Stalk, Don't Run (8 page)

Bess, George, and I had never seen him get so worked up about anything.

“Maybe you can get three other actresses,” Bess said. “I’m sure there are some really good—”

“Forget it!” Mr. Safer growled. “It was either the Casabian sisters or no one. I canceled the show.”

I was afraid to say another word. He took a deep breath to compose himself, then said, “So, Nancy, when can you come back to work?”

Was he kidding? I should have been excited about getting my job back, but now with Mandy a no-show and Mr. Safer acting so weird, the cheese shop was the last place I wanted to be.

“I’ll have to let you know,” I said, forcing a smile. “About when I can start, I mean.”

“Fair enough,” Mr. Safer said. He nodded good-bye, then slipped into the store.

As soon as he left, the three of us started talking as we walked toward the Three Bean Café.

“Do you believe this?” Bess said. “Now Mandy didn’t show up for work.”

“Did you see how bizarre Mr. Safer was acting?” I asked as we continued down Main Street. “He didn’t seem worried about Mandy, but he was furious that she and her sisters wouldn’t star in his play.”

“What are you getting at, Nancy?” George asked. “That Mr. Safer was mad enough to harm Mandy, Mallory, and Mia?”

“Maybe,” I said.

“Mr. Safer?” Bess said. She shook her head. “Sorry, but I can’t picture him doing anything underhanded.”

She and George stopped in front of the café, but I had other plans.

“Let’s go to Casa Bonita instead,” I said. “Maybe Mallory knows something about her sisters that we don’t.”

Casa Bonita was within walking distance from Main Street. I was relieved to see Mallory when she answered the door.

“I’ve tried to reach Mandy and Mia,” she said nervously as she led us into the house. “They won’t answer their texts or calls. And want to know the weirdest part?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Their clothes are still in their rooms,” Mallory said. “If they left on their own, they would have packed their things.”

As we walked into the living room, I was dismayed to see Deirdre, pacing the floor.

“I guess you heard the news about Mandy,” she said, looking straight at me.

“We sure did,” I said. “And in case you think I had something to do with her disappearance, Deirdre, don’t even go there.”

“What are you doing here anyway, Deirdre?” George asked. “Why aren’t you and Mallory at the police station?”

“If Mandy and Mia are missing persons,” Bess said, “Chief McGinnis ought to know—”

“Over my dead body!” Deirdre snapped.

Her sudden reaction was a jolt.

“You don’t
want
to go to the police?” I asked.

“Why not?” George demanded.

“I don’t want any bad publicity about River Heights,” Deirdre said. “The networks would never film the sisters’ show here if they thought it was an undesirable location.”

“Uh, excuse me,” George said angrily. “But without Mandy and Mia, you have no show.”

“Mallory, think,” I said. “Has anyone been acting strange around you and your sisters lately? Anyone here in River Heights?”

Mallory was sitting on the couch by this time, but nervously twirling her hair.

“So far everyone in River Heights has been really nice,” she said with a small smile.

“Could there be a fan who’s been acting a little weird?” I asked. “Like being pushy or following you and your sisters around?”

“Just those three Casabian wannabes,” Mallory said.

“Wannabes?” I repeated.

Mallory nodded and said, “These three girls, probably about twelve. They style their hair like us and wear Casabian Sisters T-shirts all the time.”

Sounded like Darcy, Lindsay, and Ava!

“I saw them too,” Deirdre put in, nodding. “They’re fans and royal pains.”

“Define royal pains,” I said.

“My sisters and I called them the junior stalkers,” said Mallory. “They would show up at our jobs and follow us home sometimes.”

“Did you ever talk to them?” Bess asked.

“At first we’d say hi, but then they wouldn’t leave us alone,” Mallory said. “One day when they were following us, Mia yelled at them to get a life.”

“How did the girls take it?” I asked.

“They were mad—but then again, so was Mia,” Mallory said.

George sighed. “Sounds like those brats from Camp Athena.”

