DISCLAIMER: I obviously don't own the characters of Nancy Drew or George Fayne or any of their other friends/acquaintances mentioned in this story. No copyright infringement is implied/meant/deliberate in any way/shape/form. I also don't own the two surprise guests that appear at the end of this story. They belong to NBC - again, no copyright infringement is implied/meant/deliberate -- etc, etc, etc.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Since this harkens back to the Nancy Drew of old, don't be surprised by the cheesy dialogue or style. Remember back to when you were 5 and you thought all adults said things like, "Gosh darn!" when something traumatic happened. All authors like feedback. If you have any, and the urge to be heard should strike, send all e-mails to Deldammit1@yahoo.com.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Nancy Drew and the Case of the Missing Pal
By Del Robertson
"Nancy? Nancy Drew?" asked the muffled voice when the telephone was answered on the third ring.
"Yes, this is she," responded the titan-haired, blue-eyed sleuth. Her ears reflexively perked at the stifled voice, the disguised tone.
"We have your friend. Do as we say and she'll be returned unharmed. Cross us - and she pays the price."
"My friend?" questioned Nancy, playing dumb, trying to get the shady character to possibly slip and reveal a clue as to his identity.
"Yeah." Nancy heard the man move away from the phone, then call for his partner. Then, the sound of a scuffle, something - or someone being dragged across the floor. "Talk!" she heard the mystery man demand in a loud, baritone voice.
Nancy listened intently. Silence. Then, a weak, "Nan?"
Nancy's heart fell to her stomach. "George!" Oh, my! They've got George! "Are you okay, George?"
"Nan, I'm at -"
"Bitch!" rang in Nancy's ears, followed by the sound of a loud slap and a groan.
Images of George bound and gagged, being slapped sprung to mind. "George!" No answer. "George!"
"Relax." The same muffled male's voice again. "She's fine. For now."
Nancy's heart began pounding a mile a minute, threatening to burst open from her chest. "What do you want?" she demanded.
"The Buckley trial resumes Monday morning. The District Attorney is going to introduce into evidence something incriminating."
Nancy's breath caught. The Buckley case! Thanks to her, the police had managed to nab "Bad Boy" (as the press dubbed him) Buckley and his white-collared flunkies in a major marijuana sting. The biggest in River Heights to date.
Nancy had a sinking feeling where this was going. "Go on."
"We want that evidence returned to us."
"All trial evidence is kept at the police station," protested Nancy, "How do you expect me to accomplish this?"
"You're the great girl detective - you figure it out! Today's Friday - you have until Sunday evening. Remember, if Buckley gets put on ice - so does your friend!"
Click. The line went dead. Nancy was left holding the receiver in a death grip, her entire body shaking uncontrollably. Trembling, she returned the receiver to its cradle and sank into a nearby chair.
Oh, dear, whatever shall I do? George is my nearest and dearest friend. I just have to save her! - But they're asking me to break the law. Oh, I do so wish things could be as simple as they were before we graduated college. Why, in the good old days, I would simply call my father for advice - and the case would be solved in time for a nice, hearty dinner prepared by Hannah Greun, the kindly housekeeper who's helped to raise me since my own mother died when I was three!
Rising from her overstuffed chair, Nancy crossed the den and stared at the photographs above the fireplace mantle. She stared at the last picture taken of her father - Carson Drew - wearing his typical lawyer suit, smoking his trusty pipe while sitting in his leather chair behind his giant oak desk in his study. Three months before he died from the cancer caused by that disgusting pipe.
The next picture on the mantle was that of Hannah Greun. Sadly, she too, had been tragically taken from Nancy. Why, just last year, to celebrate Nancy's engagement to Ned Nickerson, Hannah had prepared a lovely meal of bone-in steak smothered in tomatoes and onions, garnished with tiny mushrooms. Unfortunately, while sampling her creation, as every good chef is wont to do, Hannah realized too late that she had picked rare, but poisonous mushrooms during a country outing the day prior.
Oh, I do miss them terribly! Nancy turned from the mantle in distress, only to bump into the end table, nearly knocking over an antique lamp with her elbow. With lightning quick reflexes, the super sleuth caught the lamp before it could smash against the floor. As she righted the antique heirloom, her fingers brushed against another picture. This one in a gold frame. She picked up the photograph, staring at it wistfully.
