Running Scared

by Carolyn Keene

  Chapter

  One

  ISN’T THIS FANTASTIC?” Bess Marvin asked, turning to her cousin George Fayne on the balcony of their hotel room. Four stories below, the streets of downtown Chicago were buzzing with activity, and Lake Michigan sparkled under a sunny spring sky. “I can’t wait!”

  “You can’t wait?” George arched an eyebrow at her cousin. “I thought I was the one running in the marathon on Sunday.”

  Bess laughed. “Sure, but that’s three days away,” she said. “Three whole days to explore all the clubs, restaurants, and stores here. Chicago is definitely my idea of shoppers’ heaven.”

  “Anywhere you are is shoppers’ heaven,” Nancy Drew teased, joining her two best friends on the balcony. “What do you say, George—are you ready to go check out the course?”

  Nancy and Bess had come with George to Chicago to cheer her on in the Heartland Marathon. Thousands of other women runners would also be competing, including the best female marathoners in the world. The three teenagers had made the drive from their nearby hometown of River Heights a few days early so that George could familiarize herself with the marathon course.

  Their hotel, the Woodville, was the headquarters for the marathon. George had been lucky to get a room when the hotel had had a cancellation.

  “Um, you guys aren’t thinking of running the whole twenty-six-mile marathon course this afternoon, are you?” Bess asked dubiously. She twisted a strand of her long blond hair around one finger as she followed George and Nancy back into their room. “That’s at least twenty-five miles over my limit.”

  Nancy laughed. She knew that the only sports petite, curvy Bess truly enjoyed were shopping and dating. George, on the other hand, with her tall and athletic build, loved physical exercise.

  “You’re hopeless,” George said, rolling her eyes at her cousin. “And there’s no way I’d run the whole course right before the marathon.” She tossed her clothes on the fold-out cot that had been set up next to the room’s two beds, then changed into a red T-shirt and white running shorts.

  “Tell you what,” George said. “Why don’t you explore Chicago while Nancy and I run? We should be back in an hour or two.”

  “Sure, I could do that,” Bess agreed, letting out an audible sigh of relief. “Of course, if you want me to join you . . .”

  George shook her head. “Nancy and I will be fine on our own,” she assured Bess, tying on a bandanna to keep her short, dark curls off her forehead. “I want to register first, though, if that’s okay with you, Nan. The registration room is just downstairs, on the second floor.”

  “No problem,” said Nancy, stretching her long, lean frame. She had changed into yellow shorts and an aqua top that brought out the blue of her eyes and showed off her reddish blond hair.

  “I’ll come, too, since it’s on the way out,” Bess offered brightly.

  After leaving their room, the girls took the elevator down to the second floor. A stream of people passing through an open door near the elevators told them where to go even before they saw the sign marked Heartland Marathon Registration.

  Inside, the room was crowded with runners, officials, coaches, and reporters. Everyone seemed to be talking at once. “This is so exciting!” George said as she, Nancy, and Bess looked around.

  Tables had been set up around the room and labeled to divide the runners alphabetically. George, Nancy, and Bess went to the table marked D-G, and George gave her name to the woman sitting behind it.

  “Here’s race information, a map of the route, and your ID number,” the woman said, handing George a manila envelope. “And here,” she went on, reaching into a large carton behind her, “is your official Heartland Marathon T-shirt.”

  “Cool!” Bess exclaimed as George held up the shirt for her and Nancy to see. It was light blue, and on the front was a gold silhouette of a woman runner. On the back Heartland Marathon was spelled out in gold letters.

  “Thanks,” George told the woman behind the table. She opened the envelope and pulled out the paper with her number, 6592, printed on it.

  “Have you run the Heartland before?” the woman asked George.

  “First time,” George replied.

  “One of our sponsors has provided bicycles if you want to explore the course,” the woman explained. “You can sign them out and cover the route in about three hours or so. It depends on what the traffic’s like.”

  George caught Nancy’s eye. “Let’s do it!” Nancy said.

