Warning: Graphic
Chapter Twenty-Six
"Davis," called the officer looking around the parking lot, "do you see anyone?"
"No, Monty," Davis huffed, looking in the other direction. "I don't think she came outside."
"Me neither. Let's get back inside. Maybe someone else found her."
"Right."
"Excuse me," came a low, commanding voice behind them just as the officers turned to leave. They whipped around to find three men in sharp suits. Two wore fedoras, while the third, hatless, carried himself with a quiet authority that immediately unsettled Monty.
"We're looking for Chief Collig," said one of the men in a fedora.
"Oh, he's inside," Davis answered, throwing a thumb toward the station.
"Where the hell did you come from?" Monty growled, eyes narrowing as he scanned the trio. "We just looked around—didn't see anyone."
"We just arrived," the man said simply. "Now, Chief Collig, please."
"Yeah, but who are you?" Monty pressed.
"We just need to speak with Collig," the other man in a fedora interjected curtly. "It's a federal matter."
Davis and Monty exchanged uneasy glances before reluctantly leading the men inside.
"Davis! Monty!" Chief Collig called as they entered. "Did you see anything?"
"No, Chief," Monty replied, shaking his head. "But these guys wanna talk to you."
"I don't have time for this!" Collig snapped, clearly frustrated. His eyes swept over the trio, narrowing slightly.
"I'm afraid that it can't wait, Chief Collig," the first man in a fedora said evenly, stepping forward and removing his fedora.
"Is that a fact?" Collig quirked his eyebrow. "Well, I can't help you..."
"It's regarding a certain set of jewels," he interrupted. The chief froze, his expression betraying his surprise. The man noticed the reaction and continued. "I trust you can see us now?"
"Uh, yes, yes," the chief quickly nodded. He turned to Davis. "Will you escort these gentlemen to my office, Davis?"
"Yes, sir. This way," Davis said, gesturing for the trio to follow.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Monty muttered, "Chief, something ain't right about them. Those guys showed up out of nowhere after we searched the area for that girl."
"The timing's off," Collig agreed, his jaw tightening. He watched the men disappear down the hallway before turning back to Monty. "I'll deal with them. In the meantime, find the Hardys. Maybe they've found Nancy. Keep them out of sight until we know what we're dealing with."
"Got it," Monty said, hurrying off.
Collig sighed, rubbing his temples. How could anyone have learned about the jewels already?
"Hey, Chief," Joe's voice broke his thoughts. The young man approached him with Vanessa in tow.
"Any luck?" Collig asked, hope flickering briefly.
"No," Joe said grimly. "Van checked the ladies' room, and I searched the bullpen—nothing. Who were those men in your office?"
"I honestly don't know, Joe," Collig admitted. "Where are your father and brother?"
"Didn't see them either," Joe replied with a shrug. "They weren't over by the interrogation where we left them."
The chief sighed heavily, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose. The night just seemed to get longer and longer. "All right," he finally said. "I had Monty go look for them. Go to him and stay there. Keep out of sight for now."
"Why?" Joe asked, frowning.
"I'll explain later," Collig said curtly.
Joe exchanged a glance with Vanessa, clearly puzzled, but nodded. They were about to leave when a piercing scream shattered the air.
Every officer froze, the room falling into an instant, tense silence before erupting into chaos as they rushed toward the back of the building.
"Come on!" Collig barked, leading the charge. Joe and Vanessa followed close behind, weaving through the throng of officers toward the jail cells.
Out of the corner of his eye, Joe spotted the three men lingering outside Chief Collig's office, observing the commotion. Their presence had unsettled him earlier, and now it felt even more off—especially the man without a hat, whose silence only deepened Joe's unease. Questions swirled in his mind: Who were they? What did they want? But the piercing scream demanded his focus. A sinking feeling told him he knew who had cried out, and his priority was making sure she was safe. The mystery of the men could wait; for now, they faded from his thoughts.
Nancy tried to yank her wrist away from whoever was holding her. "Let me go!"
"Nancy, hold up!" a familiar voice called out urgently.
In her haste, Nancy swung her arm back, inadvertently punching the unsuspecting person gripping her. She spun away from him, her heart pounding.
"Ow!" Frank yelped, clutching his nose. "What was that for?"
