Out of Bounds (5 page)

She heard the crunch first. Under her feet small pieces of glass glinted from the parking lot lights. Looking up from her feet, Nancy focused on her car. She couldn't believe it.

The driver's side window had been smashed to bits!

N
ANCY WAS STUNNED
, but took only a moment for a deep breath before going to work. She checked out the inside of the car. There was no note or any sort of message. If somebody was trying to scare her off this case, he or she wasn't being very direct about it.

The smashed window could possibly be a simple case of vandalism. It hadn't been a robbery because the car's stereo system was still intact.

“What a colossal drag,” Nancy murmured out loud. She'd just spent eight hours on her feet behind a restaurant counter, her legs were aching, her window was smashed, and her best friends
had stood her up. To add the final blow the sky opened up just then, and icy cold water rained down on her, drenching her in seconds.

“Oh, great.” Letting out a frustrated sigh, Nancy ran back into Touchdown.

“Edgar?” she called out when she saw him at a corner table, eating. “What are you still doing here?”

“I'm working a couple of hours overtime—the other waitress didn't show.”

“Any chance of getting a whisk broom, dustpan, plastic garbage bag, and some tape?” Nancy asked, pushing wet strands of hair off her face.

“Sure, but what are you doing? Sweeping out the parking lot in a downpour? You don't have to work
that
hard around here!” A big goofy grin took over Edgar's face.

“Very funny,” she said. “Someone just smashed my car window. I have free air conditioning and a new sprinkler system.”

“That's really rotten,” Edgar said, getting up and collecting the things she'd asked for. “Here, take our resident umbrella, too. We keep it around for moments like this.”

“My car's over here,” she said, leading the way out of the restaurant and waiting as he opened a worn but colorful golf umbrella.

“Someone really did a number,” he said, letting out a low whistle as they walked up to the
Mustang. “Here, you hold the umbrella, and I'll pick up the biggest pieces.”

“I'd like to get my hands on whoever did this!” Nancy growled in frustration, holding the dustpan for Edgar as he swept up hundreds of knife-sharp shards from the vinyl seats.

A car pulled into the lot, and the driver honked its horn. Looking up, Nancy recognized George behind the wheel. Beside her, Bess gaped at the sight of Nancy's shattered window.

“Boy, am I glad you guys didn't forget me!” Nancy cried as George pulled into the slot next to hers.

“What happened?” Bess asked, hopping out of George's car and unfurling her umbrella.

“Unbelievable,” George echoed, joining her cousin under the umbrella and letting out a low whistle. “Who did it?”

“That's what I'd like to know,” Nancy answered, juggling the umbrella as she helped Edgar tape the hole that had been a window. “It wasn't an accident, that much I know. By the way, how come you're late?

“After we dropped Cynthia off, we went out for dinner. And the service was really slow.”

“After today I have a lot more sympathy for waiters and waitresses,” Nancy said. “I wasn't fast on my feet at the end of the day, either. What about Rob? Did you find him?”

Bess and George nodded. “Finally. Cynthia's going to call to fill you in later tonight. We don't know much, really.”

“I know a place not far from here where you can leave the car overnight,” said Edgar, patting down the last bit of tape. “It's called Speed-O's, and it's up on Bedford Avenue, across from the library. The guy who runs it is a friend of mine. I know he'll put a new window in for you. In fact, I can call him at home if you want. Just take your car over there and leave it.”

“That would be terrific,” said Nancy, dumping the glass shards into a nearby waste barrel.

“Just go three blocks down Main, then left for half a block,” Edgar said.

“I'll follow you, Nan,” said George as she hopped into her car. Bess slipped in, holding the umbrella out the window to twirl the excess water off.

“Okay. And, Edgar—thanks. See you tomorrow—if you're on.” After stepping into the Mustang and sitting down, Nancy motioned to George. She stopped before joining traffic and watched in her rearview mirror as Edgar splashed his way from puddle to puddle like a giant umbrella-carrying ostrich.

The rain was coming down in sheets now, and Nancy had to lean close to the windshield to see into the tunnel of light her high beams cut
through the rain and fog. Part of the tape came loose, and she was showered with a cold spray all the way to the repair shop.

When Nancy finally did park the car and slip the key into the mail slot of the Speed-O Car Repair, the left side of her head and shoulders were soaked.

“Ah, a nice dry car,” Nancy said, hopping into the back seat of George's car. She relaxed against the seat and enjoyed the warm quiet. The steady click of the windshield wipers was comforting, the regular slow beat forcing her heart to quiet to its tempo.

“So, let's hear about Touchdown,” Bess said, finally breaking the silence. “Any leads yet on who might be taking the money?”

“Not really. I found out that Pete has a sideline in addition to the couple of pro players he handles. And that Mark wants Pete's job,” Nancy said, leaning forward. “Also, there's something very weird about the whole situation.”

“What?” George wanted to know.

“There's more going on at Touchdown than just stolen money.”

“What makes you think that?” Bess asked.

“The politics of the place. Mark wants Pete's job, but he doesn't really seem to care how the place is run. Pete has these incredible mood swings. One minute he'll be friendly, the next he's like Jack the Ripper.”

“How does all this fit in with your smashed car window?” George asked, pulling onto the ramp for the interstate back to River Heights.