“Wait a minute,” Deirdre said. “Did you say Camp Athena? That’s the camp the Casabians are supposed to speak at in about an hour.”

“Deirdre, call Amy and tell her it’s off,” Mallory said. “No way am I speaking without Mia and Mandy.”

“Oh, yes, you are,” Deirdre said.

“Deirdre!” I said. “Did you forget that Mandy and Mia may be missing?”

Deirdre gave me another one of her bored looks. “Amy doesn’t have to know that,” she said. “I’ll tell her Mandy and Mia had a photo shoot. The kids will still be happy to see Mallory.”

I could hear George groan under her breath. I’d always known Deirdre was as cold as ice. I had no idea her heart was too.

“Are you kidding? I’m not speaking at that camp without my sisters,” Mallory said. “I’m not going anywhere until I find them.”

Then Deirdre snapped. “It’s a breach of contract if you don’t show up. So unless you’re prepared to pay big-time, you’re going to camp.”

Deirdre’s sarcasm and cruel tone wasn’t lost on Mallory. Her mouth was a grim line as she glared at her new manager.

“Okay, I’ll go,” she finally said.

Deirdre was already on the phone with Amy as Mallory walked us to the door.

“Do you think someone around here could be after us?” Mallory asked in a low voice. “Like maybe a crazy fan?”

“I hope not,” I said. “But we’re going to do everything we can to find out what happened to your sisters.”

Mallory waved bye as we walked away from Casa Bonita. I felt bad leaving her alone with Deirdre.

“So what do you think?” Bess asked.

“I think that if a bunch of twelve-year-old girls are the sisters’ only stalkers,” George said, “we don’t have much to worry about.”

“Then who
should
we worry about?” Bess asked.

My thoughts turned to Amy. “I know you don’t think it’s a big deal,” I said. “But I keep thinking about Amy’s yellow sunburst tattoo.”

“As long as you don’t think too much,” George said. “I’ve got to run now. I promised my neighbor I’d check out her crashed laptop.”

“I’ve got to pick up those new tools for my dad,” Bess said.

And I’ve got to see what I can find out about Amy Paloma,
I thought.

After good-byes, I headed straight home to my room. With Dad playing golf and Hannah running errands, I had the whole house to myself.

I sat at my desk and browsed the web for anything I could dig up on Amy. All I found was current news, like Amy’s books and TV appearances, nothing that connected Amy with Roland or his cult. There was a site for Camp Athena, including Amy’s mission statement. It was all about empowerment, self-esteem, and the importance of good role models. Ha!

“Some role model Amy’s turning out to be,” I told myself.

Leaning back in my chair, I gazed out the window and saw someone standing in our driveway, looking straight up at my window. It wasn’t Dad, and it definitely wasn’t Hannah. It was some guy wearing a white jacket and a fedora-style hat.

A breeze suddenly fluttered the sheer curtain in front of the open window, and when it fell back in place, the man was gone!

I felt a chill, but not from the breeze. It was the strange feeling I got about that guy.

Weird,
I thought.

I was about to go back to my computer when my phone rang. Still creeped out by the mysterious figure, I was glad it was Bess.

“I heard from Maggie again, Nance,” Bess said, her voice flat.

“Don’t tell me she still hates camp,” I said.

“She does, but that’s not why she called,” Bess said. “She told me that Mallory never showed up to talk to the campers.”

Never showed up? The phone shook in my hand as I imagined the sinister possibilities. First Mia, then Mandy—and now Mallory!

“Wait,” I said, trying to stay calm. “Maybe Mallory canceled. She didn’t want to go in the first place.”

“She didn’t cancel,” said Bess. “Maggie said that when the campers asked about Mallory, Amy just said she had no idea where she was.”

“We’ve got to let Deirdre know,” I said.

“I already did,” Bess said. “She texted me that she was going to speak to Chief McGinnis.”

“Well, it’s about time!” I declared.

