Witness to Murder

by Franklin W. Dixon

  Right, Joe thought, and the first person to be reported to the police will be you. If he played his cards right, they'd be rid of both opponents in a couple of minutes. But Joe wondered why the tall man was being so cooperative. Why was he going along to the station? Didn't he know Joe would turn him in?

  The station was empty except for one dispatcher and one clerk, a woman in uniform at the front desk. Joe and Annie headed for the desk, followed by the police officer and the tall man.

  The tall man had pocketed his gun as they got out of the car and seemed to have forgotten that he and Annie were there. After Joe arrived at the front desk with Annie, he noticed that their kidnapper had stopped the officer to talk with him in private. After a brief conversation, the two headed down the corridor and into a room. The door quickly closed behind them.

  "Miss," Joe said to the officer at the desk. "That man in there with the patrolman, he's armed and has been holding us captive."

  She looked at Joe as if he were hallucinating but picked up the phone and punched in an extension.

  "I see. Thank you," she said after reporting jloe's accusation and listening a moment. "You're to wait here," she instructed Joe and Annie. "Sit down anywhere. It'll be a few minutes."

  Joe felt as if he were being left out, and he felt he had every right to know what was happening. Also he discovered he was exhausted. He'd give anything to wake up and discover he'd been dreaming the whole incident. He followed Annie to a group of chairs, but instead of sitting down, he headed past them toward the closed door where the officer and the tall man had disappeared.

  "Sir, I'll have to ask you to be seated." The policewoman's sharp voice stopped Joe. "But — "

  "Those are my orders. I suggest you comply."

  Joe sat and crossed his legs at the ankles. Nervously he tapped one foot up and down in a frantic rhythm. Annie sat nipping through the pages of a magazine, as though she were casually waiting for an appointment. Only a slight tremor in her hand revealed her anxiety and fatigue.

  "What do you think's going on, Joe?" she whispered to him finally.

  "I have no idea. And I don't like not knowing. We've been here over half an hour."

  Finally Joe returned to the desk to demand some information. "Officer." He had to speak to get her attention. She acted as if he were invisible.

  "Yes?" She walked over to the counter where Joe was standing and fuming.

  "I'd like to see the man who came in here with us."

  "What man?" the woman asked as if she'd never seen Joe before.

  "When the officer brought us in, there was a very tall man with us. He was over six-six. I'd like to see him, Officer Lloyd," Joe said, reading the woman's name tag.

  "I'm sorry, there's no one here of that description."

  "But—I came in with him." No tall man? Joe couldn't believe it. "At least let me talk to the officer who brought us in."

  "He's not here, either. He went out to answer a call."

  "He's gone?" What was going on? "Look, Officer. I was brought in here for a traffic violation. You can't keep me all night. Just give me my ticket and I'll leave."

  "Oh, I'm sorry, sir. Didn't anyone tell you? You're free to go. I have no information about a violation. It must have been dropped."

  Joe was too stunned to move for several seconds. Finally he did spin around and stride back to Annie.

  "Come on, we're getting out of here." "What's going on? Where's the tall man?" "I have no idea, but I'm not going to argue with anyone because I'm not getting a ticket. This is bizarre."

  Annie didn't question the reason for their freedom. "I'm exhausted, Joe. Can we go back to your place? I felt safe there."

  "My plan exactly. So far we've gotten nowhere—fast. And I have an appointment at ten in the morning — this morning."

  Outside the station the sky was beginning to lighten. Before they got in the van, Joe checked it over carefully but found no evidence of tampering. Also there was no sign of the man who'd held them captive on the wild ride down the highway. It was as if he had never existed, and the incident had never happened.

  He glanced around the small, quiet town, but it seemed empty. No one had started leaving for work yet, no joggers were pounding the streets. There was no sign of the car that had followed them.

  "Who was that man?" Annie asked out loud. "And where did he go? I don't understand why he keeps appearing and disappearing."

  "I'd like to know what story he told the police," Joe said. "But right now, I'm starving. It's almost light. We can at least have breakfast before we go."

