087 Moving Target

by Carolyn Keene

  Nancy guessed his age at about twenty-five.

  "Michael Kirby," he said to Ned, who was at the far end of the table. He thrust out his hand. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, after Ned had made introductions. "I hate to eat alone."

  "Sit down," Ned replied, and everyone on the bench shifted to make room. "You're one of the few people we've seen since we left town. This road is really off the beaten track."

  Michael pulled out a sandwich and a bag of chips and started to eat. "Yeah, not much traffic out here, except for farm equipment. I saw you at that fruit stand before I turned off for Kenville. I thought I might run into you here."

  "Do you live around here, Michael?" Kendra asked, flashing him an engaging smile.

  "No. But I cover this territory regularly. I sell athletic equipment. I hit all the little towns off the beaten path." He passed his bag of chips to Kendra. "Actually," he continued, "my company's thinking about sponsoring a cyclist in the big race next month. I thought Fd sort of check out your group and size up the two leaders. See if I could pick us a winner."

  "What company do you represent?" CJ asked, looking over at Michael's van, which was unmarked.

  "American Sportstyle, and a couple of others," Michael said, following CJ's gaze, "And if you're wondering why the van doesn't have a company name, it's because I've been robbed one time too many."

  "I was wondering," CJ said.

  "Well, I'll tell you. You put a name on the van and everybody knows you could be hauling expensive sports equipment—bikes, accessories, weight benches. My van's been broken into so many times that the advertising wasn't worth it."

  "Out here?" George asked.

  "Out here," he repeated. "Not everybody you meet on this route is a clean-cut athlete or part of a picnicking family." He nodded his head toward the children, who were riding on the ancient swings with Jennifer pushing them. "I can vouch for that." He took another few bites of his sandwich, then waggled a finger at George. "That's a nice bike you've got," he said. "Noticed it when you pulled into the fruit stand. You were flying! New?"

  "Yes," George said. "As a matter of fact, it is. And I love it. This is the first time I've had it out on a long ride."

  "Do you live in Emerson?" he asked.

  "No," she said.

  "Student?"

  George nodded absently and reached for a cookie.

  "Bike like you've got costs plenty," Michael said, munching on the last of his chips.

  When George didn't volunteer any information, Michael laughed. "I guess what the papers say must be true. College kids have more money to spend than any other age group in the country." He licked his fingers and stood up. "Well, I've got to be getting on my way. I may run into you again later, down the road. I have to make a couple of stops in town, around here." He turned to Ned. "Are you staying at Bannon House tonight?"

  Ned nodded. "Bannon House tonight and then Lakeview tomorrow. Then we circle around through Woodside and back to Emerson by Monday night."

  "Good route! County fair is on in Bannon," Michael said. He flashed a smile at Kendra. "Great rock group on the program—Timeline. Maybe I'll see you there." He walked to the rest rooms, and a few minutes later the van pulled out of the parking area.

  "Okay, everybody," Erik said, walking over to the table. "Social time is over. Let's go!"

  "Just a minute," George said. She had unzipped her backpack and was rummaging through the contents. "That's weird," she muttered to herself. "I know I put it in here."

  "What are you looking for?" Nancy asked.

  "My knee support. Nan, I'm losing it! I know I put that thing in here this morning. Fm sure I didn't put it in my pannier."

  Nancy frowned. "I saw you put it on top in your backpack, then zip it up."

  "Well, it's not here now."

  CJ, who was watching the search, heaved his backpack up to the bench and unzipped it. "Not to worry," he said. "I always carry one. You can use mine. Here"—he rapped his knuckles on the bench—"sit down and put your leg up here. I'll help you." He took an elasticized knee brace from his pack while George sat down.

  "Well, what is this?" Kendra asked, walking toward the couple. She stared at CJ. "The resident doctor, are you?" she asked sarcastically.

  "A biology major is as close as you're going to get to a medic on this trip," he replied without looking up.

  "There, that should do it," he said to George, giving the brace a final pat. "Too tight?"

  "No, it feels good," she said. "Thanks."

