled. No, she hadn't seen either one of them since the trial. No, she hadn't recognized the girl that night when they'd wheeled the body out.

Joe stared her down as he asked his final question. "Ms. Drew, why did you not immediately tell us that you knew Marisol Williams when Detective Frank Hardy told you that was the name of the victim?"

Nancy looked back at him steadily. "I was simply taken aback by the news, and didn't say anything. Foolish in hindsight, but her life over the last five years had apparently taken its toll. I honestly had not recognized her, and in the moment wasn't able to process the idea that the body was hers."

Joe let out a slow, deep breath as he noted that down, and Chet pounced. He shoved his chair back and made a show of buttoning up his suit jacket. "We're finished here, Detective Hardy. Please let me know if you have any further questions for my client. You haven't indicated that there is any physical evidence or corroborating witness statements connecting Ms. Drew to this crime."

"Of course, she's free to go," Joe said with a rueful smile. "We simply wanted her to fill in some gaps for us."

Nancy stood and turned to go, then paused and glanced toward the mirror before looking again at Joe. "Was Marisol still involved with Micah Fernandez?" she asked.

Joe stared at her blankly and closed the folder in front of him. "You should know I can't disclose any details of an ongoing investigation."

Frank stepped out of the room and leaned against the door frame, watching Chet guide Nancy swiftly out of the station. Joe joined him, handing over his interview notes. "Did you catch that last question?" he murmured.

"Told you she was smart," Frank nodded. "She's wondering if that body dump maybe wasn't so random after all.