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  “After today I have a lot more sympathy for waiters and waitresses,” Nancy said. “I wasn’t fast on my feet at the end of the day, either. What about Rob? Did you find him?”

  Bess and George nodded. “Finally. Cynthia’s going to call to fill you in later tonight. We don’t know much, really.”

  “I know a place not far from here where you can leave the car overnight,” said Edgar, patting down the last bit of tape. “It’s called Speed-O’s, and it’s up on Bedford Avenue, across from the library. The guy who runs it is a friend of mine. I know he’ll put a new window in for you. In fact, I can call him at home if you want. Just take your car over there and leave it.”

  “That would be terrific,” said Nancy, dumping the glass shards into a nearby waste barrel.

  “Just go three blocks down Main, then left for half a block,” Edgar said.

  “I’ll follow you, Nan,” said George as she hopped into her car. Bess slipped in, holding the umbrella out the window to twirl the excess water off.

  “Okay. And, Edgar—thanks. See you tomorrow—if you’re on.” After stepping into the Mustang and sitting down, Nancy motioned to George. She stopped before joining traffic and watched in her rearview mirror as Edgar splashed his way from puddle to puddle like a giant umbrella-carrying ostrich.

  The rain was coming down in sheets now, and Nancy had to lean close to the windshield to see into the tunnel of light her high beams cut through the rain and fog. Part of the tape came loose, and she was showered with a cold spray all the way to the repair shop.

  When Nancy finally did park the car and slip the key into the mail slot of the Speed-O Car Repair, the left side of her head and shoulders were soaked.

  “Ah, a nice dry car,” Nancy said, hopping into the back seat of George’s car. She relaxed against the seat and enjoyed the warm quiet. The steady click of the windshield wipers was comforting, the regular slow beat forcing her heart to quiet to its tempo.

  “So, let’s hear about Touchdown,” Bess said, finally breaking the silence. “Any leads yet on who might be taking the money?”

  “Not really. I found out that Pete has a sideline in addition to the couple of pro players he handles. And that Mark wants Pete’s job,” Nancy said, leaning forward. “Also, there’s something very weird about the whole situation.”

  “What?” George wanted to know.

  “There’s more going on at Touchdown than just stolen money.”

  “What makes you think that?” Bess asked.

  “The politics of the place. Mark wants Pete’s job, but he doesn’t really seem to care how the place is run. Pete has these incredible mood swings. One minute he’ll be friendly, the next he’s like Jack the Ripper.”

  “How does all this fit in with your smashed car window?” George asked, pulling onto the ramp for the interstate back to River Heights.

  “Beats me,” Nancy admitted, stifling a yawn. “I haven’t the foggiest.”

  “Sounds like you need a good night’s sleep, Drew,” Bess advised.

  “You’re right, Bess. I can hardly think. Working in a restaurant has been a shock to my system,” she said. “There’s something I’m forgetting—something I’m not considering—but it keeps getting away from me.”

  “Tomorrow will bring new leads and new angles,” George said comfortingly.

  “And a new car window—hopefully,” Bess added.

  The rain had slowed to a fine mist by the time Nancy made her way up the walkway to her house. In the living room Hannah Gruen, the Drews’ housekeeper, sat totally absorbed in a book. She didn’t hear Nancy enter, so Nancy stood quietly observing her for a minute. A smile formed on her lips. Nancy’s mother had died when Nancy was only three, and Hannah was as close to a mother as Nancy had ever known.

  “Hi,” Nancy called softly, not wanting to scare Hannah. She hung her jacket in the empty closet.

  “Oh, hi, yourself,” Hannah said, looking up from her reading with a warm smile. “Oh, no. What happened to you? You’re soaked.”

  “It’s a long and not very interesting story, but a hot bath and bed will fix me right up.”

  “Your father just called from California to say hello,” Hannah said, leaving the room.

  “Oh, no, I missed him again!” Nancy moaned. She and her father Carson Drew, a lawyer with an international reputation, were very close. He’d been away on business for over a week, and Nancy missed him.

  Hannah returned with a towel for Nancy’s hair. “He said he’d call tomorrow. Oh, and you had a phone call from a girl named Cynthia. She said you could call until eleven.”