A photo of her and George, taken their freshman year of college. George was wearing her soccer uniform, sleeves rolled up to her shoulders, baring her muscular upper arms. Nancy was wearing an assistant coach's jersey, a whistle hanging around her neck, a soccer ball in her hands. George's arms were wrapped around Nancy, and she was obviously attempting to wrestle the ball away.
Still, if one looked at the photo in passing, it could be construed as something else entirely. Ned's the one who first pointed it out to her. Trust him to take something as innocent as a photograph and turn it - Regardless, Nancy had refused to discard the picture and it had been the cause of numerous arguments between the couple. Nancy stared at the photo now, trying to see it from Ned's point of view.
George was an inch or two taller than Nancy. Tanned and muscular, whereas Nancy was creamy white, never having the tanning complexion. George's hair was just a bit longer than shoulder length, and wild, a dark ebony mane. Standing as close as she was to Nancy, leaning over her, her black locks blended, then contrasted as they mingled in with Nancy's own strawberry blonde tresses. George was peering over Nancy's shoulder, looking down her friend's torso as she fought for the ball, a wicked grin on her face. Her right hand reached down Nancy's arm, for the ball. Her left arm held Nancy in place against her, her large hand splayed across Nan's abdomen. A big grin was plastered on Nancy's face.
Wistfully, she stared at that photograph. Wishing for the simpler times they once shared. Oh, George! I do hope you're okay.
"Staring at that photograph again, I see."
Nancy jumped at the sound of the voice behind her, clutching the picture guiltily to her chest. She quickly turned to the open doorway.
"Oh, Ned! I didn't hear you come in."
"Obviously. I've been home long enough to make myself a turkey sandwich on wheat bread. It's not like you to not hear me come in. What's going on?"
Nancy stared at her fiancé, standing in the doorway in his three-piece lawyer's suit. Odd, that it was him and not her that took up her father's passion. Including that of smoking those filthy pipes, Nancy noted, staring at the bulge in his front pocket. Ned was busily chewing around the edges of his sandwich, dropping tiny bread crumbs on his new blue suit. A few years older, with a slower metabolism, her intended was beginning to thicken up a little around the middle.
"Oh, Ned! It's just horrible!" she said, "George has been kidnapped!"
"What? George?" Was that a small smirk on his lips? "Tell me everything that's happened, Nancy."
A half hour later, as Ned sat at the kitchen table, working on his second sandwich of the evening, Nancy concluded her tale of the mysterious phone call and the demands of George's kidnappers.
"Well, Nancy," said Ned, around a mouthful of mayonnaise and bread, "I feel bad for poor George. Really I do. But, you can't really expect the police to just hand over trial evidence - not even to you."
"But, Ned -" protested Nancy, "We have to do something."
"Well, if you really feel the need, contact the police. I'm sure Chief McGinnis will have some words of encouragement for you."
"Chief McGinnis? He's two days away from retirement! Do you really think he would risk his pension for this?" Nancy firmly shook her head. "No, he wouldn't! Besides, I can't contact the police - or they'll harm George."
"Well, I hate to say it, Nancy," spoke Ned, placing his dirty plate in the dishwasher. As he stood, he loosened his tie, "But, sounds like George is pretty much on her own."
"Ned! I can't believe you would say such a thing!"
"Oh, come on, Nancy. You know I don't mean anything by it." Ned took off his coat, draping it across the back of the kitchen chair. He began rolling up his sleeves. "But, let's face the facts. Buckley's trial resumes Monday. You can't contact the police - and you can't steal the evidence, either. If you do, he'll be back out on the streets, smuggling marijuana into the River Heights Nursing Home again."
"I - know." Nancy turned away, facing the kitchen window, staring out into the darkness. "But, George -"
"Come on, now, honey," Ned moved behind Nancy, wrapping his arms around her waist, gently squeezing. "Think of all those senior citizens in danger of overdosing if Buck Buckley is returned to society. Not to mention how my win-record will suffer. Why, what would Hart and Williams think at Hart, Nickerson, and Williams if I don't bring in a conviction on this case? You have to look at the big picture, hon." Ned placed a light kiss on Nancy's neck.
"I know," admitted Nancy, glumly.
"Speaking of the big picture," Ned began to lick and suckle at Nancy's neck, "What say we go upstairs and I give you a relaxing massage? A full-body one?" Nancy stiffened in his arms. "What do you say, sweetheart?"
