J.M.J.
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Chapter 7
Bess's car wasn't too badly damaged. There were a few dents in the front fenders and it looked like the axles would be knocked out of adjustment, but it certainly didn't look like it had been in a serious accident. The girls' hadn't left any of their belongings in the trunk, and so it was clear enough that they had probably walked after going in the ditch.
At least, it was clear enough that that was what someone wanted it to look like. The engine wouldn't turn over, which didn't make sense if the car had simply gone into the ditch and gotten a bit dented up. The police had their mechanic look over it, and he determined that the battery had gotten disconnected, something he didn't think that a bumpy ride into the ditch would do. Moreover, they had found a few traces of blood on the outside of the door. Apparently, someone had made a hurried attempt at cleaning it up. That, of course, did little other than to add yet another puzzle to whole thing. If one of the girls had been injured in the accident, any blood left behind would be inside the car, not outside it, and if that was what had happened, there was no reason why they would have tried to clean it up. Moreover, there were no cloths or anything else in or around the car that could have been used.
Naturally, the car had been thoroughly dusted for fingerprints. The results of that and the test done on the traces of blood both came in at about the same time, at four in the morning. Carson and Ned were still at the State Police station, having gotten very little sleep in the waiting room of the building.
That was where Captain Dawson found them when he came to update them on what they knew so far. Dawson had been put in charge of the investigation and had been up all night working on it. Carson and Ned both stood when he came into the room, eager for whatever news he had.
"So far, we've identified a few fingerprints that don't belong to the girls," Dawson reported. "Of course, we still need to check on them and see if they were made by anyone else who would have had legitimate business in that car. None of them are in the FBI database, though."
"What about the blood?" Carson asked.
"We haven't isolated any DNA yet," Dawon said, "but we do have the blood type. It's O positive."
"That's Nancy's blood type," Carson said, though he wasn't especially surprised by the revelation.
Dawson nodded. "We're still trying to find out about the other girls. It's a fairly common blood type, though, so it doesn't necessarily have to be any of the girls'."
"But then whose could it be?" Ned objected.
Dawson shrugged slightly. "The only thing I know for sure is that something unusual is going on here. I think it's fairly safe to assume…" He cut himself off as the door to the waiting room opened and he turned to see who it was.
A tall man with just a hint of gray at his temples came through the door. Both Carson and Ned were surprised by his sudden arrival.
"Fenton! How did you get here so fast?" Carson strode to meet Fenton Hardy, holding out a hand to shake.
"I was in St. Louis already," Fenton replied. "When Frank called to tell me what was happening, I thought I'd better come right away. Is there any news?"
"A little," Carson said. He turned to the police detective. "This is Fenton Hardy," he explained to him. "Fenton, this is Captain Dawson."
"I've heard of you before, Mr. Hardy," Dawson said, shaking the other detective's proffered hand. "I'd be very grateful to have you help us on this case. It's very puzzling, to say the least."
"Where are Frank and Joe?" Ned asked after Fenton had had a chance to acknowledge Dawon's statement.
"They're still in Bayport," Fenton replied. "They'll be flying into River Heights tomorrow, or rather, later today."
Ned turned back to Dawson. "You were about to say that you thought it was safe to assume something?"
Dawson nodded. "Right. I was going to say that it seems fairly obvious that this mut have something to do with the attempted assassination on Tom Swift. That and the fact that the girls intended to go to Paradise Valley make me very suspicious that their car being found here is just an attempt to make it look like they left again."
"That's what the police there said," Carson pointed out. "It's possible that someone followed them out of Paradise Valley."
"What do you know about that place, Dawson?" Fenton asked.
"There isn't very much to know," Dawson replied. "It's a quiet place. I can't think of a single police case there. Their own force mostly deals with traffic and parking violations. Not too many people live there, and being off the beaten path, not too many people happen through, so it's not too surprising that it's quiet."
"Do you know anyone there?" Fenton pressed.
"No, not really. I've talked to some of the police officers there a few times, more today than I ever have before. The town's been dying out for years. Most of the buildings have been bought up by this guy named Lucien Delvere, some rich guy from California or something. I don't know much about him. I've heard rumors that he charges a small fortune for rent, and that sped up the process of the town dying out. There aren't many jobs, and even if there were, no one could afford to live there."
