Chapter Twenty-Seven: Regrouping

It was just past noon when they returned to the cabin.

"Every time we come back to this place after looking at the rest of the camp, it looks sadder," Nancy remarked, patting the wobbly handrail as she followed the Hardys up the steps.

"I'm sure this section is next on Vince's renovation list," Frank said.

"We should get a business card from his construction guys for our landlord," Joe quipped.

"That place could use some work," Frank agreed. "Does the water heater still make that sound if you use too much hot water too fast?"

"Don't take that nostalgic tone, Mr. Homeowner," Nancy teased. "Some of us still have to live there."

They were moving as they spoke, working in fluid, practiced synchronicity to sweep the place for signs of intrusion or concealed listening devices.

"Clear?" Nancy said, finally.

"Clear," Joe agreed, handing her a bottle of water.

Frank yawned and stretched uninhibitedly, revealing a strangely vulnerable strip of bare torso, before lowering himself down onto the couch and propping up his foot with a grimace.

"Nap now, rotate shifts on watch later?" he suggested.

"I hate to say it, but the bonfire Vanessa mentioned might be worth checking out," Nancy said.

"You're not wrong." Frank popped the cap on the new bottle of calamine lotion they had purchased at the drugstore in town.

Joe nodded. "We'll chill until then, go to the bonfire, and start our stakeout rotation from there."

"Works for me," Frank said. "You can have the bed."

"Gee, thanks," Joe said. The sarcasm in his tone was somewhat dampened by his immediate yawn. "Coming, Nan?"

"Maybe in a bit." She held up her phone and notebook in a combined explanation and apology. "I have a few thoughts I'd like to sift through first."

"Don't be a hero, Drew," he said, with mingled affection and admonition in his tone.

"I can't fight nature," she shot back, teasing.

"Sleuth's gotta sleuth," Joe agreed. His tone was light, but she could see understanding in his eyes-- an awareness that Nancy knew her limits and knew how to handle herself on a case.

"I'm gonna listen to music for a bit," he added, both reassuring her that she would not disturb him when she joined him and offering his method of clearing his mind as a show of solidarity.

"I won't bother you if I work at the kitchen table for a few minutes?" Nancy asked Frank.

He shook his head. "Nope. Go right ahead."

Having taken up residence at the kitchen table with her phone, notebook, and water bottle, Nancy first fired off a quick text to Bess.

Thinking of you, girl. Talk soon?

There was no immediate answer. She sighed and opened her notebook, flipping pages until she came to the one headed with Vince's name.

So many of my questions revolve around this man and his motives. I wish Vanessa were easier to talk to; I'm going to have to ask her more questions about him.

Nancy sighed.

I want to talk to Dad, she thought suddenly. Carson Drew's logical legal mind and warm parental concern always helped her to see things clearly. She hesitated for a moment, feeling conflicted about interrupting his vacation; then, resolutely, she took her phone and rose from her seat.

"You don't have to tiptoe," Frank said drowsily from his prone position on the couch.

"I thought you were asleep," Nancy said softly.

"Nope." He had been lying on his back, hands behind his head staring stoically at the ceiling. Now he turned to look at her.

"I'm stepping out to call my dad," she said softly, holding up her phone in an explanatory gesture. "Be right back."

It occurred to her, as she placed the call, that her father was still on vacation and could be busy. But he answered on the second ring.

"Nancy!" he said, with genuine pleasure in his voice.

"Hi, Dad. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"No, no. You could never," he said. "We're all just chilling by the pool today, being unconscionably lazy."

"You deserve it," Nancy said warmly.

"I had a feeling I might, considering all my years of noble and ceaseless toil, with only the occasional game of golf or quiet weekend of repose for respite," Carson joked.

Nancy giggled. "Yes, it's a wonder how you've managed this long."

"Speaking of ceaseless toil, what about you, honey? How's your case going? If you're in a position to discuss it, of course."

"I was hoping you'd ask," Nancy confessed. "I'm stumped."

"Talk me through it," Carson said.

She did, using the detailed but concise style which she knew her lawyer father appreciated.

"I can't shake the feeling that the missing girls have something to do with the vandalism," she concluded.

"Perhaps you have some ghostly teen bandits on your hands," Carson said, teasing.

"Dad," Nancy protested, grinning.

"You're right. They would be doing their haunting in the park where the body was recovered."

"Good point," Nancy said, and grew serious again. "I really don't like that, since we're on the subject."

"No," Carson agreed. "Poor girl. I don't like to think of how she came to be out there in the forest."

"And where are the other girls?" Nancy asked.

"According to the news, they are still combing the area with a cadaver dog team."

"Yes, I saw that too."

"I'm curious about Vince," Carson said. "Why is he so adamant about there being no connection between his current troubles and the history of the property? Is he simply reacting out of fear over losing his investment, or does he know something?"

"No matter what, I'd say it boils down to a protective instinct," Nancy mused.

"I hate to say it, since the case is fairly cold, but it all may hinge on solving what happened to those girls," Carson said. "And I'd be very cautious about your sanatorium resident, Nancy. Whatever the connection or lack thereof, a cornered animal is a dangerous animal."

"We will take every precaution," Nancy promised.

"Aside from the obvious first precaution of avoiding the area," Carson said dryly.