“Deirdre wants us to meet her at the station too,” Bess said. “So we can all talk to the chief.”

“Whatever we can do to help,” I said. “Tell George to go to your house. I’ll pick you guys up in about ten minutes.”

I hung up, grabbed my keys, and ran outside to my car. I backed out of our driveway and turned up Bluff Street. From the corner of my eye I saw a red light flash on my dashboard. It was the low brake fluid light.

How did that happen?
I wondered.

My car was a hybrid. The generator handled much of the braking, preserving brake fluid.

Making a mental note to get it checked, I kept driving. I made all the traffic lights and turned onto Vernon Street, where the Marvin house stood. I could see Bess and George in the distance. They were hanging out in the driveway, talking to Mr. Marvin.

I stepped on the brakes to slow down. The car kept moving—at full speed. Glancing down at the red light, I saw it still flashing. The brake fluid wasn’t just low—it was empty!

Not only couldn’t I slow down—I couldn’t
stop
!

“H
ELP!” I screamed. I slammed on the brakes over and over, with no luck. The only way I could stop the car now was to crash!

Bracing myself, I gripped the wheel, turning it all the way to the right. With a screech, the car swerved to the side, landing in a deep ditch.

“Nancy!” Bess’s voice shouted as my hand shakily turned off the engine. Looking up, I saw her, George, and Mr. Marvin racing down the block toward my car.

“Are you okay, Nancy?” Mr. Marvin asked. He stepped into the ditch, opened the door, and helped me out.

“I’m fine . . . fine,” I said. “A little shaky, but okay.”

“We saw your car go out of control,” George said. “What happened, Nance?”

“The low brake fluid light flashed on,” I said. “Next thing I knew I couldn’t stop.”

Bess and her dad knew a thing or two about fixing cars. While Mr. Marvin checked out my brakes, Bess said, “Even if the light was on, you’d still have enough line pressure left.”

“Not if the brakes were
cut
,” Mr. Marvin’s voice said.

“Did you say
cut
?” I cried.

“I hate to tell you this, Nancy, but someone cut the tubing on your brakes,” Mr. Marvin said.

Someone had tampered with my brakes?

“Any idea who it was?” George asked me.

I was about to say I didn’t know—until I remembered the strange figure in my driveway.

“There was some strange guy hanging out in our driveway before,” I said. “My car was parked outside, so he could have gotten to it.”

“What did he look like?” George asked.

“He wore a white jacket and a hat,” I said. “If it
was
him, how did he do it?”

“The best way is with . . . wire cutters,” Bess said. Then her eyes widened as she waved us away from the car and her dad. “You guys—remember how I told you that my dad’s wire cutters were missing from his toolshed?”

“So the guy who stole the wire cutters also cut Nancy’s brakes?” George asked.

The thought made my skin creep. “We already think someone is after the sisters,” I said. “Why would someone want me?”

“Because you’re a detective?” Bess suggested with a shrug. “And he doesn’t want you to find the sisters?”

“Right,” I said glumly.

We stopped talking as Mr. Marvin came over.

“I can replace the tubing, Nancy,” he said. “I can also get Charlie Adams and his emergency truck to pull the car out of the ditch.”

“Thanks, Mr. Marvin,” I said.

“But if this was an act of vandalism,” he said sternly, “it’s up to you to go to the police right away.”

“We were just about to go to the police,” I said. “We’ll definitely tell them everything.”

“ASAP,” Mr. Marvin reiterated, his face grave.

We watched as Bess’s father walked back to the house for his tools.

“I guess we’ll be taking your car, Bess,” I said, gazing sadly at my poor hybrid. I was happy to be alive, but worried about this stranger in my driveway. Who was he? If he was trying to stop us—me—from finding the sisters, what would he do next?

Once in Bess’s car, we tried to figure out everything we knew so far.

“So a guy wearing a white jacket was creeping around outside your house,” George told me from the backseat. “Who wears a jacket when it’s eighty-seven degrees?”