George gasped. “Can I see them?” she whispered, reaching out and picking up the necklace from Nancy’s hand. “This is gorgeous.” She held it up. Even in the dim lamplight, the expensive stones glittered with rays of green. The center square-cut gem was flanked by four other square-cut emeralds, smaller in size but equal in brilliance, set in gold filigree. The matching bracelet had six graduated emeralds and fastened with a gold clasp. Each of the delicate drop earrings consisted of three tiny gems, strung on gold chains. “They must be worth a fortune,” George said.
“Fifty thousand,” Nancy replied. “And Lieutenant Easterling said they’re heirlooms.”
She slipped the earrings and bracelet into the soft cloth bag and held it open for George, who carefully slid in the necklace. Nancy pulled the drawstring taut, tucked the pouch into her jacket pocket, then peered out the window into the night. “I have a feeling that we may not have been the only ones who had an eye on Jennifer.”
“Possible,” George replied. She leaned over and turned off the light. “Now we know why Jennifer wore that fanny pack all the time. She was carrying the emeralds in it.”
Nancy nodded. “Yes, and the emeralds may have been the reason she was looking for a post office, too. But where would she mail them? She knows that Palumbo’s in jail.”
“Maybe she was going to mail them to herself,” George suggested.
“Good thought,” Nancy acknowledged.
“And since she couldn’t get to a post office,” George continued, “she thought she’d catch a bus and run away with them.”
“That doesn’t hold up,” Nancy said. “She could have left Emerson with them as early as Wednesday. They came from a burglary Monday night.”
George nodded. “I guess you’re right,” she said. “I know this sounds crazy, but do you actually think that Jennifer is the fence for Palumbo? I mean, we know that she knows him, but how would she know where to peddle stolen jewelry? Or anything else, for that matter. She’s a college student majoring in early childhood education. Not exactly top qualifications for a jewelry fence.”
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Nancy smiled. “I just don’t have the answer to that,” she said. “Yet.”
“So what do we do now?”
“I’m going to call Sergeant Telfer again. The police need to know that we’ve recovered the emeralds. And the report from Florida might shed some light on this, if it’s in. You’re going to stay here with the door locked and the lights out and watch for any activity around the cabins.”
“And guard the emeralds,” George added.
“No,” said Nancy. “The emeralds are going with me.”
“That’s not fair,” George protested. “You’re setting yourself up as a target. If you won’t leave them here, at least let me go along to protect you.”
“George,” Nancy said gently. “You’re the one who needs protection. You see, if someone is after these emeralds, whoever it is is looking for a young woman who’s tall and has dark hair. Jennifer used to look like that before she had her hair bleached. You fit the description. But I don’t. The emeralds go with me.”
“I never thought of that,” George mumbled. She sat down on the side of the bed. “Nan, be careful out there.”
Nancy nodded. “I will. I promise. If you see Jennifer leaving her cabin, whistle at me. If you see anything, whistle at me!”
“Okay.”
“When I come back, I’ll knock twice, and then twice again. That way you’ll know it’s me.”
Nancy pulled the door firmly shut behind her and listened for the lock to catch before she started down the path to the phone booth. Off in the woods to her left she could hear the plaintive hoot of an owl, the only sound to break the silence of the night. With one hand in her jacket pocket, she fingered the soft fabric pouch that protected the emeralds, and tried to visualize the women who’d worn them and the occasions on which they’d been worn.
She glanced back up at their dark cabin, where she knew George was watching at the window, and a vague feeling of uneasiness came over her. She’d be glad when the bike trip was over and they were safely home. Nancy sighed. One thing was certain. George was in grave danger.
She gave one final look around and stepped into the phone booth. Headquarters answered on the second ring, and within moments Nancy was connected with Sergeant Telfer.