"Dad, you know I can't do that."

"I know," the lawyer conceded. "And I also know that you couldn't be in safer company than that of your young man and his brother."

"I'm not exactly helpless on my own," Nancy pointed out.

"Of course, darling. I assure you it's not sexism on my part; it's simply a parental anxiety. You'll understand one day."

Nancy swallowed.

"Or possibly not," Carson said hastily. "God, I know better than to make assumptions. I'm certainly putting my foot in it today. Say something, Nance, before I commit any further faux pas."

"Maybe I should let you keep digging yourself into a hole," Nancy teased. But she inhaled, closing her eyes, visualizing the page of her notebook where she had listed the names of the missing girls.

"About those girls, if we can return to the subject. I'm wondering if they were being held somewhere in the area.

"Then Elizabeth escaped and tried to make her way back to camp?" Carson asked.

"Which wouldn't make sense if her abductor was at the camp."

"Unless she knew the person had plans to be somewhere else, and was desperate enough to risk going to the nearest familiar place."

Nancy nodded. "Stoney Point is only a few miles from the camp."

"Statistically, most serial killers do their killing close to home," Carson reminded her.

"But was this a serial killing, or something else? They could have been trafficked, held indefinitely, brainwashed into a cult…" Nancy let her voice trail off.

"What does your instinct say?" Carson said gently.

"My instinct says that whoever took them was clever enough to avoid attention or capture. He or she would have known the risks of keeping them alive. In the end, it had to be murder."

There was a moment of silence as both father and daughter absorbed the implications of this. Finally, Nancy gave a rueful laugh.

"How's that for a cheerful vacation conversation," she joked.

"Oh, I think my vacation can hold up to a little bit of murder and mayhem. At a distance, of course," Carson joked back.

"Are you having a good time?"

"Fantastic," Carson assured her. "We rode a scenic railway yesterday and then had dinner at this gem of a tiny Italian place. You would have loved it, Nance. Best carbonara I've ever tasted. Don't tell Hannah I said that."

Nancy laughed. "I'll take it to my grave," she promised.

"I can't say I enjoy that particular expression, but the sentiment is appreciated."

They chatted for a few more minutes before Nancy ended the call, promising her father that she would update him as soon as she had any further news.

To Nancy's surprise, Frank was actually asleep. He did not stir as Nancy tiptoed through and let herself silently into the bedroom. She shivered suddenly as she eased the door shut behind herself.

"You okay?" Joe asked softly. He pulled off his headphones and set his phone down, displaying a screen filled with Tetris blocks paused mid-fall.

"I had that creepy feeling again for a moment. I always feel as though somebody's watching me around here." Nancy toed out of her shoes and sat down on the bed, bracing herself against the ripple effect. "Don't stop on my account," she added, nodding toward his game.

Joe shook his head. "I was just killing time. Did you get your mental files organized?"

"A little. I talked to Dad."

"Good."

Nancy sighed. "Still not good enough," she said. She rolled her shoulders, trying to release some tension, and reached up to gather the strands of hair which kept sticking to the bare skin of her neck and shoulders into a ponytail before letting it all drop again, defeated.

Joe's hand landed between her shoulder blades, gentle, grounding.

"Lie down," he said gently. "Give yourself a break."

She lay down gingerly.

"Every time I close my eyes I see that poor girl's bones," she said, hating herself a little for responding to the security of his body curving protectively behind hers, to the familiar warmth of his hand on her ribs. She could not help but feel better, lying here with him-- and she could not help also feeling that this repose was not wholly deserved.

"We'll figure it out," he said. "I promise."

Tears welled in her eyes. She was glad to be facing away from him, glad not to have to explain.

He leaned in and kissed the back of her neck, sweetly, simply, without any demands implicit in the gesture. "I've got you, Nan. Get some sleep."

By late afternoon they were all up again, their energy restored-- feeling, Nancy thought, if her own mental state were an accurate gauge for the group, more than ready for action. Channeling her energy into movement, Nancy packed a small bag with supplies for her evening and listened to Joe whistling in the kitchen.

"Phone charged? Penlight working? Do you have a knife?" Frank asked, balancing on one leg in the bedroom doorway and rotating his other ankle stiffly.

"Yes, yes, and yes," Nancy said, holding up her Swiss Army knife in answer to his question. "Let me look at that poison ivy, please."

"It's just a little swollen. Be fine once I get moving. There's coffee if you want some."

"Coffee does sound good." Nancy followed a determinedly not limping Frank out to the kitchen, where Joe handed her a cup with a grin.

"Ready to go mingle?"

"Ready to be the very social-est of butterflies," she agreed. "What's the plan from there?"

"Three-hour watches. I'll go first, then Nancy, then Joe," Frank suggested. "If that works for you guys."

"Ten-four, Chief," Joe said.

"It's fine with me. Any word from Chet?" Nancy asked.

"The owner hasn't been around this afternoon," Joe said, swiping his phone screen and turning it to show her Chet's message. "They're hoping to catch him at breakfast."

Nancy nodded. "I had a feeling that would be the case, but I was hoping…" She let the sentence trail off with a shrug.

"Gotta let the gears turn," Joe said philosophically. "Speaking of which-- time to go?"

Frank grabbed the keys. "Let's move."