Close Encounters (Nancy Drew (All New) Girl Detective Book 21) (14 page)

“Did you see who grabbed you?” I asked, getting up and slowly walking around. Moving helped clear my head. If we were ever to get out of wherever we were, I needed my wits about me.

“I never saw them. I think there were two men, though. One voice sounded a lot like the mayor’s.”

“I remember that too,” George contributed. Holding on to my arm, she struggled to her feet. She tenderly rubbed the back of her head. “Ouch,” she exclaimed, and then held out her hand. It was covered with blood.

“You’re bleeding,” Bess gasped.

“I’m okay,” George insisted, but she sat back down.

George was hurting more than she let on. I sensed she needed medical help, fast. First, though, we had to get out of there.

“When do they bring you food?” I asked Bess. Maybe that would be an opportunity for us to overcome our captor.

“I don’t know. I mean, I’ve only been here a few hours. They brought it once.”

“Who was it?” George asked.

Bess shrugged. “They wear masks. One was a man, though. I know that much. Tall, too.”

I looked around. Whoever was keeping us had made off with most of my stuff, including my backpack with George’s computer in it. When I checked the pockets of my parka, I realized they’d taken my cell phone, too.

I felt my way around the room, seeking a way out. One wall was filled with tall metal shelves that appeared to be empty. Since the room even had a small half bath, I figured it was the basement of the house and not a root cellar. I worked my way back to George and Bess and told them about Under Hill House, Frankie the cameraman, and Izzy’s treachery.

“I can’t believe they went that far just to get footage for a show,” Bess remarked.

“I can. Ratings drive the TV money game,” George said. “Still, kidnapping goes far beyond a prank. And I’m worried about Aldwin and Sherlock. What ever happened to them?”

I had no idea, but I had a very bad feeling about what might happen to us. “Look, we’ve got to get out
of here. There must be a door, a window—
something
, somewhere.”

“Oh, there’s a door all right,” Bess said. “Check it out if you want. I tried to open it earlier. Whatever it’s made of, I can’t get it to budge.” Bess helped me feel my way along one of the walls. Finally my hands encountered the door. As Bess had said, it was locked, and too sturdy to knock down. Without a credit card or my penknife, any attempt to open it would have been futile.

I began to lose heart. Knowing George needed help, however, made me determined to find a way out. Some instinct prompted me to check out that shelving unit more carefully. I ran my hands over the shelves. At first I found nothing but dust and cobwebs. But then, as I reached up higher, my hand encountered something cold and metal. A toolbox, I realized.

“Bess, we’re in luck. Come over here and help.” I picked up the box and wanted to cheer. It was heavy—probably full of tools.

I handed it to Bess. She put the box under the light and opened it.

“Whoever cleaned this place out for rentals must have missed it. It was on a high shelf,” I told her.

Bess quickly rummaged in the box, then looked up, grinning. “That door has met its match,” she declared. Armed with a claw hammer, a short crowbar, and screwdrivers, she set to work on the door.

“Be quiet. We don’t know who’s around,” I warned.

“Not to worry,” Bess said. She tapped a slim piece of metal between the door and the door frame. Then, slowly, she worked it up toward the lock. A second later we heard a satisfying click, and with a twist of the heavy handle the door swung open to reveal a staircase.

Bess and I went back and helped George to her feet, then went through the door. A decidedly colder draft of air blew through the room.

With Bess on one side of her and me on the other, George slowly negotiated the narrow earthen steps. At the top of the stairs our way was barred by another door. When I pushed this door, it yielded easily and opened onto a swirl of snow and wind. Icy pellets stabbed at my face. I shielded my eyes, but the cold air felt wonderful.

“We’re outside!” Bess sounded overjoyed.

George sounded glum. “Yeah—in the middle of a blizzard.”

“This from a wannabe ski bum?” I forced a cheerful tone. I was shivering and exhausted, but hopeful that we’d get out of this okay. “Think of skiing,” I told George.

No one seemed to be around as we made our way through the snow, heading straight for the forest. Halfway there, I heard a low whistle. Nathan’s signal.

A second later he emerged from the woods, carrying a small flashlight. “Where have you been?” he asked, but before I could answer, he noticed George. By now Bess and I were practically holding her up. “That girl needs a doctor,” he said. “We’d better get out of here,” he added. He told us he’d seen Izzy’s car pull up, which is why he’d continued driving by the house. He’d arrived only a little while ago and had been surprised to find my car and not me.

