Update On Crime (12 page)

Chairs had been ripped with a knife and overturned, pictures torn from their frames, and debris scattered across the floor. Hal's house had been ransacked!

W
HAT TORNADO
hit this place?” Ned asked soberly, surveying the damage. It was obvious that whoever had done the damage had spent a long time searching for something and was very thorough.

Without saying a word, Nancy bolted through the living room and ran out through Hal's back door. Seeing a service alleyway behind the house, she hurried toward it.

“Wait, Nancy! Where are you going?” Ned called after her.

She was in too much of a hurry to answer. Her head whipped to the left and right as she looked down the empty alley.

“What is it?” Ned asked. He was breathing
hard as he came up beside her. “What are you looking for?”

“I heard a car motor start just as we walked up the steps to Hal's house,” Nancy replied. “I have a hunch it was probably our vandal.” She shook her head in frustration. “If I'd moved faster I might have caught a glimpse of the car.”

“Believe me, Nancy, you moved plenty fast,” Ned said, bending over and rubbing the back of his calves. “Any faster and we'd have to sign you up for the Olympics.”

Nancy was already sprinting back inside Hal's house. She headed for the kitchen and opened a cabinet under the sink. “I hope the tape's still here,” she said worriedly.

Ned was right behind her. He looked in the cabinet and shook his head. “Doesn't look like it—all I see are sponges and a bunch of cleaning supplies.”

“That's all you're supposed to see,” Nancy said. She pulled out a box of soap pads and began fiddling with the box top. With a click, the top of the box slid sideways, revealing a videotape inside.

“It's still here!” she cried triumphantly, pulling the bulky tape from the box with a flourish.

“I can't believe it,” Ned said. “That soap box is really some kind of safe?”

Nancy grinned at her boyfriend, who was shaking his head in amazement. “Hal's a nut about unusual gadgets,” she explained. “This time his hobby really saved the day.”

“That kooky box is even better than a wall
safe,” Ned pointed out. “The way this house was torn apart, the burglar probably would have discovered and cracked a regular safe.”

Nancy tucked the tape under her arm, and the two of them returned to the living room. “What a mess,” Nancy said, looking around. She pulled a pad of paper and pen from her purse. “I'm going to make some notes about the damage for Hal.”

“You know, it's spooky the way the attacker struck just before you came to get the tape,” Ned observed.

Nancy looked at him thoughtfully. “You may have hit on something, Ned,” she said slowly. “I mean, whoever's behind these attacks seems to know our every move.” She tried to piece together her thoughts. “Just a little over an hour ago I was talking to Hal and Mr. Liski about coming to get the tape—and then his house was attacked. It's almost as if someone were monitoring our conversations.”

Nancy ran outside and checked the spot where Hal had said his spare key would be. As she had expected, the key was missing. “The person knew right where to look,” she said, frowning.

“Could anyone have overheard you talking to Hal and that producer, Liski?” Ned asked. “That might explain it.”

Nancy shook her head. “Mr. Liski was the only person in Clay's house, and I talked to Hal on the phone,” she said. “I guess it
could
have been a coincidence that the attack on Hal's house came right after our conversation, but that doesn't explain how they found out about the key.”

She walked into Hal's office, which was off the living room, and looked closely at the pictures that had been ripped from the walls. Most of the pictures that had been torn were publicity photos that showed Hal at work as an anchorman, sometimes alone and sometimes with his co-anchor, Marilyn Morgan.

“There's something odd about the way these photos have been ripped apart,” Nancy observed. “Only the ones that include both Hal
and
Marilyn have been torn in half,” she said.

Ned picked up one of the torn pictures and peered at it. “Why would someone bother to systematically tear up the photos so that Hal and Marilyn are separated?”

“Maybe because he—or
she
—had more on her mind than just getting the tape,” Nancy said excitedly. She gathered up the torn photos of Hal and Marilyn. “I know of only one person with that kind of grudge . . . Marilyn herself.”

Ned looked startled. “Marilyn Morgan!” he exclaimed. “But why?”

“She's made it perfectly clear that she'll cross any line when it comes to getting revenge on Hal,” Nancy explained.

“Why would she be interested in the bribery tape, though?” Ned asked, still unconvinced.

Nancy reassembled the pieces of one of the pictures of Hal and Marilyn sitting at the anchor desk. In the picture, Hal and Marilyn looked happy—an illusion that was far from the truth, Nancy now realized only too well.

“I know from reading her files that Marilyn is
on the verge of jumping ship to work for another network,” she explained. “And she has plenty of motivation to get back at Hal. She may be cooperating with Gilbert to remove Hal from the picture—permanently.”

“Wow,” Ned said. “It sounds like she definitely has a double motive for revenge—professional
and
romantic jealousy.”

Gathering the torn photos into a pile, Nancy said, “I'm going to confront Marilyn with these and remind her that I know about her meeting with Gilbert. Maybe I can startle a confession out of her.”

She reached for the phone on Hal's desk. “But first I want to call Hal and tell him what happened. He'll have to call the police, I'm afraid.”

“Tell him he'd better call a maid service, too,” Ned added, shaking his head in disgust at the destroyed office.

