Troubled Waters (Nancy Drew (All New) Girl Detective Book 23) (7 page)

“I care plenty about Cedar Plains,” he said. “Don’t you think I know how lucky my family is that we still have a home, when so many people have lost theirs? Why do you think I’m at the foundry every day with more materials for the renovation? It’s because I
do
care!” Craig gave a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “J.C. can come here for a week and make a big splash, but he’s just doing it for the publicity. He doesn’t care what happens to the people here.”

“Well, whoever wrecked that wall today sure hates J.C. And you’re the only one we’ve seen who fits that description,” Bess pointed out.

“J.C. must have an enemy you don’t know about,” Craig insisted, “because I didn’t damage anything at the foundry.”

Turning away from us, Craig stormed toward his truck. Cam shot an embarrassed glance at Bess, George, and me before following. As we watched them get into Craig’s truck, George let out a sigh.

“Talk about bitter,” she said.

“And jealous,” I added. “But Craig really does seem to care about Cedar Plains and everyone else who’s been hurt by the floods. Besides, we can’t prove that the paint used to write those messages came from his truck.”

At that moment the gym doors opened and J.C. Valdez and the rest of the Bullets came out. They were all laughing and joking around. J.C. tipped an imaginary hat to us as they passed.

“See you tomorrow, ladies,” he said.

“Yeah. Thanks for coming tonight,” Travis added, shooting a smile at George.

The parking lot lights sent a hazy yellow over them as they scattered across the pavement, heading toward their cars. Craig’s truck was just pulling out of the lot, and I noticed another car pulling in at the same time. A mud-splattered hatchback zoomed across the parking lot and pulled up to the curb right next to us. The passenger door swung open practically before the car stopped. I did a double take when I saw who got out.

“Brad! You’re coming to practice
now
?” I asked.

Brad yanked his gym bag out after him. “Better late than never,” he said. I noticed he wasn’t exactly dressed to play. He wore the same dirt-stained clothes he’d had on before, except that now they were even dirtier. Fresh mud on his sneakers left wet stains on the concrete as he started toward the gym doors.

Just before he reached them, the doors pushed open and Coach Stanislaus came out. He was followed by the rest of the guys on the Cedar Plains team. The coach scowled when he saw Brad.

“You’d better have a good reason why you missed tonight’s training session, Fogler,” the coach said. He turned to gaze at the hatchback as it pulled away from the curb. “And I can tell you right now that joyriding with your girlfriend is
not
an acceptable excuse.”

As the hatchback passed beneath one of the lights, I caught sight of the driver’s high cheekbones and braids pulled back in a ponytail. Bess must have seen too, because she turned to Brad and said, “You were out with
Tanya
?”

“She’s not my girlfriend or anything,” he said quickly. “We were just, um—”

“Save the excuses,” Coach Stanislaus said, cutting him off. “Be here on time for our next practice, or you’re suspended from the team.”

Brad stared moodily down at his feet as the coach and the other guys continued on. Just Brad, Bess, George, and I were left standing there.

“We might as well head home,” I said, starting toward George’s car.

“Would you mind taking the wheel?” George asked me, holding out her keys. “I’m just so beat.”

“No problem.” I was pretty tired myself, but I could handle the short drive. I grabbed the keys from George, and then noticed that Bess wasn’t following us. She stood frowning in the direction of Tanya’s car.

“Earth to Bess,” George called. “What’s the matter?”

“Well,” Bess said slowly, “Tanya told me she couldn’t stay late to work at the foundry because something important came up. But . . .” She shot a sideways glance at Brad’s face and clothes. “You look like you were stomping around in a giant mud puddle. What’s so important about that?”

Brad slung the strap of his gym bag over his shoulder. He headed toward the car without looking at Bess or answering her question. “Let’s just go home,” he muttered.

Bess raised an eyebrow at me. “Why won’t he say where they were?” she whispered.

We tried to ask Brad about it again, but he just slumped against the backseat and stared out the window. “You don’t need to know everything about my life,” he said.