"I really don 't feel up to it, Ned."
"Come on, honey. Just a massage. I'll make it really good. Promise."
Nancy hesitated. She could feel Ned's pipe poking her in the back as he pressed into her - and it made her uncomfortable. So did his arms about her waist. Is something wrong with me? she wondered. Most girls would be happy to have Ned.
"I just don't feel right about it, Ned." Nancy moved out of his embrace. "Please, try to understand."
"Understand? I've been nothing but understanding!" shouted Ned. "I've been dating you for years and years. And, all I've ever gotten was a peck on the lips. Then, I ask you to marry me - you let me move into your home - and still all I get is a peck on the lips! I'm telling you, Nancy, it's not normal for two consenting adults to be sharing a bedroom -- and nothing to be happening!"
"Oh!" Nancy fled to the living room, wiping her tears with a handkerchief. "I can't believe you would ask that of me again! I told you; I swore to my father that I would never - ever - be with a man until my wedding night. I thought you understood how important my promise to Daddy was!"
Ned came to stand at the doorway. He silently watched Nancy sitting on the sofa, sobbing lady-like into her handkerchief. He came to sit beside her. "I know, Nancy. But, it's so -- frustrating."
"I thought you'd appreciate having a virgin on your wedding night. Knowing that no other man has ever had what you'll have."
"I do. Really. It's just sometimes, I wish it was our wedding night, you know?" Ned shifted on the sofa, attempting to get closer to Nancy. "Can't we move up the wedding date?"
"Ned! You know the proper length of time is two years for the engagement. Then, we can start making the wedding preparations."
"Fine." Ned's head dropped into his hands. I knew I should have hooked up with Bess. She's given it up to half of River Heights. "I'm going to bed. You coming?"
"I think I'll sit down here for a bit, Ned." She looked at his silhouette retreating towards the staircase. "Night, Ned."
"Night, Nancy."
University of River Heights. The girls locker-room.
The women's soccer team is in the overcrowded locker room, giving each other high-fives. The locker room is awash in a sea of celebration, the women having just won the championship game of the season. And, in the center of all that celebration is the team captain, George Fayne.
"Way to go, George!"
"The winning goal - yes!"
"And all without messing up her hair!" shouted one girl, as they bodily lifted George and shoved her into the shower - clothes and all.
George endured the good-natured ribbing and horse playing. After all, it wasn't every day that she was responsible for leading her team to a stunning victory and securing the trophy for her school. So, she didn't mind the clothes-on soaking that she bore beneath the cold shower spray.
"All right! That's enough, girls!" George recognized the coach's booming voice. "Victory dinner at Joe's Pizza Place - my treat!"
That's all it took to get the pack off of George. A swarm of screaming, cheering women tore out of the locker room, on their way to their celebratory pizza party. And, suddenly, George was left standing by herself beneath the shower spray, water cascading in rivulets down her hair and off her nose.
"George? You - " George looked up to see a speechless Nancy Drew standing at the doorway to the showers " - coming?"
"Yeah," responded, George, smiling sheepishly. She reached up to turn the shower off.
"You look -" George caught Nancy's eyes rake up and down over her body. The action brought a tiny shiver to George's frame. " - wet."
"Yeah, well -" George gestured helplessly at the shower. Suddenly, the impromptu celebration seemed so - juvenile. Especially now that she was standing there in her wet clothes in front of none other than Nancy Drew.
Smiling, Nancy turned away from the shower. She retrieved a towel from the basket near the doorway. As she turned back around, she ran right into George. A loud, wet smacking sound echoed as she collided with George's soaked jersey.
"I got you a towel," she said unnecessarily, holding the white cloth up for George's perusal.
"Thanks, Nan."
George took the towel from Nancy, briskly ran it through her wet hair. She handed the towel back to Nancy for a split second while she yanked her jersey over the top of her head. She quickly ran the towel over her muscular torso.
That's when she felt it. The feather light touch on her abdomen. Trailing along her stomach. When she looked down, she saw Nancy's manicured nails tracing their way along her six-pack. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart jack hammered in her chest.
"Nan?" she hoarsely whispered.
Blue eyes looked up. Nancy's delicate lips slowly parted. And, then, without thinking, George's mouth was on hers, gently kissing. Lightly at first, then subtly increasing the pressure. And, when she felt Nancy's tongue lick at her lips before snaking into her own mouth, she felt her knees begin to buckle.
