Carolyn Keene - Trial By Fire

Nancy and Bess looked at each other in dismay, then moved back to her side. Awkwardly, they maneuvered her between the cars and pushed and shoved her through the space at the end of the boxes.

At the bottom of the conveyor, Bess shook her head. “No way she can make it up this thing, Nancy. You go on. I’ll stay with her.”

Ann shook her head. “No! Leave me. You’ve got what you need to help Carson. Get out of here. Go to him.”

Nancy would have loved to do just that, but she felt responsible for her two friends and Jim. It was certain that if they didn’t get away, Reston would be glad to shoot them.

She looked at the door to the courier service. “Let me check and see if we can slip out from Fleet’s side. If we can make it to the street level, we can hide in one of the vans until the coast is clear.”

“No.” Bess’s voice was firm. “I’ll do that. You go on. Here.” She yanked the tail of her blouse from her jeans and pulled a bulky envelope from under it.

“I thought you looked awfully lumpy,” Nancy said. “What is it?”

“Cassettes of your dad’s and the judge’s voices. The dummies had everything marked plain as day.”

Nancy shook her head in amazement. “Bess, you’ve been super. I’ll get help for you all as soon as I can.”

“Wait,” Bess said. “I’ve got something else for you. It-” She stopped. “What was that?”

The conveyor swayed and began to quiver. Someone was coming down!

Nancy thought fast. Maybe it was Ned-but she couldn’t count on that.

“Come on!” she whispered. She grabbed Ann’s right arm, Bess took the left, and they crossed to the door of Fleet’s. Nancy yanked it open-and ran smack into Brownley.

“Get in here!” Brownley hissed and yanked them into the electronics workshop. He eased the door closed quickly, then cracked it just enough to see who was climbing down the conveyor.

While he was occupied, Bess snatched the envelope of evidence from Nancy’s hand and crammed it back under her blouse. By the time Brownley said, “Mac’s come back. Wonder why,” the envelope was safely out of sight.

He closed the door and turned to face them. His skin was flushed, his eyes wide and staring. “Thought you were home free, didn’t you? Well, you aren’t!”

“You aren’t, either, are you?” Nancy moved from beside Ann and walked slowly around the workshop. “What were you doing in here? Trying to remove incriminating evidence connecting you with the judge?”

Papers were strewn all over the floor. File drawers hung open. Tapes had been pulled from the shelves and lay at all angles. Bess would have been too smart to leave such a mess.

But the batch of papers Brownley was clutching really gave him away. Like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he dropped them. “Shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he growled.

“I think she does,” Bess said, picking up Nancy’s lead. “What she said over there sank in. They can get you for the judge’s murder, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Who’s going to believe you didn’t know Reston killed him?”

“But I didn’t know!”

“Then why were you going to cut and run?” Ann asked. She was looking a little better.

Brownley ground his teeth. “I’m not going to jail for something I didn’t do. Grand theft auto, that’s one thing. I deal in stolen cars. I’m good at it. But I’m no killer, and I’m not taking the rap for Reston. I’m clearing out of here.”

“What about us?” Nancy asked. “If you leave us here, that’s four more murders they can get you for. Help us get out of here, and-”

“And what?” The door flew open-and Reston stepped in. “Mac told me you left as soon as I turned my back. Where’d you come from?” he asked, noticing Bess. Then he turned to his partner, his eyes like steel. “You were going to run out on me, weren’t you, Brownley?”

Nancy snorted. The dispatcher was a possible ally, and against Reston they’d need all the help they could get. “He’s not smart enough to run out on you,” she said.

Brownley eyed her sharply. “I caught them trying to escape.”

“Why make matters worse than they already are?” Nancy asked Brownley. “My boyfriend was hiding when you caught us the first time. He got us out of that cage and went up the conveyor to get the police. They’re probably swarming all over the place by now.”

Reston gave his nasty grin again. “Good try, little girl. But it won’t work.” He snatched the door open and shoved her back to the Gold Star side. Someone had moved one stack of boxes. Reston stepped through, then waited, gun drawn, for the rest of them to join him.

“Sit!” he ordered. “Until I decide what to do with you.”

They sat down gingerly on the hard concrete, their backs against the unpainted cars. As Reston kept the gun trained on them, they waited. And waited. They were in a war of nerves.

Nancy knew they had to get away! Where was Ned? Suppose he hadn’t been home after all!

After a half an hour Reston began to crack. He started to pace and mutter. Another fifteen minutes, and his left eye began to twitch.

Finally he said, “I’m getting out of here. If there are police upstairs, which I doubt, you three will make fine hostages. The first sign of trouble,” he snarled, wagging the gun toward Nancy, “and you get it first.”

Nancy got up slowly, stiff from sitting so long. Then, from the corner of her eye, Nancy saw someone scurry between two cars. She almost fainted with relief. It was Ned! He was working his way toward them.

Reston beckoned to Nancy. “You. Come here. We’re going upstairs. You’ll be my shield.”

“What about me?” Brownley asked.

“Take whichever one you want. Keep the other one between us.”

As she edged toward Reston, Nancy saw Ned move closer. She hoped he’d stop there. Any closer, and he’d be exposed.

Then Ann caught Nancy’s attention. The reporter’s eyes were almost closed. She looked pale, but surprisingly, she winked at Nancy. She had seen Ned, too! Her eyes darted toward Bess, back to Nancy, then back to Bess again.

Nancy looked at Bess with a quick sidewise glance and became very still. Bess’s lips were puckered. She puffed out her cheeks-once, then twice-and patted her chest.

The whistle! She was reminding Nancy of the whistle!

Nancy gave her a tight nod. Tensed for action, she waited.

Suddenly Ann moaned and began to crumple to the floor. Reston turned toward her.

Nancy moved in a blur of activity. Grabbing the chain around her neck, she yanked the whistle from under her sweater, put it in her mouth, and blew for all she was worth.

Reston whirled around. Nancy was balanced on one foot, ready for him. The other foot shot upward, the toe of her shoe slamming into the man’s hand.

The gun arched toward the ceiling. As Reston grabbed his wrist in agony, Nancy’s foot was in action again. This time she caught the point of his chin. His head snapped back, and he hit the floor as if he’d been struck by lightning.

Brownley had hesitated for a fraction of a second too long. He darted toward the door, but Ned tackled him. The impact slammed the dispatcher against the grille of one of the cabs. He was knocked cold.

“It worked!” Ned hugged Bess, then Nancy, before he bent to help Ann from the floor.

“Ned,” the reporter said, “I have never been so glad to see anyone in my life. Nancy, you were terrific!”

“If it hadn’t been for Bess,” Nancy said, “I’d probably still be standing there like an idiot.”

Ned took her hand. “I’m so sorry about that stupid phone! Hannah drove all the way over to tell me where you’d be. I got here as soon as I could.”