"Frank?" She froze, blinking at him, eyes wide with confusion and fear.
"Yeah, who did you think it was?" Frank replied, wincing as he moved his nose, checking if it was broken.
Biancci's laughter echoed from his cell, his eyes gleaming with sick satisfaction as he watched Frank grimace in pain.
Fenton entered the room, his gaze meeting Biancci's smirking face before flicking to his son. "You okay, Frank?" he asked, his voice a mixture of concern and authority.
"Yes," Frank sniffed, then turned to Nancy, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Did you have to do that? It's bad enough Joe punched me earlier."
"I... I'm so sorry!" Nancy stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked down at her hands, trembling slightly. "I didn't know it was you."
"Yeah," Biancci chuckled darkly, "she probably thought you were the big, bad buyer out to get her."
Frank started toward him, fury flashing in his eyes, but his father's firm grip on his arm stopped him. "Better watch that temper, kid," Biancci added with a taunting smirk.
The door burst open, and several officers stormed in, guns drawn. The room erupted in shouts, startling everyone.
"What's going on here?" Chief Collig barked, pushing through the officers, his breath ragged. Joe and Vanessa were still struggling to make their way inside. "Is anyone hurt? We heard the scream."
"It's all right, Ezra," Fenton reassured him, his eyes scanning the room.
"Oh, sure," Biancci scoffed, "you're all fine. Ha! What a joke!"
Fenton whipped around, his face flushed with anger. The mobster took a step back, eyes widening just slightly. "What the hell, Angelo?"
"Such language, Fen," Biancci teased, "and in front of a lady, no less."
"Can it, Angelo!" Fenton snapped. "What did you do?"
"I didn't do nothing!" Biancci raised his hands in mock surrender. "She came to me! I was just telling the truth."
"Which is?" Fenton demanded.
"You might wanna ask her, Fen. She knows more than you think."
Fenton and Frank turned toward Nancy, their eyes expectant. She shrank back slightly, her face pale, her lips trembling as she struggled to find her voice. Frank noticed her reaction, his confusion deepening. This wasn't like Nancy at all—she was usually so composed.
"Everyone back to your posts," Collig commanded, and the officers slowly holstered their guns and began to leave the room. Collig paused, noticing Davis standing nearby. "What are you doing here? Where are our guests?"
"Back at your office, sir," Davis replied. "I came here as soon as I heard the scream."
"Get back there and stay with them. I'll be there in a minute," Collig ordered. The officer nodded and left. Collig turned back to the others. "Will someone please tell me what's going on here?"
"We're in the dark just as much as you are, Ezra," Fenton replied, his tone clipped.
"Fenton!" Gertrude's voice broke through the tension as she hurried into the room. She stopped abruptly, her eyes sweeping over the scene, and then her gaze landed on Biancci. "You! How dare you show your face again!"
"Trudy, that's enough," Fenton said, his voice calm but firm.
He turned to Nancy, his expression softening. "What happened?"
Nancy's mouth opened, but no sound came out. She looked around, her breath shallow, as if she were searching for a way to escape. The room grew still, the weight of the silence pressing on everyone.
Monty quietly stepped into the room, his expression grim as he approached Collig. Leaning in, he murmured something too low for the others to hear.
"What?" Collig's sharp voice cut through the tense air. Everyone turned to the pair to listen.
The officer hesitated, glancing at the others before continuing. "It's Tannen, sir. He's... dead."
Without another word, the chief rushed out of the room, Monty close behind, leaving the others in stunned silence, unsure of what to do next.
"No!" Nancy whispered, her voice trembling. She staggered backward, her hand pressing against her forehead as if to steady herself. Her eyes flicked around the room, but when they locked onto Biancci, the floodgates opened. She took another shaky step back, her breathing quickening.
"I told you, Dollface," Biancci muttered, his voice cold and quiet.
"Nancy?" Frank's voice was laced with concern, his hand reaching out toward her, but she flinched away, her eyes wide with fear.
"What's going on? What's he talking about?" Frank asked, his voice low, urgent.
Nancy turned to face him, but her expression was one of sheer panic. Frank had never seen her like this before. It was as if the fearless Nancy Drew he knew had vanished, replaced by someone he didn't recognize.
