Hostage! Read online

  Elizabeth had a terrible feeling he was right.

  It was almost three thirty the next afternoon when Jessica and Elizabeth hurried through the Patmans' enormous mansion to the patio, where Bruce and Nicholas were sitting, two untouched glasses of iced tea on the table in front of them. The aqua water of the Patmans' Olympic-sized swimming pool glinted in the sunlight.

  "Nicholas!" Elizabeth cried, running across the patio and throwing her arms around his neck. Nicholas and Elizabeth were special friends. For a while the dark-haired eighteen-year-old had been interested in something more than friendship, but the timing hadn't been right for Elizabeth. She was very fond of Nicholas, though, and she could tell from the look on his face that he was glad she was there.

  "Nicholas knows the whole story," Bruce said, offering the twins chairs. "At least, as much of it as we know. He's seen Regina's letter."

  "What I don't know," Nicholas said darkly, "is what kind of jerk would do something like this. It makes me so angry!" A shudder ran through him. "Bruce has been wonderful," he added quietly. "I wanted to go home and just punch this Claire in the face. And I would've, too, if Bruce hadn't held me down!"

  Elizabeth and Jessica exchanged nervous glances.

  "I'm so worried," Nicholas whispered. "First I think about Regina, trapped with some madwoman in that house. That's bad enough. Then I start to think about my parents, wondering where they are and if they're really OK . . ."

  "I was just asking Nicholas if he could think of anyone who might be involved in this thing," Bruce told the twins. "I was wondering if his father has any enemies, anyone who would want to hurt him or his company."

  Nicholas shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "Everyone loves my father," he said brokenly.

  Elizabeth took a deep breath. There didn't seem to be a clue to the kidnappers' identities.

  "Look," Nicholas said, jumping to his feet. "I can't just sit around here anymore, Bruce. I appreciate how you feel, and, believe me, I don't want to risk hurting Regina, either. You know how I feel about her. But we've got to do something! I'm going to go and find out what's going on," he concluded, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair.

  "Nicholas, you can't!" Jessica wailed, her eyes darkening with fear. "Liz, tell him not to go!"

  But Elizabeth knew Nicholas well enough to recognize his determination. "Jess, stay here with Bruce," she said quietly, getting to her feet. "If Nicholas wants to go check out the estate, I'm going with him."

  Nicholas gave her a grateful look, a look that almost made up for the sinking feeling in her stomach.

  There was no turning back now. Nicholas was already striding across the Patmans' lawn toward his Jeep, and Elizabeth had to run for a few yards to catch up with him. She could hear Bruce and Jessica calling after them, but following Nicholas's lead, Elizabeth didn't look back.

  Before Nicholas got into the Jeep, Elizabeth stopped him, however. "Nicholas," she said breathlessly, "I think we'd better take my car. I wouldn't want to take a chance on anyone at the house seeing your Jeep—for your or Regina's sake."

  "You're right, Liz," Nicholas said. "I guess I'm too upset to be thinking straight."

  It took almost no time at all for Elizabeth to drive down the road to the Morrow estate. She had just stopped near the main gates when she and Nicholas noticed a blue car coming down the front drive.

  Elizabeth felt as if she were going to faint. Whoever was in that car was liable to be curious about what she and Nicholas were doing there. What were they going to do now?

  "I'm going to kiss you," Nicholas said suddenly, under his breath. "Try to act natural."

  Elizabeth was too surprised to say a word. The next thing she knew, Nicholas had enfolded her in his arms, touching her lips gently with his own. The blue car did not pass them; she could tell by the sound of the motor that it had turned left and was speeding away from them.

  Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled away from Nicholas. Nicholas's ruse had worked. If the driver of the blue car had noticed them, he must have assumed they were just a couple out for a romantic drive.

  "Have you got a pen in your bag?" Nicholas demanded, breaking free and squinting at the tail end of the disappearing car. Elizabeth nodded, handing him a blue ballpoint.

  "Did you get the license-plate number?" she asked, watching him scribble something down.

  Nicholas nodded. "The weird thing is I caught a brief glimpse of him when he was coming down the driveway. He looks vaguely familiar, but I don't know why."

  Elizabeth was too upset to respond to Nicholas's remark. "Nicholas, I'm scared," she said. "Can't we go back to Bruce's now?"