He didn’t say much as we headed down River Street toward River Heights. He just stared out the window—until we started talking about watching the Bullets play. Glancing at him in the rearview mirror, I was sure I saw a spark of interest in his eyes. I couldn’t resist trying once more to get him to talk to us.

“I was surprised you weren’t there, Brad,” I said. “I mean, you live for basketball. Why would you miss out on training with the best team in the state?”

“I wanted to, but . . . ,” he began. He seemed to
soften, but in the next instant the angry mask was back. “I just couldn’t, that’s all,” he said.

“Look out for that car, Nancy!” George spoke up suddenly from the passenger seat.

My eyes snapped from the rearview mirror to the road in front of me—just in time to see an oncoming car swerve across the road in front of us as it turned onto a side street. I slammed on the brakes just in time, and we all jolted against our shoulder belts.

“Whoa!” I said.

“Cutting it a little close, isn’t he?” George muttered, staring at the car’s glowing red taillights. I was about to hit the gas again when she said, “Hey, isn’t that the way to the foundry?”

I glanced toward the side of the road, and sure enough, there was the battered old sign among the evergreens. “That’s weird. Why would someone go up there this time of night?” I wondered.

George looked at Bess in the backseat, and they both shrugged. I didn’t wait for an answer. Pressing down on the gas pedal, I spun the wheel to the right.

“Hang on, guys,” I said. “We’re going to find out.”

T
he car shot through the trees on the narrow drive. Except for our headlights, the road was completely dark. Shadowy trees arched overhead like dark, sinister figures. The other car had already disappeared around the first bend in the road. I pressed the gas pedal a little more, and we flew around the curve.

“Careful,” George cautioned. She gripped her seat as the outside tires spun on the muddy shoulder before finding the road again.

The headlights of the other car swooped in a wide arc ahead of us, then disappeared around another turn. I didn’t want to get too close, but I was also concerned about losing the car from my field of vision. As I edged closer, the other car suddenly revved its
engine, picking up speed. It flew around the next turn with screeching tires, sending mud flying out behind it.

“Looks like he figured out we’re following him,” Bess said, leaning forward in the backseat. “Just don’t kill us trying to keep up with him!”

I eased up slightly on the accelerator. I didn’t dare take my eyes off the road—not with those sharp curves coming fast and furious. We were rising up toward the cliffs, with each bend taking us higher. The other car was about thirty feet in front of us, but it was gaining distance every second.

“Can you guys see the license plate?” I asked. “Or even what kind of car it is?”

I groaned as we lost sight of it again. I could still hear its roaring engine, but for the next few bends in the road it stayed out of sight ahead of us.

“Finally!” I said as we emerged from the trees and saw the foundry.

In one quick glance I took in the hulking dark silhouette of the old factory. The only lights were a pair of industrial lamps outside the big double doors. I didn’t see the headlights of the other car anywhere.

“Weird,” said George, looking around. “Where’d the other car go?”

I slowed the car to a stop at the corner of the
parking lot closest to the foundry. The lot was so dark, it looked like a vast, inky pool surrounded by an even darker wall of trees.

“Someone should tell Owen to put up a few lights,” George muttered. “I can’t see a—”

Vroom!

A car engine revved deafeningly, and there was a blinding flash of light behind us. We all spun in our seats—just in time to see the other car shoot out of sight down the narrow drive toward River Street.

“He tricked us!” Brad said indignantly.

I was already pulling my car around to follow, but by the time we reached River Street, the other car was gone. The road was deserted as far as we could see in either direction. Pulling to the side of the road, I reached into my bag for my cell phone.

“I’m calling Chief McGinnis,” I said. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. After all that happened today, he should definitely have officers patrolling the foundry.”

Chief McGinnis took my call a few moments later, but he didn’t sound thrilled to hear my voice.

“Yes, Nancy? What is it this time?” he asked.

He was never really thrilled to hear from me, probably because of my habit of showing him up every now and then. But, hey, it’s not my fault that I’ve
solved a few crimes that baffled his squad. Dad says Chief McGinnis should be thankful, but he’s usually a bit short-tempered with me. Tonight was no exception. When I told him about the sabotage to the renovation project and the car we’d just chased, the chief’s first reaction was a long, weary sigh.

