Author’s note: For those wondering about Chaos and Innocence, don’t worry an update is coming soon. I’ve been overloaded with work and school. Until then I hope you enjoy this.

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October 17th, 2018

Damiano Residence 10:00 a.m.

Nancy covered the woman’s hand with her own, speaking softly and repetitively the obligatory ‘It’s going to be okay’ speech. She knew it was a lie. Nothing eased the pain of death, nothing eased the suffering of a child’s life lost, but it was her job to comfort, her job to sympathize, her job to find the perpetrator, and her job to see him punished. Right now her job was overwhelming her.

It was always hardest to tell the victim’s family. It was the part of the job she liked the least. Bullets flying past her head, cars slamming into her and running her off the road, and bombs nearly exploding she handled better than telling a mother that her only child was dead.

There was always crying. It wasn’t that she was so hard-edged that she couldn’t sympathize, it was the idea that no matter what she did there was nothing she could do to ease the suffering.

“Drew,” a male voice called from the doorway. She looked up and over at her partner Scott, a man who had often been referred to as an ebony god by all her female coworkers. “We got it,” he told her. His eyes, the same dark, rich color as his skin, sparked excitement. He held the paper out to her. She took it from his hand.

Her eyes scanned the document expertly, and when she was thoroughly satisfied it was legitimate, she looked at her partner and smiled. She brushed red gold hair out of her face and stood up on shaky legs. She wiped charcoal grey slacks free of dust, picked up the matching blazer that she’d thrown carelessly on the back of a chair and put it on. Her body ached from days without sleep, but she wouldn’t sleep, not until this case was over and justice was done.

Interrogation room 2:00 p.m.

Rick Damiano was his name. He was an elegant specimen of a man, dressed in a black suit with a blue grey tie. His hair wavy and black, his eyes intelligent and green, tall with a body that looked like it was chiseled straight from stone. He was perfection, and it was Nancy’s job to flaw him.

He sat lazy, casual at the long table, smiling cocky arrogance. He knew the police were on a fishing trip. They wanted answers and he had them, but what would he tell them? Not the truth, that much Nancy knew. He believed he had gotten away with his crime, and even if he hadn’t, as a lawyer he knew a thing or two about manipulating the law.

Nancy had been working him twenty minutes with her partner Scott, trying to obtain his confession. He hadn’t called his lawyer yet, which had surprised them, but it gave them a small advantage. His alibi was strong, but there was evidence that linked him to the crime.

“Do you know what we found in the Hudson River?” Nancy’s jaw set, she leveled a dangerous glare. “Your daughter.”

He didn’t move, didn’t bother to react. “That little tramp was not my daughter.” The tone in his voice chilled her to the bone. “You’d do better to harass one of her many lovers. You might actually get your job done.” There was the condescension, the attitude that he was better than all of them.

She lay pictures one by one in front of Damiano, willing him to look at them. She wanted him to see what they had on him, but instead he just grinned a slow Cheshire grin that made her want to deck him.

“You know detective as well as I that pictures don’t prove guilt. What proves guilt is evidence, and you have none. You keep harassing and badgering me you won’t be wearing a badge much longer.”

It was time for plan B, she thought. Nancy looked over at her partner Scott who gave her a look that said go for it.

She slammed her hands angrily on the table, brought her face inches from his. “You did this.” She was losing control, making it personal. She needed it to be. She needed for him to see her break, to see her weak. Nancy picked up the first photo and shoved it in his face. “What did she do that made you want her dead?” He kept his eyes from the picture, which helped fuel Nancy’s anger. “Did she threaten your little secret? Threaten to show the world the kind of monster you truly are?” She put down the picture, picked up the second and threw it in his face. “Did she threaten your reputation? Threaten to tell the world that her step daddy had been raping her?” She put down the second, picked up the third. “That’s exactly what she did, isn’t it? She threatened to ruin you, to take away your career!”

He maintained his composure, remained confident. “If you’re done detective, I think I’ll call my lawyer.”