"He's here," Nancy whispered, her voice quivering.
"Who?" Frank asked, his brow furrowed.
"What's going on?" Joe added, his voice thick with confusion. "This isn't like you, Nan."
Nancy's eyes were filled with something the brothers had never seen before—true fear. Her gaze shifted toward Gertrude, but when the older woman reached out to her, Nancy recoiled, moving toward the door at the end of the hall.
"Nancy, dear," Gertrude called softly. "Tell us what's going on."
But Nancy didn't respond. She bolted for the door that led to the back of the station. Frank and Joe didn't hesitate, quickly following her. As they exited the door, Fenton turned to Biancci, his face red with anger.
"What happened here?" Fenton growled, stepping toward the cell. "What did you say to her?"
"I already told you, Fen," Biancci answered coolly, unbothered by the rising tension. "I told her the truth. She knows who the buyer is. Did you know that? She's known the whole time."
"What?" Fenton hissed, stepping back. "Why didn't she say something? Why keep it from us?"
"You'll have to ask her, 'cause I ain't talking. And if he's really here... I'm ready to die just like Tannen. Are you?"
Fenton's gaze darkened, a storm brewing in his eyes. "What are you talking about?"
"Fenton," Collig interjected, his voice laced with concern as he stepped between him and Biancci. "Three men just walked into the station. Two of them looked like feds, but the third... something about him didn't sit right."
"He's right, Mr. Hardy," Vanessa added, her voice tight. "The man without the hat... he gave me a strange look."
"Who is he?" Fenton asked, his voice trembling with a new sense of urgency.
Collig rushed down the hall, Monty close on his heels. The pair moved with purpose toward the interrogation room where Tannen had been left, the chief's mind racing. Monty's warning gnawed at him, the possibility of a murderer loose in the station making his gut churn. His top priority was the safety of his team—but he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that he was already too late.
The moment Collig opened the door, a wave of metallic tang hit him, sharp and nauseating. Then he saw it.
Tannen's lifeless eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, his head tilted back unnaturally. His arms dangled at his sides, blood dripping steadily from his fingertips into a glistening pool that spread across the floor. The gaping wound across his throat, ear to ear, was ghastly—a clean cut but still oozing as if time had frozen the moment of death.
"Oh, God," Collig muttered, clapping a hand over his mouth as bile rose in his throat. He turned away, pressing his back against the wall, the grotesque image burning into his mind. In all his years on the force, nothing had prepared him for this.
Monty hovered behind him, his face pale. "Chief?" His voice broke through the haze, soft but urgent. "What do you wanna do?"
Collig forced himself upright, his voice trembling but firm. "Seal it off. Lock this room and the observation room next door. Nobody goes in. Nobody."
"Yes, sir." Monty nodded, his footsteps unsteady as he hurried down the hall.
Collig stood frozen for a moment, staring at the closed door as if it might give him answers. His mind raced. Why was Tannen killed? He'd already spilled everything he knew—or had he? Was he silenced for what he hadn't revealed? And how had someone even gotten to him?
Then it hit him. "The jewels," he whispered. Tannen had never told them where the rest of the jewels were hidden.
Movement down the hall caught his attention. Two men approached, their pace measured but deliberate. Hats clutched in their hands, they stopped a few feet away, their somber expressions underscored by eyes that burned with purpose.
"Chief Collig?"
The voice startled him, and he straightened instinctively. "Who are you?" he barked, still rattled.
"Agent Eugene Anderson, FBI," the taller man said, producing a badge with practiced efficiency. The gold lettering glinted under the fluorescent lights. "This is my partner, Agent Timothy Walker. We need to speak with you about a matter involving a set of jewels."
"Jewels," Collig repeated, the word dripping with bitter irony.
Anderson's brow furrowed. "Is something wrong?"
"One of my suspects was just—" Collig stopped, his throat tightening. He shook his head, anger breaking through his shock. "He was murdered. In my station. And you two show up with your so-called friend right before. Where the hell is he?"
Walker stepped forward, his tone measured but tense. "He wasn't our friend. He was an emissary—a middleman for someone looking for the jewels. That's why we're here. He said he needed the restroom when we arrived. We haven't seen him since."
Collig's stomach dropped. "So, he's loose. And he's likely the one who slit a man's throat."
