Deep Secrets Read online

  Eloise looked wide-awake and cheerful that morning, though. “Morning,” Nancy greeted her aunt. “Where were you so late last night?”

  “I had dinner with Seth Cooper, and then we went to the movies,” Eloise replied.

  “Really! Did you have fun?” Nancy gave Eloise a sidelong look. If her aunt was falling for one of the suspects, there could be trouble.

  “Mmmm. It was nice.” Eloise’s voice was casual, but her glowing eyes gave her away. She’d had a great time.

  “Bess and George are already out on the beach,” Eloise said. “They said they’d be back before lunch. Ned will be here soon, won’t he?”

  “Yes,” Nancy mumbled. Very soon, in fact. His flight was due in at the East Hampton airport at eleven. She’d have to hurry to meet his plane.

  Nancy arrived at the airport just as Ned’s plane was taxiing down the runway. It pulled up in front of the small terminal, and a ground crew wheeled some steps into place.

  Nancy drew a deep breath and went to the door of the terminal. Her stomach was doing flips.

  But when the door opened and she found herself looking into her boyfriend’s warm brown eyes and basking in his joyous smile, her worries suddenly seemed less urgent. It was so good to see him!

  “Ned!” she cried, throwing her arms around him. A tingle went down her spine as he crushed her in a bear hug. Then when he kissed her, she forgot everything except the wonderful feeling of his lips, warm on hers.

  “That’s got to be the best welcome I’ve ever had,” he told her when their lips finally parted.

  “I’m so glad you’re finally here,” she replied, and meant it. “Come on, let’s go home.”

  At the house Nancy showed Ned to a small spare room. They had just finished a tour of the house when Bess and George came back from the beach.

  They greeted Ned enthusiastically, though George gave Nancy a questioning look over her shoulder. Nancy shrugged and smiled.

  “Shouldn’t we be going to Emily’s soon?” George asked after a few minutes.

  Nancy looked at her watch. “That’s right! Um, Ned, I should have told you sooner, but—”

  Ned groaned. “You don’t have to say it. I can guess. You’re on another case, right?”

  She nodded guiltily.

  “I should have known. Another vacation, another mystery,” he complained in an exaggerated moan. He grinned at Nancy’s anxious expression. “Let’s go. You can tell me about it in the car.”

  Nancy blew him a kiss. “You’re the greatest,” she said. “And you’re dressed for sailing!”

  The phone rang as they were heading out the door. “Go on out to the car. I’ll get it,” Nancy said, as she picked up the phone. “Hello?”

  “Nancy, we must talk.”

  “Sasha!” His voice sent a jolt through Nancy. “Uh, can it wait? I’m on my way out.”

  For once Sasha sounded deadly serious. “I cannot wait much longer for you. I have a decision to make.”

  “Decision? What do you mean?” Nancy asked.

  There was a long silence. Then Sasha spoke up. “I have been offered the chance to stay in America and dance for a whole year. But it depends on you. Do you want me to stay, Nancy Drew?”

  Chapter

  Eight

  NANCY FELT AS THOUGH she couldn’t breathe properly. “Sasha, I—”

  Outside, Ned honked the horn impatiently. Nancy suddenly realized she was keeping them all waiting. “I can’t talk about this right now,” she said desperately. “I’m sorry.”

  “When, then?” Sasha pressed. “Or are you too busy, now that Ned is here?”

  “No!” Nancy cried, hurt. “I don’t know—maybe tomorrow. He just arrived, Sasha. What do you want me to do?”

  “That is your decision. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Sasha hung up.

  Nancy leaned against the front door for a second before opening it. Then she walked down to the car. Five minutes ago everything had seemed so clear and simple! But now—now it just felt impossible. What am I going to do? she wondered.

  “Who called?” Bess asked as Nancy slid into the driver’s seat.

  “Oh—it was for Aunt Eloise,” Nancy said. The minute the words were out of her mouth, she wondered why she’d lied. Ned knew she was friendly with Sasha. Why not tell the truth?

  “Are you okay?” Ned asked her, reaching over and squeezing her hand.

  “Huh? Oh—oh, sure, I’m fine,” Nancy stammered. Snap out of it! she admonished herself.

