Disclaimer: I don't own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys.

A/N: The idea for this story has been running through my head for a while now and I'm finally getting around to writing it down. This is my first Nancy Drew story, so I hope you like it. I don't want to say much more because I don't want to give anything away.

Chapter 1

He carried the white rose carefully in his gloved hands. The cold spring wind whipped at his dark gray overcoat and threatened to dislodge the black hat covering his head. From behind dark sunglasses cold, heartless eyes stared at the grave.

Someone’s coming! He needed to move, to wander aimlessly until he knew which grave this person was visiting.

She’s pretty, he thought glancing at the slender blonde making her way solemnly to the very grave he’d come to visit. He knelt before a grave and pretended to view the headstone clutching the white rose to his chest being careful of the thorns.

The dark sunglasses hid his eyes as he unobtrusively scanned the cemetery. An older couple sat on a nearby bench quietly talking. But his eyes shifted back to the blonde, that’s who he was really interested in.

She placed a small bouquet of spring flowers on the grave and stood. The wind tossed her shoulder length hair and she pushed several strands behind her ear. Silently she bowed her head and stared at the headstone her hands clasped at her waist.

He guessed the blonde to be in her early twenties and probably the daughter of the poor soul resting in the grave. He liked her shiny blonde hair with its vibrant touch of red. Strawberry blonde people called that, he thought with an unsavory smile.

An older, dark-haired gentleman approached the blonde. They hugged and she lightly kissed the man’s cheek. Clasping hands, they quietly, reverently viewed the grave. Even from this distance he could feel their sorrow and pain. After a few moments the girl leaned her head on the man’s shoulder and wiped her eyes. They hugged again, tightly this time, the man smoothed the blonde’s windswept hair and whispered something in her ear.

The older couple rose and ambled toward a grave. Clutching the solitary rose he pushed up the collar of his overcoat and took advantage of the vacant bench.

Finally, the blonde and the man turned, still clasping hands, and left. He watched as they got into separate cars and drove away.

He waited a few minutes to make sure neither returned. And then, he approached the grave.

“It’s been twenty years,” he said to the headstone. “Twenty long years.” He knelt and glanced around making sure no one was nearby.

The constant wind ruffled the small bouquet left by the blonde.

Speaking to the mound of earth he said, “You were my first.” Again he cautiously glanced around. What he had to say was intended only for the person resting beneath the ground. “My first kill,” he whispered in a raspy voice holding the rose over the grave.

The adrenaline coursed through his body as he remembered that night twenty years ago. His hand shook as he laid the white rose on the grassy mound next to the bouquet. “I’ve come back to celebrate the twentieth anniversary of my first kill,” he whispered warming to his story. “Over the last twenty years I’ve killed . . . many, so many young women, just like you, all across the country. Yeah, there was that five year prison sentence for attempted rape that slowed me down. But, I was happy with the five years. It beat twenty-five years . . . or life, or . . . death.”

He stood and his eyes darted around the cemetery. Always cautious, always on the look-out. You never knew when someone might wander by and accidently overhear.

“Well, as I was saying, I’ve come back to celebrate. To celebrate twenty years and complete the circle. The circle that began in this town with you, and I was thinking another murder in this town, twenty years later would be perfect.”

A hideous grin spread across his face as he laid out his intentions. “And . . . I’ve already found the victim. She was here today, visiting you. I’m guessing she may be your daughter. I got her license plate number and I know what she looks like.” The wind tugged at his hat, he pushed it down on his head and licked his dry lips. “Now, I just have to find out where the Drew’s live.”

Three days later . . .

“Nancy,” Carson Drew motioned for his daughter to join him in his office.

“What’s up dad?” Nancy asked entering the office.

Mr. Drew closed the door behind Nancy and gestured for her to have a seat in of the two leather chairs in his office. Nancy noted her father’s grave expression as he took a seat behind his desk.

Taking a deep breathe Mr. Drew looked at Nancy. “I’m afraid I have bad news.” Carson Drew had been an attorney in River Heights for over twenty years and had handled a wide variety of cases, so Nancy wondered what had her father so upset.

Choosing his words carefully, Mr. Drew continued, “I don’t know if you saw the evening news last night?”

“No,” Nancy responded softly waiting anxiously for details.

“A young girl was found murder. The . . the body was found near the river.” Carson Drew closed his light brown eyes and steeled himself. Opening his eyes, he looked directly at Nancy and said, “It was Dawn Bedingfield.”