Just as suddenly as the kiss began, it ended. With Nancy pushing George away, both hands firmly on her shoulders.
"Nan?"
"I - " Blue eyes frantically searched George's face, searching, looking for - something. An answer, maybe. For the first time in Nancy Drew's life, she felt like she wasn't in control of a situation. That there was no logical solution to a mystery. "I - can't!" The words tore from her throat as she ran for the locker room door.
"I - can't!" The words tore from her as Nancy sat bolt upright on the sofa. Frantically, her eyes searched the darkened room. She was in her house. On her couch. It was just a dream. She glanced across the room at the antique clock, a memento of her very first mystery.
2:48 a.m.
I can't just sit here and let this happen to George. With a trembling hand, Nancy reached for the phone, already dialing the familiar numbers.
Forty minutes later, Nancy stood in the living room of the Marvin household. Bess was dressed in a frilly red teddy and silky pom-pom night shoes. She sat at the table across from Nancy, sipping at her cup of tea. A sliced chocolate-marbled cake sat on the table between them, two slices already missing. Nervously, Bess reached for her third slice.
"I can't believe it! George - kidnapped!" As was her habit in stressful situations, Bess sought the comfort of food. She talked around another forkful. "Oh, poor George."
"Exactly. That's why I came for your help, Bess. We have to get George back."
Bess stopped chewing. "But the only way to do that -" Her fork fell with a clatter. "You can't be suggesting that we -"
"-Break into police headquarters," stated Nancy, matter-of-factly.
"Nancy Drew, have you lost your ever-loving mind?!?" Bess shouted. Then, frantically covered her mouth with her hand. She glanced around fretfully, eyes wide, worried that she might have woken the entire household. "We can't break into police headquarters," she continued in a harsh whisper.
"If we don't get the evidence back to those thugs by Sunday evening, they're going to put George on ice, Bess. We have to do this. For George."
"But, George -." Bess' hands wrung her cloth napkin in her lap. "But, George -"
"But George, what, Bess?"
"But, George -" Once more, Bess' eyes frantically searched around the room. At last, when she met Nancy's gaze again, she blurted out, "But George is - queer!"
"Oh-kay," Nancy nodded slowly, waiting for Bess to expand upon her declaration. After all, it was one of those unspoken things in River Heights. Like the white elephant in the room. Everyone knows it's there, but no one will comment on it. When no further explanation was forthcoming, Nancy continued, "She's also your cousin. And my best friend. And, it's up to us to save her. Just like the good old days, Bess. The three musketeers; all for one and one for all."
"But, don't you see, Nancy? It's not the good old days. Not anymore." Bess placed her tea cup back on its saucer. A little blonde-haired toddler stuck his head from around the corner, padded into the kitchen on well-worn footed pajamas. He struggled to climb into Bess' lap. Reaching down, one-handed, she boosted the tyke up. "I'm a wife. And a mother. I've got four children - five if you count my husband Steve - to look after now. I can't be that girl who used to go on all those outrageous adventures, Nancy. I've got responsibilities. I've grown up. And, it's time you did the same. It's time you learned - you can't save everyone, Nancy Drew."
"No, maybe not," admitted Nancy, thinking back upon Hannah, and her father, and even her own mother. She calmly placed her teacup back on the saucer on the table. Slid her chair back, moved towards the kitchen door. She paused with her hand on the knob, looked back at Bess. "But I will save George."
A slender figure dressed all in black carefully slipped out the second floor window of police headquarters and jumped, landing squarely in the hedges below with a soft "oomph". Adjusting the leather strap of the satchel draped around her torso, the woman darted quickly, but stealthily to the back alley behind the station. She slid behind the wheel of her blue convertible. Releasing the parking brake, she allowed the car to coast to the end of the alley before cranking it. The engine roared to life and she spun out of the alley, tires squealing as she pulled the stocking cap from her head, shaking out her titan-colored hair.
River Heights Meat Packaging Plant - 5:43 a.m.
Nancy crept along the back wall of the packaging plant, making sure she kept to the shadows. Near the south corner, she found what she was looking for - the rear entrance. Pulling a bobby pin from her hair, she expertly picked the lock. Cautiously, she edged the door open and slipped inside.