  "Any time." He took her hand as she swung her leg off the bench and stood up.

  Kendra had moved over toward the grove of trees and was talking animatedly to Jennifer. The family with the children had left, and Erik, who'd been watching off to one side, walked over to

  George and CJ. "I see you're getting closer to the infirmary," he commented. Then he turned around. "Okay," he yelled. "Everybody over here!" He waited for Kendra and Jennifer to join the group before he continued. "Now, this next stretch of road is a little more challenging than the one this morning."

  "He sounds like a tour guide," Nancy whispered to Jennifer, who nodded and moved away.

  "It winds around, in and out of hollows, and you'll run into some uphill grades—nothing major if you've ridden in Colorado, but enough to give you a workout. Oh, and keep on the pavement as much as you can. There's loose gravel on the shoulders and a deep gully for drainage on our side of the road. Let's go!"

  He swiveled around and marched off toward the bikes, flanked by Kendra and Jennifer.

  "Something weird is going on here," Nancy said to Ned as they followed CJ and George to the bike racks. "I saw her put that brace in there this morning. I saw her zip the pack. Somebody has to have taken it."

  "But who'd steal a knee brace?" Ned asked.

  "Well, I can think of two people who don't have George at the top of their Best Friends list. Kendra's furious with her because CJ's paying too much attention to her, and Erik is so jealous of her being able to keep up with him that he'd do almost anything to keep George from winning."

  She reached up with both hands and lifted her

  hair off the back of her neck. "It's like he has a compulsion to win—at any cost."

  Ned shrugged. "I don't know what we can do about it," he said. "Except keep an eye on George"—he grinned at Nancy—"which CJ seems to be doing a good job of." His voice became serious. "Nan, there's no proof that anyone stole the brace. Maybe she did forget it."

  "Ned, she did not forget it. I saw her put it in her backpack." The exasperation in Nancy's voice was obvious. "Somebody in the group must have taken it."

  "Or the guy who came for lunch," Ned said.

  "No, it couldn't have been him," Nancy said. "He wasn't anywhere near her things. But while we're on the subject, I didn't like him very much."

  "Why not?"

  "Well, he was asking George all those questions—about where she lived and if she was a student and about her bike. I just didn't like him."

  They unlocked their bikes, checked to make sure that the tires didn't need air, then followed the others out to the road.

  Erik had been right about the route, Nancy thought, later that afternoon. There were sudden curves and dips in the road. In addition, the stately elms that lined the way had already dropped some of their leaves, and those, together with puddles from a recent rain, made parts of the road slick. There was little conversation among the riders. Everyone was too busy concentrating on safely maneuvering the route.

  Nancy was keeping a close eye on Erik and George, who were not riding quite as far ahead of the group as they had been that morning. But to Nancy's dismay, Erik was definitely in the lead. She took a curve, shifted gears, and worked at pumping uphill. It was getting late in the afternoon, and she was thinking of how good a hot shower would feel, when suddenly George disappeared from view.

  Nancy put on a burst of speed, racing ahead of the group. At the top of the hill she braked, skidded, and jumped off h
er bike, scanning the road in front of her. Then she noticed something off to the side and realized it was a person, not a thing.

  It was George—and she was lying motionless in the deep gully.

  Chapter Five

  "George!" Nancy yelled, sliding down the slope to reach her friend. "George!"

  Filled with concern, she crouched down beside the tall girl, who now lay so still in the mud and leaves of the gully. George groaned quietly and tried to move. Nancy reached for the water bottle on her friend's crippled bike, pulled the scarf from her neck and doused it with water. Very gently, she wiped George's forehead. The side of George's cheek was scraped from the brambles she'd slid over when she was thrown from her bike, but she didn't appear to have any major cuts.

  Nancy just hoped that George didn't have any serious injuries. Slowly George's eyes opened. She blinked twice and moved one arm, then the other, as if testing to see that everything was working.

  "Boy," George said weakly, "that was a surprise." She bent her left leg at the braced knee and then tried the right one. Both moved freely. "Just checking," she said to Nancy.

