Nancy did a double take as he moved closer and she could see his face clearly. His eyes were red and his movements stiff and guarded. Nancy wondered if he was still in shock. His eyes were wide in recognition now, and he continued to head in her direction.
“Hey, Randy!” Jerry called as his friend approached.
“How are you?” asked Josh.
“Fine,” he replied curtly. The look in Randy’s brown eyes darkened as he turned his attention back to Nancy. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
“Sure,” Nancy said. Handing her now-empty plate to Bess, she followed Randy down the bleachers to an uncrowded corner of the gym.
Randy leaned against the wall and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I feel sort of strange telling you this,” he began. “I mean, you are a total stranger, but I heard Dean Jarvis say that you’re a detective.”
Nancy nodded. “That’s right.” Randy’s face was ghostly pale, she noticed, and he couldn’t control the shaking of his hands as he rubbed his eyes. “Randy, what’s wrong? How can I help?”
Randy shoved one hand into a front pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small square of white paper. “I found this note just now when I went back to the dorm to change. Someone had slipped it under the door of my room.”
Curious, Nancy took the square of paper from his hand and carefully unfolded it. She was shocked when she read the message that was typed on it.
we’re ready to play kill the quarterback.
lose the homecoming game—or else!
Chapter Four
“I can’t believe I’m being threatened,” Randy said, his eyes darting nervously around the gymnasium.
“No wonder you’re upset,” Nancy said sympathetically.
Randy let out a sigh and raked a hand through his dark hair. “This isn’t the first threat I’ve received, either. Someone’s been calling me, late at night, telling me to make sure that Emerson loses the homecoming game—just as it says in the note.”
“Phone calls?” Nancy repeated. A single note could have been a prank, but this was a pattern of threats, and that disturbed her. “What did the caller sound like? Did you recognize the voice at all?”
Randy shook his head. “No. It’s just a hoarse, muffled whisper. I couldn’t even tell if it was a man or a woman. The person always phones after midnight, and the message is always the same—lose Sunday’s game.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“That note’s the first written threat—and it’s also the first time anyone’s mentioned killing me.” Randy looked afraid, and Nancy’s heart went out to him. “But I’ve been getting the calls every night for the past week—ever since I was made first-string quarterback.”
Nancy bit her lower lip. “Try to think, Randy. Who could it be? Do many people have your phone number?”
“Just the whole campus,” he replied. “There’s a directory of students. Anyone could get it.”
“I see. But out of all the team members,” Nancy went on, frowning, “why would you be targeted specifically?”
“If anyone can throw a game, it’s the quarterback,” Randy pointed out. “I hope you don’t think I’m a wimp. I mean, at first I figured the whole thing was a joke. A few nasty calls were easy enough to ignore . . .” He trailed off, glanced around the gym, then met her eyes directly again.
“Until the fire at the pep rally tonight,” she finished for him.
Randy nodded. “When I nearly got burned, I began to add things up. I think that kerosene was dumped on the stage on purpose.”
“You may be right,” Nancy told him. “Who do you think could be making these threats?” she asked again. “Would anyone be that desperate for Emerson to lose?”
Randy hesitated before saying, “I know it seems obvious, but I think some of the Russell Pirates are behind this. Russell is on the other side of town, and we run into their students all the time. I can tell you that their quarterback, Zip Williams, is a shark. The guy has killer instincts on the field.”
“Do any of the Wildcats have a grudge against you?” she asked him, thinking out loud. “Or can you think of a reason why any of them would want Emerson to lose?”