Crouching down just inside the doorway, she pulled her penlight from her pocket. Turning the small flashlight on, she inched her way along the perimeter of the building. The plant appeared to be deserted. Feeling a little more confident, Nancy made her way towards the opposite side of the plant, where she was certain the refrigerators were kept.
The titan-haired sleuth made quick time, darting in and out between the heavy pieces of equipment used for meat processing. Then, she discovered what she was looking for. The large, silver outline of the refrigerators kept for storing the meat. Approaching the large double doors, Nancy noticed that there was a large padlock and chain in place. No matter, her bobby pins would make short work of that lock, too.
Nancy cautiously opened the doors and inched her way inside. She was instantly hit by a blast of cold air as she entered. Her flashlight played over the darkness, chasing away the shadows.
There! Something moved in the far right hand corner. Bunched down low on the floor, as if attempting to disappear into the shadows. Warily, Nancy crept forward meter by meter. At last, she was standing over the shaking form lying on the ground. Nancy knelt down, extending her hand, barely touching the shadow's shoulder with her fingertips.
As she did, the shadow lashed out, knocking her off-balance. Nancy fell backwards, hitting her head. Her flashlight skittered across the concrete floor, coming to rest some five feet away. Before she could react, the shadow was upon her, hands to her throat, choking the life from her.
Hands clutching at strong forearms and wrists, Nancy fought back. Nails digging into flesh that refused to yield. Finally, with one tremendous effort, Nancy was able to wrench the hands from her throat just long enough to protest, "George! It's me - It's Nancy!"
The hands abruptly stopped. They were still fastened tight about Nancy's slender throat, but they were no longer choking the life from the poor girl.
"Nan?" asked a hoarse, brittle voice.
"Yes, George. It's me," Nancy reaffirmed, hands running up and down George's forearms in reassuring gestures.
"Oh, Nan! I thought you'd never find me!"
Suddenly, Nancy became aware of George. Before, she had been focused solely on the hands wrapped tight about her throat. Now, she allowed her senses to take in the rest of her surroundings.
She was laying flat on her back, the concrete cold against her spine. George was above her, straddling her hips, pushing into her with her body weight. Her breasts were firm against Nancy's own breasts as she pulled her close in a tight embrace. Every movement sent an electric shock between Nancy's legs. And, despite the cold atmosphere, Nancy Drew felt decidedly flushed.
Suddenly, the room was awash in a flood of bright light. Instinctively, Nancy closed her eyes against the sudden brightness. When she opened them again, two men with guns stood over her and George.
"Well, well, well, isn't this interesting?" spoke one of them. He was approximately six foot tall with a thick mustache and a full head of red, curly hair.
"Told you the Drew dame wasn't to be trusted," chimed in the other man. He was shorter and stockier than his accomplice, clean shaven, with a receding hairline.
"I have the book," Nancy piped in. "It's in my bag."
"Really? Toss it here. And, no funny business!"
Nancy inched her way out from beneath George. With her left hand, she slowly pulled her bag over her head. She tossed the leather satchel to the man with red hair. He caught it one-handed. Tucking his gun in his waistband, he opened the satchel, withdrawing a black leather-bound organizer. Keeping one eye on Nancy and George, he quickly leafed through the book, scanning the pages.
"This is it," he confirmed. "Glad to see you didn't try anything weird."
"You've got what you want," Nancy said, "Now, let us go."
The two men inched towards the door. "I don't think so. I don't know how you managed to find our hideout; we didn't tell you where to drop the evidence. So, I'm not taking any chances on you turning up before the trial Monday morning."
"Yeah, hope you have a - cool weekend," chimed in the other thug.
With that, the two men backed out the door, closing it behind them. Nancy heard the sound of the chain and the padlock sliding back into place. Then, nothing, save her and George's breathing.
Nancy paced back and forth, her long stride quickly eating up the length of the refrigerated room. She wasn't cold, yet. But, she felt the need to work off some excess steam. What with being locked in - and after being in such close proximity with George - Shaking off the thought, Nancy resumed her pacing.
"At least they didn't turn off the lights again," George offered from the other side of the room.
Yes, there was that, Nancy had to admit. Like most industrial refrigerators, there was one lightbulb suspended from the ceiling, operated by a switch right outside the door. The walls inside the cooler were smooth sheets of silver metal, designed to retain the coolness of the structure. There were several slabs of beef hanging suspended by meat hooks near the center of the cooler.
