Kay looked over her shoulder, making the car swerve. “What! Where?”
“Watch the road.” I poked her in the ribs. She slapped at my hand but returned to driving mode.
“I can turn around up here,” she said. No other cars were in sight. She did a three point turn, and drove slowly back. “Where’s this car?”
“It’s pulled off the road by those bushes.”
“How do you know it's the same one?” she asked. “Must be a zillion gray Mercedes around.” She pulled off the road onto the shoulder a few yards beyond the Mercedes.
“Of this vintage? Don’t you think that’s pushing coincidence a little far?” I retorted. “Last night one carries Bob off to god knows where, and today one just like it is hidden near his house. You figure the odds.”
“It’s not really hidden, it's just inconspicuously parked,” she hedged.
I snorted. “Pretty inconspicuous. You didn’t notice it.”
“Let’s go check it out.” Jack slithered into her abandoned seat when she got out. “You stay in the car, Jack, honey,” she said. “We’ll be right back.”
A graveled shoulder and a drainage ditch bordered the road, and a few feet away barbed wire fencing kept whatever might be lurking off the road. A pickup truck traveling about eighty miles an hour thundered past us, flinging a piece of rock that hit me in the knee. I yelped, but Kay didn’t notice. She looked in the passenger-side window of the Mercedes and tried the door.
“Locked,” she muttered. “Try the driver’s door.”
“It's locked too,” I reported.
“Damn. I should have learned something practical like how to pick a car lock instead of all that art history. Look, there’s a map on the passenger seat.”
Nothing else of interest could be seen in the car. It had nice leather upholstery that precisely matched the gray exterior, and the steering wheel was wrapped in what looked like red suede. I walked around and peered in at the map. “It looks like a local map,” I said, and Kay nodded.
“Which could mean that your woman in red has never been to Bob’s house before, assuming that this is indeed her car,” she said.
“Look out, Nancy Drew,” I commented. My knee hurt where the rock had hit it. I leaned over to rub the sore spot.
She walked all the way around the Mercedes and paused to inspect the license plate. “Hmmm, I wonder if this is a rental plate.”
“Right, probably, I know I always rent a car when I'm planning to kidnap someone.” She raised her chin at me but I went on. “Anyway, aren’t rental cars always compact Fords? And aren’t they always white? Where would you rent a car this old?”
“It is perfectly possible to rent a Mercedes,” she said haughtily.
“It's awfully clean,” I said. “Cleaner than yours. Maybe it spent the night in a garage somewhere.”
“Thank you, Ms. Sherlock.” Abruptly she turned away from the Mercedes and headed back toward her own car. As she did, a battered old Volkswagen bug slowed down.
“You ladies need any help?” called the driver, who appeared to be about nineteen, with blazing red hair standing up in a ring around his extravagantly freckled face.
Kay gave him a wave and a big grin. “No, thanks. We’re just fine, but you are so sweet to ask.” He waved back and gunned his engine, grinding gears. By the time I limped back to Kay’s car the Volkswagen was out of sight. Jack was still on the driver’s seat. “You planning on taking over the driving?” Kay asked him. His tail whipped. “You’re not old enough for a license. Hop in back, that’s a good boy.” He obeyed, and we got in. Kay checked for traffic and put the gear shift into first.
“Wait a minute,” I said. “You’re not going back to Bob’s driveway, are you?”
“Well, yeah.” Her tone was impatient.
“No! We have no idea if that woman came here alone or with Bob, or if she has someone else with her. I mean, she’s probably in cahoots with that guy—”
“Cahoots?” She raised an eyebrow at me.
“—and she may have used a weapon to make Bob go with her. And I still think the guy searching my car had a gun. We could get shot. Or they might shoot Bob. Maybe now is when we should call the police.”
“Not till we see if anyone is at Bob’s house. Okay, we’ll go through the woods.”
I couldn’t suppress a groan. She gave me a look. “Okay, okay, you’re right,” I said, holding up my hands in surrender. “I'm the one who doesn’t want to drive up to the house. Go about a mile and make a right.”
Kay pulled onto the road and sped back the way we’d come. In a couple of minutes we entered the housing tract. Jack’s feet were planted on the console again, and his long ear brushed my arm as he leaned into the turn.
“I have no idea how to get to the old road that leads to that barn,” I told her.
“At least we’re not on foot this time,” she said, and turned right. “And it's not raining.” She turned right again, followed the curve of the street around to the left, then took the next right. The road to the barn was just ahead, leading into a stand of trees.
“I can't believe it was that simple,” I said.
“I figured it had to be on the western edge of the tract. Maybe we can drive it. How muddy was it earlier?” Kay asked.
I peered at the track, trying to remember how squishy it had been. “I don’t know,” I said. “I was too busy being wet myself to pay attention to the ground.”
“Let’s try. If it's too soft for the car we’ll walk.”
She shifted into low gear and turned onto the old road. We’d gone about three hundred yards when the back wheels whined in a spin and the car fishtailed.
“Oops. Let me back up and we’ll walk from here.” She eased the car back to firmer ground. “Okay, let’s go.”
“Will your car be okay? What if someone needs to drive through?”
Kay paused in the act of opening the car door to turn and look at me. “Lou, look at this road, if you want to call it that. I'm not real concerned about traffic here.”
She was right, of course. I swung open the car door and levered myself out onto the still wet ground. “Okay, it's this way. I have no idea how far.”
She pressed the button on her car remote to lock the doors, slung her purse over her shoulder, and struck off at a good pace, paying no attention to the wet grass that slapped at her legs. I've never understood how someone who is three inches shorter than me can walk so fast.
Jack and I followed. After a few steps I paused to free him from the leash. I stuffed it into my fanny pack as I hurried to catch up with Kay.
Just as finding the track to the barn had been a matter of two or three turns, it seemed to take no time at all to come into view of the barn itself. As we approached, the clouds parted and a ray of sunlight turned the building to gleaming silver. Kay paused to look at it. “It’s certainly picturesque,” she commented. “I wonder who owns it. Too bad it's so out of the way, you could really do something with a building like that.”
I remembered how scary that barn had been while I was hiding behind some hay bales from a big man with a gun. Or a shiny belt. “I could really do something with my car, too,” I said firmly, and kept going past her. She sped up and passed me. Jack bounced between us.
Kay approached the lower level of the barn and reached for the door. Suddenly Jack threw his head back and sniffed the air. He gave one loud bay and charged around the right side of the building. “Jack!” I hissed. “Come back!” I hurried after him, scrambling to climb the hill the barn was built into. When I rounded the corner to the back of the barn, Jack was at the door, sniffing and digging at the ground in front of it.
“What’s up, Jack?” I said. I couldn’t see anything different from earlier that day. Jack put his nose to the crack where the door met the frame and inhaled deeply, then pushed at the door with a paw.
I hesitated. “What if—” but before I could think of a what-if Kay had shouldered past me and pulled the door open. Jack was inside in a flash. Kay and I paused just inside the door for our eyes to adjust to the relative darkness. But Jack went straight for the pile of hay bales where we had hidden and nosed something sticking out from behind them.
A foot.
A foot in a canvas high top basketball shoe.
A black canvas high top basketball shoe.