  “Great!” George said. “We may not have time to cover the whole course today, but we’ll get to cover quite a bit of it.”

  The woman pointed to the opposite side of the room. “You can get the bikes just past the registration table marked W-Z. They’ll tell you where the course begins—it’s not far from here.”

  “Even I’m getting excited, George,” Bess said as the three girls crossed the room, “and I’m not even running in this—oops!”

  Bess stumbled against Nancy as a young man backed into her. “Excuse me,” he said in a deep, slightly accented voice. “I must look where I am going.” He was about six feet tall and very lean, with blue eyes and a head of curly blond hair.

  “You’re totally excused,” Bess answered, giving the man her warmest grin. “I’m Bess Marvin, by the way.”

  “It is a pleasure,” said the man, smiling back. “I am Jake Haitinck. Are you a runner?”

  Bess giggled, then said, “Me? No, but she is.” She flicked a thumb at George. “This is my cousin George Fayne and my friend Nancy Drew.”

  “I am very pleased to meet you,” Jake said, shaking hands with the girls.

  “Where are you from, Jake?” Bess asked before the other girls could say anything.

  “The Netherlands. I am with the International Federation of Racing.”

  “What do you do, exactly?” Bess inquired.

  Nancy exchanged an amused look with George. She didn’t think Bess was too interested in the International Federation of Racing, but she seemed very interested in Jake Haitinck.

  “Well, yesterday I measured the course, to make sure it is the official length,” Jake answered. “Today I rode the whole distance on a bicycle and saw that it was all clearly marked. Things like that. This is my first time in Chicago.”

  “Oh, really?” asked Bess. “Would you like to see a little of the city?”

  Jake’s eyes lit up. “That would be wonderful! But can you spare the time?” He nodded toward the bicycle table, just ahead. “You were going to take bikes out, weren’t you?”

  “No,” Bess said quickly. “That is, my friends are, but I happen to be free at the moment.”

  “Then I accept.” Jake checked his watch. “I will meet you at the front entrance of the hotel in ten minutes, all right?”

  “Perfect,” Bess replied, flashing him another smile. “See you then.”

  As Jake walked away, George shook her head in amazement. “This is a women’s marathon, and Bess has managed to find the only cute guy around.”

  Nancy laughed. “At least now we don’t have to worry about her getting bored while we’re biking!”

  • • •

  “Nancy! See the woman in lavender?” George asked, nodding her head in the direction of a runner.

  George and Nancy were riding side by side on a road in Grant Park. They were almost at the halfway point of the marathon course.

  Following George’s look, Nancy saw a muscular woman with straight brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. She wore lavender running shorts and top and a matching lavender sweatband. Nancy marveled at the way her feet seemed to skim over the pavement.

  “She looks good,” Nancy commented. “Do you know who she is?”

  “That’s Renee Clark,” George said in an exc
ited whisper. “She’s young, but she’s on her way to the top. See how relaxed her arms are? No strain. No waste of energy. She has great form.”

  As Nancy pedaled by, she studied Renee Clark’s face. Her expression was serious and intent, but there was no sign that she was laboring. She looked as if she could go on running all day.

  “Hey, isn’t that a TV crew in that van?” George asked, breaking into Nancy’s thoughts.

  Looking up the road, Nancy saw a van driving very slowly. A logo on the van’s side read ICT, with the words International Cable Television underneath. Through an opening in the roof, a man had a video camera trained on a woman who was running about twenty yards in front of where Nancy, George, and Renee Clark were.

  The woman being filmed was tall, with bright red hair, and she wore a black T-shirt and black shorts with silver trim. She carried a stopwatch in her right hand. Next to her, a middle-aged man in a gray sweatsuit rode a bike. He watched the runner carefully and now and then murmured to her.

  “Who’s that?” Nancy asked George. “She must be someone special, to rate her own TV crew.”

  George looked, and her brown eyes widened. “She’s special, all right. That’s Annette Lang, the number-one woman marathoner for the last five years. Black and silver are her trademark colors. She’s awesome! I can’t believe I’m actually going to be running with athletes like that!”