A shiver shot down Nancy's spine. There wasn't a thermometer in the cooler, but if she had to guess, the sleuth would estimate the temperature to be at about thirty-five degrees. Luckily, she still had on her black "burglar" outfit from earlier; a pair of slacks and a turtleneck. Poor George, on the other hand -
She turned to look at George, who sat huddled in one corner, knees pulled up to her chest. She must have been nabbed during her morning jog. George was wearing a pair of running shorts that ended at mid-thigh. And a white a-shirt. The straps of her white sports bra were visible beneath the tank top. George wasn't nearly as developed as Nancy, or even her cousin Bess, but she was always sensitive about her breasts, preferring to wear a bra. Why, the poor thing must be freezing, Nancy thought, I can see her nipple hard-on from halfway across the room.
Biting her bottom lip, making her decision, Nancy crossed the room. Sliding down the wall, she sat as close to her friend as possible. "We have to share body heat," she stated firmly, catching George in a fierce hug.
George pulled back a bit, eyeing Nancy warily. "Are you sure, Nan?"
Nancy nodded her head vehemently. She briskly ran her hands up and down George's muscular arms, attempting to warm her pal up. As her hands worked their way down to George's wrists, she gingerly slid them down the back of the dark-haired girl's hands, and intertwined their fingers.
"Yes, I'm definitely sure, George. Why, your fingers are so cold!"
Nancy coaxed George back until she was half-lying in her arms. George had been so cold for so long, that she just melted into the embrace. Lying her head on Nancy's chest, her ear above Nancy's heart, she closed her eyes, relaxing for the first time in two days.
She'd been so afraid that those goons were going to come back and rough her up some more. The actual kidnapping hadn't been so bad. They'd grabbed her off the street and threw her into the back of a nondescript van. Once they'd gotten her to the meatpacking plant, however, they'd taken turns slapping her around. Demanding Nancy Drew's unlisted phone number. Finally, when they threatened to put out a hit on everyone she held dear to her, she relented.
After that initial call to Nancy's house, they hadn't bothered with her much more. They'd locked her in the cooler and turned out the lights, leaving her alone in the dark with only her imagination for company. They'd come back to check on her once in a while. Every couple of hours, she thought. She wasn't sure, they'd broken her watch in the initial scuffle and it was easy to lose track of time in the dark.
The last time one of them had come to check on her, she'd been waiting by the door. She managed to catch him off-guard, knocking him to the ground with a judo chop. She was out the door and halfway across the plant by the time he recovered. Unknown to George, however, his accomplice was waiting by the rear entrance. He banged her in the head with a lead pipe as soon as she opened the backdoor. The next thing she knew, she was being dragged back to the cooler with nothing to show for her efforts but a gash across her forehead and a headache the size of Mt. Everest.
"George? George, honey, wake up."
"What?" She thought she heard Nancy calling her. But she was so warm and comfortable - "Hmmm?"
"George," Nancy nudged her pal. "Wake up, George."
Grumpily, George opened one eye and glared up at the titan-haired sleuth. "What gives, Nan?"
"You've been asleep an awful long time, George. And, you've got a head injury." She ran her fingers gingerly across George's forehead. The injury wasn't bleeding any longer, but Nancy could tell the gash had to be quite severe. "And, I was worried about you sleeping for so long."
"Sorry." George attempted to work her way out of Nancy's arms, to sit upright.
"Stay." Nancy encouraged, tightening her embrace.
George relaxed into her arms once more. They lay there like that for a while, until George felt the overwhelming need to speak. "Nancy?"
"Yes, George?"
George turned in Nancy's embrace until she was able to tilt her head back enough to look up at Nancy's face while they talked. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For being stupid. For getting myself kidnapped. And, you having to steal Buckley's organizer back from the cops. And, for you trying to rescue me, only to get caught."
"Don't be silly, George," admonished Nancy. Tenderly, she pushed a stray lock of hair off George's forehead. "You weren't stupid. These things have a way of happening in River Heights, you know?"
"Yeah, I guess." George didn't sound convinced.
"And, besides, I think I owe you an apology, as well."
"You do?" George eyed Nancy skeptically.
"Yes, I do." Nancy ran her index finger along George's jawline, over her bottom lip. "In the locker room - after the game - I told you I couldn't. Truth is, George, I wanted to so badly. But, I was scared."
