Nancy shook her head in amazement. “Bess, you’ve been super. I’ll get help for you all as soon as I can.”
“Wait,” Bess said. “I’ve got something else for you. It—” She stopped. “What was that?”
The conveyor swayed and began to quiver. Someone was coming down!
Nancy thought fast. Maybe it was Ned—but she couldn’t count on that.
“Come on!” she whispered. She grabbed Ann’s right arm, Bess took the left, and they crossed to the door of Fleet’s. Nancy yanked it open—and ran smack into Brownley.
Chapter Seventeen
“Get in here!” Brownley hissed and yanked them into the electronics workshop. He eased the door closed quickly, then cracked it just enough to see who was climbing down the conveyor.
While he was occupied, Bess snatched the envelope of evidence from Nancy’s hand and crammed it back under her blouse. By the time Brownley said, “Mac’s come back. Wonder why,” the envelope was safely out of sight.
He closed the door and turned to face them. His skin was flushed, his eyes wide and staring. “Thought you were home free, didn’t you? Well, you aren’t!”
“You aren’t, either, are you?” Nancy moved from beside Ann and walked slowly around the workshop. “What were you doing in here? Trying to remove incriminating evidence connecting you with the judge?”
Papers were strewn all over the floor. File drawers hung open. Tapes had been pulled from the shelves and lay at all angles. Bess would have been too smart to leave such a mess.
But the batch of papers Brownley was clutching really gave him away. Like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he dropped them. “Shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he growled.
“I think she does,” Bess said, picking up Nancy’s lead. “What she said over there sank in. They can get you for the judge’s murder, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Who’s going to believe you didn’t know Reston killed him?”
“But I didn’t know!”
“Then why were you going to cut and run?” Ann asked. She was looking a little better.
Brownley ground his teeth. “I’m not going to jail for something I didn’t do. Grand theft auto, that’s one thing. I deal in stolen cars. I’m good at it. But I’m no killer, and I’m not taking the rap for Reston. I’m clearing out of here.”
“What about us?” Nancy asked. “If you leave us here, that’s four more murders they can get you for. Help us get out of here, and—”
“And what?” The door flew open—and Reston stepped in. “Mac told me you left as soon as I turned my back. Where’d you come from?” he asked, noticing Bess. Then he turned to his partner, his eyes like steel. “You were going to run out on me, weren’t you, Brownley?”
Nancy snorted. The dispatcher was a possible ally, and against Reston they’d need all the help they could get. “He’s not smart enough to run out on you,” she said.
Brownley eyed her sharply. “I caught them trying to escape.”
“Why make matters worse than they already are?” Nancy asked Brownley. “My boyfriend was hiding when you caught us the first time. He got us out of that cage and went up the conveyor to get the police. They’re probably swarming all over the place by now.”
Reston gave his nasty grin again. “Good try, little girl. But it won’t work.” He snatched the door open and shoved her back to the Gold Star side. Someone had moved one stack of boxes. Reston stepped through, then waited, gun drawn, for the rest of them to join him.
“Sit!” he ordered. “Until I decide what to do with you.”
They sat down gingerly on the hard concrete, their backs against the unpainted cars. As Reston kept the gun trained on them, they waited. And waited. They were in a war of nerves.
Nancy knew they had to get away! Where was Ned? Suppose he hadn’t been home after all!
After a half an hour Reston began to crack. He started to pace and mutter. Another fifteen minutes, and his left eye began to twitch.
Finally he said, “I’m getting out of here. If there are police upstairs, which I doubt, you three will make fine hostages. The first sign of trouble,” he snarled, wagging the gun toward Nancy, “and you get it first.”