  Joe pulled the van in front of the cafe that now was open. The aromas of freshly brewed coffee and bacon frying greeted them when they entered. "I'll take a number one and a number four," Joe told the waitress at the counter, and handed the menu to Annie. "To go."

  "Are you sure that'll be enough, Joe?" Annie smiled. "I'm not sharing. I'm starving, too." She gave the waitress her order.

  They each drank a cup of coffee while they waited, and Joe ate two sweet rolls. Then he handed the bag to Annie and paid for the food. A couple of sleepy men wandered in as they walked out. Joe glanced in all directions, then climbed into the van. He felt almost relaxed as he swung onto the highway. Now was the time to ask Annie some serious questions.

  "I must say, Joe Hardy," Annie started before he had a chance, "spending the night with you is not boring."

  Joe didn't laugh, and Annie looked over to see why.

  "Sorry, Annie. I've got some bad news — the Excitement may not be over." Joe's two big breakfasts turned to lead in his stomach. "We may have lost the mysterious stranger, but I don't think we've lost Cutter."

  Annie stared into the side-view mirror, her face slowly turning into a mask of pure terror. "No, Joe! We can't let them get us. I know them! They'll force me to talk and then they'll kill me!"

  Chapter 12

  Joe sped up in a desperate attempt to get away but the car behind them was determined not to lose its quarry again. Pulling alongside Joe, the chase car kept pace with Joe.

  "Joe, they're pointing Uzis at us!" Annie screamed, and ducked down in her seat.

  Joe again flicked the switch that brought down the bulletproof shields. The round of bullets hitting the van spurred him on. The bullets were obviously being aimed at the van's tires now. The men must have decided to chance killing Annie for the opportunity to talk to her. Surviving this assault, Joe decided, would be a matter of blind luck.

  "We're dead, Joe." Annie was crumpled up in the seat beside Joe.

  "Hang on, Annie. I can lose them — I promise. I know the area. My dad used to bring us fishing around here."

  Joe swung off the expressway. The car chasing them sped by, brakes squealing. Almost immediately after the exit ramp, Joe took a narrow dirt road that led to a thickly forested plot of land. The road, a one-lane rutted path, wound upward, and the van bounced and skidded until Joe was forced to slow down.

  The road became narrower and steeper until it leveled out and headed downhill. It was on the downhill side that the van began to cough.

  "What the — " Joe glared at all the gauges. What he saw made his heart sink. "Oh, no!" "What's wrong?" Annie asked. "We're out of gas." Joe grinned sheepishly. "Out of gas? Joe, you're kidding. How could you run out of gas?"

  "Easy. I had a lot on my mind." He looked around quickly, his mind clicking now. As the van coasted to a stop, he maneuvered it off the road. "Come on, we're bailing out." "Joe, there's no place to go." "Sure there is." He turned off the ignition. Deep forest surrounded them. After jumping out, Joe locked the van. He had no choice but to leave it. Cutter's car had no doubt made a U-turn by now and was headed in their direction. The van wasn't hidden completely, but someone would have to know where to look to see it.

  Joe reached for Annie's hand, and within seconds they were in the forest, hidden by trees and brush. The birds immediately grew silent, aware of the intrusion. But a squirrel overhead scolded, complaining about the visitors.


  The ground crunched with each step because of the carpet of leaves underfoot. To Joe they sounded like a couple of bears crashing about, and there was no way to be quiet. Any minute Cutter's thugs could catch up and hone in on them.

  Annie wobbled along beside him. It was all she could do to keep upright. Joe looked at her shoes. She still had on the high heels.

  "Take them off," he advised.

  "It would be even slower going. I can't run barefoot." ' .

  "Why don't girls wear sensible shoes?"

  "I didn't know we were going for a hike in the woods," Annie complained.

  Joe clutched Annie's hand tightly and slowed down. He was looking for a clearing not too far from where they'd left the van. Just past the clearing there was a small fishing cabin he and his father had rented some years earlier. If they could find the cabin, if it was still there, they could take refuge, or at least stop and assess their situation.

