“I wish I could get excited,” George said solemnly. “I can’t believe the series is tied and we’re sitting here with no hope the Falcons will actually win the championship.”
“I know what you mean,” Nancy said. “Let’s see if we can spot Stormy Tarver,” she said, turning her mind back to the case. She located Stormy near her box, gleefully working the crowd. Twice Nancy saw her put her arms around a fan to pose for a photograph.
“She looks awfully confident,” George said.
“No kidding,” Nancy replied.
When the game started, the Falcons took an early lead with two runs in the second inning, but they had to struggle as the Rangers scored three in the fifth.
Nancy watched the gum-chewing Bill Barrows urge his team on, but without much enthusiasm, it seemed. She remembered Luke’s description of him as a sad old veteran possibly facing the end of his career. She hoped he wouldn’t be too hard on Sean.
The Falcons managed to hold the score at two to three until the seventh inning when Sean grimly took the mound. He walked the first batter and watched the second Ranger hit his fastball into center field for a double. One strikeout and a sacrifice fly left the Rangers with two outs and runners on second and third. When the next batter hit a line drive to score two runs, Barrows came to life. He jumped off the bench and threw his cap on the ground before calling time out and stomping out to the pitcher’s mound. After much arm waving, Barrows retreated to the sidelines and Sean threw three strikes.
Then it was the Falcons’ turn to bat. They quickly got two runners on base with only one out.
“Oh, Nancy, what do you think he’s going to do,” George said/ putting her hand on Nancy’s arm.
Nancy looked up from her bag of peanuts to see Luke walking to the plate.
“I don’t know,” Nancy whispered. “But I’m glad I’m not in his place.”
Nancy knew Luke was committed to baseball and to his team. But she also knew he cared enough about Sean and Caitlin to understand that the Falcons had to lose. She wondered if he would really try his hardest at bat.
“Strike two!” the empire yelled as the ball whizzed past a second time. Luke walked a slow circle before coming back to the plate and sending the third pitch on a wobbly ride to first base, where he was tagged out.
The team struggled on until a Falcon rally in the bottom of the eighth inning gave the River Heights team the lead by two runs. The crowd yelled and whistled its approval.
When Sean took the mound in the ninth, Nancy knew that all he had to do to assure a Falcon win was keep the Rangers from scoring. Sean quickly allowed four hits and a Ranger run.
The Falcon fans saw their victory slipping away and started yelling for a new pitcher.
Nancy noticed Sean glance toward the stands. Then Luke called time out and walked to the mound.
“I wonder what he’s saying,” George said tensely.
Luke returned to his spot behind the plate and Sean struck out the batter with a perfect knuckleball. As he prepared to make his next pitch, the Ranger runner on first took off to steal second base.
Sean reacted quickly, but instead of his usual perfect throw, the ball went way out of reach of the second baseman. The runner slid into second base safely.
“Get that bozo off the field!” Nancy heard someone scream from near her in the stands. Immediately a wave of boos went up from the crowd. Coffee cups, wadded-up popcorn bags, and apple cores all began to fly onto the field.
Sean waited for the ball to come back from center field and then dropped his head as he turned around to face the next batter. After that, Sean pitched the worst game of his career, allowing hit after hit until the Rangers were ahead by two runs.
The Falcons didn’t score their last time at bat, and the Rangers’ bagged another victory.
“Tomorrow’s a day off, but if the Rangers win on Wednesday, they’ll take the series,” George said as she and Nancy stood up to leave.
More than anything in the world, Nancy wanted to find Caitlin and solve this mystery in time for Sean to have a chance to play his best.
“Maybe Bess has some news about Rebecca,” George said hopefully. They fought the milling crowd down the corridor to the concession stand where Bess was working.
“It’s going to be a while,” Bess said when they arrived. “I’ve got clean-up duty.”
