Very Deadly Yours (14 page)

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Authors: Carolyn Keene

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“I mean,” Jenny prattled on, “why
shouldn't
people think John had been driving? He wasn't going to be able to tell them any diff—”

“That's enough of that,” Bill cut in harshly. He waved the gun at Nancy. “Come on, start typing.”

There was nothing else she could do.

“You can put it in your own words,” Bill added. Tell them—tell them—say you've realized how much trouble your job has caused other people. Got that?”

“Got it,” Nancy said, typing away.

“Now say that you can't live with the guilt any longer, and you've decided to end it all.”

“End—it—all,” Nancy repeated. “Okay. Now what?”

“Just type ‘Goodbye.' ”

“Done,” Nancy said after a second.

“Give it to me.” He read it quickly. “Good. I'll get it into the paper later. And now—Jenny, hold her down.”

Jenny's hands clamped down on Nancy's shoulders before Nancy could even think of moving.

Bill lifted the gun and put it to her temple.

In that split second, a picture flashed into Nancy's mind. She saw herself jabbing an elbow into Jenny's midsection, bringing down Bill's arm with a karate chop, grabbing the gun, and saving herself. It all looked beautifully simple the way she pictured it.

But it was just a flash of what might have been. She was still sitting in the chair, and the gun was cold against her skin.

“Say your prayers,” Bill told her. “You've got ten seconds. One—two—”

“Wait a minute,” Jenny interrupted him. “If she's supposed to be ending it all, why don't we push her out of the window? That would look a lot more like suicide.”

“But it's only four stories down,” protested Bill.

Jenny shrugged. “So what? If she falls headfirst—”

Bill paused for a heart-shattering second to think about it. Then he put the gun down.

“You know, you're right,” he said. “The window it is. Nancy, there's been another change in plans.”

Nancy leaped to her feet—but Bill was quicker. He grabbed her arms and pinned them behind
her. “Break the window,” he said over his shoulder to Jenny.

Instantly Jenny picked up a chair and smashed it against the huge pane of glass. For a second the sheet of glass hung there, miraculously intact. Then it collapsed, shivering into thousands of fragments. A gust of cold air billowed into the room.

“Let's go,” Bill said to Nancy. And slowly he began marching her toward that jagged black hole.

Nancy saw he'd forgotten the gun! It was still on the desk. With a strength she'd never known she had, she wrenched herself out of his hands and flung herself at the gun. It skidded across the desk and fell harmlessly to the floor. Nancy lunged toward it—and picked it up.

“All right. Back off. Both of you,” she snapped.

Slowly Bill and Jenny raised their hands into the air, then backed away.

“Sit,” Nancy ordered.

Slowly they sank into chairs. Nancy took a step forward. “Now, I'm going to call the police,” she said. “And building security. Don't either one of you dare move.”

Suddenly Jenny let out an ear-shattering shriek.

Startled, Nancy lowered her arm for a second. That was all the time Bill needed. He vaulted
from his seat, kicked the gun out of her hand, and picked it up himself.

“Good job, Jenny,” he said. “Now let's start all over again.”

He was pushing her inexorably closer to the window. One step, now two. The cold air from outside beckoned her toward its chilly embrace.

Three steps. One piece of glass that hadn't fallen suddenly slipped to the ground.

I never got to say goodbye to Ned, Nancy thought. Or my father.

Jenny grabbed her hand and pulled her forward. “You pull, I'll push,” said Bill.

Now Nancy could see the street below. It wasn't so far to fall. She was struggling as hard as she could, but it was like being underwater.

“Help me, somebody!” she screamed out the window.

“Out we go,” said Bill, and pushed.

Nancy toppled forward into the dark air and plummeted toward the ground.

Chapter

Eighteen

T
HE MINUTE
N
ANCY
was out the window she kicked her legs down like a diver so that she wouldn't land on her head. That—and a window ledge on the fourth floor—were all that saved her. She fell onto the ledge, started to roll off, and hurled herself back against the wall.

Gasping, she looked up at the fifth floor—and saw Bill and Jenny peering down at her. “That was a stupid move,” Jenny said calmly. “Why don't you just face facts?”

Her face disappeared from the window for a second—and when she came back she was holding the .38.

“Let go and jump,” she ordered, “or I'll shoot.”

Nancy glanced down. Below her, cars moved steadily back and forth. They don't know I'm here, she thought. No one can help me.

“I'm waiting,” Jenny said.

Nancy stared back up at her. “I don't want to sound like someone in the movies,” she called, “but you really won't get away with this.”

“Want to bet?” Jenny leveled the gun so it was pointing straight at Nancy's head.

If I stay here, she'll shoot me for sure, Nancy thought rapidly. I've got a better chance of making it if I jump.

She closed her eyes and jumped.

• • •

“Nancy!”
screeched a familiar voice behind her. “Oh, my God—she's dead!”

I am? Nancy slowly opened her eyes. She had landed in the thin fringe of shrubbery bordering the
Record
building. Her arms and legs were scratched, but the bushes had broken her fall. And Bess and George were running toward her.

Bess's car was parked right in front of the building. A police car was pulling up behind it, its siren screaming.

“Are you okay, Ms. Drew?” one of the officers shouted as he leaped from his car.

“I—I guess I
am
all right,” Nancy said with a shaky laugh. “Get me out of this bush, will you?”

“Oh, Nancy!” Bess was crying openly as she and George dragged Nancy out. “I can't believe we got here in time! When we saw you fall, we thought—you want a tissue?”