“Whatever you want.” Her mood remained sour, bitter. It was the way she wanted it.

Nancy turned to walk out of the room, but before she could leave he spoke again. “You can get me a drink while I’m calling my lawyer.” His tone showing how little he thought of her. “That is your motto, right? ‘To Serve and protect’.”

That was it, she had had it, cocky arrogance was going down. She whirled around on her heels, raced towards him, and threw the punch. Sensing what was about to happen her partner caught her wrist before the punch landed. Scott held her arm still, level to Damiano’s eyes, and waited for him to notice.

Damiano never flinched, never took his eyes away from her eyes, never glanced at the fist still aimed at his face. “You had better be grateful.” He was cold, callous. “Your partner just kept you from making the biggest mistake of your career.”

“Yeah,” she said coolly. “I’d hate to imprint your face with the same evidence you stamped into Mira’s neck. It might compromise the DNA we were able to find. You know, contaminate the evidence.”

He looked confused for just a second. He allowed his eyes to fall onto her balled up fist.

She watched his eyes trace her finger. She pulled her arm free of Scott’s grip and moved her hand so she could admire the ring housed on her finger. “It’s pretty.” She complimented. “Beautiful design work, incredibly detailed. Your wife said it was a one of a kind piece you found in Italy. It’s your wedding band, right?” He didn’t say anything. “I especially like these little swirl designs.” She pointed them out to him. “Me personally, I like my straight solid wedding band, no little holes for gunk to get in. But yours has all these little breaks, all these little places, details, holes. Places for dirt, grime, even the victim’s blood to hide.”

She waited for the reaction. He didn’t disappoint. Realization hit like bricks falling from heights unknown, hard and fast.

“Good job cleaning the crime scene.” It was praise and condescension all at once, and she was more than happy to provide it. “Too bad you didn’t put the same attention into cleaning up yourself.” She started for the door. “I’ll get you that lawyer now. With the evidence I have, you’re going to need one.”

She was smug and confident when she strolled out of the room.

Hardy Detective Agency 4:30 p.m.

Joe was pacing the floor, cagey and impatient, while going over the details of his recent trip to Miami with his brother. The case was basic, similar in so many ways to the ones they had worked in high school. A hotel had been robbed the week before last, and three others the month before that. The thief had chosen high end hotels as his targets, entering and leaving guest’s rooms with thousands of dollars in jewelry and money. As of yet he had not been caught, had not been video taped, had not been seen by any of the victims. The last target had been the Grand Ocean Hotel in Miami where he had gotten away with a diamond necklace worth half a million dollars, and some miscellaneous items. Enter the Hardys. They had been contacted by Mr. Morone to find the thief quickly and quietly. At this point in the investigation the only connection they could find linking the criminal to his crimes were the hotels he had robbed were all owned by the same person, Mr. Morone.

Joe had volunteered to head out to Miami so Frank could stay home and be near Nancy, not knowing at the time how difficult it would be for him to be separated from his own wife.

Right now, his wife was the only thing on Joe’s mind.

“Joe, you’re drifting. I need you to focus.” Frank sat behind a large wood desk, scribbling notes furiously. “I know you want to go home, but I need to get this down while it’s still fresh in your mind.” He was sympathetic and understanding. He looked at Joe apologetically. “You were saying you think you know what hotel is going to get hit next.”

“Yeah.” Joe pinched the bridge of his nose, shook his head to clear his thoughts. He used his military training to zero his focus on the mission at hand. “The next likely target for our thief is the Bettington hotel here in New York City.”

“Why?”

“They’re hosting a convention next week for jewelry makers and the stones that are housed there are supposed to be really expensive. Diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, rubies, gold, silver, and a bunch of other stuff, I stopped listening.” Joe waved a dismissive hand in the air. “I stopped there before I came here, and let me just say security is bad. I walked in the employee entrance displaying the three c’s...”

Frank raised a questioning eyebrow. “Three c’s?”