"That seems strange," Carson noted. "This Delvere wouldn't be getting his investment back if he's pricing out all the potential renters."
"I know," Dawson agreed. "But until now, there's never been any reason to think there was anything wrong there."
"I suppose having Swift Enterprises running a plant there would be good for the town," Ned commented. "It would help with the lack of jobs, at least."
"Right," Dawson said. "Possibly Delvere hiked the rental prices for the locals to get them out so he could rent to the workers at the plant instead. As far as I know, almost everyone who lives in town works there, with a few exceptions."
"How does that profit Delvere?" Fenton asked. "He only owns the plant building and campus. Swift is renting it, so Delvere shouldn't have any say in what happens there."
Dawson shrugged. "Maybe Swift pays his employees well enough that they can afford the high rents. Delvere gets more rent money, Swift has more privacy for his plant, everyone wins."
"Except for Swift, whom somebody tried to kill," Carson pointed out. "Have you been looking into where Delvere is at?"
"I've been trying, but I haven't had much luck yet," Dwason said. "He keeps an even lower profile than Swift. We'll find him, though."
"But meanwhile, we still need to find Nancy and the others," Ned pointed out. "Don't you have any ideas there?"
"The only option I can see is to go back to Paradise Valley and ask some questions again," Dawson said. "I think the police there might be a little more cooperative with me. After all, if they have something questionable going on, the last thing they want is for the State Police to start taking an interest in it."
NDHBNDHBND
Oddly enough, in all that huge plant, Nancy's captors didn't seem to have another room available like the one where they had imprisoned Tom. At any rate, they settled for putting Nancy in a closet with slats in the door so that it wasn't completely dark. It wasn't nearly as secure as the other room, and so to keep Nancy from escaping, they used a pair of handcuffs. They put one cuff on her right wrist, while they locked the other onto a bar across the top of the closet which coveralls were hanging from. This arrangement didn't even allow Nancy to sit down, and with her head still throbbing, she was miserable. The only consolation was that the noise of the machinery wasn't as loud in here.
After what must have been hours, Nancy jumped at the sound of a human voice coming from somewhere behind her and above her head. It made her jump at first, but it was fairly distant and when she craned her neck around, she saw a vent above her head. Wherever the speakers were, their voices were being carried through the vent. Thinking she might learn something useful, Nancy strained her ears and was able to hear most of the conversation. A word here or there was inaudible, but she was able to piece it together from the rest of the sentence.
"He's not going to be happy when he hears about this." Nancy wasn't completely certain, but she thought this was Meyers speaking. "What were you thinking, Roscoe?"
"I wasn't thinking anything. It was all a big mistake," another man replied, a tremor in his voice.
"I might have believed that if it was only one or two things," Meyers retorted, "but you've obviously been trying to undermine us for some time. What changed? Don't give me any stories about genuinely thinking you were being hired as a cop. Are you here undercover?"
"If I was undercover, I wouldn't have tried anything as sloppy as what you think I've done."
"Then what do you think you're doing?"
"I didn't do anything. Just because that kid accused me…"
"He didn't have any idea we were listening," Meyers interrupted. "Why would he say that if it wasn't true?"
Roscoe scoffed. "You have one of the Swift family in there, and you think he didn't know the room was bugged?"
"If he's anything like his old man…"
"He's not, and you know it, or you wouldn't have bothered grabbing him. He's probably just trying to get back at me for catching him in the back of that car. He might have escaped if it hadn't been for me."
"How did he get out of the police station if he didn't have help?"
"He probably did. It just wasn't me. Do you honestly think he would have burned whoever tried to help him? He might have even been framing me to help out the traitor."
"I don't think a fifteen-year-old would be that devious, even if he is a Swift," a third man argued.
"I don't know." Meyers sounded uncertain. "I'm going to let him sort this out. He's coming himself. For now, find a place to put Roscoe. If you're not the traitor, you don't have anything to worry about."
"I'm not worried, but I don't like being locked up."
Nancy heard a door opened and close. There was a brief pause, and then a man she hadn't heard before took up the conversation.