Hal was dismayed by Nancy's news of the vandalizing of his home. “This is getting scary. I can feel this guy breathing down my neck wherever I go,” he said. “I can tell he's not going to give up until I'm off the air—or dead.”

There was a new note of fear in Hal's voice. For the moment, Nancy decided to withhold her renewed suspicions about Marilyn's role in the attacks. She knew Hal wouldn't believe her unless she had hard evidence. And at the moment, she doubted whether he could handle the information about the torn pictures.

“Hang in there, Hal,” she said gently. “I think we're on the verge of solving this case.”

“That sounds good to me,” Hal said tiredly. “And when we do, I'm heading off for a long vacation.”

Nancy said goodbye to Hal and hung up the phone. She and Ned walked out the front door toward their cars.

“Can I see you later tonight?” Ned asked softly. “I have to go back to school to start studying for finals, so it's our last chance until Christmas vacation.”

Nancy turned and looked at Ned. “I know I must sound like a nagging parent, but shouldn't you be
studying
tonight if finals start so soon?” she asked.

“I'll be studying my favorite course—Romancing Nancy one-oh-one,” Ned protested laughingly.

“Good try, Nickerson.” Looping her hands around his neck, she kissed him on the lips. “I don't know if I can get away tonight, but call me just in case,” she added in a whisper. “If not, you'd better be prepared to warm up your biology notes.”

“Not
exactly my idea of a romantic evening,” Ned grumbled, but his expression brightened as Nancy melted into his arms in a goodbye kiss.

• • •

Nancy's thoughts turned back to the case as she drove back to the TV station. The first thing she wanted to do when she got back was make another copy of Hal's tape for safekeeping. That way they'd be sure to have a tape to use for Hal's upcoming broadcast.

Checking her watch, Nancy saw that it was almost four o'clock. She'd have to hurry in order to be able to talk to Hal before the afternoon news broadcast.

She decided to take a shortcut to save time. Turning off the main road, which skirted a big water reservoir, she headed over to a nearby hill. The local people called the hill Sleeping Giant because it looked like the profile of a man taking a nap on his back. A narrow two-lane road divided the Sleeping Giant between his “head” and “torso.”

Nancy climbed the twisting, winding road. It was a difficult road to negotiate, which was the main reason that most people avoided this particular shortcut. She felt almost lightheaded when she reached the top of the hill. The view overlooking the vast reservoir and rolling countryside was breathtaking.

On the other side of the hill's crest, the twisting road suddenly straightened out into a long, steep descent. To the left, there was a flimsy guardrail, then a sheer drop-off that plunged hundreds of feet to the basin below. Several signs were posted near the top of the hill, warning drivers to use a low gear when coming down off the hill. Nancy knew that there had been fatal accidents in the past when a car's brakes had failed, sending it plunging over the cliff.

She moved her Mustang into low gear and started the long drive down. She was still enjoying the scenic view when she was startled by the blast of a truck's air horn directly behind her.

Nancy looked in her rearview mirror, but all she could see were the headlights of an enormous yellow truck. It seemed to have appeared out of thin air! The truck blasted its horn again. The driver seemed to be in a big hurry, Nancy noted nervously.

She shook her head. It was foolish of the driver to want to speed down the mountain. Sticking her hand out the window, Nancy signaled for the driver to pass her.

In the very next instant, she was jolted in her seat by a screaming clash of metal. The huge truck had rammed her bumper! The collision pushed her car into the opposite lane, as she struggled to control it.

Nancy's knuckles were white as she gripped the steering wheel. She hit her horn to warn any oncoming cars, then wrenched the steering wheel to keep control of the car.

She held her breath as the truck's headlights loomed in her rearview mirror again. Had the truck lost its brakes, or had it struck her car deliberately?

Suddenly the truck's air horn blasted again. Then there was another sickening crunch of metal as the truck rammed her car again, harder this time.

The truck was trying to force her car over the edge of the cliff!

G
RITTING HER TEETH
, Nancy tried to wrench the steering wheel away from the cliff edge. It was no use. The Mustang's bumper was caught somehow on the truck's metal grillwork. She was being pushed along helplessly toward a certain death!

In desperation, Nancy pushed her foot down on the accelerator. If she couldn't outmaneuver the truck, maybe she could outrun it. She gunned the motor and felt the Mustang's rear bumper jerk free of the truck. The steering wheel became responsive once again. With great effort, she managed to steer the car back onto the road.

Nancy raced headlong down the mountain. Even at this speed she was just inches ahead of
the truck, and it was gathering momentum behind her. She lifted her eyes from the road for a few precious seconds to try to catch a glimpse of the driver in the rearview mirror. The only thing she could see was the truck's front fender, which was decorated with some sort of fancy blue pinstriping.

As she shot down the long, straight hill, Nancy tried to recall what she knew about the road. There were no turnoffs for at least a mile, she knew. She was in a race for her life!

Even without checking the rearview mirror again, she could sense that the truck was gaining on her. Her Mustang's engine surged as she floored the accelerator. In a burst of speed, the speedometer needle leapt forward to seventy, eighty-five, then ninety miles per hour as the two vehicles hurtled down the treacherous road. Nancy knew she was courting disaster by speeding, but the truck looming behind her gave her no choice.