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Authors: Carolyn Keene

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BOOK: Fatal Ransom
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Nine

N
ANCY REACTED SWIFTLY.
As Monica came toward her, she spun around and kicked the poker out of Monica's hand. It flew through the air, landing with a clatter across the room.

But that didn't stop Monica. Her eyes filled with murderous rage, she picked up a huge, ornate vase from an end table and hurled it at Nancy. Luckily, she missed—and the vase sailed onto the arm of the sofa behind Nancy. It teetered precariously for a second, then toppled safely over onto the sofa cushion. Nancy picked it up and walked over and replaced it on the end table.

“Monica! Are you crazy?” yelled Lance. “That's a Tang vase!”

“Not to mention the fact that she tried to kill me,” said Nancy dryly.

Monica stared at Lance and Nancy, her jaw working. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Then she rushed upstairs and they heard the sound of running feet overhead, a door slamming—and then silence.

“That's the bathroom she ran into!” said Lance. “There are all kinds of pills and razors in there—and the window is right over a brick patio!”

Nancy was already halfway up the stairs.

“That
door,” said Lance as he raced up behind her. “The one down those little steps.”

They stopped outside the door. There was complete silence inside.

“Monica?” Nancy called cautiously. She tried the doorknob, but it was locked.

“Monica! Are you in there?” Lance shouted. More silence.

“Can you break down the door?” Nancy whispered.

“Monica, I'm worried about you! If you don't open the door, I'm going to break the door down!” said Lance.

“I'm going to call the police,” Nancy said.

“No! Don't! We don't want them in on this,
remember? She's pulled this kind of stunt before. Monica,” he said, raising his voice again, “I'm going to count to three. If you don't open the door, I promise I'm going to break it down. One . . . two . . . three!”

Nothing happened.

“Okay,” Lance said grimly. He rammed his shoulder against the door. And again. The door shook slightly on its hinges, but it stayed put.

“Once more,” Nancy said. “It's about to give.”

“So's my shoulder,” grunted Lance, but he tried once more. That time the door burst open, and the two of them ran in—to an empty bathroom.

“Oh, no!” gasped Nancy. She raced to the window and looked down, dreading the sight that awaited her.

But there was no one on the patio. And no sign of anyone having jumped.

“What's going on here?” Nancy asked.

Then she saw Monica. She was standing on the ledge outside the window, just a few feet out of reach. Her eyes were wild, and she was poised to jump.

“Don't try to stop me!” she said.

Lance had rushed to Nancy's side. “Monica, come in, you idiot! Stop making a scene!” he shouted. No one's going to hurt you! Don't be
ridiculous!” He turned to Nancy and said, “She's just doing it to get attention. She won't jump or anything.”

“I know,” Nancy whispered back to him. “But this isn't the way to get her back inside!”

“Monica,” she said out loud, “I'm sorry if I upset you. I didn't mean to.”

“Upset me? Upset me! You accuse me of murder and then try to apologize?”

“I wasn't accusing you of murder,” Nancy said calmly. “I'm sorry if it looked that way to you. If you'll come back inside, I promise I'll stop pestering you.”

Monica looked at her suspiciously.

“I promise,” Nancy repeated. “Don't you know that if you're innocent, you have nothing to worry about? Now come on back inside. We don't want to hurt you.” There was a long silence.

Nancy held out her hand. “See, you can just take my hand and walk back inside,” she said, coaxing her.

Slowly Monica reached out and took Nancy's hand. “That's it; that's right,” Nancy said, encouraging her. And she pulled Monica in through the window.

Monica sagged against the wall and slid to the floor.

“I'm so tired,” she moaned. “So tired.”

“Of course you are,” Nancy said. “Why don't
you let Lance call someone to put you to bed? You've had a big day.” She nodded over her shoulder at Lance, and he vanished down the hall.

In a second he came back with a comfortable-looking older woman. “Mrs. Bracken, my secretary,” he said to Nancy. “Sorry you have to meet under these circumstances.”

“Come on, Ms. Sloane,” said Mrs. Bracken cheerfully. “Let's get you to bed.”

As Nancy and Lance watched, Mrs. Bracken helped Monica to her feet and urged her down the hall to her bedroom. The door closed behind them.

Lance turned to Nancy. “Thank you,” he said. “That's an incredible thing you just did.”

“All in a day's work,” Nancy said lightly. “Let's go downstairs.”

“Whew!” she said when they were back in the living room. “Mind if I sit down?”

“Please do,” answered Lance. “I think I will too. Well, now you know how exciting life gets around here.”

“Yes,” Nancy said. “You have my sympathy.”

“She wouldn't really have hurt you, you know,” said Lance. “She always stops herself in time. But I'm certainly glad you were here—and that you managed to keep your wits.”

“Anyway, it's over now,” said Nancy. “I hate
to say it, but we should get back to the main subject. Did you get the ransom money?”

Lance smiled wanly. “You know, I'd forgotten all about that. Yes, I did get it—with help from your father's office. I had to get a letter from one of his assistants in order to make the withdrawal,” he said. “My banker looked at me kind of funny when I asked for four hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars in cash, but there was no problem, really.”

His mention of the money reminded Nancy of something that had been nagging her since the beginning of the case. Suddenly she knew what it was.

“Why that particular amount?” she asked Lance. “Why do you think the kidnappers didn't ask for five hundred thousand dollars? Why not round it up? Four hundred and seventy-five thousand seems like such a weird figure.”

“I—I never thought of that,” Lance confessed. “I—maybe it just seemed like a more reasonable amount. You know—not too little, not too much. Like when something's priced at nine ninety-nine instead of ten dollars.”