  “Thanks, Hannah.” Nancy went upstairs, took a hot bath and then dialed Cynthia’s number. “You found Rob, I heard,” she said when Cynthia came on the line.

  “At the video arcade, but I didn’t get too far with him,” Cynthia said, sounding very discouraged. “He refused to discuss anything with me. He just said I didn’t understand and that he knew what he was doing.”

  Nancy sank onto her bed, shaking her head. “That’s incredible! How did he explain to his parents about leaving the hospital?”

  “I got the feeling he lied and told them he was discharged, but I’m not really sure,” said Cynthia. “Anyway, I was wondering if you’d come to the football practice tomorrow. Rob wants to watch even if he can’t practice. I was thinking you could help me talk to him. I can’t get through to him, but maybe you can.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt to try,” Nancy replied, trying not to sound discouraged. If Rob wouldn’t listen to his doctor or his girlfriend, what could she possibly say to convince him to return to the hospital? “What time do you want to meet?”

  “About three. Oh, and bring Rob’s gym bag okay? We left it in the back seat of your car remember?”

  Nancy’s free hand flew to her forehead and she gritted her teeth in frustration. How could she have been so blind? That’s what the thief had taken from her car!

  “Nancy? Are you still there?” Cynthia’s voice seemed far away as this last bit of news sank in Nancy considered telling her that Rob’s gym bag had been stolen, but she decided the last thing the girl needed was more upsetting news. Tomorrow, she decided, she’d tell both Cynthia and Rob about the bag.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said simply “Three.”

  Hanging up, Nancy remained seated on the bed and tried to stare out the window. But the light room and dark night turned the window into a mirror, reflecting Nancy’s image back to herself. Her forehead was furrowed as she concentrated. Why would anyone break into her car to steal Rob’s gym bag? Then, in a flash, she remembered seeing Mark rifling through it when Etob had collapsed.

  Obviously, something had been in that gym jag—something that Mark wanted pretty badly. Nancy couldn’t let Rob Matthews get away without telling her what it was.

  By three the next afternoon, Nancy had picked up her car and was walking across the football field at Bedford High toward the bleachers where Rob and Cynthia were sitting, holding hands. As Nancy got closer to the couple, she noticed a familiar-looking navy blue gym bag with Yale printed on the side at Rob’s feet.

  The exact same bag that had been stolen from her car the night before!

  Chapter

  Six

  WHY WOULD ROB HAVE STOLEN his own bags. He could easily have asked for it bag? There had to be some other explanation.

  “Hi, Nancy,” Cynthia called, with a quick smile and wave. “Come on up. We’re watching Coach Novak put the team through its paces.”

  “Hi,” said Rob listlessly as Nancy climbed the bleachers. She sat down beside them. Because of Rob’s mood, Nancy realized it would be better not to act too suspicious.

  Out on the field the team was going through its workout: doing wind sprints, hitting the tackling bags, stretching, and passing the ball.

  “I see you found your bag,” Nancy said casually, watching Rob’s eyes for any kind of guilty look.

  “Oh, yeah,” Rob said brightly. “Lonnie found it in
front of Touchdown. I guess it got left behind in all the excitement.”

  Rob’s response seemed honest, so if he hadn’t taken it, who had? Had Lonnie Price broken her car window? If so, why? All he would have had to have done was ask her for it. “That’s very strange,” she said pensively.

  “What do you mean?” asked Rob.

  “I saw Nancy pick up that bag and take it with us to the hospital,” Cynthia said, understanding what Nancy was getting at. “It was in her car. Right, Nancy?”

  “Until someone broke into my car and stole it yesterday,” Nancy added, trying to read Rob’s face. “Any idea who?”

  Rob’s eyes screwed up with worry. “No idea at all,” he answered, obviously uncomfortable. “But that explains the missing—the missing money.”

  “There was money in your gym bag? How much?” Nancy wanted to know.

  “Quite a bit,” Rob said. “About four hundred dollars.”

  “Do you usually carry so much money in your gym bag?” Nancy asked incredulously.

  “Not usually,” Rob admitted. “But I was planning on buying something over the weekend.”

