Dance Till You Die (5 page)

“You say ‘they' blindfolded you. What makes you think it was more than one person?” Nancy asked.

“I was in and out of consciousness the whole time, but I distinctly remember hearing two men arguing. It sounded like they were on the other side of a wall.” Bess paused, taking another sip of
the steaming soup. “It was real muffled, but I think one of them wanted to let me go.”

“Were you able to recognize either man's voice?” George asked.

Bess shook her head. “The sound was too muffled. And I'm afraid I wasn't thinking too clearly at the time.”

“What happened next?” Nancy prompted her.

“I wasn't aware of anything else for a while. Then someone came in and lifted me up. The blindfold slipped for a second, and I caught a glimpse of a green eagle tattoo. I think it was on an upper arm.”

“That means he was wearing a short-sleeved shirt,” Nancy said quickly. “Kind of an unusual way to dress on a cold October night.”

“Yes, but everyone from the beach party at the Razor's Edge was wearing short sleeves,” George volunteered.

Nancy nodded. “You're right, George,” she agreed. “It could easily have been someone from there. What happened next?”

“I was loaded into a car that had a rough-sounding motor. Then after a distance I was dumped out, I guess in that alley behind the club,” Bess explained. “That's when you and George found me, Nancy.”

“So, you were first taken away from the club
and then brought back to it,” Nancy said slowly. “It's almost as if someone knew that George and I were heading there and would find you.”

“But no one knew we were going back to the club after leaving the amusement park,” George pointed out.

“The only person we told was Etienne,” Nancy said slowly. “And you mentioned that the car had a rough-sounding motor, Bess, like—”

“Like that old clunker Etienne was driving,” George chimed in excitedly. “Oh, Nancy, do you think he could have been involved? But he was at the club all night after Bess disappeared.”

“He could have had an accomplice. But I can't think of an apparent motive. You said you never even met him, Bess.”

“The DJ? No, I know who he is, but I didn't meet him. I was too busy.” Bess rubbed her eyes wearily. “I'm really beat,” she announced with a yawn.

Mrs. Marvin looked worried. “You need your sleep now, Bess. I'll turn your bed down.” As she passed by the chair where Nancy was sitting, Bess's mom leaned down to whisper to her. “Bess's father and I would appreciate it if you and George would spend the night, Nancy. It's getting awfully late, and I think Bess would welcome the company.”

“Of course,” Nancy replied quickly. George nodded her head. Nancy was glad to be staying over. It would be a good idea to keep an eye on Bess for the time being. Bess had agreed to stay home for the next few days in the company of at least one other person. She had mentioned that her abductors may have argued about letting her go. Nancy thought there was a chance they might change their minds and come after her again.

It was three
A.M.
After calling home to let their parents know they'd be spending the night at Bess's, Nancy and George got ready for bed.

“You guys can borrow my nightgowns,” Bess offered, holding out a delicate gown to George.

“Peach lace and silk.” George grinned, holding up the gown between two fingers. “Just my style.”

“You'll have to rough it for one night, George,” Bess said, teasing her tall, athletic cousin. “I'm afraid I'm fresh out of flannel sleep shirts.”

Nancy was distracted. “You look like you're figuring something out, Nancy,” George observed. “What is it?”

Nancy shook her head. “I was just thinking about that green eagle tattoo. It sounds pretty unusual. And about that guy Tom Kragen. You said he was being kind of a pest, Bess. What kind of pest?”

“The won't-take-no-for-an-answer kind of
pest,” Bess replied. “I tried being tactful when he asked me for dates in the past, but tonight I had to let him know there wasn't a chance.”

“How did he take it?” Nancy asked.

Bess shrugged. “He was a little annoyed, and kind of slunk off.” She frowned, fastening the buttons on her mauve dressing gown.

“What are you thinking, Nancy?” George asked as she slipped into a goose down sleeping bag that Mrs. Marvin had retrieved from the attic. “Do you think this Tom Kragen could have been involved in Bess's abduction?”

Nancy shook her head. “Not from what we've heard so far. But he
was
taking pictures shortly before she was grabbed. I want those pictures to see if they reveal anything unusual.”

Bess crawled under the covers. “I think I once heard Tom say he works part-time at his father's granite quarry,” she said, her voice muffled by her pillow.

“Good,” Nancy replied. “We'll look for him first thing tomorrow morning.”

Soon, Nancy could tell from the sound of their even breathing that Bess and George were sound asleep. She turned over restlessly in her sleeping bag and stared at the clock radio on Bess's side table. The glowing green numerals read three-thirty
A.M.

Nancy was unable to drift off to sleep. Lying half-awake, she listened to the breeze rustling in the trees outside Bess's first-story window.

Suddenly another noise—a sharp, scraping sound—startled Nancy completely awake.

Nancy slipped out of her sleeping bag and crept toward Bess's window. The window curtains were backlit by the light from a full moon. Nancy's pulse quickened as she watched an inky black shadow move across the windowpane. It was the shadow of someone prowling around outside.

W
ITHOUT MAKING A SOUND
, Nancy grabbed the Princess phone from Bess's bedside table and dialed 911. “Break-in in progress at the Marvin residence,” she whispered, and gave the police dispatcher the address.

The shadow moved away from Bess's window. Nancy dropped the phone and darted to the window to catch a glimpse of the intruder. She got a brief impression of a man in a jacket running across the yard.

“What is it, Nancy?” George's sleepy voice rose up from her sleeping bag. Then she sat up alertly. “Did something happen?”

Bess was wide-awake by now. “I heard it, too,
Nancy. I'm scared that it's going to happen all over again,” she moaned.