“It still seems odd to me,” said Nancy. She sighed. “Well, I'd better get back to the mall to check on George. If Monica's not the link to this case, then George could be in a lot of danger.”

“You're right,” Lance said as he held the door open for her.

“Oh, and don't let Monica go anywhere. No matter what she says, and what you think, she's still a suspect in this case. I'd appreciate it if you'd find someone who can keep an eye on her for the next few days,” Nancy said.

“All right.”

At that minute the phone rang. Lance ran to pick it up in the foyer. “Lance Colson here,” he said.

Then his eyes widened. He motioned to Nancy to get on another extension. “It's the kidnappers!” he mouthed.

Nancy raced into the den and carefully picked up the phone in there. It was George! Nancy's body turned cold as she listened.

“Noon tomorrow at the east end of the footbridge,” George was saying. “Don't be late, or you'll never see Hal again.”

Chapter

Ten

N
ANCY HUNG UP
the phone and raced back into the foyer to Lance.

“That was George!” she said. “She's penetrated the kidnapping ring! Those kids I saw on the tape with Hal must be the kidnappers!”

“You mean that was your friend on the phone?” Lance asked.

“Yes.” Nancy smiled. “I knew she could do it. She's great, isn't she? She convinced them to make her one of them, and now they have her making the ransom calls!”

Suddenly her enthusiasm faded. “Of course, it's also possible,” she said, “that they're on to us. They may have kidnapped George too.
They may just be making her do their dirty work. But I think we'd better proceed according to what she said to you.”

“Before you picked up the phone,” Lance said, “she told me to go to Liberty Park. Alone. The drop is to be made at the footbridge at noon.”

“I heard that last part,” Nancy said. “Do exactly what she told you. If we haven't gotten Hal back by tomorrow, I'll be at the park early to see what I can do then. I'll try to follow them back to where they have Hal hidden.”

Lance grabbed her arm. “But what if they get away?” he asked fiercely. “What happens then?”

Stepping back and taking a deep breath, Nancy answered, “It's my job to see that they don't get away.”

Lance snorted. “That's a comfort.”

Was he being sarcastic? Nancy didn't know, but his words smarted. “I guess I forgot to tell you that this wouldn't be all champagne and roses!” she snapped.

“Hey, I'm sorry. I was just kidding,” Lance protested.

“Well, there's nothing to laugh about. I think you should know what I've known all along. The longer it takes to get Hal back, the greater the odds are that we'll never get him back. Alive, anyway. I know you're under a lot of
pressure, but you'd better get hold of yourself. Because we're down to the wire, and if George and I can't find your nephew before tomorrow, some very serious stuff will be going down in that park tomorrow at noon.”

Lance looked like a kid who'd just been yelled at by his mother. “Just tell me what you want me to do,” he said quietly. “I'm on your side, remember?”

“Are you?” Nancy asked. “Sometimes it's hard to tell. Anyway, I'm leaving for the mall now. You stay here in case George or anyone else calls. I'll be in touch.” And she marched out of the house.

On her way to the mall she passed Bess, who was driving in the opposite direction.

Bess started honking and waving, and Nancy pulled over to the side of the road and waited as Bess circled around to join her. Bess hopped out of her car and came running over to Nancy's.

“George left the mall with that tall, skinny guy with the Mohawk,” she panted. “I tried to follow them, but a whole bunch of them were on motorcycles and in a car. They lost me in the traffic. There was nothing I could do.”

“Oh, no,” Nancy said, sighing.

“I think George might be in trouble!” Bess was actually wringing her hands. “What are we
going to do, Nancy? I tried to follow her, just the way you said, but they were just too fast. What if they've taken her off someplace to kill her? It'll be all my fault!”

“Bess,” Nancy said, getting out of her car and taking Bess by the shoulders. “Think a minute. Did George look as though she was really in trouble? Did she look as if she was being forced to leave?”

“Well, no,” Bess answered. “I don't think so.” She started to fidget again. “But how else can you explain it? Why would she have gone off with that bunch of creeps?”

“You know George as well as I do,” Nancy said. “She sometimes tends to be a little overconfident. Maybe that's what happened.” Nancy paused for a moment. “But I think that this time she may be playing a more dangerous game than she knows.”

“Wait, why do you say that?” Bess asked. “I thought you weren't worried.”

Nancy told Bess about the call George had made to Lance.

“George did that?” Bess gasped.

Nancy nodded. “There's no way of knowing if they're on to her or not. But one thing we do know is that they should be pretty excited about getting the money tomorrow.”

“I wonder how many of them there are,” said
Bess. “Four hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars could be split among a lot of people.”

“I guess you're right,” said Nancy. A car whizzed by, then another. “I think it would be a good idea if you'd cruise the streets tonight, Bess. See if you can spot any of those kids on bikes or in cars. And if you see George, stay with her.”

Bess looked away from Nancy and lowered her head. “I think that's a good idea, Nan, but since I've already lost George once, don't you think you should handle the cruising stuff? You're better at it than I.”

“You can handle it,” Nancy said reassuringly. “I have to go back to the mall. I hope I can find Amy Tyler. Now that we know some of Hal's friends are involved, I think Lance may be right—Amy may be involved in the kidnapping.”

• • •

The last couple hours of the afternoon passed slowly. By five o'clock Nancy had all but given up. People were starting to go home for supper, and Nancy's feet were starting to hurt.

How could I have spent so much time here and not seen something that will help? she thought. Besides spending a lot of time, she had also spent a lot of money—it was the only way to hang around in the stores without
making salespeople suspicious. Nancy was now the owner of a new purse, four new pairs of socks, three records, and six magazines, unwelcome souvenirs of an unsuccessful afternoon.

BOOK: Fatal Ransom
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