“No, you do,” Nancy answered, giving them both a big hug. “
I
want to know how you got here in time. But first I want those guys up there arrested.”

“I kind of think that's what's happening now,” George said, gesturing at the
Record's
front door. The two policemen were just vanishing inside. “There are more police out back. There's no place those creeps can go.”

“Let's just sit in the car and wait for them, then,” said Nancy. “I'm not leaving until I'm sure they haven't wiggled away again.”

“Well, we butted in,” said George cheerfully once they'd climbed into the car, “but I can't say I'm sorry. Bess was fussing about you all day—”

“Not
fussing,
George!” Bess put in indignantly. “I was
right
to be worried.”

“Yes, I guess for once you were,” George answered. “Anyway, Nan, after a lot of discussion, we decided to follow you to the restaurant. When Bess saw Bill there, I knew she
had
been right to worry. We followed his car here and called the police when we saw him take you inside. That's all. Are you mad at us?”

“Are you kidding?” Nancy snorted. “I just wish you'd managed to make those bushes a little
thicker. I'm all banged up, you know— Look! There they are!”

Bill and Jenny—in handcuffs—were being hustled down the steps. “What's he saying?” Nancy asked. “Roll down the window, Bess.”

“Police brutality! I'll sue the whole department!” Bill was roaring. “I'm in agony! I think my ribs are broken!”

Then he caught sight of Nancy. “This is all
her
fault! If she hadn't come snooping around here, none of this would have happened! It's entrapment!”

Jenny had been silent during all of this. But as she passed Bess's car, she gave Nancy a wry little salute. There was a look almost like respect in her eyes.

“Take a look, Bess,” Nancy murmured. “That's the girl Bill's been looking for all this time.”

Bess shuddered. “Looks like a match made in heaven,” she said.

“I can't go to jail!” Bill was shouting. “I'm a sick man! You've got to take me to the hospital!”

“Yeah, yeah,” said the trooper. “We heard that you had a pretty good time in the hospital. I think you'll live without another visit.”

“Bess, roll up the window again,” begged Nancy. “If I hear another word out of him, I think I'll explode.”

“Glad to,” said Bess.

Then Nancy remembered. The hospital! “Ned!” Nancy gasped. “We've got to get right over there and see him—”

“Ms. Drew?” The officer who had spoken to her earlier was leaning his head into the car window. “We were wondering if we could get a statement from you now.”

“A statement. Of course.” Nancy sighed. “I guess Ned will have to wait. Bess, can you take me down to the station?”

Bess patted her shoulder comfortingly. “No problem. Anyway, Nan, visiting hours have been over for—well, for hours. You can get some beauty sleep and go over there first thing in the morning.”

“And
now,”
George added, “you can fill us in on exactly what happened to you tonight.”

• • •

“So
that's
what you were doing last night,” said Ned the next day. Nancy was perched on the side of his bed. “Some date!” he went on. “I guess I can stop worrying about the competition.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Nancy answered. “A blond, blue-eyed psychopath who's also an incredible complainer and a complete coward? Maybe he's just the guy for me.”

“You should have answered that ad instead of Bess, then,” said Ned.

Before coming into Ned's room, Nancy had
hunted down the doctor who'd asked her not to talk about the case with Ned. “Do you think it would be okay to do it now?” she asked wistfully.

“Oh, I can't see that it would do any harm,” answered the doctor. “He's making a very quick recovery—and anyway, the case is all over now, isn't it?”

It was, though Nancy still couldn't quite believe it. Things had all happened so quickly! Bill and Jenny were being charged with robbery, aggravated assault—and, in Jenny's case, manslaughter. It seemed she might have staged that “accident” after the robbery just to get her boyfriend out of the way.

Now she and Bill were out of the way themselves. Nancy was glad of that, of course. But she couldn't shut out one tiny, nagging worry. Had it all been worth it?

“What's the matter?” Ned asked. “You're a million miles away—and it doesn't look like much fun.”

“I guess I'm wondering what I accomplished this time,” Nancy said. “Sure, I helped catch two people who should be behind bars. But that was really just luck. If Bess hadn't answered that ad—if Bill hadn't had that car accident—if Bess and George hadn't come at just the right time—everything could have been completely different. It seems to me that
I
didn't do anything except get your head hurt for you.”

“Nancy, Nancy,” Ned said, stroking her cheek. “That's not true. You make your own luck. If you hadn't been a girl who looks out for her friends, you'd never have investigated the paper at all. If you hadn't already solved a case involving one of his reporters, Mr. Whittaker would never have let you prowl around the paper. And if you hadn't helped Bill get out of the woods even after he attacked you, he never would have confessed to robbing the bank. None of it would have happened if you weren't the kind of person you are.

“As for getting me hurt,” Ned continued, “I don't want to hear you talking like that.”

“But it wouldn't have happened if I weren't a detective—”

“But if you weren't a detective, you wouldn't be Nancy Drew. And Nancy Drew's the girl I happen to be in love with.” He reached up and kissed her.

“Well,” Nancy said after a second, “if you'll just tell me you'll be able to go back to the playing field, I'll be completely happy.”

“But I will! Didn't the doctor tell you? There's no lasting injury at all. I should be completely back to normal.”

Nancy leaned against him with a long, happy sigh. “Okay,” she said. “Now we can stop talking business.”

• • •

“Took you long enough,” Bess complained as Nancy floated into the waiting room. “What's the matter—did he hurt his head again?”

Nancy just beamed at her. “He's fine. More than fine.”

“When will he be out of the hospital?” George inquired.

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