Carolyn Keene - Trial By Fire

One of the officers who had been stationed out front interrupted them. “Excuse me, but were either of you ladies expecting a Hannah Gruen and a Bess Marvin?”

“Hannah’s come?” Mrs. O’Hara rushed out of the pantry.

“It’s okay,” Nancy said to the officer and followed him to the back door.

There were two cars outside. One of them was Nancy’s.

Hannah was lifting a cake carrier from the rear of her station wagon. “I baked a cake this morning,” she called to Mrs. O’Hara. “Thought I’d bring it along so you’d have something in the house to serve to visitors.”

“Oh, bless your heart.” The judge’s housekeeper pecked Hannah on the cheek and led her into the kitchen.

“Are you all right?” Hannah asked as she passed Nancy at the door.

“I’m okay.” Nancy managed a smile for her, then turned to stare at Bess, who stood nervously in front of the Mustang. “How’d you pick up my car?” she asked her friend.

“As soon as you talked to me, I called Hannah and asked her to wait for me. She found the spare keys to your car and drove me to the Grand so I could follow her here in it.”

Nancy hugged her. “You are a real pal. Thanks.”

“Sure. I just thought that if it stayed there too long, somebody might steal it. Is there anything I can do? In there?” Bess nodded toward the house.

“No. Now that Hannah’s here, she’ll take over. Your timing’s great. I was just about to call a cab.”

After checking with the detective, Nancy said her goodbyes and promised to keep in touch with Mrs. O’Hara. As she and Bess drove through the back gate, she saw where the rosebushes on her left had been ripped by the van. Its fender must have been sticking out quite far to have done as much damage as it had.

Nancy poured out her worries to Bess about how much more difficult it would be to clear her father now. She wasn’t paying much attention to the road-until a hard bump against the back of the Mustang alerted her to what was happening behind her.

“What was that?” Bess asked, turning in her seat.

“Some idiot is tailgating me at fifty-five miles an hour!” Nancy said. Her eyes flew to the rearview mirror, and she saw the ebony-tinted windshield of a dirty white van. It was so close that its front bumper might have been locked with Nancy’s rear one.

“He must be crazy!” Bess said.

“I hope that’s all he is,” Nancy responded. It might be pure coincidence that it was a white van, she told herself. There were a lot of dummies on the road who got a kick out of driving recklessly. She sped up to put a little distance between them.

The increase in speed didn’t work. The van simply closed the distance and banged her again, so hard that she and Bess were thrown forward violently. Only her seat belt prevented Nancy from hitting the steering wheel. If there had been a car in front of her, she’d have been pushed into it.

“Can you see his fender?” she asked Bess anxiously.

Bess peered in the outside mirror on her door. “Uh-huh,” she said, her teeth clenched.

“Is it bent? Sticking out on the side?”

“Uh-huh. Do you know who it is?”

“Sort of.”

There was no time to explain. The van was closing in for another attack. The driver intended to force them off the road and over an embankment. From there it would be about a forty-foot drop. Straight down.

“Think you can get away from him?” Bess asked, her voice cracking with strain.

“Piece of cake,” Nancy said and hoped she sounded convincing. They were in a tight spot, and it was up to her to get them out of it.

Fear had dampened her palms. She scrubbed one, then the other against her thighs to dry them. Her hands ached from her tight grip on the steering wheel. Drawing a deep breath to calm herself, Nancy settled down to outdrive her opponent.

“Hold on,” she told Bess, who had braced her arms against the dashboard.

Keeping an eye on traffic in the lane on her left, Nancy darted into it the first chance she had. As she knew it would, the van followed. A tractor-trailer that had been behind the van in the right lane sped up. Nancy glanced up quickly to see the driver curiously peering over at them from the cab of his huge rig.

A plan began to take shape in her mind. “Bess, open your window and wave to that truck driver. Hurry!”

Bess followed orders, her blond hair whipping in the wind. “Uh-are you sure you know what you’re doing?” she asked in a nervous quaver.

The trucker edged alongside, and Nancy smiled up at him. She wanted him to remember them-and, if possible, supply a little help.

“Nancy, have you flipped?” Bess asked. “The guy behind us is trying to kill us-and you’re flirting with a truck driver?”

The man grinned down at them, then tilted his head toward the van behind her, his brows raised in a silent question.

With one hand, Nancy signaled that she wanted to get in front of him. He nodded. She could have performed the maneuver without his cooperation since there was enough room, but having the trucker in on the scheme was an added safety factor.

Flooring the accelerator, she shot ahead, then slipped in front of the rig. It moved up behind her, preventing the van from easing over between them.

Very, very gradually, Nancy decreased her speed. Finally the driver of the van had to pass hen He was in the fast lane with an oil tanker coming on hard behind him. A hundred yards farther, he moved over in front of her.

“Right where I want him!” Nancy shouted in triumph. With a beep of thanks to the trucker, she began to edge up closer to the van.

“What are you doing?” Bess shrieked.

“This guy left hidden mikes all over my uncle Jon’s house yesterday,” Nancy said. “It’s a cinch somebody was listening when he decided to confess. They killed him before he could talk.”

“You think the killer’s driving that van?”

“It’s a possibility. We know he’s capable of it. He tried to kill us, didn’t he?”

“Why are you chasing him, then? We should get off the highway and phone the police.”

“I plan to. I wanted to have a license number to give them, but it’s smeared with dirt. And I must have made him nervous. Look at him.”

The van was edging back into the fast lane again, coming dangerously close to causing an accident. He sped up, changed lanes, and, without using his turn signal to telegraph his intention, zipped off at the next exit.

“ Now can we go tell the police about him?” Bess asked.

“We’re on our way. Maybe this time they’ll listen to me,” Nancy said. “This time I have a witness. And, Bess-you can close the window now.”

By the time Nancy got home from the police station, it was after dark. There were no lights on in her house. Carson Drew had heard the news about his friend’s murder and had left a note saying that he would be at the judge’s house if Nancy needed him. Hannah was still there, too.

Bess lingered in the kitchen for a few minutes, wearing a worried frown. “I wonder where Ann is,” she asked, fretting. They had called the hospital from the police station and been told the reporter had checked out. No one answered at her apartment.

“The police may have stashed her somewhere. If she can phone us, she will. Want something to eat?”

Bess looked tempted, but shook her head. “I think I’ll head home. You’ve had a rough day.”

“I’m okay,” Nancy said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks again for getting my car for me.” Then Nancy shooed Bess out the door.

Before Bess got into her car, she looked back at Nancy and grinned. “Hey, I forgot to tell you-George called. She’s having a ball.”