"All due respect, of course, but how's he going to clear this up when we can't? I mean, it's not like the Swift kid is going to trust him."
"Oh, I think he will, with Nancy's help," Meyers said.
"Why would she help?"
"There wouldn't have been any hope of it if she hadn't lost her memory. He's going to bring some of his out-of-town people, and they'll pose as people she can trust, who are going to try to rescue her. We may even put on a show for her, to really seal it. After all, we can't actually have them 'rescue' her. Then she'll convince young Tom that he can trust them, and he'll play right into our hands. We couldn't have had a better stroke of luck than Nancy's amnesia if we'd asked for it."
"What if she starts to remember things?"
"His people are expects at manipulation. They'll make her doubt her own memories, if any start to come back. Then there's Roscoe, too. Provided he really is the traitor, he'll be a big help to us in spite of himself."
"How's that?"
"That's why it will be out-of-town people. If Roscoe really is against us, he won't know them so he'll trust them. That will help Nancy trust them, and between the two of them, they can convince the Swift kid."
"Sounds pretty much foolproof."
"It certainly is. It won't even matter that Nancy came here and stirred up this whole mess."
The door opened again and the speakers must have left through it, as Nancy didn't hear anything further from them. She had heard enough, though to concern her. So they were going to use her amnesia against her after all. They were going to use it to such an extent that even if her memory started coming back, she couldn't trust it. It was a little odd to reflect that she literally couldn't trust anyone, not even herself. Well, perhaps, if she could ever find him back, she could trust Tom, but considering that these people were going to try to manipulate him, too, even that wasn't foolproof.
NDHBNDHBND
Dawn was just beginning to streak the sky. Bess and George had sat up the rest of the night, watching the window. The one dog, which had come to the farmhouse door last night, must have caught their scent. It was only a matter of time before someone realized that there was someone in the farmhouse. The girls had debated whether they should find a different place to hide, but those dogs would be able to follow their trail wherever they went. It wouldn't do much good.
"We could have gotten away from this place by now if we had just run," Bess commented ruefully. "It seems like every decision we make turns out wrong."
"I don't know," George replied. "It's hard to say what would have happened if we had tried setting out again."
"But it's easy to say what will happen as long as we sit here," Bess insisted. "We've got to try to get away."
"I know." George sighed in frustration. "If we would have gone in the dark, we could have gotten turned around again or even walked into one of those guys with the dogs. Now that it's getting light, it's going to be easier for them to spot us."
"You're starting to sound like me, so I might as well sound like you. There isn't any non-risky way to get away from here, so let's please try."
"Okay. Now's as good a time as ever, I guess."
George started to stand up, but even as she did, she suddenly ducked back down under the window. A man with a dog on a leash had just passed between the barn and another shed. Bess had seen him, too, so there was no need to explain the delay to her. The girls just stared at each other.
"Do you think there's only one?" George asked after a few moments.
"I hadn't thought there were any," Bess whispered.
"But if there's only one, then maybe we can still sneak past him."
"What about the dog?"
George drummed her fingers on the windowsill. One idea had occurred to her, but she didn't like it at all. If they split up, one of them could allow herself to be chased and captured by the guard while the other escaped to freedom. She put it out of her mind almost as soon as she thought of it. There was no guarantee that they wouldn't both be captured, and allowing one of them to be captured surely had to be a last resort.
While they were still trying to make a plan, the man and the dog appeared again. The dog was straining at its leash, its nose to the ground, as it ran straight toward the door of the farmhouse, pulling its handler along with it. Bess squeezed George's arm in fright, but George looked around. She spotted a lamp on one of the end tables and made her decision. She darted toward it and grabbed it, and then headed for the door.
"What about the dog?" Bess protested. "It might attack!"
"Get the poker from the fireplace!" George whispered. "If it tries anything, hold it off with that!"
"But…" Bess started to protest, but already the man and the dog were on the porch. She ran for the poker and snatched it up before joined George next to the door.
The door opened, and the dog leaped in first. Its handler followed, but before he had a chance to look around, George smacked him over the head with lamp, and he sank to the floor. The dog whirled around and snarled at the girls for a second before leaping at them.
