Mayday

Nancy Drew grimaced, removed her stiletto, and massaged her stockinged foot. Chasing a killer through Times Square in a pantsuit hadn't been a good idea. She replaced her pump

and flicked through the news app on her iPhone. She saw the headline: Killer in Cuffsabove a photo of the killer being chivvied into a squad car. She smiled, hit share, and selected her father Carson Drew as the recipient.

"Another day, another job completed."Send.

"Proud of you, Honey," he responded immediately.

"You can tell Davis. He'll be home for Christmas."

"Don't count your chickens before they're hatched."Great. He'd sent a chicken and an egg emoji. Her father was well on his way to retirement but he was proud of his technical literacy.

"Flight is on schedule. I'll be home soon," she replied looking up at the departures board to double-check the information. Her flight was still green.

"You're the best investigator I could ever wish for. I am proud. But, most of all, I'm glad you're in one piece. Have a safe flight."Airplane emoji. Heart emoji.

Nancy smiled and slipped her phone into her pocket. She'd left the River Heights Bugle where she'd been an investigative reporter, and had been working as her father's investigator, for about two years. Her dad was a successful criminal attorney and he had no shortage of work for her. It was a thrilling, challenging vocation and Nancy was excelling in it. She'd always been a stellar sleuth and it allowed her to be close to her only living parent.

Her thoughts wandered to her mother as she toyed with her sapphire ring. It was an antique heirloom, handed down from her late mother Elizabeth. Her mother had died when Nancy was only three years old. Nancy resembled her, with cascading auburn tresses and a tall, slim build. Her eyes were her father's. Sparkling, vivid, blue.

Nancy glanced up at the arrivals board in the flight lounge. Thirty minutes left to boarding.

She opened her paperback. But she couldn't concentrate. She'd found the killer and chased him down when he went on the run. He was in custody and her father's client Mike Davis would be acquitted. She always struggled with this part: relinquishing responsibility and trusting in the judicial process. She wanted to be busy. To be doing.

She glanced around and her attention was drawn to two men arguing in the corner of the lounge. One wore a suit and the other was dressed more casually in a blazer and jeans. The suited man was slim with broad shoulders and dark hair. The other was well-muscled and slightly shorter with blonde hair. Their backs were to her. But her keen eye could see from their gesticulating that something was amiss. Against a backdrop of business commuters on laptops, they provided some respite from her boredom.

She stood and walked toward the window, feigning interest in the taxiway outside.

"I hate airports. I hate planes. We've been waiting for twenty minutes already. I've been sitting for hours. I want to do something. Can we just go already?"

"Dad told us to meet John here. So, you're going to sit tight and exercise patience. Our hotel has a gym, so you can punch something when we get there. For now, you're going to act like a professional and stop drawing attention to us-" the brunet man broke off and spun to face Nancy, eyes blazing. "Excuse me ma'am but this is a private conversation-"

She was face to face with one of the most handsome men she'd ever seen.

He had thick, dark hair and eyes that were bright with anger. But as his lips parted his eyes softened. She fell into their comforting, caramel depths. And his voice was the only thing that could drag her to the surface.

"Nancy Drew?" he blurted.

"Frank Hardy! Oh my god… I…"

As a reflex, he opened his arms and she fell into them. She captured the scent of vetiver and rosemary aftershave as she buried her head in his chest. She wasn't a short woman, but he was a head taller than her and she could feel his strong arms tighten around her.

"What are you doing at JFK, Nan?" another voice asked and she spied two pale blue eyes peering over Frank's shoulder. They belonged to the blonde: Frank's younger brother Joe.

"I'm about to catch a flight home," she replied, reluctantly detaching herself from Frank's embrace and giving Joe a warm hug. "What about you two?"

Frank glanced at his Thomas Earnshaw watch and frowned. "We just flew in from Bayport and were supposed to meet with a client. But he's late."

"I wanted to go get a burger or something but we're stuck here," Joe complained.

"Why don't you go get a bite to eat?" Frank suggested. "They've just laid out a salad bar."

Joe hesitated. But his stomach made a sound of protest and he looked rueful. "Don't move. It's been too long since we've seen each other and I want to catch up, okay?" He pointed at Nancy and narrowed his eyes. "Stay put. I'll be right back."

As his brother left, Nancy turned to Frank. "Did you fly in yourselves?"

She knew their father, esteemed private detective Fenton Hardy owned his own small plane: Sky Happy Sal, and both young men were accomplished pilots.

"No. I wish we had, though. Joe's been restless. JFK's a bit of a different beast to the local airstrip and neither of us is especially practiced at the moment." As Frank spoke, he was soaking Nancy. He observed that she was very put together in her navy suit. But beneath the nice cut, she was thin and pale. Her hair, which she'd never fretted over, was pulled into a sharp ponytail and her eyes which normally shone, were dark and smudged beneath. The hand that was gathering her bags had manicured nails that had been gnawed.

"Anyway, how are you? It's been a while."

"Three years. College."

"Right. You were at Chicago doing Journalism."

"And you were at NYU doing law. But you never became a lawyer."

He grinned and shook his head ruefully. "Life took a different path."

They both just stared at each other. There were too many words. Too many memories. The air was hot and oppressive and charged. Neither of them had social media and after the last time they'd seen each other it had been easier to just let things take their natural course.

"You're working with Joe?"

Frank fished in his wallet for a business card. "Dad's business F Hardy and Sons now. We're a team. I take my own cases and I help them with bigger stuff. What are you up to? You were freelancing last time we spoke."

That wasn't all they'd done. Nancy remembered the feeling of his fingers urgently freeing her blouse from her waistband. She felt gooseflesh on her arms as she recalled the heat from his mouth. Cutis anserina, she thought as she touched the disturbed skin. She swallowed. "No. I work for Dad now. I just finished a case."

He listened intently as she told him about her morning. He toyed with his cuff but he was disturbed by the memory of buttons under his hand, unyielding, in the way. He tried to stay present but she had awoken his senses. He was picturing her account of the last few hours, imagining her running across the city with her long legs and hair streaming in the wind. Sexy.Inappropriate.

"You don't sound like you've changed one bit."

"I have. More than you know."

"How is your dad?" he asked. It was abrupt. She looked surprised.

"Oh. He's good. Same old dad."

Frank started to respond but his phone began to ring.

"Sorry… I have to take this," he said apologetically. "Hey, Cal. What's August up to…?"

As he stepped aside Joe reemerged with a plate loaded high. He set it down on a table and motioned that Nancy should pull up a chair. As she established herself, he handed her a fork in an invitation for her to dig into his bounty.

"So… I've missed you. You didn't return my calls." His eyes were wide, wounded.

"A lot has happened. I wasn't myself for the longest time. I'm sorry."

"You're not the only one. It's been crazy. Has Frank told you?"

"About what?" Nancy paused; her forkful of salad suspended.

"About August?"

"No. What's happening in August-" Nancy broke off as an announcement came over the PA.

Her flight had been delayed. Just her luck.

"Noooo," he drew out the word. "Not the month. The kid."

"Whatkid?"

Joe frowned. "You know. Frank's kid."

"Frank's kid? Does Frank have a child? Is that what you're saying?" Nancy's thoughts were a blizzard. She couldn't discern up or down, left or right. Her heart was racing and nothing was making sense. She whirled to face Frank as he approached the table. "Frank?"

But he wasn't listening to her. He was looking at Joe. "Something's wrong. Dad just called. John texted him last night and used his safe word. They were supposed to check in today over Skype but John missed the meeting. He hasn't made any contact in 24 hours."