“Beats me,” Nancy admitted, stifling a yawn. “I haven't the foggiest.”

“Sounds like you need a good night's sleep, Drew,” Bess advised.

“You're right, Bess. I can hardly think. Working in a restaurant has been a shock to my system,” she said. “There's something I'm forgetting—something I'm not considering—but it keeps getting away from me.”

“Tomorrow will bring new leads and new angles,” George said comfortingly.

“And a new car window—hopefully,” Bess added.

The rain had slowed to a fine mist by the time Nancy made her way up the walkway to her house. In the living room Hannah Gruen, the Drews' housekeeper, sat totally absorbed in a book. She didn't hear Nancy enter, so Nancy stood quietly observing her for a minute. A smile formed on her lips. Nancy's mother had died when Nancy was only three, and Hannah was as close to a mother as Nancy had ever known.

“Hi,” Nancy called softly, not wanting to scare Hannah. She hung her jacket in the empty closet.

“Oh, hi, yourself,” Hannah said, looking up from her reading with a warm smile. “Oh, no. What happened to you? You're soaked.”

“It's a long and not very interesting story, but a hot bath and bed will fix me right up.”

“Your father just called from California to say hello,” Hannah said, leaving the room.

“Oh, no, I missed him again!” Nancy moaned. She and her father Carson Drew, a lawyer with an international reputation, were very close. He'd been away on business for over a week, and Nancy missed him.

Hannah returned with a towel for Nancy's hair. “He said he'd call tomorrow. Oh, and you had a phone call from a girl named Cynthia. She said you could call until eleven.”

“Thanks, Hannah.” Nancy went upstairs, took a hot bath and then dialed Cynthia's number. “You found Rob, I heard,” she said when Cynthia came on the line.

“At the video arcade, but I didn't get too far with him,” Cynthia said, sounding very discouraged. “He refused to discuss anything with me. He just said I didn't understand and that he knew what he was doing.”

Nancy sank onto her bed, shaking her head. “That's incredible! How did he explain to his parents about leaving the hospital?”

“I got the feeling he lied and told them he was discharged, but I'm not really sure,” said Cynthia. “Anyway, I was wondering if you'd come to the football practice tomorrow. Rob wants to watch even if he can't practice. I was thinking
you could help me talk to him. I can't get through to him, but maybe you can.”

“It wouldn't hurt to try,” Nancy replied, trying not to sound discouraged. If Rob wouldn't listen to his doctor or his girlfriend, what could she possibly say to convince him to return to the hospital? “What time do you want to meet?”

“About three. Oh, and bring Rob's gym bag okay? We left it in the back seat of your car remember?”

Nancy's free hand flew to her forehead and she gritted her teeth in frustration. How could she have been so blind? That's what the thief had taken from her car!

“Nancy? Are you still there?” Cynthia's voice seemed far away as this last bit of news sank in Nancy considered telling her that Rob's gym bag had been stolen, but she decided the last thing the girl needed was more upsetting news. Tomorrow, she decided, she'd tell both Cynthia and Rob about the bag.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” she said simply “Three.”

Hanging up, Nancy remained seated on the bed and tried to stare out the window. But the light room and dark night turned the window into a mirror, reflecting Nancy's image back to herself. Her forehead was furrowed as she concentrated. Why would anyone break into her car to steal Rob's gym bag? Then, in a flash, she
remembered seeing Mark rifling through it when Etob had collapsed.

Obviously, something had been in that gym jag—something that Mark wanted pretty badly. Nancy couldn't let Rob Matthews get away without telling her what it was.

By three the next afternoon, Nancy had picked up her car and was walking across the football field at Bedford High toward the bleachers where Rob and Cynthia were sitting, holding hands. As Nancy got closer to the couple, she noticed a familiar-looking navy blue gym bag with
Yale
printed on the side at Rob's feet.

The exact same bag that had been stolen from her car the night before!

W
HY WOULD
R
OB HAVE STOLEN
his own bags. He could easily have asked for it bag? There had to be some other explanation.

“Hi, Nancy,” Cynthia called, with a quick smile and wave. “Come on up. We're watching Coach Novak put the team through its paces.”

“Hi,” said Rob listlessly as Nancy climbed the bleachers. She sat down beside them. Because of Rob's mood, Nancy realized it would be better not to act too suspicious.

Out on the field the team was going through its workout: doing wind sprints, hitting the tackling bags, stretching, and passing the ball.

“I see you found your bag,” Nancy said casually,
watching Rob's eyes for any kind of guilty look.

“Oh, yeah,” Rob said brightly. “Lonnie found it in front of Touchdown. I guess it got left behind in all the excitement.”

Rob's response seemed honest, so if he hadn't taken it, who had? Had Lonnie Price broken her car window? If so, why? All he would have had to have done was ask her for it. “That's very strange,” she said pensively.

“What do you mean?” asked Rob.

“I saw Nancy pick up that bag and take it with us to the hospital,” Cynthia said, understanding what Nancy was getting at. “It was in her car. Right, Nancy?”

“Until someone broke into my car and stole it yesterday,” Nancy added, trying to read Rob's face. “Any idea who?”

Rob's eyes screwed up with worry. “No idea at all,” he answered, obviously uncomfortable. “But that explains the missing—the missing money.”