Circle of Evil (6 page)

A shadow was thrown up against the rear wall of the house. She could see the dark shape of a person slipping swiftly and silently toward the back door.

T
HIS IS IT
! Nancy thought. The stakeout is paying off. The shadow was still there, sliding along the back wall. Her heart thudding, Nancy peered through the branches, hoping to catch a glimpse of the intruder.

As she watched, straining to see, the shadow suddenly began moving very erratically. It was looking for something—the entrance, maybe?

Wanting to see the thief, Nancy pushed a branch aside and poked her head out.

At the sound of the branches being disturbed, the shadow froze. For a few seconds, it remained motionless as though it were a piece
of black paper pinned against the stucco and beams. Then, suddenly, it became smaller until it disappeared, and at the same time Nancy heard the sound of feet pounding across what must have been a stone patio. In a moment, the sound changed to a dull thudding as the person hit grass and kept on running.

Without hesitating, Nancy shoved the tangled willow branches apart and took off after her shadowy visitor.

Her foot still had very little feeling. Unable to control it, Nancy stumbled, scraping her knees and the palms of her hands on the rough stones of the patio. But she was up in a second, plunging into the darkness at the rear of the property. A feathery cloud had slid over the moon, making the night pitch-dark.

It was easy going at first, just a gentle sloping hill covered with thick mown grass. But after a couple of minutes, the grass ended, and Nancy found herself in a forest. Low-hanging branches caught at her hair and scratched her face, while dead wood and wet and slippery masses of leaves slowed her until she was almost taking baby steps.

When Nancy stopped to untangle her hair from a vine, she could hear the “shadow” ahead of her, crashing through the woods, not bothering now to be quiet. It wasn't moving quickly either, and Nancy thought she might
have a chance to catch up with it. She was just about to plunge ahead, when she suddenly realized she couldn't hear the intruder anymore. Had he finally made his way through the forest? Or was he hiding somewhere ahead, lying in wait for her?

Deciding what to do in an instant, Nancy moved off again as quickly as possible, her arms stretched out in front of her. She expected someone to reach out and grab her at any second. But no one did, and after two or three minutes, she was abruptly stopped by a six-foot-high stone wall. So that's why the mysterious intruder had suddenly stopped making noise—the suspect had climbed the wall and slipped away, probably for good.

Nancy knew it was probably a lost cause by then, but she decided to continue. Maybe the person had fallen and she'd get lucky and find him lying on the ground. Besides, she had gone too far to quit then.

The trees hadn't thinned out, so Nancy easily climbed a maple tree and then stepped from it out onto the wall. The cloud drifted off the moon, and Nancy found herself looking out at a smooth lawn that stretched as far as she could see. Every once in a while, it dipped into a low valley or climbed a small hill, and there were a few clumps of trees here and there. It must be part of somebody's estate,
she thought. But it's the biggest backyard I've ever seen.

Forget it, she told herself. The intruder could be anywhere out there. Your chances of finding him are about one in a million. She was just about ready to turn back when something caught her eye. Off to her right, something was moving. She was much too far away to tell what it was, but it didn't matter. If there was movement, Nancy wanted to find out who or what was making it.

Leaping lightly to the grass, she started running again, toward the spot where she had seen the stirring. After the dead leaves and branches of the forest floor, the grass felt like velvet underfoot. In only a couple of minutes, she found herself looking down a grassy slope at a small pond, and beyond that, far off, she could see lights.

Circling the pond, Nancy kept up her pace, all the time wondering whose property she was on. She focused her attention on the distant lights—which looked too bright to be from an individual house—so she didn't see the rock that suddenly tripped her. Falling, she threw out her arms, only to have her hands sink up to the wrists in sand.

A sandbox, Nancy thought, brushing herself off. But as she stood up, she realized that it wasn't a box. It was just a kidney-shaped bed
of sand at the bottom of another small, grass-covered hill. And suddenly it hit her—she had fallen into a sandtrap. She wasn't standing in anyone's yard—she was on the golf course of the River Heights Country Club.

Like a shot, Nancy was off again, moving toward the lights, which she knew were the floodlights around the clubhouse. The shadow maker must have headed this way, too, she thought. And she wondered if he'd come from there in the first place. If he had, then that night's gamble had really paid off.

As Nancy drew closer to the clubhouse, she slowed down and strained her ears. Except for the gentle ripple of water in the pools, the complex seemed quiet. She edged her way to a set of sliding glass doors that led into the lounge and tested them.

They were locked. It was late—after midnight—there must not have been any dinner parties or meetings scheduled, and nobody was inside. But someone
is
here, Nancy thought.

Feeling certain that the mysterious shadow maker was close by, Nancy walked cautiously around the clubhouse, testing all the doors. Locked! But that didn't mean the intruder had gone. He might have a key. He could be in the clubhouse right then, watching and waiting to see what she'd do.

But what should she do? She hated to go back. But if she didn't show up at Ned's car soon, he'd come looking for her. And then he'd have the police out looking for her. And with her luck, it would be Detective Ryan.

Frustrated, Nancy turned from the clubhouse and started back, crossing the red tiles that surrounded the swimming area. That was when she saw them—several sets of footprints.

