Carolyn Keene
White Water Terror
Chapter One
“YOU’VE GOT TO be kidding,” Bess Marvin said. She looked up from her seat in Nancy Drew’s bedroom, where she was polishing her long, delicate nails. “I’m not going on any wilderness trip!”
“But, Bess, you’ll love it,” countered her cousin George Fayne.
Sitting cross-legged on her bed, Nancy Drew was engrossed in a puzzle and trying to block out the sound of her best friends’ voices. The more difficult the puzzle, the better Nancy liked it. Thinking hard kept her mind limbered up for her more challenging work as a detective.
“Really, Bess, you will love it,” George said again, seeing her cousin roll her eyes. “Lost River, the mountains, the trees, the birds—they’re all yours, just for sitting comfortably in a rubber raft for a couple of days. You probably won’t even have to paddle. The river will do all the work.”
“I’ll loathe it!” Bess exclaimed with a shudder. “Nancy,” she implored, “tell George that this time she’s really gone looney tunes.”
Nancy put down her puzzle and looked at her friends. George, who had just come from her regular three-mile afternoon jog, was wearing a blue-and-green running suit that emphasized her athletic wiriness and made her look ready for anything. White water rafting was exactly the kind of thing that would turn George on. She loved any challenge. That was what made her so valuable to Nancy.
At the same time, rafting was exactly the kind of thing that would turn Bess off. At the moment, for instance, she was wearing a pair of tight purple stirrup pants and an enormous gauzy shirt, cinched with a thin gold belt. Her long, straw-colored hair curled loosely around her shoulders. It wasn’t that Bess was afraid of adventure, and it wasn’t that she was terribly lazy. She was just . . . well, Bess liked to do things the easy way. Maybe she was a bit timid, but she always enjoyed being where things were happening—and things always happened with Nancy around.
Nancy folded her arms and looked from one friend to the other with a grin. “Okay, George, start from the beginning,” she said. “Tell us just how you managed to get four places on this rafting expedition. And where is Lost River, anyway?”
“I told you,” said George, her dark eyes gleaming with excitement, “I don’t even remember entering the contest. Maybe I did it when I bought those jogging shoes at the sporting goods store a couple of months ago. I vaguely remember filling out an entry blank for some sort of contest. Anyway, I got this letter yesterday from somebody named Paula Hancock, who owns White Water Rafting, notifying me that I’d won the grand prize in this national contest. Four places on a white water raft trip down Lost River, in the mountains of northwest Montana. They’re even offering free plane tickets to Great Falls—the nearest city.”
“Did the letter say anything about the kind of trip it might be?” Nancy asked. “I mean, there are rivers and then there are rivers,”
“According to the letter, Lost River is the ultimate white water challenge, full of rapids and falls. What a terrific vacation—and free, too. Anyway, we need a vacation,” George said emphatically. “We’ve been working too hard.”
Bess put the cap on her nail polish and shook her head. “George, you’re crazy,” she said. “Going rafting down some wild mountain river is no vacation—it’s sheer torture!”
Nancy thought back to her last case, Hit and Run Holiday, a Florida “vacation” that had nearly gotten her killed. She had come to realize the importance of spending relaxed time with her friends. “We do need a break,” she said.
“Yes,” Bess said, brightening. “You’re absolutely right, Nancy. But what we need is a break, not a breakdown. I vote for a long weekend at the beach. I know we were just in Fort Lauderdale, but what happened there certainly wasn’t a vacation. I want to do nothing but lie in the sun and baste ourselves with tanning lotion. And when we’re tired of the beach, we can go shopping.” She threw Nancy a hopeful glance.
“Shopping!” George hooted, springing to her feet. “All you ever want to do is go shopping, Bess Marvin. Don’t you have a larger purpose in life?”
Bess looked at George calmly. “Of course I do,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “Going out with a good-looking boy, for one. Or eating,” she added.
George shook her head. “Funny. Ha, ha,” she replied.