Without waiting for a response, Collig threw open the door to the interrogation room. The agents stepped inside, their faces hardening as they took in the grisly scene.
Anderson let out a low whistle. "This changes things."
"Damn right, it does," Collig snapped, his voice tight with fury. "Now start talking. From the beginning."
"Nancy, wait!" Frank called, sprinting after her. With his long strides, he caught up to her just before she reached the end of the alley. Gently, he grabbed her arm. "Hold on," he said softly.
Joe limped up behind them, wincing as he finally stopped. His breathing was ragged, but his voice was steady. "What's going on, Nancy?" he asked, his concern etched across his face. "You know you can tell us anything."
Nancy hesitated, biting her lip as her eyes darted to the ground. Finally, she let out a shaky sigh. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I didn't know…"
"Didn't know what?" Frank asked, his tone firm but gentle as he released her arm. "Nancy, what's got you so afraid?"
Her shoulders sagged, and she ran a hand through her hair, a gesture of defeat. "A few years ago," she began, her voice trembling, "I was in Chicago for an interview with the Tribune. It started raining while I was walking back to the train station. I didn't have my umbrella, so I ducked into a hotel to wait it out. That's where I met Henry."
"Who's Henry?" Joe asked, frowning.
"He was at the bar," Nancy explained, her gaze distant. "He looked... lost, like the world had crushed him. The reporter in me couldn't resist. I sat down, started a conversation. He told me a story—a dark one—about a family betrayed by someone they trusted, sent to their deaths because of it."
Frank's brows furrowed. "What does this have to do with Angelo Biancci? Why would you go to him for answers?"
"And what about the jewels?" Joe chimed in.
Nancy shook her head. "Henry never mentioned any jewels," she said, wrapping her arms around herself as if to ward off a chill. She hesitated before continuing, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "It was about two brothers. One was ruthless, cruel to everyone around him. The other was kind. Their father left the family inheritance to the younger brother, cutting off the elder completely. The elder brother... he turned them in."
"Turned them in?" Frank echoed, his stomach sinking.
"To the Nazis," Nancy confirmed, her voice breaking. "The younger brother's family spoke out against the invasion of Poland, and the older one... he betrayed them to Hitler. They were arrested, sent to the camps. None of them survived."
Joe's face darkened. "And this happened where?"
"Germany," Nancy murmured, glancing over her shoulder as if sensing eyes on her. Her unease was palpable. "We need to go back inside. Now."
Frank exchanged a quick glance with Joe before nodding. "Okay," he said carefully. "Let's get you inside."
Nancy stopped and looked up at him, tears brimming in her eyes. "I didn't know, Frank. I didn't realize it had anything to do with the jewels. The conversation with Henry—it was just weeks before Ned's death. I... I forgot about it. Until now."
"It's okay," Frank said gently, pulling her into a protective embrace. "You're safe with us." He could feel her trembling against him, and his jaw tightened. Whoever wanted her dead wouldn't get another chance.
"Wait," he asked suddenly. "Do you know what he looks like? The man who's after you?"
Nancy pulled back, her face pale. "Henry showed me a picture of the brothers," she admitted.
"That's why I wanted her dead," a voice interrupted, smooth and menacing, from the shadows.
The three turned sharply as a man stepped into the dim light. He was in his fifties, his face lined with age and scarred by a long, jagged mark running down one cheek. His eyes gleamed with cold calculation.
Nancy gasped, recognition striking her like a blow. "It's him," she whispered.
Frank and Joe immediately moved in front of her, shielding her as the man continued, his heavy accent laced with mockery. "It's such a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Drew. Henry spoke so fondly of you."
Author's Note:
I hope that everyone had a wonderful Christmas. I'm still trying to clean up from all the toys and whatnot my kids got. We also took our annual post-Christmas trip to Hershey Chocolate World. Other than that, it's been a lazy week with a Harry Potter marathon going on. Anyway, this chapter was longer (yay!) and told a bit more. I know you all have questions and will continue to have them until they're answered. Don't worry, they will be. I do have to say though, I am really loving writing again. I guess that's what a semester of school will do to you. Keep an eye out for the next chapter. It will probably come sometime next week. Until then, have a wonderful day and if I don't come back before then, Happy New Year! God bless!