Don’t Look Twice (12 page)

H
EART POUNDING,
Nancy peered through the windshield. She was caught in the left lane, with cars speeding by in a continuous stream, the drivers honking furiously at her. Bernard was no longer in sight.

She tried restarting the car, but it was hopeless. There was nothing she could do but wait until the car cooled down—and pray that no one hit her.

Finally the light did change, and the cars stopped coming at her. Nancy let out her breath. She opened the door and cautiously climbed out.

“Need some help, miss?” a voice called.

Nancy looked around and saw a guy in a pickup truck waving at her. He had gone through the light and come up behind her. “Yes, please!” she replied fervently.

“Get in, put it in neutral, and steer. I'll push you over to the side,” he instructed.

Nancy did as she was told. The pickup truck driver revved his engine, and they crept slowly over the bridge and to the curb on the other side.

As soon as they were off the road, Nancy jumped out again. The truck driver climbed out of his cab and walked over to her.

“Thanks so much!” Nancy told him.

The man had strolled around to the front of the Mustang, where he was staring at the radiator grille. “No wonder you overheated. Looks like someone's been at your radiator with an icepick or something,” he called. “The grille is all busted up, and the hose is poked full of holes. You got any enemies, miss?”

Nancy's jaw dropped. Bernard! So that was why she'd been able to catch up to him so easily—he'd lost time sabotaging her car!

The kind driver was reluctant to simply drop Nancy off at a pay phone—he wanted to help her get a tow truck, but Nancy didn't have the time. If she didn't stop Bernard soon, he'd make his getaway!

Finally the truck driver left her, shaking his head. Nancy dialed the Sampsons' number and asked Nella to put Ned on.

“What's up? Are you having trouble?” Ned asked after he'd said hello.

“I'll say,” Nancy replied grimly. “Bernard
sabotaged my car, and I'm stranded. No, don't ask questions—I'll explain later. Ned, I need you to borrow a car from the Sampsons and come get me.” She told him where she was. “Bring George, too,” she added. “I need her to deal with getting my car to a garage.”

“No problem. Anything else?” Ned asked in a no-nonsense voice.

He's terrific in a crisis! Nancy thought gratefully. Aloud, she said, “Yes. Get Bernard Corbett's address. If it's not in the phone book, call Martha Raphael and get it from her. We've got to get there without delay.”

“On my way,” Ned promised, and hung up.

Fifteen minutes later he arrived in the Sampsons' other car, a huge, ancient, red sedan. George and Dave were with him. Nancy handed George her auto club card and told her briefly what was wrong with the car. Then she opened the driver's side door.

“Move over,” she told Ned, nudging him across the wide front seat. “I'm driving.” She buckled herself in and stomped on the accelerator.

“I hope you know where you're going, because we're getting there fast,” said Ned, holding on to the door strap.

“We're going to look for Denise—and you have the address, don't you?” Nancy replied.

“I've got it,” Ned said. “Take the next exit.

“When I called Martha to get the address,” he went on, “she sounded really upset. She asked me to tell you to watch out for Bernard.”

“I wish she'd make up her mind whose side she's on,” Nancy muttered. “She's the only one who could have told him I was on to him.”

“She mentioned that,” Ned said. “She claims she just called him to find out what was going on, why you were asking all those questions about him. After he heard that, he got nasty and told her that she'd better keep her mouth shut, or she'd find herself in jail as an accessory to kidnapping, smuggling, grand larceny, and so forth.”

Nancy grimaced. “Wow. Poor Martha—she really worshipped Bernard. I guess it never occurred to her that her idol could be doing anything so warped. Well, I'm glad to know she didn't betray me on purpose.”

“Take a left,” Ned ordered. “Now slow—stop!” He pointed at what looked like an abandoned warehouse, but had probably been made into an apartment building. “We're here.

“So, what now?” he added. “Do we storm the door and say, ‘Unhand that girl, you villains'?”

“No, silly.” Nancy grinned. “I'll park and we'll do a little snooping around.”

The noonday sun had melted the morning frost, and Nancy's boots sank slightly into the mud beside the path to the garage area. The place
certainly looked like a kidnapper's hideaway. It was deserted, and the garage doors were open to reveal no cars inside.

Someone had obviously made a fast exit. “I think we're too late,” Nancy murmured, dismayed. She walked into the garage and tried the door leading into the apartment area. It was unlocked.

Nancy slipped in the door and made her way down the hallway. She found a freight elevator at the end and rode it to the upper story.

Bernard's apartment was a big open space with a few partitions. Most of the furniture was piled in one small room. Drop cloths covered the floor, and the smell of turpentine still hung faintly in the air, but it was definitely deserted.

Nancy backed slowly into the elevator. The place gave her an eerie feeling, as if she were being watched. She went back down to the garage.

“Nancy! Look at this,” Ned said as she came in. He was crouching by one of the garage doors.

He pointed toward some smudges in one of the dusty windowpanes of the door. Nancy looked more closely. It was a little drawing of a lighthouse. There were two rows of wavy lines underneath it, with a boat floating on top. In one corner was a single letter—
D.

“That's the way Denise signs her artwork, Nancy,” Ned said, his voice quavering slightly.

Nancy stared at the crude drawing. Denise must have drawn it in seconds. It was unmistakably a message, though, meant for them to find.

“They must be holding her at a lighthouse,” she guessed. “There's one on the North Side. It's lucky you saw that, Ned. That must be where they've taken her.”

Moving as one, Nancy and Ned raced back to the Sampsons' car and slid in.