“Yeah, calm casual confidence. I walked in like I belonged there.” Frank admired Joe’s tenacity. It was the reason they worked so well together. Frank took the logical and safe steps, Joe the bold and dangerous ones. Frank kept the thought to himself and listened while Joe continued on. “Security is stationed just to the inside of the door, but not one guard asked why I was there. I walked over to the uniform counter told the lady my size and what department I worked for and she handed me the uniform. She didn’t require any kind of identification. I found the housekeeping department and was able to retrieve a master keycard without anyone noticing. All in all I could have been in and out of that place in minutes without anyone noticing or caring.”

Frank leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hands over his eyes. “Wonderful.”

Joe walked over to the desk, flipped a chair around, and straddled it. He rested his arms on the back and proceeded with his recount of events. “I left the building and entered through the main entrance, still holding the uniform, and asked to speak with the general manager, a Mr. Edwin Masters. We pulled up the tapes showing what I had just done, and at first he was appalled, but then he dismissed it. He didn’t threaten with cops, didn’t threaten with security. I told him who we worked for, and it didn’t seem to faze him. He said the hotel is taking on additional security and some of the vendors are bringing in their own.”

“And what do you think about all this?”

“I still have the uniform and I still have the keycard,” he pulled it out of his pocket and held it out for Frank to see. “And if our thief pulled the same trick I did, then so does he.”

Frank groaned. “Which means he has unlimited access to everything.”

“Not everything, but close. He has access to all the rooms, but he doesn’t have access to the safes where the gems will be held. He won’t need it either, not with all the money those people will be bringing in, or the stones they’re going to purchase and hide in their rooms.” Joe looked thoughtful for a moment, ran a hand through his blonde hair and shook his head in disgust. “I’d say our thief will walk out making a tidy little profit off of this one.”

“Not this time, Joe.” Frank was determined. “This time we’re stopping him.”

“You have a plan?”

“Not yet, but we still have days to come up with one.” He looked at Joe. “You look spent. Go home, spend a nice quiet evening with the wife, and tomorrow we can decide our next step.”

“I could use some alone time with the wife.” Joe agreed. His voice sounded like a dream as the thought of the woman waiting at home for him hit. “She does this thing...”

Frank cut him off quick. “Joe, I don’t need a visual of what you two do when you’re alone in the dark together. What I need is a visual of you walking out the door, jumping into your car, and heading home.”

Joe started for the door, but stopped before he got there. He looked over his shoulder at his brother, who was already starting up the computer. “And while I’m on my way home, what will you be doing?”

“I’m going to pool our resources, and find out what I can about this convention.” Frank’s fingers were flying across the keyboard at what Joe called super sonic speed. “Who will be there, find out what they are hoping to buy.” He squinted, stared at the screen. “Run a search on Edwin Masters, transfer all the data to my home computer, and then head home myself.”

Guilt hit Joe. Maybe he should stay and help, but it was busy work and he hated busy work. He preferred the action type. And he was missing his wife. But he had disappointed his brother when he’d entered Special Forces and left Frank to run the Agency alone. He should stay, Joe decided, he had years to make up for. His wife would understand. She always did.

He thought of his wife. Her warm loving arms wrapped around him, soft, plush lips pressed against his, and skin that felt of silk pinned underneath him.

He was going home.

“Well, as long as you have things handled.” Joe produced a grin. “Don’t stay too late.”

Hardy-Drew home 6:00 p.m.

“Honey, I’m home.” Frank called into the quiet house while wrestling keys from the lock. His brows furrowed together when he received no response. He stepped in and closed solid oak behind him. “Honey,” he called again, dropping his briefcase on the floor. He stepped into the living room, looked around, spotted her files on a table and frowned. He moved through the house hoping for a clue as to where his wife was hiding.

His first clue came in the form of a shoe littering the hallway, the second shoe inches from their bedroom door, a blazer draped on the doorknob, and a belt in the middle of their bedroom floor. Frank followed the trail of clothes to the master bathroom.

