Close Encounters (Nancy Drew (All New) Girl Detective Book 21) (10 page)

“What in the world does that mean?” I asked.

“I’ll show you,” George said. She turned on her laptop. After it booted up, a little window opened, informing us that other wireless networks were in the vicinity. George clicked her mouse again. “This is a list of networks within range of the gizmo that lets me connect wirelessly to the Internet—it’s called a router,” she explained. I noticed each network had a name, ranging from arbitrary numbers and characters, to nicknames to real names. Some of the names were followed by the icon of a padlock; others weren’t.

“Some are labeled ‘unsecured,’” I noticed.

George nodded. “Right. Newbie users don’t realize that leaving their networks open means that anyone in the neighborhood can use their service, and with even minimal know-how someone can hack into their machine—even into their e-mail.”

“That can’t be legal,” I objected.

George shrugged. “It depends. There are some people who leave their networks open on purpose, just to encourage free traffic on the Net. But hacking definitely breaks the law. I wouldn’t hack into someone’s system unless it was absolutely necessary. However, I did write a program that lets me ‘sniff’ around other people’s computers—I’ve used it to help you solve cases before.”

“I don’t want to know the details,” I protested,
getting a distinctly uncomfortable feeling that any kind of hacking by anyone other than the government was breaking the law.

“You wouldn’t understand them anyway. But just by hitting this key sequence I can get there.”

“It’s my phone number!”

George grinned. “Clever, isn’t it?” She punched in her password.

“Hey, could I get on there for a minute?” I asked.

“Sure,” George said, handing me the computer. I went online to check out Nathan Blackman. The search engine quickly led me to his fairly sophisticated website.

“Who would have guessed?” George remarked as she looked over my shoulder at the screen. “He’s a real science fiction writer.”

“Published by some pretty decent houses, too,” I noted. He had a few good reviews, but there wasn’t much personal information on him. I scanned the list of his titles. “All his books are about UFOs, George. And aliens.” I scrolled down further. “Here’s one called
The Roswell Hoax
.”

George looked thoughtful. “To write that,” she said, “he’d have to investigate the how-to of hoaxes.” She tapped the screen with her finger. “But look: This guy prefers to write on an old 1940s Underwood typewriter rather than a computer. It sure
doesn’t sound like he has the ability to fake the sightings, Nancy.”

“He could always be in cahoots with someone else who had the technical know-how to fake sightings.”

“But who?” George asked.

“Someone else who would benefit from the publicity,” I answered.

George chuckled as she shut down her computer. “That’s only about half the business owners in this town.” She frowned. “But seriously,
if
Blackman faked the sightings, how exactly did he do it? And who would have had the know-how to help?”

“I’ve been thinking about that.” I took my notebook out of my purse. I turned to the page where I’d copied down the info about UFOs that I’d googled the night before. “Apparently all you need is a helium balloon, a fishing rod, and a small flashlight. You turn the light on, put it inside the balloon, and inflate it with helium. Tie it with a long fishing line—”

“Sure, the plastic filament kind—that wouldn’t be visible,” George added.

“Right. I guess that’s attached to a fishing rod, so you can move it around. You hold it out the window of a car and move quite fast on a back road, and
voila
—glowing, floating spheres.”

“Wow, that’s pretty low-tech,” George commented.
“Low-tech enough for Nathan to pull it off on his own.”

I went back to my notebook. “If you want it to crash, you can shoot it down with a BB gun. The whole idea can work on a bigger scale too, with a weather balloon—though you’d need more than one person to move an object that size.”

“What would be
really
cool is if you used one of those flashlights that you use in emergency work—the kind where the light pulses.”

I cracked up. “You’re not supposed to be inspired by all this.”

George winked. “Hey, it all could be fun.”

I checked over my notes. “Besides hoaxes, of course, there are genuine mistakes. For instance the government might be testing some new top secret aircraft. If people saw the craft when light hit it in a certain way, they would think it was a flying saucer.”

“And of course, officials would deny its existence,” George said. “Maybe that’s why the FBI is here. Maybe there’s no hoax, Nancy. Maybe it’s some kind of government cover-up.”