  "I'm sorry, Joe." Annie's breath came in short bursts. "I can't go much farther without resting. If they followed us—"

  "They would have caught up by now, Annie." Joe tried to reassure her. He felt sure they were being followed, but he didn't know how far behind Cutter's men were, or how good they were at tracking. There were several ways he and Annie could have headed from the van. With any luck, the men could have taken a wrong trail or split up, leaving the odds better for Joe.

  Joe swore at himself under his breath. He was a fool, stupid and careless — an amateur. How could he run out of gas. They'd had a head start when the chase car had flown past the exit. Maybe he and Annie could have gotten across the dirt road to the state highway, then pulled into one of the little towns over there and hidden out. Any number of small roads crisscrossed these wooded hills, and Joe knew most of them. Sometimes, bored with fishing, he and Frank had ridden dirt bikes for miles.

  But he couldn't dwell on what might have been. He needed a plan for escaping Cutter's men now. And if he could successfully overpower them, how could he and Annie get back to town? Cutter's car. That was it. Ambush them and take their car.

  "Annie." Joe pulled her into a small clearing and behind an outcropping of rocks. "I've got a plan. We're going to stop and wait for them. You stay here. I'm going to see if I can find another place to hide."

  "Joe, don't leave me alone," Annie pleaded.

  "I'm not leaving. Get back behind those rocks and keep your eyes open. And keep that karate chop ready."

  Hunched down, Joe ran for a thick tree. He paused, listened, heard nothing. Maybe they weren't being followed. A short distance away a small stream bubbled and slid over rocks. A thrush sang in sweet, melodious tones. Joe was pleased to hear it, since its presence meant no one was disturbing the bird.

  Circling back the way they'd come, careful to plant his feet on grass or rocks rather than dry leaves, he listened. Nothing.

  He was on the verge of deciding that he and Annie were alone when a scream pierced the air. At the same time a shot rang out.

  "Annie!" he yelled, and dashed back to where he'd left her.

  She had been struggling with a man, and was just throwing him to the ground when Joe reached her.

  The man rolled over, jumped up, and whirled at Joe's approach. Annie was reaching for a rock to hit him on the head when three men crashed out of the woods behind her and shouted, "Hold it—right there."

  One man had an Uzi pointed straight at Annie. Another trained his weapon on Joe. The third lowered his gun and picked up the .44 Magnum his partner had dropped when he'd fallen to the ground.

  "What's the matter, Clive?" the thug with the machine gun said. "Can't handle a little girl?"

  "This is no ordinary girl, pal. Take my word for it. You tie her up." He grabbed Annie's arms. She struggled, her eyes pleading with Joe to help her.

  Before Joe could move, two of the other men slammed him to the ground. Twisting loose, Joe rolled and kicked upward, catching one man in the stomach. Even so, his two attackers finally managed to pin him facedown. Then Joe felt a small circle of cold steel against his neck.

  "We have orders not to kill you, kid, but we might just forget. So lie still."

  "You could say it was an accident," the man called Hodge gasped. He'd helped wrestle Joe to the ground and was nursing a bruised solar plexus. "Your gun went off in a struggle."

  "Please, don't kill him!" Annie demanded. "You've got me. Let him go."

  "Let him go, lady? You've got to be kidding."

  Joe's fear for Annie forced him to make one more try for freedom. If he could get the machine gun . . . Twisting out from under the man who held him captive. Joe kept low, then hacked at his wrist with a powerful blow. The gun flew from the man's hand, but just as Joe closed his hand around the weapon, the butt of a gun slammed into his head from behind. Through a burst of stars, Joe heard Annie scream. Then he toppled onto the forest floor.

  It was hours later when sunlight streamed into the clearing, warming Joe's stiff body. His temples pulsed in a wave of pain. His head felt as if it were filled with lead pellets. He managed to focus his eyes, but he could move neither his arms nor legs. Both were tied securely behind him. Slowly, Joe forced himself to raise his head as the world around him flashed and wavered like a gruesome light show. Pain and fear struck his gut like a lightning bolt.

  The fear was not for himself. It was for Annie. Cutter's thugs were gone, and they had taken the girl with them.