“I thought you were never going to get back to me,” the officer said as soon as Nancy identified herself. Without waiting for Nancy to reply, she continued. “I called the lieutenant about the Florida report as soon as I read it.” Sergeant Telfer’s voice was tense with excitement. “Ms. Drew, you are in imminent danger. The lieutenant says you are to take every precaution if the man you know as Michael Kirby joins your group again. He also goes by the name Kirby Stanton, and he’s wanted by the police in four states, including this one and Florida.”
“Kirby Stanton,” Nancy repeated. “K.S. Those were the initials on the briefcase in his van.”
“He has a long record of vehicular theft, assault, and armed robbery, and must be”—she repeated the words—“must be considered armed and dangerous. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Nancy replied. “I understand. He left the campground an hour ago. But I’ll be careful. Does he have any connection with Stephen Palumbo?”
“Yes, he and Palumbo served time together in Florida, and we think they were partners in three jewelry store robberies in Texas. Texas authorities think Stanton was the fence, but they couldn’t prove it.”
“The fence!” Nancy said. “So it’s probable that he’s the fence for Palumbo in the Emersonville burglaries, too.” She paused and then spoke, almost to herself. “So where does Jennifer fit in?”
“I don’t know,” Sergeant Telfer said. “We believe Kirby Stanton’s the fence, but Palumbo hasn’t admitted it.”
“Sergeant, I have the emeralds from one of the Emersonville burglaries.” Nancy could hear the woman gasp on the other end of the line. “It’s a long and complicated story,” Nancy continued, “but I think that’s what Michael Kirby, or Kirby Stanton, is looking for. They were in the possession of Jennifer Bover, one of the cyclists. Were the campus police able to give you anything more on her?”
“Nothing. A clean sheet. But having the emeralds would certainly implicate her.” The sergeant’s no-nonsense voice became even more stern. “I have your itinerary in front of me, but I want you to tell me exactly where you are, so we can get a car over there to give you some protection.”
“Right,” said Nancy. “I’m in cabin ten at Kipling’s Lakeview Lodge, just off County Road Thirty-three.”
“Good,” said Sergeant Telfer. “Go back to your cabin and lock yourself in. Now that you have those emeralds, you are a definite target for Stanton, and possibly Bover, too. They may be working against each other, and you could get caught in the crossfire. The nearest police force is in Moorestown. We’ll radio them to get over there. What is Stanton driving?”
“A blue van. I gave Lieutenant Easterling the license number and model yesterday.”
Nancy could hear papers rustling as the woman checked the file.
“Here it is. It checked out to a rental agency. I’ll put out an APB. We’ll get someone over there as soon as possible.” Her voice softened. “Nancy—be careful.”
“Thanks,” Nancy replied. “I will.”
She sighed and replaced the receiver. Things were starting to fall into place. Palumbo and Stanton, alias Michael Kirby, were working together, with Palumbo pulling off the burglaries and Stanton selling the goods. But where did Jennifer Bover fit in? College student. Early childhood education major. No criminal record.
Nancy shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket and closed her fingers around the felt bag that held the emeralds. It was getting colder. The wind was coming in off the lake now, and the sky was clouding over. She glanced at the cabins. They were all dark. She walked slowly up the path, the crunching sound of her sneakers on
the loose gravel the only noise in the night. Her whole body was tense, alert, but there was no sign of life around the campground. She’d be glad to get inside, share the new information with George, and wait for the police from Moorestown to arrive. She hadn’t realized she was so tired.
Nancy stopped outside the cabin she was sharing with George and listened. Nothing. She lifted her hand and gently knocked twice. Waited. Knocked twice again.
There was a click as George turned the lock and opened the door. Nancy stepped inside, her eyes squinting against the dark interior.
“Close the door quietly, Ms. Drew.”
Michael Kirby stepped from the shadows into her line of vision. His left arm was wrapped around George’s neck and his right hand held a gun to her temple!
Chapter
Fifteen
GEORGE!”
Nancy stepped toward them, staring with horror as Kirby’s grip tightened around George’s neck.