  “So you had four hundred dollars in cash on you?” Nancy asked.

  Rob gave her a suspicious look. “What is this, an inquisition?” he asked, not able to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “I wanted to buy a rowing machine for my basement, and they only take cash, okay? Look, the money is gone; let’s just drop it.”

  Nancy let out a low whistle and looked down at the players on the field. “Pardon me,” she muttered.

  “Rob!” Cynthia broke in. “Nancy practically saved your life yesterday.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Rob, more conciliatory now. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I know you’re helping Cynthia out by investigating the thefts at Touchdown, and I appreciate what you’re doing for her, but this is a whole other thing.”

  “It’s okay,” said Nancy, even though it wasn’t. Rob looked awfully uncomfortable just then. What did he mean by a “whole other thing”? What was it he wanted her to stay away from?

  Biting her lip, Cynthia shot an anxious look at Nancy and nodded toward Rob.

  “Rob,” Nancy said, remembering her promise to the cheerleader. “When Cynthia and I talked to Dr. Gebel yesterday, she was really concerned—”

  “Look!” Rob interrupted angrily as Cynthia turned away in embarrassment. “I know what you’re going to say, and I don’t want to hear it, okay? Everyone’s been on my back about leaving the hospital, and as far as I’m concerned, it’s nobody’s business but my own.”

  “It’s your life,” said Nancy, trying to hide her reaction to the quarterback’s outburst. There was obviously no reasoning with Rob.

  She lifted her eyebrows and shrugged her shoulders at Cynthia, who hurriedly brushed a tear from her eye and looked down at her feet. There didn’t seem to be anything more they could do for Rob.

  Nancy stood up. “I guess I’ll be taking off,” she said.

  “See you, Nancy,” said Cynthia, swallowing back her tears.

  With a wave, Nancy made her way down the bleachers to the field. Then she had a thought. Rob’s coach might know something about why Rob left the hospital. If he didn’t, he should.

  The coach was standing with a stopwatch at the edge of the track, timing his players’ speeds in the forty-yard dash. “Faster! Faster, Ellman! Get the lead out!” he shouted as Bill sped down the track in a blur of motion.

  Clicking his watch, the coach smiled and called to Bill. “Not bad. Best time yet, in fact—four and six tenths. I’ve seen pros with slower times. Now give me a hundred push-ups!”

  Grimacing, Bill flopped down and began his push-ups, while Lonnie Price lined up to start his forty-yard dash.

  “Coach, could I have a word with you?” Nancy said as the coach turned and gave her a hard stare. “I’m a friend of Rob and Cynthia’s.

  The muscular white-haired man grunted, “Just a minute.” Then, turning to the track where Lonnie Price was crouching, he shouted, “Go!” Lonnie took off like lightning. Only 4.8 seconds later, the dash was over. “One hundred from you, too, Price!” the coach barked. “The rest of you, three laps, on the double!”

  He turned back to Nancy. “Okay, what do you want?” he asked curtly. “I’m in the middle of practice.”

  “Sorry to bother you,” said Nancy. “But there’s something important I think you ought to know.”

  “All right,” said the coach, pocketing his stop watch. “This had better be good.”

  “It’s about Rob Matthews,” Nancy told him, trying not to let Coach Novak intimidate her. “Did you know he collapsed after the game on Saturday? He was taken to the hospital with a concussion, but he left before they could do any tests on him.”

  The coach was silent for a moment. “Rob’s a big boy,” he said at last. “I excused him from practice today, so what more do you want me to do?”

  “I thought you might advise him to go back for those tests,” Nancy said. “He might listen to you.”

  “Honey,” said the coach with an impatient grin, “I’ve got a team to run here. And this team is two games away from a state championship. Have you ever won a state championship?”

  Nancy shook her head.

  “Well, neither have I. And neither have most people in this world,” he said hotly. “Now, see these kids working their tails off? Most of them are never going to make it to the pros. Winning the state championship will be the biggest moment of their lives. If you think I’m going to bench my star quarterback because he had a dizzy spell, think again!”

  “But he may be endangering his health!” Nancy insisted.