  "Can you sit up?" Nancy asked, cradling her arm under George's shoulders. "Is your head all right? I mean, I've heard about people getting head injuries even when they're wearing a helmet."

  George banged on the helmet with a fist. "As all right as it's ever been," she quipped, grinning at Nancy.

  "You know what I mean," Nancy said, with just a trace of impatience in her voice. "It's not funny, George. You could have been seriously hurt."

  "Actually, I landed on one shoulder, but it seems to be okay." She carefully moved her shoulders back and forth as Nancy helped her to sit. She looked up as Ned and CJ slid down the embankment. "Oh, good grief," she said. "I'm about to become Exhibit A. I hate to have everybody staring at me. I'm fine. Really!" She stood up, still somewhat wobbly, and brushed the leaves and mud from her clothes.

  Nancy could tell that she was embarrassed by all the attention.

  "I'm just a klutz, that's all," George muttered.

  With CJ supporting her on one side and Nancy

  on the other, they made their way back to the side of the road, while Ned carried the disabled bike up to the shoulder where the rest of the group was waiting. Erik, on hearing Nancy yell, had turned around and come back. As if that weren't bad enough, just then Michael Kirby happened to drive by, and Kendra and Jennifer flagged him down. He pulled his blue van over to the side of the road and got out.

  "What happened, darlin'?" Michael asked George.

  Nancy saw George wince. Anyone who knew George knew that calling her "darlin'" wouldn't go over well.

  George shook her head. "I shifted gears, and the next thing I knew I was in the ditch. I don't know what happened." She paced off the area of the accident, examining the road surface. "There are no potholes here, no big rocks, no slippery spots. It doesn't make any sense."

  "Well, don't look at me," said Erik, his tone belligerent. "I was a good eighth of a mile ahead of you when you did your swan dive. Probably your knee gave out," he continued, with a trace of smugness, "and you lost your balance."

  "My knee was fine," George retorted, unconsciously moving her hands to the brace that firmly supported the knee. "No problem. I don't know what happened."

  "I think I do," said Nancy. She was crouched down beside the bike with CJ, examining the

  brakes. "Your brake cables popped." She paused. "And it looks as if it wasn't an accident."

  "You're kidding!" said George. "But who—"

  Michael moved away from the girls and squatted down beside Nancy to inspect the brakes. "This probably came defective from the factory," Michael said. "You can't believe the slipshod workmanship that goes into things these days. I mean, everybody knows about the recall rate on cars. Bikes are no better. Some guy on the line at the factory has a bad day and presto! Some unlucky customer gets a defective bike."

  "Not a Cannondale," Nancy said. "It's one of the best bikes you can buy. Cannondale has an excellent reputation." She stared up at him. "Which I thought you'd know, since your line of work is sporting goods."

  "Well, pardon me," said Michael.

  "Besides," Nancy continued, ignoring his sarcasm, "these brakes have been tampered with. It looks like someone deliberately cut them just enough so that when George was going downhill and put on her brakes, the cables popped."

  CJ, who was also down on his knees beside the bike, stood up and put his arm around George. "I have to agree with Nancy," he said to her, oblivious to the angry glare he was getting from Kendra. "Somebody messed with your bike, and you're lucky you weren't seriously injured."

  "Well, whatever exciting little story you want to cook up to tell your friends is okay with me," Michael said. He turned to George. "But meanwhile, darlin', it looks like you're without wheels. Fd be glad to give you a lift to the next town. I was on my way to the fair there when I passed by. We can load the bike in the back of the van."

  George hesitated, glancing from CJ to Nancy. It was clear that she didn't want to ride with Michael Kirby.

  "Well, are you coming or not?" Michael said. "I don't bite."

  "Let's move it," said Erik impatiently. "You don't have many options, Fayne, unless you want to walk your bike to Bannon House. It's about five miles."

  "Do you think you can ride a bike?" CJ asked George quietly, quickly sizing up the situation.

  She nodded, her dark curls bobbing.