“Keep your distance,” Kirby warned menacingly, “or I’ll shoot her. Now take the emeralds out of your pocket.” He smirked at Nancy’s look of surprise. “Yes, I know what you’ve got and where you’ve got them.”
“He knew because he was outside the cabin listening to us before you went to make the call,” George blurted out defiantly. “He even knew the knock signal. That’s why I let him in.”
“Shut up!” Kirby snapped. “Put them on the table.” Pulling George with him, he moved a few steps to the table and, without letting go of the gun, picked up the pouch and slipped it into his pocket. “Okay, ladies, now we’re going to go for a ride. Don’t try any tricks, Ms. Private Eye. You’re going to lead. And remember, I’ve got this gun wedged right into your friend’s waist.”
“You won’t get away with this, Kirby,” Nancy said. “The police are on their way here now.”
“Right,” he replied sarcastically. “And if they’re anything like the Emersonville cops, they might find the place in two days. Besides, your friend here doesn’t want to see them any more than I do. She’ll have a bit of explaining to do.”
“I told you before and I’ll tell you again, you’ve got the wrong person!” George snapped.
“Give me a break,” Kirby replied. “You’re the wrong person, but you just happen to have the emeralds, right?
“You didn’t know that I saw you on one of the drops, did you? Wearing those big sunglasses at five in the morning. What a disguise!” He gave a sarcastic laugh. “Once I see somebody, I don’t forget them. The hair, the shape, the walk. I knew it was you the minute I”—he paused to sneer at her—“just ‘happened’ to find your cycling group. Convenient that you told the restaurant people that you were going on a bike trip this weekend, or I might still be looking over the Emerson coeds trying to find you. When I realized you’d kept back the emeralds on that Wednesday drop, I knew I’d have to go after you. It was good of the local press to tell me what was missing.”
“But she’s not the drop person! She’s telling you the truth,” Nancy said. “She’s not even an Emerson student.”
“Well I’d check that out with Palumbo if I could, but we both know that he’s not in a position to give me any more information. And frankly, the only reason she was involved in the first place was so he and I wouldn’t have to make contact. It would have been—how shall I put it?—it would have been dangerous for us.”
“They already know you’re involved with Palumbo, and they know you’re the fence for the Texas robberies, too, Kirby Stanton,” Nancy said. “You’re only making it worse for yourself.”
His eyes narrowed as she said the name Stanton. “Save your breath,” he said. “It doesn’t matter whether she’s the drop or not. I’ve got what I want. In twenty-four hours I’ll be in Canada, and these emeralds are going to buy me a whole new identity. Now, open the door, Ms. Private Eye, turn left, walk through that grove of trees, and we’ll be right behind you.”
“You’ll never make it to Canada,” Nancy said.
“Move it!” Kirby snapped. “And no noise or your friend gets it.”
Having no choice, Nancy did as she was ordered. The van was parked on a dirt trail on the far side of the grove, hidden from the campground. Kirby yanked open the driver’s door.
“You’re driving,” he said to Nancy. “The keys are in the ignition. You’re going to follow this trail to a concession road. No lights and no tricks, or your friend gets it. Understand?”
Nancy’s heart sank. She didn’t even know a back road existed, and she didn’t know where it went. The police would be looking for them at the cabin or on the county road.
Kirby shoved George roughly into the passenger seat beside Nancy and climbed into the seat behind them, placing the gun to the base of George’s head. “Any swerves, any signals, any fancy driving, and I kill your friend. Got it?”
Nancy nodded. The moon shining through the tall trees gave barely enough light to see the trail. She was sure Kirby meant every threat he made, and she wasn’t about to endanger George. Their only hope would be if the Moorestown police used this road as a shortcut to reach Lakeview Lodge. That hope faded quickly when Kirby had her pull off the dirt trail and turn on the headlights.
The road was poorly maintained and obviously little traveled. No oncoming lights were visible, and checking the rearview mirror, Nancy saw no traffic following them. Behind her, she could hear Kirby fumbling for something in the dark, but a quick glance in the mirror confirmed that the gun was still held at George’s head.