“You had me on the verge of a heart attack there, Nancy, at least for a few minutes.”

“Not to worry. I can take care of myself,” I said, sounding tougher than I felt at the moment.

Nathan shrugged. “I’m parked half a mile away. Can she make it?” He jerked his head back toward George.

“With you and Bess helping,” George said, “yes.”

I took Nathan aside. “I’m going to stick around here and investigate. Please take George and Bess, and get George some medical attention. Afterward find Captain Greene. Tell him where I am, what’s happening, and who’s involved. But be sure you don’t confide in anyone else, Nathan. I know Izzy’s in league with someone in town—maybe more than one person—but since I’m not sure who, we can’t trust anyone else just yet.”

Nathan nodded, visibly impressed. “Hang in there, Nancy. I have a feeling this case is almost closed.”

Before they left, I asked Nathan about Aldwin and the dog.

“Haven’t seen hide nor hair of them,” he said, visibly upset. “If they’re anywhere nearby, you’d think at least you’d hear the dog barking.”

After promising Nathan I’d be careful, I circled the house, more visible now in the snow. Heat from the dwelling warmed the perimeter, melting the snow some.

Looking for signs of life, I ended up circling the house twice. The second time around, I heard a whimpering sound over the cry of the wind. After a moment I traced the sound to a well-camouflaged outbuilding, set low to the ground and against a second, smaller rise.

The door of the shed was bolted from the outside. After a couple of tries, I managed to slip the half-frozen bolt. When I opened the door, I was greeted by the sight of Aldwin. In spite of a sleeping bag someone had tossed over him, he was shivering as he hunched in a corner. Next to him was Sherlock. At the sight of me Sherlock let out a warning growl.

Aldwin looked up, his gaze unfocused. At first I thought he’d been drugged, and then I realized he was just confused.

While I debated what to do with him, I knelt inside the door and held out my hand toward Sherlock. “It’s just me,” I told him in a gentle voice. As
he crept toward me, I prayed he wouldn’t bite. But it seemed he finally sensed I was friend, not foe, and he licked my finger and whimpered.

Then Aldwin spoke up, his gruff voice reduced to a whispery shred. “The aliens. They are for real. I was on my porch getting ready to look for Sherlock when there was a loud explosion and bright lights. Last thing I remember is being scooped up and stuffed in their vehicle. They’ve stored me here—cold storage. I’ve got to get back to Earth,” Aldwin muttered.

“Aldwin.” I reached out and touched his arm. He flinched. I drew my hand back and said, “You already are on Earth. You’re in Brody’s Junction, Vermont. They haven’t taken you very far away at all. And they aren’t aliens—they are con artists.”

He didn’t answer. He sank back into his corner, and his eyes glazed over. It was obvious he needed help. I only wished I had found him before Nathan had set out with Bess and George.

I had to make a decision: Get out of there pronto with Aldwin, or leave him there in the shed, alone, at the mercy of who knew what, while I cornered Izzy and her cameraman in the house.

It was a no-brainer. I couldn’t leave Aldwin.

I got up and looked to see if the coast was clear. As I stood there, something brushed my leg. It was Sherlock’s tail. He was limping out of the shed, and
Aldwin was following behind. He’d found a stick to use as a cane.

“Come back here,” I whispered loudly.

Aldwin continued down the road, hugging the sleeping bag around his shoulders, with Sherlock at his heels.

I wasn’t sure if I should follow him, or if I should stay behind and find proof of the TV crew to bring to Captain Greene.

I looked back toward the house and noticed that the wedge of light near the entrance was wider than before. I realized it wasn’t spilling out of a window, but through an open door.

With the snow muffling my footsteps I crept toward the entrance. Sure enough, the door was open. Why, I had no idea, but I didn’t bother to figure it out. Instead I walked inside. I hovered near the door and listened. Whoever had left the door open didn’t seem to be around.

Quietly and carefully I entered the front hall. A mudroom opened to the right, and the living room was to the left. Leaving my gloves on in case I came across evidence, I went into the mudroom. Inside, the usual assortment of winter outdoor clothing hung from hooks above a lidded storage bench.