  “Good,” Ned said heartily, but Nancy noticed that he gave her an odd look out of the corner of his eye.

  Nancy was glad to let Bess and George tell Ned about the case as they rode to the marina. It gave her the chance to think the situation over. She managed to calm down a little, but once or twice she noticed Ned giving her those strange sidelong glances. He knows me too well, she realized. He knows something’s up.

  When they arrived, Emily was waiting for them beside her car. Nancy introduced her to Ned.

  “Nice to meet you,” Emily said, shaking Ned’s hand.

  “Likewise.” Ned grinned. “I’ve heard a lot about you in the last ten minutes.”

  Emily returned his grin cockily. Nancy couldn’t help smiling as she watched the two of them. Emily looked like a child next to Ned, her petite frame dwarfed by his six-foot-two height and broad shoulders.

  “I hope I won’t be ruining your vacation by dragging you around on a search for clues,” Emily was saying. “At least I can promise you a picnic lunch on board a decent sailboat.”

  “What more could I want?” Ned said, spreading out his hands. “It sounds great.”

  “Let’s go, then,” Emily said. She hefted a huge wicker picnic basket. “You carry this.”

  Everyone laughed. “Take-charge Emily,” Bess said admiringly.

  Nancy’s eyes followed Ned as he strode down the dock at Emily’s side. Just as they reached the Swallow’s slip, he turned and met her gaze with a long, questioning look. Then he turned again and climbed aboard the sloop.

  This isn’t fair to Ned, Nancy thought. I have to tell him what I’m thinking. I owe him that. I’ll talk to him the first chance I get.

  Feeling better, she clambered over the deck rail and dropped into the cockpit. “Set the course, cap’n,” she told Emily.

  The day was perfect, with a wind that made sailing as easy as walking. Emily steered, Bess and George tended the mainsail, and Ned and Nancy each took one of the jib lines.

  Nancy had learned most of what she knew about sailing from Ned—his family had a cabin on a lake, and they’d done some boating there. But George and Bess had hardly sailed before the beginning of the summer.

  “Here’s a little sailing lesson for you landlubbers,” Emily said, adopting a gruff, commanding tone of voice. “We’re sailing on a ‘beam reach.’ That means the wind is blowing straight across the boat. Also, the wind is coming over the port side, which puts us on a starboard tack. That’s good—it means we have the right-of-way. Everyone else has to get out of our way.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Bess said. “I don’t think I’d know how to dodge another boat.”

  “Now that we’ve set the sails and we’re heading in the right direction, no one really has to do much—except for Ned,” Emily continued, grinning at him. “He’s on the starboard jib sheet, and we’re on a starboard tack, so he’s got what we call the ‘working’ jib line. Ned, you’ve got to keep an eye on the jib and make sure it never loses the wind. All right?”

  Ned saluted. “Aye, aye, skipper.”

  Nancy stretched out her long legs. “And don’t you slack off,” she ordered her boyfriend with a grin.

  So, for the first half-hour Nancy had little to do other than sit back and enjoy the feeling of sun and wind on her face.

  “Mmmm, this is the life,” she said, rubbing sunscreen on her bare stomach. She was wearing a Day-Glo green two-piece bathing suit with black borders. It fitted her slim figure like a glove.


  “I know what you mean.” Bess raked her straw blond hair into a ponytail and fastened it with a clip that matched her pink one-piece. “If only Tommy was here right now my life would be perfect. Oh, well. Pass me a chicken leg, George.”

  “If she can’t have her boyfriend she’ll settle for food,” George teased.

  “Let’s trim the sails, folks,” Emily ordered. “Nancy, the cove where you found me is over there to port. We can shoot right into it.”

  Nancy sat up, suddenly alert. “Let’s check it out. We can work our way toward the tip of the island from there.”

  At Emily’s command, George and Ned trimmed the sails until they were tight. Emily spun the wheel, and the Swallow slowly turned in the water, heeling over to one side. Spray flew from the bow as she glided into the cove.

  “What are we looking for, exactly?” Ned wanted to know.

