Broken

III

Thursday. 17:16. New York Financial District, NY.

"Nancy Drew?" Frank Hardy cried, frustration driving his fists against plexiglass. He tugged on the handles, in a desperate attempt to get back onto the subway platform. But the doors were closed fast and he was forced to watch helplessly as the platform was left behind.

"Are you okay?" A young mother asked, gripping her stroller and eyeing him with concern. "Have you lost someone?"

Frank stood back, running his hands through his thick, dark hair. "Honestly? I'm not exactly sure... I thought I saw someone. My girlfriend, that is."

"Well that's nice." The woman rearranged blankets around her babbling baby.

"Except she told me that she was on a flight to Washington." Frank glanced at his watch. He swore under his breath, and moved his feet, visibly anxious to exit the moving train.

At the next station, he threw himself onto the platform and frantically flew to the other side, where he picked a train that was returning to Rector St. It seemed to shuffle slowly along the tracks and as the gritty subway tile walls flew by, he tried Nancy Drew's phone, eyes closed as he pressed his phone to his ear, trying to work out what was going on. He thought about her and him as the dial tone relentlessly sounded.

One and a half years. Three dates. A whole lifetime of friendship. He'd met the attractive redhead through Fenton Hardy's best friend, her father Carson Drew. They were both five or so years old and Joe was four. The trio had met up every so often for vacations and family holidays and they had got along very well, entertaining themselves while Fenton and Carson discussed their college years over drinks in the den.

Nancy, Frank and Joe had even solved cases together. Joe was impatient and brave, and Frank was intelligent and inquisitive. Nancy had inherited a cool, calm logic from her attorney father and she brought her own diligent drive to any problem that presented itself. And as the three children grew, the stakes did too. As they assisted law enforcement across the globe in murders, robberies, kidnappings and sabotage, Nancy and Frank had drawn closer. And not just as friends. He couldn't help comparing their similar intellect, and finding their personalities to be rather compatible.

It was only when Callie Shaw and Ned Nickerson were out of the picture, that they'd really considered the undeniable attraction that sparked between them. But by that stage, Frank was working in New York and Nancy was an FBI agent, training new recruits in anti-terrorism exercises at the Quantico Academy in  Virginia. When she wasn't doing that, she was on active duty, her assignments taking her across the United States.

"Do you know what this means?" Nancy had asked one night, a few months before. They had been on the phone for over an hour. Frank was sitting in his dorm room, his Anthony Aldridge & Sons offer of employment clasped between his trembling hands. "If you take this job, it'll be like it was before: with you at Columbia and me at Quantico."

"I know. That's why I called you. I wanted to know what you thought. After all, it's been a year and we've seen each other, what, three times? Your fathers wedding, Central Station for a cup of coffee and our anniversary, when you came and stayed with me for the weekend. I didn't want to take this job without asking you: is it the right thing to do?"

"Of course it is." She didn't hesitate. "I would never put another person before my aspirations and nor should you. We'll work it out. We always do. We just have to stay strong."

He had thought of that conversation a lot recently. And her words had reminded him to have faith in her and the resilience of their connection. But, her betrayal had changed everything for him.

His thoughts were jostled from his mind, as rushing bodies knocked into his and Frank let the small group of clambering commuters take him out onto the platform. Then, he looked about him, seeking for the fervent, fiery tresses he knew and loved so well.

But she was gone.

Thursday. 18:25. Midtown, NY.

Frank Hardy was cold and wet, by the time he got to his Midtown brownstone. The sky was broody and dark, as he gave the doorman a cursory nod. "Any parcels, Dan?"

"No Mr. Hardy. But I let your brother up."

"How long has he been here?" Frank asked, surprise registering on his face. His brother still lived in Bayport. It was at least a two hour drive to the city, for him. So the brothers rarely crossed paths.

"Half an hour or so, sir. He said something about drinking beer and playing computer games. He is legal, isn't he Mr Hardy?"

Frank almost smiled. "It's surprising, isn't it? Thanks Dan. I'll see you around."

He steeled himself for a meeting with his younger brother. He'd missed the perpetually messed blonde locks and lazy blue eyes. While his brother was, he was convinced, the most annoying human alive, he was also the most loyal and comforting. But still. Why was he in New York?

"Big bro!" A husky voice cried, no sooner had Frank turned his key in the lock. A familiar face appeared as the door fell open to reveal Joe Hardy's husky, muscular build.

"Dan told me you were up here," Frank said, giving his brother a quick hug and then entering the room. As he set his bag on the hall stand, he looked about the room, taking in the soothing antiques and industrial furnishings. He'd decorated the one room apartment in earth tones: greens, browns and golds, and it was a pleasant feeling to enter the warmth, to the scent of whiskey and leather.

Joe had established himself on the tan sofa; that much was apparent from the disturbed cushions and errant iPhone. A bottle of scotch was open, and one heavy glass still held pale amber liquid.

He followed Frank's gaze. "It's okay. Kind of posh. Did Nancy get it from Edinburgh for you? I mean, you've never been to Scotland!" He plopped back down on the couch. "I couldn't find your beer. So I just helped myself."

"Look, it's not that I'm not glad to see you," Frank interjected, loosening his tie and joining his sibling. "But I am curious. What brings you here to New York? I had no idea-"

"I'm here because Leon Brodsky has been murdered."