Ned drove this time. They followed the winding road through the park and finally arrived at the lake shore. He pulled up to one of the small parking areas near the lighthouse but far enough away that they wouldn't look conspicuous.

Although it was early afternoon, the sky had darkened to dusk and a bitter wind blew. A storm was coming, and the lakefront was deserted and cold.

The lighthouse appeared to be deserted, too. There were no cars around it, and no lights showing inside. Ned slumped down in the driver's seat. “There's no one here,” he said. “I guess we read the drawing wrong.”

Not willing to give up, Nancy scanned the park. She caught sight of a lone, small brick building that was set apart from the lighthouse, at the edge of a fringe of trees in the park. It looked like some kind of park maintenance building. She could see a green compact car in the driveway, a dark sedan parked in front of it.

“Wait, Ned,” she said excitedly. “Look over
there. That's Bernard's car in that driveway. Denise meant
near
the lighthouse, not in it!”

They both climbed out of the car. Nancy pulled her hat, sunglasses, and a pair of mittens out of her pockets. She handed Ned the hat and sunglasses. “Put these on,” she said. “They probably won't recognize you in this getup.”

“I'd hardly recognize myself,” Ned said.

Nancy's smile was strained. She was trying not to think about what could happen if the kidnappers
did
recognize him. They'd seen him at Puccini's, after all—and he and Bernard had met face-to-face!

They'd have to chance it. “Go up and knock on the door,” she instructed. “Pretend you're lost and need directions. Check out as much as you can from the doorway. Then get the police—and
please
don't get caught! I'll go around back.”

“Nan, wait.” He stood shivering in the frigid air. “Just be careful,” he told her at last.

Nancy smiled and blew him a kiss. “Don't you worry about me, Nickerson.”

With a last look at her boyfriend, Nancy set out for the one-story brick building. She made a big loop around the building, dodging in and out of the trees. She was thankful for the darkening skies. It would be hard for anyone looking out the window to see her.

She crept up a slight incline toward the back wall of the house. The afternoon had gotten so dark that someone had turned on the lights in the
downstairs room. She could see her own breath forming little cloudy puffs in the cold air.

She stood on her toes to peer in. Her eyes widened. About two feet from her, separated only by the window, sat Denise. She was slumped down in an easy chair, one arm hanging over the side. Tears were running down her cheeks.

At that moment a man walked into the room, and Nancy drew back into the shadows. She could still see what was going on, though.

The man was someone Nancy had never seen before. He reached down and unlocked a pair of handcuffs, which Nancy guessed had fastened Denise's wrist to the chair leg. He set a tray on her lap and then left the room.

Nancy knew that this was the best opportunity she would get. If she was going to rescue Denise, it had to be now. As soon as the door had closed behind the man, she tapped on the window.

Denise looked up with a start. But Nancy was suddenly distracted. Out of the corner of her eye she'd just seen something very disturbing.

Ned had evidently completed his mission, for now he was walking swiftly toward the red sedan, which was still parked at the lighthouse.

Someone was following him, though, and that someone was closing in on him fast.

What could Nancy do? She was about to run to Ned's aid, when he reached the car and climbed in. His shadow must have decided not to tackle him.

Turning back to the window, Nancy took off one of her mittens and waved it in front of the lighted square. Seconds later Denise's face appeared at the window, peering out in alarm.

Nancy was shocked to see how pale and ill Denise looked. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her hair hung in limp strands beside her heart-shaped face. Then she spotted Nancy, and delighted surprise lit up her eyes.

Nancy put a finger to her lips, warning Denise not to cry out. Then she pantomimed opening the window.

Denise gripped the lock on the window with both hands, but it was stuck. Nancy's could see beads of sweat on the cheerleader's forehead as she struggled with the window. Desperation shone in her eyes.

Suddenly the lock gave and the window flew up. Denise was halfway out when she seemed to change her mind. Holding up one finger, she slid back into the room. Nancy's heart was in her mouth. What was Denise doing?

Moments later Denise reappeared, dragging a blanket and a flat steel case. She threw the case out the window, and it landed with a dull thud on the frozen ground. The blanket followed, and finally Denise herself climbed out the window.

At the moment she landed, Nancy heard a commotion near the parking lot. Tires squealed. She heard a car gunning its motor and racing off.

It was perfect timing for her and Denise. The
sound of the car would cover any noises they made. Still, it wouldn't be long before Denise was missed.

Nancy grabbed the blanket and case that Denise had thrown to the ground. She took Denise's arm and pulled her to the right of the house. There was no way to get by the side and front of the building without being seen.

The afternoon light was fading fast. The only way to escape was to head for the woods of Lincoln Park—and then to the frozen lake and darkness.

L
ET'S GO
!” Nancy whispered. She grabbed Denise's hand, and the two girls ran for the woods. The heavy steel case banged against Nancy's legs at every step.

She glanced at Denise. The cheerleader's breath was labored, but she was keeping up.

Nancy frantically tried to think up a plan. They were running away from any kind of civilization. They had to hope that the darkness and the vastness of the park and the lake shore would keep them hidden. With luck the kidnappers would search for them nearer the road.

Nancy could hear Denise's breath coming hard, then suddenly she stumbled.

With her free arm Nancy grabbed Denise. The case and blanket went tumbling.

“Are you okay?” Nancy asked softly.

Denise gulped air. “I—I have to rest.”

Nancy looked behind her. There wasn't anyone following them—yet. She scanned the area for shelter.

Looming ahead was a cluster of brick buildings, huddled under some trees. A sign read: “Lincoln Park Zoo. Closed for renovations.”