“Could be.”

“But you don’t think it’s likely,” George stated.

“Not likely, no.” I shrugged. “If they aren’t genuine spaceships, then I’m sure they’re part of some kind of scheme to benefit someone.”

“And you think that someone may be Nathan Blackman?”

I nodded. “But all I have is a hunch and no evidence.”

“Then our next step is to get some,” George declared.

We decided our first stop would be Winnie’s café, to see how she was doing. If the place was back in decent shape, and if Winnie could spare her, we’d pick up Bess.

Afterward we could go together to check out Nathan’s cabin. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to confront Nathan Blackman on my own in such a deserted place. If he happened to be home, so much the better; a conversation with the science fiction writer might give me a better idea of exactly what he was up to—if anything.

We left the inn, and within minutes we were back on Main Street. The entrance to the café parking lot was blocked by an idling minivan with no driver inside. I began grumbling about inconsiderate polluters who didn’t give a hoot about the environment, but I broke off when George spotted a parking space.

George and I got out of the car and were headed down the sidewalk when a woman’s shrill scream pierced the air.

“Up there!” she shrieked. “Up there!”

I looked up and shielded my eyes. Bands of gray
clouds half-masked the afternoon sun, but the grayish sky was still bright.

After a second I spotted a slender disk hovering above Winnie’s café. First it hung suspended in silence over the café, and then it zoomed upward with a loud whooshing sound. The spacecraft suddenly shifted to one side, then U-turned back east and vanished in a flash of light.

“That’s the second daytime sighting. The first one I got on tape!” Izzy’s voice sounded out behind me. It was only then I realized that the whole time I was observing the UFO, a camera was panning around me and the crowd.

“What’s your reaction?” Izzy asked.

I braced myself to give some sort of noncommittal answer. As I turned, I saw her holding a microphone up to another onlooker. Maybe she’d given up on me.

I didn’t bother to listen to the man’s response. Instead I caught George’s eye and telegraphed that we should ditch Izzy while we had a chance.

We braved the crowd that had gathered, and gradually made our way to the café. Winnie was standing outside, and so were Joel and Mary Beth, the waiter. Where was Bess, though?

“Did you see that?” Winnie was clearly shaken. “It hovered right over the roof. I was scared to death that it would crash right into the building!”

“Winnie, it’s okay. The café’s okay. All that happened was the lights flickered,” Joel said, trying to calm her. But he looked upset too.

“Maybe we should just forget about dinner tonight and—”

“No,” Joel told her. “We’ve already done all the prep. You can’t waste the time or money, Winnie. We’ve got to tough this out tonight. Meanwhile, all the UFO did was rev up exposure for your restaurant. Let’s take advantage of it.”

Winnie slowly nodded, then opened the door and led us inside.

I took one look around and gasped.

The place looked great. A new batch of baked goods was displayed behind the freshly polished glass of the case. The tables were neatly set for the next meal. A few spots on the wall behind the counter were the only evidence that the place had been trashed the night before.

“Where’s Bess?” I asked as George unearthed the software CDs she’d brought for Winnie’s computer.

“Is she in the back?” George asked, coming out from behind the counter.

Winnie frowned. “I haven’t seen her since before the UFO sighting.” She headed Joel off as he passed by. “Have you seen Bess?” she asked him.

“Sure. She was right here a while ago.” He
scratched his head. “Wasn’t she outside just now with the rest of us?”

“I didn’t notice,” Winnie admitted. “Maybe she’s still working on the back door.”

Joel shook his head. “She finished.” Then a lightbulb seemed to light up above him. “I know where she is. She went outside to put the trash in the Dumpster. She was probably in the alley when the UFO showed up.”

“I’ll go get her,” I volunteered. “You should get back to your cooking,” I told Joel. “Sounds like it’s going to be busy tonight!”

I walked down the short hallway leading to the back entrance. I pushed open the door and saw the Dumpster but no Bess. I called her name, but no one answered. Maybe when the UFO had turned up, she’d run up the alley to join the crowd on the sidewalk?