  “I’m not really sure,” Nancy admitted. “Overhangs, inlets—anyplace where someone could hide a boat like this.”

  But the shoreline in the cove was a smooth, unbroken curve, as they discovered when they sailed along its length. “I don’t know, Nan,” George said with a doubtful frown. “I don’t think there’s much in the way of overhangs or inlets in this part of the bay. It’s mostly beach.”

  “Well, we’ve got to keep looking,” Nancy said doggedly. “The boat had to be hidden somewhere.”

  Two hours later Nancy was beginning to wonder, though. They had sailed up past Montauk and around the narrow tip of Long Island, right into the open ocean, but nowhere had they seen a spot that looked suitable for hiding the Swallow.

  “There has to be something we’re overlooking,” she said, thinking aloud. “Emily, try to remember what it was like where you were being held. Were there waves? What kind of noises were there? How much light came in?”

  Emily squinted out at the horizon. Then her eyes opened wide. “Nancy, that’s it! The light!” she cried. “There wasn’t any light coming into the portholes the whole time the boat was moored!”

  “Didn’t you say the portholes were covered?” Ned asked, looking confused.

  “Yes, they were, but one of the covers was loose. I remember seeing daylight a couple of times,” Emily explained. She turned back to Nancy. “But not while we were moored. I must have been someplace dark—like one of those covered docks some people keep their boats in for winter storage. You know, with the bubblers in the water to keep ice from forming on the boats. No one ever looks inside those places until October at least.”

  “Brilliant,” Nancy said happily. “There can’t be too many of those in this area. All we have to do is find the few and check them out.”

  “There are only two that I know of that might be tall enough for Swallow’s mast,” Emily said. She steadied the big chrome steering wheel. “The closest one to here is right above Montauk on the bay side. I don’t know who it belongs to.”

  However, the first boat shed turned out to be a dead lead when they finally found it. The big door was made of corrugated steel held shut by triple padlocks. Moreover, from the way it was hung, Nancy guessed that the door slid into a track on the side of the building—and probably not without the aid of a motor. It looked very heavy. There was no way one person could have budged it alone.

  Emily looked disappointed. “That was my best bet,” she explained. “The other shed, Bob Smithson’s, is down below Montauk, not too far from home. I thought we sailed farther than that.”

  “Don’t forget that the weather was rough when you were kidnapped,” Nancy pointed out. “It could have taken a long time to go a little way.”

  “Good point,” Ned said, taking Nancy’s free hand in his own. “Let’s go.”

  • • •

  “This one looks promising,” George called as they approached Bob Smithson’s shed later. It was in poor repair, with a wooden door that sagged on its hinges. It would be easy to break into. And there were no houses nearby. The area was deserted.

  “Who’s Bob Smithson?” Bess asked Emily. “Could he be the one who kidnapped you?”

  Emily laughed. “I doubt it. He’s about ninety years old—I don’t think he’d have the strength. He’s just a man who’s lived here for as long as I can remember.”

  An old, feeble man wouldn’t be likely to check his shed very often, Nancy reflected. This was looking better and better.

  Under Emily’s direction, they sailed the sloop almost directly up to the shed, then veered quickly into the wind. The Swallow’s sails flapped in the sudden calm, and she coasted to a stop in front of the door.

  “Beautiful,” Nancy said appreciatively. She reached out and pushed the door. It swung inward with a creak.

  “Can you bring us inside?” she asked. In answer, Emily swung the wheel around. The rudder’s movement in the water gave the Swallow momentum to glide slowly into the shed.

  Nancy jumped onto the small dock as they came alongside it. Fishing out her penlight, she peered up and down the planks.

  In less than a minute she hit pay dirt. “Aha!” she said triumphantly.

  Her penlight shone down on a dried mud print, made by a deck shoe—probably a man’s. The mud was the same color as the dry smear she’d found on the Swallow’s foredeck.

  “This is it,” she said excitedly. “We’ve found the place!”

  Chapter

  Nine

  AT LAST, a tangible piece of evidence! True, a footprint wasn’t much, but it was something.

  “Let me see!” Emily cried. She jumped lightly down to the dock and gazed at the footprint. Then she looked at Nancy. “Does that tell you anything?” she asked, sounding disappointed.