The room was dark with warm shadowed glows. She was there, lying in a tub of bubbles, a small towel covering her eyes, red gold hair pinned firmly to the top of her head. She was surrounded by candles, with a glass of white wine delicately balanced in the palm of a dropped hand. Classical music was playing from the portable radio. He knew from the twitch of her lips and the way the bathroom was set her day had been rough.

He walked to the tub, leaned his face into hers, and caressed her lips with his.

“Hmm,” she hummed and removed the cloth from her face.

He saw it in her eyes the instant she lifted the towel, grief and anger. She was trying to mask it as she always did, but he knew her. She could never lie to him, nor would she try.

“Bad day at the office?” He tried to joke, but the concern rested heavy in his voice.

“Mira is dead.” Nancy said, her tone hardened with regret. Her hand tightened around the stem of the wine glass and for one moment Frank believed it might actually break under the pressure of her grip.

“I figured the news was bad.” He sat on the edge of the tub, his black slacks moistened by tiny droplets of water that were settled on the rim. He stirred the water with a finger, popped bubbles with a thumb. “How did it happen?”

“Official cause of death, strangulation. We know she was raped and beaten with a blunt object, and when that didn’t kill her, a hand to the throat did.” Frank cringed. “Her body was dumped in the Hudson River. We were lucky to ID her.” Her hand went white as her grip continued to tighten.

Frank carefully removed the glass from her grip, and sat it on the floor. “Do you have a suspect?”

“Yeah, her stepfather.” Blue eyes flashed anger. “You should have seen him, Frank. She meant nothing to him.” Nancy’s lips pressed firm together and her hand began to shake violently. “We threw those pictures in his face, and he just grinned. No regrets, no remorse, and all I’m thinking is I want this guy dead. He smiles this catlike grin and I lost it. I was supposed to be good cop, but I went straight for bad. He never saw it coming.” She brought a hand out of water, rubbed it over her forehead, sighed, and then let the hand fall, with a splash, back into the water. “We got our confession. Case closed.”

He brought a hand up to brush a strand of her fallen hair. “If the case is closed, I’m not sure I understand what’s wrong.”

“She cried, Frank.” She paused to let a shaky breath out. “She cried hard, and I just kept thinking, what if I was that girl’s mother?” The way she said it broke his heart.

He wanted to talk more about it with her, but he could see the hurt in her eyes, he could hear the ache in her voice. She wasn’t ready to deal with this rationally yet. She needed time to herself, time to process and let go of the girl who had suffered such a tragic fate.

“Baby, you need dinner and a good night’s sleep.” He leaned over, kissed her forehead. “I’ll tell you what, you finish your bath and I’ll cook you dinner.”

She laughed despite her mood. “Since we’ve been married, it’s been takeout and delivery. Not once in five years of marriage have you ever cooked a meal for me.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not capable.” She looked doubtful. “One of my best friends is a world renowned chef. He has taught me a thing or two about the culinary world.”

“And if Chet Morton was here cooking my dinner, or even just supervising, I wouldn’t be worried.”

“You don’t trust my skills?” He played hurt, sad, and gave her the puppy dog eyes.

Nancy rolled her eyes and smiled. “In the kitchen, no.”

“It’s a basic concept. You find the box that creates fire, throw a pan on top of it, place the food inside of it, and in minutes it’s done. What could possibly go wrong?”

“Do you at least know where we keep the fire extinguisher?”

He narrowed his eyes and thought for a second. “I think it’s under the sink.” His eyes sparkled, his smile was playful. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Nancy smiled. “You’re wrong.” She knew he wasn’t. “And don’t come back with an ‘I told you so.’ We both know you’re responsible for the safety of the house.” She placed the cloth back over her eyes, rolled her shoulders, and settled back into the water. She heard him chuckle once and exit the room.

Hardy-Drew kitchen 7:47 p.m.

“So this is what Chet taught you, how to smoke up the house.” Nancy called out from the kitchen. She pulled Chinese out of a takeout bag. “At least you didn’t burn it down.”