“Here,” he muttered to George. “Put this in your pocket.” He reached over the seat and handed something to George.
Nancy looked over to see what it was.
“I don’t get it,” George said, looking at the emerald drop earring Kirby had given her.
“You don’t have to get it,” he snarled. “Just do what you’re told.”
“I guess I’m not in a position to argue,” George said angrily, jamming the earring into the pocket of her jeans.
“You’ve got that right!” said Kirby. As he spoke he lifted the gun and hit George on the side of the head. She slumped over, her cheek against the door frame.
Nancy slammed the brakes. “You beast!” she yelled.
Kirby laughed and almost casually slid over behind her. She felt the cold muzzle of the revolver behind her ear and froze in place.
“Now, is that any way to talk to me?” he asked in a soft voice. “Take your foot off the brake and move this buggy down the road. Do what you’re told, and nothing will happen to you.”
“You’re insane!”
“Keep it moving. Your friend’s going to have a little nap for the next few miles, and then we’re going to dispose of her.”
Nancy gripped the wheel tightly and looked over at George. She was out cold. What else did he have planned for them?
As if he was reading her mind, Kirby responded. “About three miles down, there’s a bend in the road, and around the bend there’s a small bridge over a creek. When you get across the bridge, pull over to the shoulder.”
Nancy scanned the road ahead of her. No traffic. Not even a farmhouse in sight. It was like being in the middle of nowhere. Would the police ever find them, and when they did, would it be too late?
“We’re coming up to the bend,” Kirby snapped, interrupting her thoughts.
“You can’t get away with this,” Nancy said, as she slowed for the curve. “Don’t you have any conscience? George wasn’t involved at all.”
“But she’s involved now,” Kirby said. “And when they find her, she’ll have part of the loot in her pocket.” He laughed. “I’ve got this all worked out. The police will think she was the fence, who was robbed and killed on a back road while escaping to Canada with the emeralds. Unfortunately, in their rush to get the jewels, her assailants missed one of the earrings.”
“What about the woman who was the drop?” Nancy asked, stalling for time.
“What about her? She’s not going to come forward and confess.”<
br />
“What about Palumbo? He could cut a deal with the police that would put you behind bars.”
“Not likely,” Kirby replied curtly. “I know too much about Stephen Palumbo. If he squeals on me, he’s looking at a lot more than a burglary charge.” He hit the back of the seat with his hand and Nancy jumped. “You’re too nosy,” he said. “Stop! Right here.”
Nancy pulled the van over and cut the engine. Her mind was racing. Was he going to kill George right here at the side of the road? How was she going to get out of this? Keep him talking, she told herself. Maybe someone will come along.
“What are you going to do with me?” she asked, in as cool a tone as she could muster. “Obviously I’m not involved in the burglaries. How are you going to explain my body at the side of the road?”
Kirby laughed—a hideous laugh that sent shivers up Nancy’s spine. “You’re not going to be left at the side of the road, my dear. At least not here. You see, your friend’s usefulness is over. But you are still an asset to me.”
“I don’t see how,” Nancy said.
“I thought you’d be smart enough to figure that out,” Kirby replied. “If the police really are looking for me—and I’m not sure I believe you on that—then they’re looking for a single man, not for a couple headed for a vacation in Canada.”
As he talked, Nancy’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. Her palms were clammy, and she could feel beads of perspiration on her forehead.
“It’s time,” Kirby said flatly. “Get out. And don’t try anything stupid. I’m getting out on your side, so I’ll be right behind you. And don’t forget I still have this.” He stroked the gun over the hair at her neck. “And I won’t hesitate to use it if I have to. Open your door.”
As if programmed, the two of them got out of the van in tandem. The minute Nancy’s feet hit the ground, Kirby grabbed her arm, keeping the revolver trained on her.
“Now we’ll walk around the van together,” he instructed. “You’ll open the door and pull your friend over to the edge of that ditch.”