"You were?" George was acutely aware of every inch of her body being held in Nancy's firm embrace. And, her entire nervous system tingled with sensation.
A half-laugh. "Yes, I was. The great Nancy Drew, super-sleuth. Able to solve major criminal investigations, crack down on organized crime, and still able to fix an elegant six-course meal for dinner - I was scared. Of you. The things you made me feel. The things I wanted to do to you; the things I longed for you to do to me."
"And now?" pressed George.
"Now?" Nancy shrugged. "Now, I'm afraid that if I don't tell you how I feel - if I don't do the things I need to do with you, I'll have wasted another five years of my life."
With trembling fingers, George reached up, her fingers tracing, then cupping Nancy's cheek. Nancy's eyes involuntarily closed when she felt the gentlest of touches on her lips.
As George pulled back, she whispered, "Nan, are you sure?"
"More sure than I've ever been of anything in my life."
The kiss that slid across Nancy's lips was barely noticeable at first. Feather-light, except for the burning sensation that began soon afterwards. Like the feel of too-cold ice cream. A trail of fire branding its way across her lips, over her flesh.
The kiss deepened. Tongues intertwining. Mouths fusing together. Both experiencing the passion that they had only fantasized about in their beds late at night.
I can't believe Nancy is letting me kiss her. Again. I've dreamed about this for so long. George's tongue snaked farther into Nancy's mouth. Her hands worked down her back, over her hips.
I can't believe I didn't realize sooner just how much George means to me. How much I need her in my life. Why, it wasn't until the kidnapping - Nancy heard her zipper being pulled down. Felt fingers slipping inside her trousers. A moan escaped her lips as those same fingers traced her clit through her silk panties. That's it! Ned's moving out tomorrow!
"Oh, George!" Nancy gasped as fingers pulled aside the elastic of her panties, and gently cupped her pussy. She moaned as those fingers deftly massaged her clit. "Oh! George!" She screamed again as the orgasm shook through her body.
She felt George's lips tenderly press into hers once again. When her eyes fluttered open, she was staring into George's own chocolate brown orbs. And, what she saw reflected there was nothing but love.
"You okay, Nan?" she whispered.
"I'm okay. Probably more okay than I've ever been in my life." She caught the fleeting look of disappointment in her best friend's eyes. "George? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, Nan. I guess." Seeing the confused look on Nancy's face, she elaborated. "It's just that - Well, I've wanted this for so long. And, now that I've got you - I do have you, don't I?" At Nancy's affirmative nod, she continued. "Well, I just can't believe we're stuck in here until Monday morning when the work crews arrive. Why, we'll freeze to death long before then!"
Nancy chuckled. "Oh, George! Everything will be fine. You'll see." Nancy pulled George's hand from her pussy and zipped up her trousers. She licked her juices off George's fingers, then, pulling a tissue from her pocket, she dutifully wiped each finger dry. Pulling a tester bottle of perfume from her other pocket, she liberally sprayed the air. Sniffing, she said, "There, that should do it."
"Nan - "
Before George could further question Nancy's actions, she heard a loud banging at the cooler door. "Police! Stand away from the door!" Another loud bang, and the door was forced open. Uniformed officers swarmed into the cooler, weapons drawn and ready. Finding only the two women huddled in the corner, they quickly holstered their weapons.
A female officer wearing blue jeans and a tight t-shirt yelled for the uniformed officers to search the rest of the warehouse. Holstering her own weapon, she approached the two women. George eyed her warily. She was tall, with short brown hair and brown eyes. She approached cautiously, kneeling in front of them.
"Hi, I'm Detective Benson. Are you okay?" she asked.
"We're both fine, Detective," Nancy reassured. George nodded dumbly.
Detective Benson helped the two women to their feet. Nancy was a trooper - up and eager to go with no problem. George, however, had been held captive in the cold for much longer, and would need a little more help to get her bearings. She staggered on unsteady legs.
Fortunately, Detective Benson was there to catch her before she could fall. "Easy, there. An ambulance will be here shortly. Then, it's off to the hospital for the both of you."
"I'm fine," protested Nancy. "Really."
"The hospital for both of you. Period."
"I don't need - "
"You may as well just go on and get it over with, Nancy. There's no point in arguing with my detective once she has her mind made up."