Her frustration disappearing, Nancy moved closer and bent down to examine them. A few pieces of grass and leaves were stuck to the tiles in the shape of footprints. They were facing the club, which meant the owner of them had probably came from the same direction she had.

Straightening up, Nancy followed the prints, which led her beside the swimming pool and over to the side of the square, twenty-foot-deep diving pool. It was dark there, the deep water was inky black, and the two-tiered diving platform looked like a visitor from a distant world.

Wishing she had a flashlight so she could see more clearly, Nancy took a couple of steps. Then she listened and stopped. Silly me, she thought. Just some leaves rustling.

Abruptly, there was a slapping sound on the tiles, and before Nancy could turn, she felt
herself being shoved, hard, from behind. Her arms flailing wildly, Nancy fell, the cold, dark water of the diving pool meeting her with a slap.

Before she could orient herself, she felt herself being forced down into the watery darkness. One arm was viciously wrapped around her neck, and the other held her head just below the surface!

D
ESPERATELY,
N
ANCY PULLED
at the arm around her neck, finally sinking all ten fingernails into it. She would have given anything to know the identity of her partner in this lethal underwater ballet. But knowing wouldn't help her breathe. What she needed was air!

Squirming and thrashing, Nancy fought to free herself from the viselike arm around her neck, but nothing seemed to do any good. Suddenly, inspiration struck, and Nancy kicked, thrusting her legs deeper into the water. If she was going to drown, then her assailant would go down with her. Madly, she
fluttered her legs, dragging them both toward the bottom.

The lack of oxygen was making her dizzy—her lungs were on fire, ready to burst. At what point her attacker had loosened his grip on her throat, she didn't know, but when the realization struck, she fought to pull herself through the water until her head broke the surface.

For a few seconds, Nancy bobbed in the middle of the pool, gulping in huge lungfuls of air. Then she forced herself to look around—her attacker had fled. She paddled over to the side, where she hung on and rested until her head started to clear and she got her breath back.

Then Nancy scanned the pool area more closely. It was definitely empty. Except for a second trail of footprints—bare, wet ones this time—everything looked exactly the same. Whoever had shoved her into the water was gone.

Nancy slowly dragged herself out of the pool. Sitting on the tiles, she pulled off her sneakers. She was too exhausted to pursue her attacker. Even if, by some miracle, she did catch up to him, she would only collapse at his feet.

Her head was pounding, and the last thing
she felt like doing was thinking. But she couldn't help wondering why her attacker had left the diving pool so suddenly.

Maybe, Nancy thought, he hadn't really wanted to drown her. Maybe he'd just wanted to scare her.

“Hey!”

Nancy jumped as a light blinded her eyes and an angry, harsh voice boomed out of the darkness.

“What are you doing here?” the voice demanded. “This is private property. Boy, I've had it up to here with you kids sneaking into the club, using the pool, trampling the golf course!”

And I've had it up to here with this whole night, Nancy thought tiredly. “Wait a minute,” she said. “How do you know I'm not supposed to be here? I'm a member of this club, and so is my father.”

“Yeah? Well, you ought to know the rules then,” the voice said. “The rules say no one's allowed on the grounds after hours without a pass. Where's your pass?”

Good question, Nancy thought. “I forgot it,” she said. “And you haven't told me who you are yet. What gives you the right to treat me like a criminal?”

Slowly, the light bobbed and came nearer.
As it did, Nancy was able to see who was behind it. A very short, very skinny man who didn't look like his powerful voice sounded.

“I'm the night watchman,” the man informed her. “Your father—if he really does belong to the club—helps pay my salary. So I have the right to chase you off this property because it's my job.”

Nancy suddenly sat up straighter. “When did you go on duty?” she asked.

“Ten, twenty minutes ago.”

“Did you see anyone else?” Nancy asked. “Going in or out of the clubhouse, maybe?”

“Nope. I park at the front entrance, walk around the golf course, then cut over to the clubhouse. The place is locked up tight, just like it should be,” he said. “I did think I saw someone jogging down the drive. Could have been one of the staff, but since he was on his way out, I didn't stop to check. Besides, I was clear over by the fifth hole.”

“He?” Suddenly, Nancy didn't feel tired anymore. “What did he look like?”

“I told you, I decided not to check,” the man repeated impatiently. “He was probably part of the staff, like I said. The staff can use this place anytime they want, and they don't need passes. You wouldn't believe how many kids like you decide to have midnight picnics and then leave their trash all over the grass.”

“I told you I didn't—” Nancy stopped herself. Arguing wasn't going to do her any good, and if she told the truth, he'd probably call the police. “Look,” she said. “You're right. Some friends of mine dared me to sneak in here and go for a swim.”

The light swept around as the man observed her soaking clothes and drenched sneakers. “Shoes and all, huh?” he asked skeptically.

“Right,” Nancy said, quickly. “After all, if I don't come back wet, they'll never believe I did it.”

The night watchman shook his head, obviously disgusted with what he thought was a dumb prank. Then he surprised Nancy by giving a short laugh. “Maybe that guy I saw leaving wasn't staff after all,” he said, laughing again. “Maybe it was one of your friends, checking up on you.”