“Oh, haha.” She heard windows opening in the living room.

“Hmm, smoked kitchen.” Nancy chuckled, putting plates and silverware on the table. “Is it slow roasted, or were you planning to barbeque it?”

“Laugh it up.” Frank mumbled and opened more windows.

She faked a coughing fit. “It’s a good thing I don’t have asthma because all this smoke would probably kill me.” She envisioned his eyes rolling causing her to burst out in laughter.

“Are you about done?” His voice was drawing closer. Another window opened.

“I’m just trying to determine how many ways I can say I told you so without uttering the words.” She poured tea into glasses, and scooped food from cartons onto the plates on the table.

“Who knew cooking was hard?” Frank was smiling when he said it, unknowing to her. He had taken her mind off the negative which was what he was hoping for, he only wished that he’d done it on purpose.

She watched him enter the kitchen. “Next time start small.” Nancy sat down at the table. Frank sat across from her. “Go for putting bread in the toaster. Once you master that we can try for something harder.”

He put on a serious face, and tried not to smile. “I can make toast. Toast and Pop Tarts. I’m an expert at those.”

“Oh wait, wait.” She said suddenly, shaking hands in the air. “I just thought of another one.”

“Why don’t you save it for Joe.” He cringed at the thought of his brother needling him, especially since Joe was an incredible cook. “I’m sure he’s going to love it when you tell him this one.”

“I hadn’t even thought about Joe. We can tag team this one!” She was still amusing herself. “Why don’t we invite him and his wife over next weekend, and you can cook them dinner.”

“How about the weekend after. Next weekend Joe and I will be working the Bettington trying to catch our thief.”

“The hotel in town?” Nancy expression turned serious.

Frank nodded his head, and took a bite of sesame beef. “They’re hosting a jewelry convention. Joe thinks it’s the next target.”

She held a fork in the air, pointed it at him. “And you still have no suspects.”

He took a swig of tea, smiled to himself. This was something he missed. Working a case with Nancy. “He’s good. He knows how to avoid security.” He put rice in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “I brought my files home. I was hoping you might want to look them over for me. See if you can find a connection we’re missing.”

“One case ends, another one follows. I love this business.” She picked up her glass, swirled liquid around the rim. “I’ll look them over after dinner.”

Hardy-Drew bedroom 9:30 p.m.

Nancy sat cross-legged at the foot of the king size bed, with files piled around her. She read carefully, details of each burglary, each item stolen. She read up on the victims, the hotels, and the employees, trying to find a way to link each one. She had been so entranced with the file she was reading that she hadn’t heard him come out of the shower. Now he sat on knees behind her, dripping wet droplets of water down her back, his hands kneading pressure into her tension filled shoulders. After some oohing and ahhing she was feeling worlds better.

“Anything?” Frank asked, applying more pressure to neck and back.

“I’m agreeing with your assessment. This had to be an inside job.” She rolled her head in a circle until it popped. “He knows how to get in and out of these places without security catching him, which would indicate he knows the layout of the hotels he’s robbing and where cameras are hidden. He also knows who checks in and what they’re checking in with. I’m guessing management.”

“Why do you say that?” He stopped his massage.

“Management always knows when VIP clients are coming in and how long they’ll be staying. All your victims are VIP’s of the hotels.” Nancy picked up a file and opened it. “All items stolen were items locked in the room safes, only high up management or security would have combinations to those.”

“I missed that.” Frank looked over her shoulder, and read what she was showing him. “How did I miss that?”

“Your notes are detailed and thorough.” His hands gripped softly on her shoulders as he craned his neck to look farther over at the files spread out in front of her. “You’ve covered every basis in this case.” She was having trouble concentrating. He was still wet and the water running down his arms onto hers was sending slight electric feelings along the way. “I think you just needed a fresh pair of eyes looking at it.”

“Or subconsciously I chose to ignore it.” He absently rubbed her shoulders again while reading profiles and notes. “It did give me a chance to involve you in a case and I do miss working them with you.”