Nancy climbed off the bed and went to the window, where she stood looking out at the soft summer drizzle that was falling. A river trip might be fun, but she could see Bess’s point. A beach vacation, a real one, would be relaxing, and baking under the hot sun on the shores of Fox Lake might be just the thing to take her mind off the detective business. But there was something else to think about. “You say you won a trip for four people?” she asked George again.
George nodded.
“Well, then, how about inviting Ned to go along?” Ned Nickerson was Nancy’s longtime boyfriend. He was away at summer school just then, at Emerson College, and Nancy missed him. She had the feeling that her friendship with Ned could be the most important relationship in her life—if she could just make a little more time for it. But Ned, who had always been the most understanding guy on earth, seemed to be getting a little impatient with her. Nancy couldn’t forget that during their case at Flash magazine, Ned had become involved with another girl. That hadn’t lasted long, but . . .
The raft trip might be exactly the kind of thing to give the two of them plenty of relaxed, fun time together.
Nancy turned away from the window and continued thinking out loud. “Didn’t Ned go on a couple of white water trips with his uncle a few years ago? He’d probably be a big help in case of an emergency or something.”
“Emergency?” Bess went pale. “Like—like the raft tipping over?”
George looked at her scornfully. “Rafts don’t ‘tip over,’ dummy. They capsize.”
Bess turned a shade paler.
“Rafts don’t capsize, either,” Nancy said, patting Bess comfortingly on the shoulder. “They’re too stable.” She stretched and yawned. “Listen, Bess, if you want a vacation at the beach, go for it. But I’ve never been white water rafting, and it sounds like fun to me—if Ned can come along.” She turned to George.
“Sure,” George said enthusiastically. “Yeah. Ask Ned. We’ll have a great time with him.” She cast a sideways glance at Bess. “And with all the other boys.”
“What other boys?” Bess asked.
“Are you kidding?” George replied. “The letter said there are six other kids coming along on the trip. Probably boys.” She paused. “Rugged, masculine, plaid-shirted boys with broad shoulders and . . .”
“Well . . .” Bess said indecisively.
“Oh, come on,” Nancy said. “It’ll be great.”
“Boys,” George teased.
“Okay,” Bess agreed. “I’ll come.”
“Bess Marvin has agreed to go white water rafting with you and George?” Ned said incredulously. He propped his feet up on Carson Drew’s favorite ottoman.
Nancy’s father was an internationally known criminal lawyer. He had taught Nancy a great deal of what she knew about detective work. At the moment, he was on one of his frequent trips, this one to the Middle East. Nancy missed him, but she wasn’t alone. She had Hannah Gruen, the Drews’ longtime housekeeper, who had been like a second mother to Nancy since the death of Nancy’s real mother.
Nancy glanced at Ned. He was home for the weekend, and she was glad to see him. She was enjoying their cozy evening in the den watching TV.
“How’d you ever talk Bess into it?” Ned asked. “Lost River must be hundreds of miles from the nearest Neiman-Marcus.”
Nancy dipped into a bowl of popcorn that Hannah had made for them before she’d gone
to bed. “It wasn’t easy,” she admitted. She looked at Ned. He was wearing his light brown hair a little longer than usual and his face was darkly tanned. She wondered if he had been spending time at the college swimming pool—and if so, whether he’d been alone or . . .
She put her hand on his arm. “How about you?” she asked softly. “Could I talk you into a white water trip?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. As in you and me. And George and Bess, too, of course.”
Ned pretended to look stunned. “I—I hardly know what to say. This is all so sudden. I . . .” Grinning, he ducked the pillow that Nancy tossed at him. “Yeah, sure, I’ll go, Nan. Summer school will be over next week, and I won’t have anything else to do.”
“Well, I must say you don’t sound all that wild about it.”
Ned’s grin faded. “I guess I’m just surprised,” he said quietly. “Let’s face it, Nancy. We’ve seen each other only two or three times in the last couple of months, and even then I was taking you away from your detective work—from something I felt you’d rather be doing. In fact, during a couple of your recent cases, I’ve gotten the idea that I wasn’t a very important part of your life. We’ve patched things up, but who can tell whether the patch is going to be permanent? After all, maybe you’ve changed in the way you feel about me.”