  “Sure,” Nancy answered. “It tells us this is where the Swallow was hidden. There’s a matching smear on the foredeck. And it might tell us who our villain is. If we can find someone whose deck shoe matches that print, we’re in business.”

  “But there are hundreds of people with deck shoes in the Hamptons!” Bess wailed.

  “We’ll start with the suspects we already have,” Nancy told her. “I guess we could ask Keith’s parents if we can see his shoes.”

  Emily grimaced. “I doubt if they’d let us into the house,” she said. “Mr. Artin never liked me much, and since Keith and I broke up, he’s really been cold to me.”

  “All right, we’ll have to come up with some plan of attack for Keith,” Nancy replied. “But I’ll bet Seth Cooper wears deck shoes all the time. We should be able to get a print from him.”

  “And Roland Lyons,” Emily said instantly. “Don’t leave him out.”

  Nancy sighed. “Okay, we’ll check up on Lyons, too,” she said.

  “How can we compare their prints with this one? Should we take a picture?” Ned asked.

  Nancy had an idea. “Is there any white paper on board?” she asked. “A napkin would be fine. And, Bess, hand me your water atomizer. I’m going to take a print of this print.”

  “Huh?” Bess was puzzled, but she handed Nancy a napkin and the little spritzer she used to cool herself off when she sunbathed.

  “Thanks.” Kneeling, Nancy laid the napkin carefully over the dried print. Then she sprayed a little water from the atomizer on the napkin and pressed the dampened paper down firmly with her palms. After a few seconds she peeled it back from the dock. A mud tracing clung to the napkin, giving Nancy a perfect replica of the print.

  “Hey, neat trick!” Ned said approvingly.

  “Thanks. I thought so, too,” Nancy agreed, grinning. She got to her feet. “Okay, guys, let’s head home. We’ve got work to do!”

  As they sailed back to the marina, Bess said, “George and I are meeting Gary and Tommy for pizza tonight. Anyone else want to come along?”

  “I’ve got a date with Jeff,” Emily said.

  “Oh, well, I guess you’ll want to do something more romantic, then,” Bess commented with a sly smile. She looked at Nancy and Ned. “How about you two?”

  Nancy was about to agree when Ned spoke up.


  “Well, I was hoping to take my girl to a nice restaurant and shower her with affection,” he replied. “It’s been a long time.”

  Nancy hadn’t thought about that. She felt a guilty twinge. “Gee, that sounds fantastic,” she said. “But let’s make it a latish dinner. I just want to take care of one or two things first, okay?” She looked pleadingly at Ned.

  Ned looked resigned. “Fine,” he said. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  It was about five-thirty when they docked. Emily went home, and Nancy, Ned, Bess, and George went back to Eloise’s house.

  Nancy showered, dried her hair, then quickly pulled on a short knit skirt and a loose blouse. She completed the outfit with a wide leather belt and sandals, then skipped downstairs. “How do I look?” she asked, twirling in front of Ned.

  “Perfect,” he told her, his eyes glowing.

  “You look pretty perfect yourself,” she complimented him. He was wearing gray linen slacks and a billowing white shirt that set off the slight tan he had gotten that day. His brown hair, still damp, curled around his handsome face.

  “Thanks. I got a restaurant recommendation from your aunt and made a seven-thirty reservation. It was the only opening they had. Will that give us enough time to do whatever it is you want to do?” Ned asked.

  “It should,” Nancy assured him. She picked up the phone book and found Roland Lyons’s home number. She dialed, and Lyons himself answered.

  “Mr. Lyons, this is Nancy Drew,” she began. “We’ve met once or twice. You may not remember me, but I’m a friend of Emily Terner’s.”

  “Of course I remember you. I hear you found Emily—nice work! What can I do for you, Nancy?” Lyons’s voice was friendly.

  She swallowed. This was going to be embarrassing. “Well, I was wondering if you could spare the time to talk to me about where you were the night Emily disappeared.”

  “What?” There was a pause, and then Lyons gave a shout of laughter. “Are you saying I’m a suspect? That’s the best joke I’ve heard in ages.”