  “He looks like he’s going to be just fine to me,” snapped the coach. “As far as I’m concerned, if he says he’s healthy, he’s healthy—and he plays on Wednesday!”

  “Wednesday?” Nancy asked.

  “There’s a conflict on Saturday, so we have a game on Wednesday at four o’clock. Rob Matthews is my starting quarterback, okay?”

  “But that’s only two days from now!”

  “You got a problem with his playing, get a doctor’s note,” the coach replied sarcastically. He abruptly terminated the interview by turning his back on her.

  Nancy walked in front of the bleachers toward the parking lot, shaking her head. The sound of a voice raised in anger came out from under the bleachers and made her stop dead.

  “I’ll kill you, you little turkey!” The voice sounded familiar now. Quickly Nancy ran around the end of the bleachers to get under them. Lonnie was there. He had a skinny blond player pinned against a post, and he was punching him in the stomach.

  “Hey!” Nancy shouted as loudly as she could. “Leave him alone!”

  When Lonnie faced her, he had murder in his eyes. “Keep out of this!” he growled. The skinny player squirmed and tried to break free of Lonnie’s iron grip. His pale gray eyes widened with fear.

  “I said, let him go!” Nancy insisted.

  Suddenly Lonnie did let go, but instead of walking away, he made a lunge for Nancy. In a flash he had her by the shoulders.

  “You keep out of this, you hear?” he hissed through gritted teeth. “I mean it. Stay out of my business, or I’ll make you wish you’d never heard of Lonnie Price!”

  Chapter

  Seven

  USING HER ADVANTAGE of surprise, Nancy brought her arms up inside Lonnie’s and broke his hold. She immediately took a karate stance, ready for any new attack.

  “Calm down, Lonnie,” she said in a steady, calm tone, but her effort was wasted. Lonnie refocused his attention on his blond teammate and shoved him hard against the post.

  “Coach Novak, help!” Nancy snouted toward the field. “There’s a fight! Help!”

  Coach Novak’s face was blotchy with fury as he strode over to the bleachers. “Price!” he roared. “Are you out of your mind? Lay off him, now!”

  Novak’s voice seemed to get through to Lonnie, who reluctantly released his victim. The b
lond boy slid down the post and sat in the dirt under the bleachers.

  “What are you doing?” asked the coach, grabbing Lonnie by his shirt and forcing him to meet his eye. “Do you want to put your own teammate out of commission before we meet Montvale?”

  “I’m—I’m sorry, Coach,” Lonnie said breathlessly. “I don’t know what came over me.” He looked at the other boy as though he were seeing him for the first time. “Are you all right, Dennis?” he asked, genuinely embarrassed. “Sorry, man. I just lost it.”

  Nancy stood back as the boy named Dennis struggled to his feet. “Holy mackerel,” he gasped, rubbing his chest. “All I did was bump into you, you know? It was an accident!”

  “I guess I’ve been on edge lately,” Lonnie mumbled. Turning to the coach, he added, “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

  “Then keep your nose clean, Price,” he grunted. “Because if you can’t take the pressure, you can take a walk, know what I mean?”

  Coach Novak’s threat panicked Lonnie. “I can take it, Coach. Really I can—don’t bench me, please,” he begged.

  “You sure you’re all right, Dennis?” the coach asked.

  “Yeah, I’ll be okay,” the player answered weakly.

  “Take the day off,” the coach told him. “As for you, Price, don’t let me catch you losing your temper again. Is that understood?”

  Red-faced, Lonnie looked down at his cleats and ran a hand through his glossy black hair. “Understood.”

  “Come on, DiVito,” the coach said to Dennis. “We’ll have a look at those bruises.” The two of them walked off toward the locker room together, the coach holding Dennis up.

  His dark eyes full of shame, Lonnie turned to Nancy. “Sorry I came at you like that,” he said as they walked out from under the bleachers. “I don’t know what got into me.”

  “I don’t, either,” Nancy said, genuinely confused. For someone who had just been so threatening, Lonnie was acting pretty gentle and kind.

  “Listen, please don’t say anything about this to your friend George, okay?” he pleaded. “I don’t want her to get the wrong idea about me.”