Nancy swallowed painfully, remembering how she had felt during the Flash case when she had seen Ned holding Sondra in his arms, when they had learned that Sondra’s brother Mick was in trouble. “I guess that’s a logical conclusion,” she said, “but it’s not the right one. I know I’ve been awfully busy, but that doesn’t mean you’re not important to me, Ned.” She leaned back against the sofa pillows and clasped her hands behind her head. “You’re so important to me that I can sort of relax knowing you’ll be around, without having to worry about it a whole lot.”
Ned leaned toward her and touched her cheek with the tip of his finger. There was a slight smile on his lips. “What you’re saying is that you’ve been taking me for granted. Is that it?”
Nancy nodded regretfully. “I guess so. Maybe that’s why I was so ready to accept George’s offer of the raft trip. I think we need time together so you can help me figure out all over again just why it is I love you so much.”
“We don’t have to wait until we get to Montana for me to start working on that assignment,” Ned said softly. He leaned closer and put his arms around her. “Let me give you a couple of reminders.” He kissed her tenderly, then kissed her again. “Got it figured out yet, Detective Drew?”
Nancy relaxed into his arms. “No, not yet,” she said. “Why don’t you try again? When it comes to love, I’m a very slow learner.”
At that moment, the telephone rang. Nancy sighed. “Somebody’s got awfully poor timing,” she said as she lifted the receiver.
“Nancy Drew?” The voice on the other end of the line was low and muffled.
“Yes?” Nancy said slowly, sensing that something was wrong.
The next words struck her with an icy coldness. Her stomach twisted into a frigid knot. “The trip your friend won is no prize,” the voice said ominously. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay home—and stay alive!”
Chapter Two
“WHAT’S STILL NOT clear to me,” Nancy told George and Bess the next day, leaning across the table at Bennie’s Ice Cream Parlor, “is whether the phone call I got last night was a warning or a threat. I mean, I couldn’t tell from the tone of voice whether the caller meant to threaten me with harm or keep me from getting hurt.” She chewed her lip, puzzled. “I couldn’t even tell whether the voice was female or male.”
George dug into her favorite chocolate-mint ice-cream sundae. “Why in the world would anybody want to keep you from going on the trip?” she demanded. After a moment’s hesitation, she turned to Bess. “That phone call . . . it wasn’t you, was it?” she asked suspiciously.
Bess looked hurt. “I went to a concert last night and didn’t get back until after midnight. Anyway, you know I wouldn’t do something that ridiculous. If I wanted to keep you or Nancy from going on the trip, I’d try to convince you in person.”
George sighed. “I know. Sorry.”
Nancy took the last bite of her banana split, watching George intently. “Are you sure you’ve told us absolutely everything you know about the contest?”
“All I know is what’s in that letter from Paula Hancock. I’ve tried and tried to remember exactly when I entered the contest, but I can’t.”
Bess smiled mischievously. “Well, then, maybe it would be better if we didn’t go.” She pushed her half-finished diet drink away, looking with longing at George’s sundae. “The beach is awfully nice at this time of year.”
Nancy looked at George. In the back of her mind was the growing conviction that there was something not right about the contest. But the phone call and George’s inability to recall entering it were her only clues.
“I don’t suppose you’d reconsider your decision to go?” Nancy asked half hopefully. “Maybe we could find another white water rafting trip, if you’ve got your heart set on that. There must be others that would be just as exciting.”
“Yes, but this is a free trip,” George reminded.
Nancy and Bess exchanged long looks. “What about it, Bess?” Nancy asked.
“Well,” Bess said reluctantly, “I’m not exactly thrilled by the idea of spending two whole days hanging on to a raft, getting drenched by icy water, and bouncing from one rock to another. But I hate to think of you out there on the river with some kook who makes weird phone calls.” She shrugged. “You can count me in, I guess.”