Nancy and George each took a snow cone back into the stands and watched the stadium crew sweep the garbage off the field. When they returned to the concession stand almost thirty minutes later, Bess was just finishing up. She slipped out and said excitedly, “You won’t believe what I’ve learned. Rebecca is a thief!”
Chapter
Eleven
HOW DO YOU KNOW?” George asked.
Half whispering as they walked down the empty corridors toward the exit, Bess replied, “I managed to get my supervisor, Carolyn Flynne, talking during one of our slow times. She said she remembered Rebecca from when she worked here last season.”
“What else?” Nancy asked. “Why did she quit?”
“She didn’t quit,” Bess said, her eyes round. “Well, technically she did, but only after Carolyn caught her stealing from the cash register and threatened to call the police.”
George let out a low whistle.
“Carolyn also said that Rebecca was rude and tried to shortchange customers,” Bess went on.
“Are you sure it’s the same Rebecca?” George asked in disbelief. “Sean said his Rebecca was friendly and good with Caitlin.”
“No, it was definitely Rebecca Carter,” Bess insisted. “I even had Carolyn describe her. Besides, remember the photo of her in the uniform?”
Nancy suddenly stopped walking. “Rod Sanders recommended Rebecca to Sean. I wonder if he knew about her past.”
“Carolyn said only management knew,” Bess answered. “And she made me promise not to spread it around since Rebecca was never charged with a crime.”
“Could Carolyn have been wrong about her stealing?” Nancy asked.
“She said she actually saw her take a handful of bills out of the register and stuff them into her pocket,” Bess said. “It happened right after the stand closed, and Carolyn hadn’t counted the money yet.”
“Do you think Rod recommended Rebecca to Sean so she could help with the kidnapping?” George asked, turning to Nancy.
“Possibly,” Nancy said, continuing on toward the door that led to the locker room exit, which was close to where she’d parked her car. “Or maybe Rod set Rebecca up knowing she lived alone and no one would miss her if she disappeared along with Caitlin.”
“So Rebecca could be a victim,” Bess said.
“Yes,” Nancy answered. “But whether she is or isn’t, she’s an important key to this puzzle.”
The door to the Falcon locker room had been propped open, and Nancy could see that the interior was dark. She was just moving past it when she heard a series of heavy metallic clicks that sounded like a locker door opening. She stopped and listened.
“What is it?” Bess asked.
“I’m not sure,” Nancy whispered back, then raised a finger to her lips as she took a single step inside the dark locker room. At the far end she saw the bobbing beam of a flashlight. Then, very faintly, she heard more of the metallic clicks and scratches. Nancy straightened and tensed. Someone was definitely in there.
Nancy motioned for Bess and George to wait outside, then cautiously moved into the darkness, feeling her way past lockers and benches, inching her way toward the bobbing light. With searching fingers, she found the cold metal of a bank of lockers and slid silently behind them until she was just around the corner from the beam of the flashlight.
Her eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, and as she peered around the corner, she saw a dark figure not more than ten feet from her. The person was putting something in one of the lockers. It was Stormy Tarver.
Nancy stood stone still as Stormy eased the locker shut with barely a sound, slipp
ed the padlock back in place, and latched it. Then Stormy started for the exit.
Nancy waited. After a long moment she stole toward the spot where Stormy had been, slipped off the light jacket she had been wearing, and dropped it silently to the floor to mark the locker that Stormy had opened.
Suddenly Nancy heard Bess shriek. She dashed toward the sound, but stopped well inside the door.
“What are you doing here?” Stormy snapped.
“We could ask you the same thing,” George returned.
Nancy flattened herself against the wall just around the corner from her friends and listened. She didn’t want Stormy to know she had been in the locker room.
“It’s none of your business,” Stormy snapped.
When Nancy peeked around the corner of the doorway a moment later, Stormy was walking away while George and Bess watched.
“What happened?” Nancy asked.
“She ran right into me,” Bess said angrily.
“Bess was listening in the doorway,” George whispered with a hint of a smile.