“What makes you so sure the other car didn’t just make a wrong turn, Nancy?” he asked.

“The guy turned off his lights to trick us,” I explained. “Trust me, Chief McGinnis, no one with good intentions drives that fast on such a windy little road. What if he was planning to wreck more of the work we did at the foundry?”

The chief seemed to think this over. “Well . . . my squad is spread thin as it is,” he said after a moment. “We’ve got cars helping the Cedar Plains police make sure there’s no trouble in flooded zones. But I’ll have my men drive up to the foundry whenever they can.”

“And you’ll post a guard there full-time during the rest of the Helping Homes renovation?” I pressed.

I heard another long sigh. “I’ll see what I can do, Nancy,” he told me.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Thanks, Chief!” I said, then closed my cell phone and dropped it back into my bag.

It was reassuring to know the police were on the lookout for trouble. At least, I
should
have been reassured. But somehow, knowing they couldn’t be there every second made me worry.

As I drifted off to sleep that night, I kept imagining someone breaking windows or cutting electric wires or smashing pipes. I didn’t exactly sleep soundly. Far from it. At five forty-five a.m., I opened my eyes and couldn’t close them again.

No use sitting around here, I thought.

I pulled on jeans and a denim shirt and was out the door with a slice of toast and some coffee in about ten minutes. Volunteers didn’t have to be at the foundry until seven, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to take an easy breath until I made sure everything was all right. Getting behind the wheel of my car, I started toward the foundry.

Early commuters kept up a steady stream of traffic on River Street. My heart pounded when a Jeep a few cars ahead of me pulled off at the Davis Foundry sign. But as I made the turn behind it, I recognized the green Helping Homes logo on the side of the Jeep. Owen Jurgensen was just pulling his backpack from the rear of the Jeep when I stopped my car next to him in the foundry parking lot.

“You’re here early,” he said, grinning at me. “Don’t
get me wrong. I’m not complaining. You can help me collect all the seam tape and joint compound we’ll be using today to smooth over cracks between the pieces of Sheetrock.”

“Sounds glamorous,” I joked. Shading my eyes from the rising sun, I glanced up at the foundry building. “Did Chief McGinnis call you?”

Owen slung his backpack over his shoulder and swung the Jeep door shut. “Yup. He called this morning to say his men didn’t see anything suspicious during their drive-by patrols last night. Starting sometime today, he’s going to post a guard here around the clock.” He raised an eyebrow at me as we headed toward the foundry. “I don’t suppose you had anything to do with that?”

“Guilty,” I admitted. I told him about the car I’d followed with Bess, George, and Brad the night before. “The chief didn’t seem to think the driver was up to anything. . . .”

“But you weren’t so sure?” Owen guessed.

“I’d hate to see any more of our work get wrecked, that’s all,” I told him.

“That makes two of us. Listen, if anything like that happens again when I’m not around, I want you to call me,” Owen said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card, which he handed me. “This has my cell phone number.”

As we reached the entrance, he unclipped a key ring from his belt. A thick knot of keys jangled while he sorted through them, then used one to open the padlock. He pulled off the heavy chain that was looped through the handles, then opened the double doors.

“Oh no,” I heard him say as he stepped into the foundry ahead of me. “Not again.”

I got a sinking feeling in my stomach. Glancing past Owen, I saw shards of broken ceramic scattered across the floor. They had flown outward from three sinks that lay in twisted, smashed heaps below the balcony. Looking up, I saw a half dozen more sinks standing next to some other supplies near the edge of the second-floor balcony.

“Someone pushed them from up there,” I realized.

“But . . . who?” Owen wondered. “And how? The doors were locked.”

I was already walking toward the stairs. “Whoever it was had to go upstairs,” I said. “Maybe we’ll see some kind of . . .”

I caught sight of a faint, muddy boot print on the first step. Early morning light filtered in through the windows. As I stepped back, it lit up a trail of dried prints among the shards of broken ceramic.

“The person came from that way,” I said, pointing down the long hall to the right. Owen dropped his pack on the floor, and we headed that way.