“That settles it, then,” Nancy said with a grin, laying her spoon beside her empty dish. She felt good remembering that the three of them had always stuck together, even in tough times. Whatever happened, they weren’t going to let George face the trip alone. Besides, it was already shaping up to be a very interesting vacation. “Lost River, here we come!” she exclaimed.
“Where in the world do you suppose we are?” Bess asked from the backseat of the rental car that Ned was driving. She leaned over and took the map out of George’s hands. “Here, let me have a look at that map. Maybe I can find us.”
Nancy leaned precariously over the front seat. “The road just made another left turn back there,” she said, pointing to the small hand-printed map that Bess was holding.
“Well, what do you think, Bess?” Ned asked, braking suddenly and twisting the wheel to avoid a granite boulder that had tumbled off a cliff and lay in fragments in the road. “Are we taking the right route?”
“It looks like we are,” Bess said, grabbing frantically for the armrest as the car lurched sideways and threatened to go into a skid. “But who cares? The map doesn’t have any route numbers or anything. If this is all we have to go on, Lost River is likely to stay lost.” She thrust the map back at George. “You know, it’s almost as if whoever drew this map wants us to spend the whole morning wandering around in the mountains.”
“I hate to admit it, but Bess may have something there,” George said, staring at the map with a puzzled frown. “And another thing. I can’t figure out why nobody met us at the airport yesterday, the way the letter promised. You’d think that a company big enough to run a national contest would arrange to meet the grand-prize winner when she got off the plane.”
Nancy nodded. “I wondered about that myself. What a start for a vacation!”
Actually, Nancy thought as she settled back into the car seat, it hadn’t even begun to feel like a vacation yet. The four of them had rushed to the airport but waited several hours for a flight from Denver that was so bumpy it would have made an eagle airsick. In Great Falls, there was nobody to meet them—only an envelope containing a hand-drawn map. Scrawled on the bottom were unsigned instructions to pick up a rental car and drive to Lost River Junction that night.
But by the time a car was available, it was late. They had spent the night a
t the only place they could find—a motel next door to the airport, where jets seemed to plow through the bedrooms every hour on the hour. Dragging themselves out of bed, they were on the road by five o’clock—anxious to get to Lost River Junction before the rafts left at nine.
“Well,” Ned said, rolling down the window and taking a deep breath, “now that we’re here, I’m glad. Smell those pine trees. What a wilderness this is!”
It was a wilderness, Nancy thought. They hadn’t seen a sign of civilization for miles. For the last half hour, the narrow two-lane asphalt road had twisted and turned upward into the mountains like a mountain-goat trail. At the moment it was zigzagging precariously across the face of a vertical rock cliff.
Above the cliff and on the other side of the creek, huge pine and spruce trees reached toward the clear blue Montana sky.
Even though it was the middle of July, the breeze was cool and brisk and invigorating, not at all like the steamy, oven-hot summer weather they had left back home.
Nancy stretched and filled her lungs with the clean air. In spite of everything, she was glad they had come. She glanced at Ned’s calm profile and his sturdy, capable hands on the steering wheel. She was glad to be with him. With Ned along to help her laugh, the trip hadn’t seemed nearly so bad.
Bess looked out the window. “I suppose there are wild animals out there,” she said in a worried tone.
“Right,” agreed Ned. “Plenty of them.” He grinned at Bess in the rearview mirror. “Black bears and cougars and mountain lions and rattlesnakes.”
With a little moan, Bess shut her eyes tight and hunched down in the seat.
“You know, I’m really getting worried about how late we are,” George said, glancing at her watch. “It’s after eight o’clock, and we’re scheduled to leave at nine. You don’t suppose they’d start the trip without us, do you?”
“I don’t think they’d leave without their grand-prize winner,” Nancy consoled her. “They wouldn’t dare. After all, you are the reason for this trip.” She hesitated. If George were the reason for the trip, why had Nancy received the mysterious phone call?
White Water Terror Page 1