From where I stood I could see people still discussing the sighting. I had started toward them when I spotted a single red sneaker, stained with brown paint.

Even before I picked it up, I knew—it belonged to Bess.

A
s I bent to
pick up the sneaker, I caught sight of something glittering under the Dumpster. My heart leapt into my throat as I knelt down and pulled out a beaded glass bracelet. I recognized it at once as Bess’s latest purchase. No sooner had I retrieved it than Joel came out of the kitchen.

He immediately saw me kneeling on the ground. His eyes went from the bracelet in my right hand to the sneaker in my left. “Where’s Bess?” he asked, his face going pale.

Without stopping to answer, I jumped up and ran to the mouth of the alley. A trooper’s car was parked outside the restaurant, and half a dozen people were still gathered outside the café. Bess wasn’t one of them.

I hurried back into the alley. Joel was pacing aimlessly
in front of the Dumpster. “I knew something like this might happen,” he cried, his voice pure panic.

“What do you mean?” I stepped right in front of him.

He stopped pacing. “They found her,” he said.

They?
It was all I could do not to shake him. “Who?” I shouted. “Who are ‘they’?”

“The aliens.” He stated it so matter-of-factly that for a moment I almost thought he’d witnessed her abduction.

Then I came to my senses. “Joel, just because we all thought what we saw was some kind of flying saucer doesn’t mean that Bess was carried off by creatures from outer space.”

“You don’t understand. They
knew
where to find her,” he declared.

Had the guy totally lost it?

“You don’t believe me, do you?” He didn’t give me a chance to answer. “She showed me that piece of their ship.”

I was about to ask what piece when I remembered the shard she’d filched from the meadow. “You mean that bit of metal?” Had Bess really shown it to him?

“Yes,” he said. “It was probably embedded with some sort of electronic signature that led them to her.”

Joel’s conclusion left me momentarily speechless.

“Where in the world did you get that idea?” I
finally asked. It sure didn’t sound like something Bess would think up.

“Ms. Sanchez, from
Reel TV
. She turned up not long after you left, to check out the vandalism at the café. She had the idea UFOs were responsible. She was pretty annoyed to find out it was just the work of a bear with a sweet tooth. Anyway, she was standing right next to us when Bess showed me her souvenir. At first Bess didn’t realize she was being filmed—but then Ms. Sanchez interviewed her and took pictures of the metal.”

As I listened, I promised myself that when I found Bess, I would strangle her. What had she been thinking?

Turning to Joel, I told him, “I understand where you’re coming from, but you might be jumping to conclusions.”

“Am I?” he asked, distraught. “One minute Bess is taking out the trash; the next minute a UFO appears over this very spot. Next thing you know, she’s missing. What’s your explanation?”

“I have none,” I said flatly. “But an alien abduction is pretty far-fetched.” Before he could disagree, I told him, “Whatever happened to Bess, we’d better notify the police
now
. After that I’m going to go look for her myself.”

I quickly found George inside. “We’ve got a big problem,” I told her. “Bess has gone missing.”

George laughed. “You mean she’s gone off shopping and forgot to tell us?”

“No.” I showed George Bess’s shoe and her bracelet.

George exhaled sharply. “What happened to her?”

With George I knew I could be blunt. “Since Bess wouldn’t run off leaving one shoe and her favorite bracelet lying in an alley, it’s a pretty good bet she was taken somewhere against her will.”

George closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m not going to panic over this,” she announced with a tight smile. “But tell me you don’t think UFOs are involved—
please.
”

“I’m not even sure they
are
UFOs. I’ve got a hunch that somebody wants people to think the population of Brody’s Junction has been targeted for the latest rash of alien abductions.”

“So then even extraterrestrials—if they actually exist—are innocent until proven guilty,” George quipped. “One problem, Nancy—do we have other suspects?”

“Not exactly,” I admitted. “But I have a few hunches. He’s not exactly a suspect, but I think it’s time we checked out Nathan Blackman. He lives in an isolated place, and he certainly had more than one opportunity to abduct both Sherlock and Aldwin. Maybe he also has Bess. Before we look into it, though, we’ve got to report Bess’s disappearance to the police.”