Nancy gasped covering her mouth, stifling a scream that threatened to escape. “No dad!” Nancy and Dawn were the same age and had gone to school together. The Bedingfields had been friends and clients of Carson Drew for almost twenty years. How could something this horrible be possible?

“Are they . . are the police sure?” Nancy asked hoping against hope that a mistake had been made.

Carson Drew rose and slowly shook his head. “I’m afraid so. That was Bob Bedingfield on the phone, he and Sue would like your help in finding the killer. They want justice for their little girl.” Carson almost broke down completely when he uttered the words “little girl.”

Nancy had never seen her father so distraught. The quiver of his lower lip brought tears to her eyes. However, she fought back the tears, cleared her throat, and went into detective mode. It was safe there, hiding behind the sharp, analytical mind of a detective solving crimes. She stood and said, “You can tell the Bedingfields I’ll do everything in my power to find the killer.”

Carson Drew slowly nodded and sank into his chair. “I’ll let them know.”

Nancy crossed the room and wrapped her arms around her father’s slumped shoulders. “I’ll find out who did this dad. I promise.” She leaned her head on his. “I’m going to the police station right now.”

She straightened and Carson looked up at his lovely twenty-three year old daughter. He suddenly felt a lot older than his fifty years. “Nancy,” he said softly, “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Of course dad,” she answered.

“I mean extra careful,” Carson said.

Nancy’s blue eyes met her father’s. “I will dad,” she promised.

Police Chief Logan ushered Nancy through the noisy police station and into his small office. She surveyed the room and took a seat in one of the vinyl chairs that had seen better days. She laid her jacket and bag on her lap.

This was not the first time Nancy and Police Chief Logan had met in his office to discuss a case. However, it was Nancy’s first murder case and Chief Logan wondered if the young titan-haired woman sitting before him was up to the task.

He stood next to his cluttered desk and ran a weary hand through his thinning gray hair. “Well, Nancy this is one awful crime.” He eyed her sternly, thinking she looked so composed in her teal colored shirt and gray slacks. He added, “It’s an awful tragedy and lose for both the Bedingfields and River Heights.”

“I agree and you know I’m determined to assist the police in finding the killer.” Nancy shot him a piercing look. No doubt about it, she meant business. “So, Chief what do you know so far?”

“The body, um she, was found by the river just off a jogging trail. Blunt force trauma to the back and side of the head. But it appears asphyxiation may have been the actual cause of death. We’re still waiting on the coroner’s report.” Logan pushed some papers aside and sat on the edge of his desk.

“Anything found near the body? Cords, ropes, . . .?”

“No, we’re not sure what was used to strangle her,” the chief admitted sounding a bit defeated. “I’ve got Detectives Rodgers and Rivera working the case. They’re sharp and experienced. You’ll be working with them. I’ll take you to meet them now. They can fill you in on what they’ve got so far.”

Nancy rose and followed Chief Logan out of the office and down a long hallway. At the end of the hall they came to an office with its door open. Logan poked his head through the doorway and said, “Guys, this is Nancy.”

Entering the large room Nancy noticed several filing cabinets lining two walls, a long table with two computers was pushed against another wall, and four desks were clustered in the center of the room. It appeared two of the desks were already spoken for by the two Detectives stepping forward to greet Nancy.

Detective Rivera was the senior partner and offered his hand first. Shaking hands he said, “Nice to meet you Miss Drew. We hear you have quite a history of solving cases.”

“Well, that’s true, but this is my first murder case. I hope to help in any way possible to find out who did this and get justice for the family.” The stocky, olive-skinned Rivera nodded approvingly. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties and Nancy sensed he operated under a no-nonsense attitude.

The tall, trim Detective Rodgers greeted Nancy next. Shaking her hand, he pointed at a desk and said, “We’ve laid out what we have so far for you to look at. You can pick either of the two empty desks to use while you’re here.”

“Thanks,” Nancy said placing her jacket and bag on the nearest chair before moving to the desk containing the file. Picking up the file she asked, “Have you already checked the surrounding areas for recent murders?”

“You do get right to work,” Detective Rivera said.

Rodgers grinned, “I’ve already got the computers warmed up and tracking down that information.”

“Great,” said Nancy as she pulled up her chair and began reading through the Detective’s notes, it was going to be a busy day.