All heads turned to the voice coming from the open doorway. A tall, leggy blonde with a power dress and matching heels strode into the cooler. Her heels click-clacked on the concrete floor. Blue eyes flashed as she caught Nancy in a fierce hug.
"Aunt Alex!"
"Don't sound so surprised to see me, Nancy. I got your message. Good thing for you I decided to go into the office today."
"I knew you'd be at work, Aunt Alex. Even on the weekend."
That earned a laugh, followed by a quickly covered smirk from Detective Benson.
Alex turned to her niece's companion. "And you must be - ":
"Lost and very confused," confessed George.
"Don't worry," interrupted Detective Benson. "They'll explain everything - at the hospital once you've both been seen by a doctor."
Alex and Olivia sat in the waiting room of the River Heights Emergency Care Center. Olivia sat in the corner chair, where she could keep an eye on everyone coming and going. Alex sat beside her, curled up into a ball, head resting on Olivia's shoulder. She yawned, snuggled farther down into Olivia, and closed her eyes.
Nancy threw her magazine on the table. Jumped up from her chair. Paced up and down the waiting room. For the fiftieth time. She stopped when a doctor in blue scrubs approached.
"Are you here for George Fayne?" he asked the group.
The women nodded.
"She's fine. She suffered some trauma to the head. Required a few stitches. And, she'll need plenty of bed rest over the next week to combat the dehydration and hypothermia she suffered. But, there won't be any permanent damage. You can go in and see her whenever you like."
Nancy turned to go into the room, then stopped and looked at Alex and Olivia. "You go ahead, honey. My report can wait a bit," offered Detective Benson, with a smile.
"George?" Nancy peeked her head around the corner.
George was lying in the hospital bed. Sheet pulled up to just below her breasts. A baby blue gown covering her torso. Her eyes were closed. Cautiously, Nancy approached the bed. She caught George's hand within her own, lightly caressed her fingers. She bent down and placed a chaste kiss on George's lips. Then, she turned to go.
The fingers tightened about her own. "Nan?" A weak voice rattled from George's dry, cracked lips.
"Right here."
"Don't go."
"Okay." Nancy pulled up a chair.
George opened one eye, looked at her girlfriend. "Talk to me," she pleaded.
"Okay." Nancy settled back in her chair. "What do you want to talk about?" she asked after a moment.
An hour later, the women were still talking. George was feeling much better, sitting propped up in her bed, leaning against the pillows. Nancy had moved from her own chair to the end of the bed.
"So, Alexandra Cabot is your aunt?" Nancy nodded. "Who just happens to be a district attorney in New York?"
"Assistant district attorney," corrected Nancy.
"And you called her?" asked George.
"As soon as I figured out you were being held at the River Heights Meat Packaging Plant," confirmed Nancy. "I called before I went to Bess' house the other night."
"And, how did you figure out that's where I was being held?"
"Well, they kept referring to you being kept on ice. And, I thought of all the places someone could be kept on ice. Then, I narrowed down the list based on which places were open or closed on the weekends. From there, it was easy to figure out that it had to be the meat packaging plant."
"I see." George squirmed around on her pillows, attempting to get more comfortable. Only a couple of hours in a hospital bed, and she was ready to leave. Of course, if it were Nancy's bed I were in - "So, you called your Aunt Alexandra from New York - " prompted George.
" - And she, in turn, came down here as quick as she could with her detective." And, judging from their behavior, there was no doubt in Nancy's mind that Olivia Benson was indeed her favorite aunt's detective. "It didn't take long for them to catch up to the kidnappers, retrieve the evidence against Bad Boy Buckley and rescue us."
"Wow. Let's hear it for the boys and girls in blue."
"Right now, the only girl I'm concerned about," Nancy leaned forward, kissing George on the nose, "is you."
"Yeah?" asked George, pulling Nancy farther down onto the bed.
"Oh, yeah!" agreed Nancy, looking rather pleased with herself.
"You don't have a new and exciting mystery waiting for you, Nancy Drew?" asked George, eyeing Nancy skeptically.
"The only mystery I've got to solve right now," Nancy kissed George deeply. "Is whether or not I can have my way with you before your nurse gets back."
George laughed, kissed Nancy back. "Well, you'd better get your magnifying glass out and start looking for clues, Ms. Drew."
"Don't worry, Ms. Fayne, I plan to do a - very thorough - investigation......"
The End