The garage was dim with shadows, lit only by a few overhead bulbs and the twilight coming in through the exit and entryway.
“Split,” Nancy whispered, gesturing for George to take the left side. George nodded. Her tennis shoes made no sound as she ran.
A banner hung over the center parking area. It read International Women’s Semi-Pro Tennis Tournament. Someone was doing a good job of promotion, Nancy thought briefly as she threaded her way to the right lane.
Something moved. Was it—yes, it was Teresa, furtively hurrying toward a car. Nancy started to run.
Then, all at once, a car engine roared to life nearby. Headlights glared blindingly, and Nancy saw the great shape bearing down on her—and on Teresa!
With a burst of speed, Nancy flung herself at the girl from San Carlos, knocking her down. Teresa screamed. At the same moment, Nancy wrapped her arms around Teresa tightly and jerked to the right. The two of them rolled over once, twice, as the car screamed by in a dark blur, just inches away from them.
“Nancy!” George shouted.
“Here!” Nancy called back. In that split second she must have let down her guard. Suddenly Teresa broke free, kicking Nancy away and leaping up.
As she did so, the dark sedan suddenly whipped into a turn and bore down on her again with incredible power.
Nancy scrambled to her feet. But there was no way she could reach Teresa in time.
Chapter Five
Teresa froze, paralyzed in the blinding light. Suddenly a figure leaped into the air.
George’s strong arms caught at the tournament banner. It broke away, coming down with her, and was flung onto the front windshield of the sedan.
The car swerved crazily to the left. It bounced off the front fender of a sports car and tore erratically toward the exit.
The banner slid off in a little heap as the sedan, burning rubber, roared up the ramp and then vanished.
Suddenly the garage seemed very silent. The only sound was the gasping sobs coming from Teresa, lying crumpled on the floor. Nancy and George ran to her, but she shrank away from them like a wounded bird.
“It’s all right. I’m Nancy . . . Nancy Drew,” Nancy murmured reassuringly, stroking the hair back from Teresa’s frightened eyes. Teresa nodded, recognizing Nancy’s voice. There was a large bruise like a rope burn on her cheek. She must have skinned it on the concrete when she fell.
George, an expert first-aider, checked Teresa for other injuries. “No damage except bruises,” she reported.
“No thanks to whoever was driving that car,” Nancy said grimly. “Teresa, somebody tried to kidnap me this afternoon. Yes, probably mistaking me for you,” she said as Teresa’s blue eyes widened. “Why is somebody trying to kill you?”
Teresa jerked her head away, pressing her lips together. George’s eyes met Nancy’s. “The same guy who shot at your boyfriend? They got him, you know,” George said brutally. “That’s what the racket was in the hallway, Nancy told me. If you won’t talk to save yourself, how about him? We’re on your side,” she went on more gently as Teresa cried out. “Nancy can help you if you’ll let her.”
Nancy put her arms around Teresa as she struggled to sit up. “Find Señora Ramirez and tell her Teresa’s safe,” Nancy told George in a low voice. “And brief the house detective. His name’s Dixon.”
George nodded and left. For a few minutes there was no sound except Teresa’s ragged breathing.
“Don’t you think you owe me at least some explanation?” Nancy asked presently. “After all, I almost got killed twice today because of you.” As she hoped, that approach brought a response.
“I am so sorry. I do not know, really.” Teresa swallowed hard. “It is—how do you say? A night scare?”
“Nightmare,” Nancy supplied. “Teresa, you must think. There has to be a reason.” No answer. “Why were you running away? From the police? From your chaperon?” She repeated the words in Spanish because Teresa seemed too distraught to understand.
“Not running away . . . Roberto? You said Roberto is dead? He can’t be!”
“George didn’t say that. He was kidnapped—probably by the same men who grabbed me. There was a witness. And there were shots fired. Roberto may have been killed, but we don’t know yet. Teresa, don’t you think you’d better—”