She melted, smooth as butter, against his touch. “Frank...” The case no longer on her mind. “Remind me why I love you.”

The need and desperation in her voice was something he didn’t miss. He forgot the file he was reading and focused his attention on his wife.

“I think this has something to do with it.” He turned her face to his, and brought his lips to hers in a deep, sexy kiss.

“You can do better then that.” She breathed seductively, after they had parted.

“Oh yeah?” Frank brushed her hair aside and trailed kisses from throat to shoulder. “What do you have in mind?”

“Something like this.” She pounced, knocking him on his back, while files scattered to the floor.

Frank and Nancy’s bedroom, time unknown

Nancy lay cuddled close to Frank, with her head on his chest and her fingers laced through his, basking in the afterglow of their recent lovemaking session, and she wondered to herself how her life could be so perfect. Well almost perfect. There were still dark clouds looming over their heads. Clouds she wasn’t sure if he’d be willing to deal with. Mira’s death had shaken her and she wasn’t sure how to handle it.

She rolled over on her stomach and propped herself up on elbows. She stared down at her husband and smiled. He returned her smile, brought his hand up centimeters from her face, and let fingers slide through red gold hair.

“Do you ever think about children?” She hadn’t meant to ask the question, but lately the topic had been resting heavy on her mind.

“All the time.”

“Do you want them?”

“Sure,” he shrugged and continued to play with her hair. “Someday.”

“But not now?” She felt relief, which intensified her guilt.

“I’m not planning for them, but if it happens I won’t complain.”

She turned away from his gaze. “I’m not sure I want them.” She said, with a hint of regret.

“Is that because of Mira?”

“I want to say yes, but in reality it’s not.” She dropped down, snuggled up close, and rested her head on his bare chest. “Mira dying has me thinking about the paths we’ve chosen in life.”

“You mean law enforcement.” Frank guessed.

“I was raised without a mother and up until I was twenty I didn’t know the reason why.” Her voice cracked just slight, but it was enough that he noticed.

Frank’s arms tightened around her. “Baby...” His tone soft and quiet.

“It’s okay, Frank.” She swiped at a tear. “I’m fine. It’s just...” She drew in a breath and released it. “If we have children, I want them to know their mother and I want them to know their father. I grew up without a mother and I know how important that presence is. I want them to have that presence in their lives.”

“They will.”

“With what we do?” Nancy traced deliberate circles around his belly button. “Our lives are always in danger, more so than anyone else. There are situations that we’ve been in, and it’s a wonder we survived them.”

“But we did survive.” Frank reminded her.

“But the next time we might not.” The circles became swirl designs. “I don’t want our children to grow up without their parents.”

“You’re holding something back.” He let his hand lightly caress her hair, brought his lips to meet the top of her head.

“We’ve made so many enemies.” Her throat tightened, and she had to force herself not to cry. “I don’t want to bury my child.” Nancy took a deep breath, expecting the worst. “Frank, I want to wait awhile before we decide on having children.”

“That’s fine.” There was no anger, no hurt in his voice, and that left her surprised.

“Not like tomorrow awhile, like three, four years awhile.”

“Okay.”

“You’re not upset.” She looked up into his eyes.

“Nah,” Frank dismissed lightly. “It’ll give me a chance to perfect my culinary skills.” He strummed fingers up and down her back, gentle and soothing. “You know, learn how to make that toast.” There was a trace of humor in his tone. “I’m thinking kids require a diet that isn’t focused solely on Chinese takeout. Then again, there’s always cereal. That only requires milk. I know I can handle that.”

“You’re taking this better than I thought you would.”

He kissed the top of her head again. “We can’t have kids until both parties have settled on it. If you want to wait and figure things out, then we wait and figure things out.”

“You know I love you.” Nancy scooted up, kissed him quickly.

“Yeah, I get that.” Frank ran a finger over her lips. “Are you good?”

“I’m getting better.” She reached over and turned the light out.