  As Nancy and George caught up to Annette, they slowed their bikes to the runner’s pace for a moment.

  “I want to watch her from the front,” George said, picking up some speed. “She’s tall, like me. Maybe I can get some tips by watching her.”

  Nancy decided to drop back to where the van wouldn’t block her view. She slowed down even more and gazed around at the park’s trees and greenery, enjoying the beautiful day.

  The sudden roar of a car engine startled Nancy. She looked up and saw a black, rust-splotched car speeding out of an intersecting road and heading right toward the van.

  Nancy gasped as the van swung sharply away from the car, leaning dangerously on two wheels. She waited for the crash, but at the last second the car turned. Without slowing, it sped down the road on which Nancy was riding.

  About fifteen yards ahead of her, Annette and the older man with her quickly stepped to the grassy edge of the drive. Nancy veered her bike closer to the side of the road.

  With a sudden chill Nancy realized that the car had also steered to their side of the road—and now it was heading straight for Annette Lang!

  Chapter

  Two

  HER HEART in her throat, Nancy pedaled as fast as she could toward Annette, who seemed frozen in place.

  The car engine roared in Nancy’s ears as she leaned out and got an arm around Annette. She lunged from her bicycle seat, carrying the runner away from the car’s path. A moment later the two of them lay sprawled on the grass by the road, breathless. The car barreled past, just inches from where Nancy and Annette lay.

  Nancy whirled her head around. She got only a glimpse before the car vanished, but it was enough to see that the car had no license plate and the windows were tinted.

  “What was that maniac doing?” the gray-haired man asked. He was kneeling next to Annette, with his bicycle on the grass next to him. Up close, Nancy saw that he was short and compact, with bristling eyebrows. His light blue eyes were flashing with anger.

  “Don’t move,” he warned Annette as she started to push herself up to a sitting position.

  The runner shook her head. “I’m all right, Derek, really. Hardly even bruised.” She got up, then brushed dirt and grass from her clothes and hair. A small crowd had gathered, and Nancy noticed Renee Clark among them.

  “Thanks to you,” the older man said, smiling at Nancy. “Are you all right?” When Nancy assured him that she was, he said, “This is Annette Lang, and I’m Derek Townsend, her trainer. You have fine reflexes, young lady.”

  Before Nancy could reply, George came rushing up. At the same time the ICT van, which had made a U-turn, screeched to a stop, and three men and a woman piled out.

  “Nancy!” George exclaimed. She jumped from her bike, letting it clatter to the ground as she hurried to her friend’s side. “That car . . . it looked like a deliberate hit-and-run!”

  Nancy nodded grimly. “It seemed that way to me, too,” she agreed, getting slowly to her feet.

  Derek Townsend frowned. “Deliberate? I don’t think— The authorities would have to—”

  “Nancy is an authority,” George insisted. “She happens to be a detective.”

  The trainer gave Nancy a look of interest. Feeling self-conscious, Nancy smiled and introduced herself and George. She took a step forward to shake Townsend’s hand, then winced at a twinge in her left knee.

  “Take it easy,” a man beside her said. “That knee might be wrenched.”

  A young man whose knit shirt bore the ICT logo had come over from the TV van and was leaning over Nancy. He was tall, with warm brown eyes, a muscular physique, and wavy light brown hair that had streaks of gold in it.

  Nancy flexed her knee and gingerly pressed the area around it with her fingers. “I’m pretty sure it’s just bruised.”

  “If you’re sure,” the young man said. He held out his hand with a smile. “I’m Kevin Davis.”

  “Kevin Davis!” George exclaimed before Nancy could introduce herself. “The decathlon champ? From the last Olympics?”

  Kevin swung around to face George, and a broad smile spread across his handsome face. “I only took a silver at the Olympics,” he told her. “Now I’m retired. What’s your name?”

  “George Fayne,” she answered, returning his smile.

  “You look like a runner to me,” Kevin commented. “Are you here for the marathon?”