  Joe had failed to protect her—and for Annie his failure meant certain death.

  Chapter 13

  A blue jay shrilled overhead as if laughing at Joe's predicament. Two squirrels chattered, chasing each other down the bark of a nearby tree. Each sound made his headache worse. Yet Joe couldn't lie there suffering. That wasn't doing him or Annie any good. He used the pain like a whip to bring himself to a state of alertness and to remain conscious.

  Slowly Joe rocked from side to side, trying to gain the momentum he needed to turn over. The movement only twisted the ropes tighter, making them cut into his wrists and ankles. Finally, he flipped over onto his back, biting his lip to keep from crying out as the ropes cut deeper into his already raw skin.

  He managed to sit up and look around. He saw nothing that he might use to cut through the cords. He was no longer near the rocks where Annie had hidden, but near the creek now.

  If his memory served him correctly, there were rocks clustered all up and down the stream bed. He used to climb on the rocks years ago.

  Fatigue threatened to eliminate the surge of adrenaline he'd mustered by turning over. Annie's in trouble, he reminded himself. And it's my fault. How long had he been unconscious? Not too long, he thought, since the sun was still low in the east. There was a chance to find her if he could get out of there soon.

  He debated whether or not it would be faster to roll or scoot down to the stream. Scooting won since it was the less painful of the two. But twice he lost his balance and rolled when he would have preferred to move in the slower manner.

  Finally he reached his goal. There were plenty of sharp edges in the jumble of rock piles beside the stream, left there by some long-ago shift in the mountainous terrain.

  Joe's mouth was so parched he could scarcely swallow, and the water teased him. It was so near, yet he couldn't reach it. He had to get loose first. Again he endured the agony as he lifted his hands behind his back to the edge of a rock and began to slide the rope back and forth.

  It took less time than he'd anticipated once he got a rhythm going. The granite was razor sharp where a piece had broken away long ago.

  When he felt his bonds release, he gave a sigh of relief. Quickly he brought his arms, stiff and sore, around to his ankles to untie the cord there. He rolled to the creek, drank deeply, then ducked his head into the cold water to clear his cobwebby brain.

  His muscles screamed as he stood, but he insisted that his legs move until he reached the road.

  The van was still hidden beside the small dirt road, but it was useless to Jo
e. There were flares in a toolbox in the back, but no one was likely to be driving by so early in the day. Joe checked his watch, but it was crushed and broken. Apparently, he had smashed it during the fight with Cutter's men. Joe took off on foot for the highway.

  He was sweating profusely from the pace he'd maintained when he came in sight of the highway. Never had morning rush-hour traffic looked so good. One, it suggested that it was not so late as Joe had feared. Two, with all these people out there, someone had to pick him up.

  Or would they? He must look awful. That was it. He'd play on looking awful. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, miraculously still white, he dabbed it in the fresh blood on his wrists that were rubbed raw enough to bleed. Then he tied it around his head. Stepping back off the road, he searched until he found a dead limb of sufficient length and strength to fashion into a crutch.

  He climbed the embankment to the expressway and went into his act. Placing the crook of the limb under his armpit, he limped in an exaggerated manner, using the limb to partially support himself. Then he turned and stuck out his thumb.

  No one stopped. While he didn't blame them — he rarely picked up hitchhikers—he thought surely they could see that he had been injured.

  Suppressing the desire to either run out into the road and wave someone down or scream at the cars whizzing by, he continued to wave and thumb for a ride.

  Finally a station wagon did pull over just ahead of him.

  "Have a problem, young man?" To Joe's surprise, his rescuer was an elderly woman. She sat ramrod straight in the driver's seat, her white hair piled high on her head.

  "Yes, ma'am. I wrecked my car back on that dirt road." He motioned toward the woods. "Hit a rock in the road as I came over a hill. I need to get some help."

  "Get in, young man. You must have been driving awfully fast to have gotten hurt that badly. I'll bet you weren't wearing your seat belt, were you? You young people think nothing bad can ever happen to you."

  Lady, Joe said to himself, you'd never believe how many bad things I've seen.