“Good work.” Nancy laughed. “I would love to have seen Stormy’s face.”
“But what was she doing in the locker room?” George asked.
“She put something in one of the lockers,” Nancy said. “The player must have given her his combination, because there was a padlock on it. Or maybe she’s good at picking locks.”
“Whose locker?” Bess asked anxiously.
“I don’t know,” Nancy said. “But I can find out.” She led the way back into the darkness. Finding a switch by the door, she flipped on the light. Now she could see the two long rows of lockers and the wooden benches in between.
She walked down the row to where her jacket lay on the floor and looked up at locker number 39. It was locked with a combination padlock, and just above the lock was a big dent. Nancy touched the dent with her finger.
“Rod bashed his locker when he found out Sean was coming to play with the Falcons,” George said.
“I remember,” Nancy replied, then examined the padlock, spinning the dial lightly in her fingers. She narrowed her eyes and carefully began to turn the dial first to the right, then to the left, then to the right again. Each time she waited until she could feel the tumblers drop into place. After the third turn, Nancy stopped. She took a deep breath as she looked from George to Bess. George gave her a thumbs-up sign, and Nancy pulled on the padlock.
“It worked,” Bess said as the metal loop slipped from the lock.
Nancy breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s see what’s inside.”
The contents of the locker were neatly organized. A pair of baseball shoes was in the bottom, a Falcons jersey and hat hung on a hook on one side of the locker, and a baseball mitt was on the other. Nancy had to stretch to look on the shelf above the hooks. There she saw a sheet of white paper. She pulled it out, holding only one edge, and saw that it was a piece of stationery from the River’s Edge Lodge. Written on it in flowing script were the words, We need to meet. Name the time, same place.
“Stormy Tarver is meeting with a Falcon player?” Bess asked. “But who and why?”
“I can answer the first part of that,” George said. She reached into the locker and grabbed one sleeve of the baseball jersey, stretching it out so the number and name on the back were clearly visible. The number was 46 and the name above it, in bright blue letters, was Sanders.
“Stormy Tarver is meeting with Rod Sanders,” Nancy said as George released the jersey. “I only wish we knew when and where.”
“We could tail one of them,” Bess offered.
“That could tie us up for days,” Nancy said. “Besides, if they spotted us, it might put Caitlin into more danger.”
“So what are we going to do?” George asked, leaning against the lockers.
“We’ll let someone else follow them,” Nancy said. “Someone with lots of manpower.”
“The FBI,” Bess said, sitting down on the bench.
Nancy nodded. She put the paper back on the shelf and closed the locker, replacing the padlock just as Stormy Tarver had done.
“I’ll call Chief McGinnis,” Nancy said. “He’ll get the word to Delgado, and the FBI can take it from there.” Nancy picked up her jacket and glanced around the locker room to make sure nothing was out of place. Then she followed Bess and George out the door and flicked off the light.
• • •
Nancy was awake early the next morning. Even though there wouldn’t be another baseball game until the following evening, she had plenty to do. She’d spoken with Chief McGinnis the night before, but she still needed to call Stormy Tarver and then meet with George, Bess, Luke, and Sean.
She was heading for the den to make her call when Carson Drew stopped her on his way to work. He was carrying his briefcase in one hand and a bag of clothes in the other.
“Going to the big game tomorrow?” he asked.
Nancy grimaced, then nodded. She didn’t have time to tell him what a disaster the championship series had become.
“Would you mind dropping these off at Haven House for me?” he said, handing her the bag. “They’re collecting clothes for the homeless this week.”
“Sure,” Nancy said. She walked her father to his car, kissed him goodbye, and put the bag of clothes on the backseat of her Mustang before hurrying back inside. In the quiet of the den she dialed the number for the River’s Edge Lodge and asked for room 814.
The phone rang five times before Stormy answered with a gruff hello.
“Ms. Tarver, I’m Nancy Drew, a free-lance writer,” Nancy began brightly.