  George nodded. “Uh-huh. How about you?”

  Kevin gestured to the van. “I’m with ICT. I’m the commentator for their marathon coverage.”

  “Really? Sounds like fun,” George replied. A slight blush colored her cheeks, and her eyes were shining. In fact, it looked as if George and Kevin had forgotten that anyone else was around.

  Smiling, Nancy turned away from the two. A few feet away Derek Townsend was watching closely as Annette did some careful stretches. The runner looked up as another member of the TV crew, a young woman with short black hair, came up.

  “Ms. Lang, would you mind talking about what just happened for the cameras?” the woman asked.

  Annette looked taken aback, then gave the woman a smile. “Uh . . . no, of course not.”

  Derek Townsend frowned. “I don’t think—”

  “It’s all right, Derek,” Lang snapped.

  The woman turned to Nancy. “We’ve got some great footage of you rescuing Annette. Could you give me your name? We’d like to interview you, too.”

  “Uh, no, thanks,” Nancy said quickly. “I’d prefer to remain anonymous.”

  “Well, it’s up to you,” the woman said, and turned back to Annette.

  “I have to interview Annette,” Nancy heard Kevin say to George as the crew was setting up. “Maybe we could talk more later—at dinner?”

  George’s blush deepened, and she said, “I’d like that. Why don’t you join us? My friends and me, I mean.”

  “Great!” Kevin said. “Where are you staying?”

  George told him, and they agreed to meet in the lobby of the hotel at seven.

  “Kevin!” A television crew member called from the van, where the camera was set up and Annette Lang stood by. “We’re ready to roll.”

  “See you at seven,” Kevin said, and headed toward where Annette was standing.

  A sound man gave Kevin a hand mike and directed him to the van, on the grass by the road. Annette was already standing in front of the van’s ICT logo, with a cameraman facing her, and Kevin took his place beside her.

  “Rolling,” said the cameraman. Nancy and George moved in closer to watch.

  “I’m speaking with Annette Lang, the to
p woman distance runner, who’s just had a serious brush with danger,” Kevin said into the mike. “Annette, it appeared to us that someone tried to hit you with a car while you were running. How do you feel? Do you have any idea what it was about?”

  “I’m fine, Kevin.” Annette threw a dazzling smile at him and the camera. Nancy was impressed by the runner’s poise and confidence after her narrow escape. “I can’t be certain what this was about. But there are people on the professional running circuit who envy my success and would like me out of the way. If they can’t do this by fair means, maybe they’re willing to try foul.”

  Annette straightened her shoulders and faced the camera squarely. “But it won’t work,” she went on determinedly. “I’ll continue to run, and I expect to win on Sunday.”

  “Have there been other incidents?” Kevin asked. “Do you suspect specific individuals?” I Annette shook her head. “I can’t comment on that, Kevin. I’ll be happy to talk at length after the Heartland Marathon. Then I hope you’ll interview me as the winner—and still the champ!”

  She flashed another smile at the camera, then turned to her trainer, who was standing nearby, looking unhappy. “Let’s go, Derek,” she called.

  Derek ran a hand through his gray hair. “I really think we should report this to—”

  “Derek,” Annette interrupted. “I am going to complete my run. Period. Now, let’s get going.” She ran off, leaving Derek staring glumly after her.

  Kevin turned quickly and held his microphone under Derek Townsend’s nose. “Any comments, Mr. Townsend?”

  “I . . . no, nothing. Not right now.” The trainer looked relieved when the camera stopped rolling and the crew began putting the equipment back in the van. Sighing, Townsend picked up his bicycle.

  He was about to pedal off after Annette Lang but hesitated and then beckoned to Nancy. “Miss Drew, are you really a detective?”

  Nancy left George, who was talking with Kevin Davis, and went over to the trainer. “Yes,” she told him, “but I’m just here to give my friend moral support in the marathon on Sunday.”

  “I see.” Mr. Townsend looked around to make sure that no one could overhear them. “Perhaps your being here is a stroke of luck. Could I consult you this evening?”