I looked inside and gasped. Here was all my evidence! First I found several pairs of child-size scuba
fins. I picked one up and examined it. Patterns had been carved into the bottom—patterns that matched the tracks I’d seen in Sherlock’s pen. The box also held a collection of handsome wooden stamping tools. Again, the stamps, if pressed into the dirt, would make some very familiar alien tracks.

More confusing was a pump, a nozzle, and a long tube, as well as a box full of extra-large balloons. Another small carton held a dozen or so spools of plastic fishing wire. I picked up the wire and frowned. Hadn’t one of the UFO hoaxes I’d found online mentioned using fishing wire and balloons?

I pocketed a stamp, one of the scuba fins, and a fistful of balloons, hoping that would be enough proof for the authorities to get a search warrant for the house.

I had started for the door when I heard voices approaching from the living room. I slipped behind the open mudroom door and prayed whoever was coming down the hall wouldn’t find me.

As the voices neared, I held my breath and listened.

“I told you to check that basement before you brought them here!” a woman’s voice said. She sounded angry, and I recognized her at once. It was Izzy, and “they” had to be Bess, George, and me.

“I did,” a man replied in a defensive tone. “Last I looked, two of the girls were still unconscious. How
they got out, I’ll never know.” The accent was pure Vermont and very distinct: It belonged to Mayor Brody. So he was the town official involved in the hoax—or at least he was one of them.

“How they got out was by using their wits, Ethan. I found a toolbox down there.”

“Where did that come from?”

Izzy groaned. “Who cares?” I listened to her drum her fingers against something wooden and uncomfortably close by. “I’m sure we can salvage this.”

“I don’t see how,” Mayor Brody said.

“We can chalk up Bess’s and George’s abductions to pranksters trying to play up the idea of aliens among us. I can even use it on the show. Neither of them ever saw me here at the house. They haven’t a clue I’m involved in all this.”

“That’s all well and good, but what about Aldwin and his dog?”

“Aldwin is our biggest asset at the moment. He really believes aliens came and whisked him off his porch. The poor old coot is losing it, but it helps our cause.”

Listening to Izzy, I wanted to reach out and shake her. The woman had no conscience. Aldwin was an old man who might never get his wits back about him again. George’s head was wounded. Bess was okay, but just by the luck of the draw.

“What about the other girl—that detective?” the mayor asked. “You forgot about her.”

Izzy groaned. “I wish I could,” she said. “The girl’s too smart for her own good. Fortunately, she comes across as so skeptical on the little footage of her we have that no one will take her claim of a con game seriously.”

The mayor scoffed at her comment. “You’re forgetting something. That girl has a nose for the truth. And the truth is, the con game ended when we turned into kidnappers. We abducted four people, Izzy. Abduction wasn’t part of our bargain. A hoax is one thing. I never signed on for criminal activity, Isabel.”

With every word they spoke, my temper soared. I was tempted to march up to them and say their game was up. But I knew I couldn’t handle both of them alone. I also wasn’t sure how I’d leave the house sight unseen and go for help. And then, where was Frankie?

Just then, a hand clamped down on my shoulder.

“You, girl, are too persistent for your own good!”

I
managed to wriggle
around far enough to see who’d snared me. “Frankie Lee!” I exclaimed, looking up at the lean man.

“What’s going on there?” Izzy called out, and poked her head out of the next room. “Not
you
again.”

“She’s back?” The mayor spoke up from behind her. When he saw me, he smiled, but this time his smile definitely lacked charm.

“What now?” Frankie asked, squeezing my shoulder until it hurt.

“Put her down in the storage area . . . not the one she managed to get out of earlier,” Izzy added sourly.

“It doesn’t matter if I get out or not,” I said. “With Nathan Blackman’s help I uncovered your whole
scheme. He’s out getting the cops now. Whatever happens to me, your game is over.”

“Now, don’t we feel smug?” Izzy said archly. “I don’t think you are exactly in a position to make threats.”

“And no one’s going to believe an oddball like Blackman when he accuses me of being part of a scam,” the mayor said.

“Besides, I’m just making a TV show. Everyone knows that. If I stretched the truth a bit, or went in for special effects, no one will care. . . . In fact, the publicity will help, not hurt.” Izzy sounded sure of that.