  "Then take mine," CJ said to her. "I'll ride with Michael. We'll put your bike in the van and fix it when we get to the inn. I've got extra cable if you don't."

  George looked up at him and grinned. "I always carry extra cable, and I've got my tools, but I could sure use the help. Thanks!"

  "It's a smart thing to do, anyway," CJ said, "to get back on a bike. I was in an accident two years ago, and my coach borrowed a bike for me and made me get right back on and keep going. Getting thrown like that is a real shock." He picked up George's bike and walked to the van, where Michael was waiting. "Change of passengers," CJ said to Michael.

  "Fine with me," Michael replied, slamming the driver's door.

  Nancy's usually cheerful face was serious as she observed the group. First the missing knee brace, Nancy thought, and now this "accident." Who would want to hurt George? Erik was certainly a possibility. He really wanted to win this "recreational" run. It seemed hard to believe that he'd take their informal race so seriously, Nancy thought. But he had told the Eagle about their supposed contest, and it wouldn't look good if the paper printed that he had lost. And from what she had seen he was a total egomaniac.

  Then there was Kendra, who was clearly jealous about CJ's attention to George. No, Nancy thought. She just couldn't imagine Kendra's knowing enough about a bike to cut the cables. Nancy couldn't even imagine the girl holding a pair of pliers! But it would be like Kendra to convince someone to help her.

  Nancy turned and looked over at Jennifer, who was talking to Ned. Was Jennifer a possibility? She had seemed so friendly at first, but after Erik made a fuss about Nancy being a private investigator, she had pointedly distanced herself from Nancy and George. Was she just shy, or was she hiding something? But she had signed up for the trip at the last minute and didn't seem to know much more about bikes than Kendra.

  And when would anyone have had the opportunity to tamper with the bike? It would have to have been during their lunch break.

  "I don't understand who would sabotage my bike," George said to Nancy as the van pulled out.

  "Well, you might, George."

  Nancy detected the distinctive scent of Kendra's expensive perfume and knew, before she turned around, who had spoken the barbed words.

  "I mean, after all," Kendra continued, "staging an accident—just a teeny one where you're not really badly hurt—is a great way to get attention, isn't it?" Her eyes flashed with jealousy as she confronted George. "If it's attention you want, you may get more than you bargained for."


  "What's that supposed to mean?" George asked. "Is that a threat?"

  "No, only a warning." She flicked a piece of fluff from her hot pink track suit. "Then again, maybe you just need to get training wheels until you learn how to ride."

  Ned, who had gone to check the brakes on the other bikes, came and stood by Nancy just in time to hear Kendra's final remark. "We need to get going," he said briskly. "We don't have much daylight left."

  "Good idea," Erik agreed. "I've heard enough of your garbage, Kendra. Chill out."

  George looked up quickly, surprised at this defense from an unexpected source. But her relief was short-lived as Erik continued. "It's hard enough riding with amateurs who don't look after their equipment"—he looked pointedly at George—"without having to listen to junk like that from people who have no reason to be here except to advance their social life."

  "Just what do you mean by that crack?" Kendra asked.

  "I mean," Erik said, "that some people don't know the difference between a bike trip and a dating service."

  Kendra's pretty face twisted into an ugly mask as she faced Erik. "And some people," she snapped, "don't know the difference between a bike trip and an ego trip. Why don't you explain to us, Erik, why it is that every time you sign up for one of these outings, somebody has an accident?"

  Erik flushed, and Nancy could see the cords in his neck straining, as his anger surfaced. But before he could say a word, Kendra stormed on. "Why don't you tell us the story about Jeffrey Long, Erik. Or maybe you'd like me to tell it. You almost killed him!"

  Chapter Six

  Erik turned his back on Kendra and moved toward his bike without answering. He kicked back the stand, swung his leg over the crossbar, and started out, pedaling fiercely. George, not about to give up on their competition, quickly followed, leaving the rest of the group standing by the side of the road.

  Nancy grabbed Kendra's arm. "Tell me about Jeffrey Long," she demanded.