“Someone was trying to break into Bess's room,” Nancy said tightly. “I've already called the police.” Even as she spoke, Nancy could see the pulsing blue light of a police patrol car flash across the lawn.

• • •

“There are your prowler's footprints,” the officer said, pointing to an impression in the soft soil beneath Bess's window.

The police had responded to Nancy's call for help within minutes. Nancy, Bess, George, and Bess's parents were clustered around the tall, rangy River Heights police officer, discussing the attempted break-in.

“This has gone too far. I want round-the-clock protection for my daughter until we get to the bottom of this,” Bess's father said to Officer T. Jones, who had responded to the first report about Bess's abduction.

Flashlight in hand, Jones knelt down to study the footprints. Nancy looked over his shoulder at the prints. They were large—about a size thirteen, Nancy estimated—and the sole had the distinctive waffle-pattern of an expensive leather running shoe.

“Did you get a look at the man?” Jones asked
Nancy. Nancy described what she'd seen. “I'm betting this attempted break-in is connected to Bess's abduction,” she told him.

“I'm sure you're right,” Jones replied. “I'm going to call my lieutenant to get them to assign someone to watch your house, Mr. and Mrs. Marvin.” He turned away and lifted a bulky two-way radio from his leather belt. After exchanging a few words with someone back at the police station, he nodded to Nancy and the others. “They'll be posting someone to watch the house for the next couple of days. I'll stay until they get here.”

“That's great,” Nancy said. After talking with the officer for a few more minutes and learning that the police had turned up no leads from their investigation of the Razor's Edge, she and George turned to follow the Marvins back into the house. Nancy mulled the recent events over in her mind. Bess had been released, but now there'd been this prowler incident. Was Bess still in danger? And again, Nancy asked herself, Why Bess?

As soon as they were back in the house, Nancy, Bess, and George fell into exhausted sleep.

• • •

By the time Nancy opened her eyes the next day, it was late morning. After saying goodbye to
Bess and her parents, Nancy and George stopped off at their homes to change clothes and grab a bite of breakfast. Then they drove directly to the Kragen quarry.

Although it was Saturday, the quarry was in full operation. The quarry site was an open granite pit set in the midst of some rolling hills about ten miles east of River Heights.

As they turned into the parking lot, Nancy and George were startled by the rumbling of an underground blast, which was followed by ground tremors.

“This must be what an earthquake feels like,” Nancy said, stopping the car. The girls could see a mushroom cloud of dust and debris rising from the huge granite pit.

“It would take a lot of dynamite to blast through all that solid rock,” George said, taking in her surroundings.

Nancy nodded. “These guys must really know how to deal with explosives,” she commented.

Nancy and George got out of the car and headed toward a trailer that was being used as an office. It was set about twenty yards back from the edge of the quarry. A sign on the trailer said:
KRAGEN QUARRY—DANGER—EXPLOSIVES—VISITORS MUST BE ESCORTED.

“Hey, you there!” An older man came running across the parking lot toward Nancy and George. He had a big stomach and curly hair that was beginning to turn gray underneath his yellow hard hat. He was an older version of Tom Kragen. “You looking for somebody?” he asked.

“Are you Mr. Kragen?” Nancy inquired. When the man nodded, she added, “We're looking for your son, Tom.”

Mr. Kragen became unexpectedly pleased. “Well, now,” he said with a smile. “You must be Bess Marvin. Tom's told me a lot about you.”

“No, I'm not Bess,” Nancy said, taken aback. “I'm Nancy Drew, a friend of hers. But I need to talk to Tom about Bess.”

“Oh.” Mr. Kragen's face fell slightly. “Sorry about the mix-up. Tom told me he was dating a beautiful blond lassie named Bess, and you certainly fit the bill. You'll find Tom in the office over yonder,” he said, waving his hand toward the trailer. “Grab a couple of hard hats if you're going to be here more than a few minutes,” he added.

“Why do you think Tom Kragen lied to his father about being involved with Bess?” George whispered as they climbed two stairs up to the office door. “That's really weird.”

“I don't know,” Nancy replied. “But he definitely has some explaining to do.”

Tom Kragen was sitting behind a desk, surrounded by piles of paperwork. In a business setting, he looked much older than he had at the club the night before.

“Hello there. Can I help you?” Tom pushed his glasses farther up on his nose as he greeted them. The thick glasses magnified his pale green eyes, making them appear larger than normal. He was wearing a light blue shirt and running shoes. “I remember you,” he said slowly. “You two were with Bess at the Razor's Edge last night. Have a seat.”

“That's right,” Nancy said, taking a chair. “I'm Nancy Drew, and this is George Fayne.”

“Is Bess here, too?” Nancy detected a note of anxiety in Tom's voice. She shook her head.

“Bess is the person I came here to talk about.” She told him how Bess had been abducted the night before. Tom acted shocked.

“Who do you think did it?” he asked, adjusting his glasses again.

“That's what we're trying to find out,” Nancy said. “You were taking pictures at the club last night, weren't you?”

“Yes.” Tom nodded. “In fact, I know I have a
few shots of Bess. She looked so great in that mermaid outfit.”

“Did you notice anything unusual, or see anyone who looked out of place?” Nancy asked.

Tom shook his head. “I was too busy taking pictures to notice, I'm afraid.”

“Have the pictures been developed yet? I'd like to see them. The ones with Bess in them, plus any others you have of the party,” Nancy said.

Tom rose from his chair. “I've got a makeshift darkroom in the back.”

Nancy and George followed Tom down a narrow hallway into a small room that had been converted into a darkroom. “One advantage of being the boss's son—you get to pursue your hobbies on company time,” Tom said with a grin.