“Good morning,” Stormy said, her voice suddenly friendly. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m doing a series of articles on powerful women in sports,” Nancy said. “Of course, it wouldn’t be complete without an interview with you.”
“Who are you writing for?” Stormy asked.
Nancy paused. “American Sports wants it,” she fibbed, “but I may just shop it around.”
“Fine,” Stormy said. “I always have time for the press, but it’ll have to be this evening, say around five, here at the lodge? Why don’t you meet me in the restaurant?”
“Great,” Nancy said. As she hung up, she thanked her lucky stars that Stormy Tarver was such a publicity hound, and that she had not shown her face to Stormy in the locker room the night before.
Nancy left the den, had breakfast and a shower, said goodbye to Hannah, and headed for her car. She had just enough time to meet her friends at Andy’s Arcade for the early lunch they had arranged the day before. Nancy had a lot of information she wanted to go over with her friends, and she was hoping that the atmosphere at Andy’s would cheer up Sean.
The arcade was a dozen blocks from the Roost, next to a grocery store that was already teeming with customers. Nancy had to park her Mustang three shops down from Andy’s. She had just locked her car and stepped onto the sidewalk when-she sensed someone right behind her. Instinctively she tried to move away, but felt a strong hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t turn around,” a man’s voice ordered in a commanding whisper. “And keep walking.”
Chapter
Twelve
YOU DON’T KNOW who I am, do you?” the stranger asked as they continued down the sidewalk. There was a hint of satisfaction in his voice.
“No,” she answered, feeling adrenaline flow through her.
“Delgado,” he whispered. “We need to talk.”
Nancy’s fear drained away. She tried to turn around again, but again Delgado stopped her.
“After I leave, get back into your car and drive north on Tatum Avenue for two blocks, take a left, and turn into the first parking lot you come to. There will be a mover’s van there. Park and get out.”
The pressure on Nancy’s shoulder vanished. She took two more steps and turned around in time to see Delgado, dressed in a light shirt and pants, slip into a blue car that pulled away from the curb. Then,
throwing a quick glance toward Andy’s Arcade, she went back to her car. Her friends would have to wait.
Nancy’s excitement grew as she drove down Tatum Avenue. She couldn’t wait for the chance to compare notes with the FBI. Only one thing bothered her—she had the uncomfortable feeling that Delgado had enjoyed toying with her at the mall.
The lot Delgado had directed her to was a little-used gravel area with a fringe of weeds along one edge. Nancy pulled her Mustang up beside the moving van and was climbing out when she heard Delgado’s voice for the second time.
She turned to see him standing at the back of the truck, motioning for her to follow him. He disappeared around the corner. Nancy followed. He was holding open a door in the rear of the van. She stepped inside, expecting a dark and shabby interior. Instead, she found herself in an ultramodern FBI mobile command center.
Victor motioned Nancy to a folding chair by a narrow table set up in the center of the van. Except for the spot where Nancy sat, the table was covered with papers, laid out in an orderly fashion. On the wall was a large bulletin board with the days of the week listed across the top and notes tacked under each day. Behind Nancy was a map cluttered with colored pins. Toward the front of the truck another agent with a radio headset was talking into a microphone and taking notes. This, Nancy guessed, was the dispatcher Russ Nunn had been talking to when he radioed from Sean’s house.
Delgado pulled up a chair across the table from Nancy. “The note you found in the locker room definitely sounds interesting,” he said seriously. “Was there anything more than the meeting request?”
“No,” Nancy said. “As I told Chief McGinnis on the phone, the words Were written in blue ink on a piece of stationery from the River’s Edge Lodge.”
“We’ve been watching both Stormy and Rod Sanders ever since you called,” Victor said, staring into Nancy’s eyes. “So far neither has made a move.”
“What about the lock of hair that was delivered to Sean?” Nancy asked. “Did you get any information from that?”