Read Online Stalk, Don't Run by Carolyn Keene - Free Book Online Page B

don’t want to get on Chief McGinnis’s bad side, that’s why,” Dad said as he stood up from his chair. “Especially now.”
    We kept our mouths shut until Dad left the room.
    “What are we going to do?” George asked.
    “We’re not stopping work on this case,” I said.
    “You heard what your dad said, Nancy,” Bess said. “We can’t get on the chief’s bad side—especially since we’re suspects!”
    “You mean ‘persons of interest,’” I said with a smirk. “We’re already on his bad side, so what have we got to lose?”
    “Um . . . our freedom?” George said.
    I shook my head and said, “We’ll be extra careful not to cross paths with the chief or any of the police officers.”
    “Where do we start?” Bess asked.
    “I’d like to investigate Safer’s Cheese Shop for clues,” I said. “I just can’t get his white jacket off my mind or how upset he was about his play.”
    “Yeah, but it’s after seven o’clock on a Saturday night,” George said. “If the store’s closed, how will we get inside?”
    I leaned toward Bess and George and whispered. “I still have the keys Mr. Safer gave me when I worked there. He fired me so suddenly, I forgot to give them back.”
    George cocked her head as she studied me.
    “What?” I asked.
    “The way you said ‘fired,’” George said. “By any chance, are you angry at Mr. Safer because he replaced you with Mandy?”
    “Omigosh, George, now you sound like Chief McGinnis!” I said. “I’m not bitter, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
    “Just a thought,” she said.
    Charlie Adams had returned my car an hour ago. Mr. Marvin had been able to replace the tubing and get the brakes to work like new—although I was relieved when we made it safely to Main Street.
    “I didn’t tell my dad about the cut brakes,” I admitted as we got out of the car. “He’s got enough to worry about.”
    “What about your dad, Bess?” George asked. “Do you think he made the connection between the missing wire cutters and Nancy’s cut brakes?”
    “Probably not,” Bess said. “He’s a great mechanic—but a detective he’s not.”
    I expected the door to Safer’s to be locked, and it was. As I fumbled through my pocket for the keys, Bess whispered, “I know this sounds crazy, but I feel like someone is watching us.”
    “Whoever it is,” I said, turning the key in the lock, “I hope it’s not Chief McGinnis.”
    The door swung open.
    It was still somewhat light out, so we didn’t need to turn on the store’s lights and draw attention to ourselves
    “What are we looking for?” George asked. “Clues or the Casabians?”
    “Both,” I said.
    Bess pointed to the empty glass case. “Where’s all the cheese?”
    “Mr. Safer stores it in that fridge at the end of the day,” I said, pointing to a large stainless-steel door in the back of the shop. On the wall next to it was the thermostat.
    “Does he freeze it?” Bess asked.
    “He can if he sets the thermostat low enough,” I said. “But it’s usually set at refrigerator temps.”
    “That’s a lot bigger than your typical fridge,” Bess said. “I’ll bet all three of us could fit inside easily.”
    “What does a walk-in fridge have to do with the missing sisters?” George asked.
    Plenty! I thought as it suddenly clicked.
    “You guys,” I said. “If the fridge could fit three of us, it could fit the three of them.”
    As we hurried to rear of the store, George pointed to the floor. “Look!” she said.
    I glanced down and gulped. Leading straight to the refrigerator door were footprints. Bloody footprints!
    We walked around the footprints and approached the door. But suddenly Bess said, “Wait!”
    “What?” I hissed.
    “What if Mandy, Mallory, and Mia are . . . ,” Bess started to say. “You know . . . what if they’re . . . ?”
    “Dead?” George said.
    “Don’t say it!” I said, not wanting to imagine the worst. I grabbed the handle, gave it a turn, and