  Nicholas didn't answer. He was staring out the window, his brow furrowed with concentration. "OK, Liz," he said at last. "Just seeing this much has convinced me we'd better be awfully careful. I'd kill myself if my own carelessness were to bring any harm to Regina or my parents."

  During the short drive back to the Patmans', Elizabeth and Nicholas talked about the contents of Regina's letter. Nicholas was convinced that their best bet was to try to figure out when "Aunt Claire" and her friend planned to take Regina to the plant. "Once they've got the chip," he said, "they're going to be out of here like a bolt of lightning. Liz, we've got to move fast."

  Elizabeth agreed. "If only we knew what Regina overheard on the phone," she said. "Do you have any idea what 'money is heaven' could mean? Is it some kind of company password?"

  Nicholas shook his head. "My father doesn't use passwords as far as I know."

  By then they were back at the Patmans'. Elizabeth parked the car, and she and Nicholas walked around the mansion to the patio.

  "How'd you make out?" Bruce asked when he caught sight of them. "Anything new?"

  Nicholas shook his head. "We saw a car coming down the front drive, so we had to take cover fast. I got a quick look at the driver, though, and I took down his license-plate number. He drives a beat-up blue Dodge."

  "Maybe he's the one Regina wrote about in her note," Jessica said.

  "Maybe he is," Nicholas responded. "The weird thing is he looks kind of familiar, but I can't remember how I know him."

  "Jess and I were talking while you two were gone," Bruce said thoughtfully. "We've been trying to figure out who could possibly do this sort of thing to your dad and his family. Nicholas, are you absolutely sure that your father doesn't have any enemies? Someone he competed against in the computer business, perhaps?"

  Nicholas looked thoughtful. "There was someone—a guy who worked for my dad in his Connecticut plant. But it was ages ago, maybe five years."

  "Go on," Jessica prompted. "What happened with him?"

  "He was a snake," Nicholas said. "I was pretty young, so I don't remember all the details, but I think he was caught stealing and my father had him arrested. That's right!" he said, snapping his fingers. "His name was Denson. Phillip Denson."

  "So what happened to him?" Bruce demanded, leaning forward.

  "Well, if I remember correctly, he was convicted," Nicholas said, thinking hard. "Wait a minute!" He snapped his fingers again. "He got out of prison last year and moved to California, I'm almost positive. I think I remember Dad saying something about it to the manager at the plant."

  "Nicholas, what is it?" Elizabeth demanded. She'd never seen Nicholas look so fired-up before.

  A hush fell over the table as Bruce leaned forward. "Was that Phillip Denson?" he whispered.

  Nicholas nodded. "It was him," he said. "God, if Denson's behind this whole thing, I don't know what we're going to do! That guy's a mess!"

  "Nicholas, it'll be all right," Elizabeth said soothingly, putting her hand on his arm. She just wished she could convince herself that she really believed that. But she was losing hope.

  They had to think of something to save Regina and her parents. But what?

  Six

  "Have a good day at school, you two!" Mrs. Wakefield called up the stairs.

  Elizabeth groaned. "I feel so guilty," she told Jessica, who was fixing her hair at the mirror over Elizabeth's dresser.

  "You'd think you were committing some kind of major crime, not just cutting school for a day," Jessica declared. "Besides, today's not going to be fun and games. Going out to Fort Carroll to hunt down this Denson jerk is hardly my idea of a great way to spend a day!"

  "I know," Elizabeth said, her expression serious. "Jess, I'm really scared. If this man Denson is as terrible as Nicholas says, won't it be dangerous going out to his house?"

  "It could be, but we don't have much choice," Jessica reminded her, giving her hair a furious once-over with the brush. "Denson is the biggest lead we have right now. We can't figure out what Regina heard on the phone. What else are we supposed to do?"

  Elizabeth glanced nervously at her watch. "What time did Nicholas say he was picking us up?"

  "Nine o'clock," Jessica replied. "Have you got Denson's address?"

  Elizabeth nodded. "P. Denson, 1386 Lakewood Drive, Fort Carroll," she read from the piece of paper she'd torn out of her notebook. "That's what the phone book says. He's the only Denson in the area."

  "I hope it's the right man." Jessica giggled. "Can you imagine us confronting some poor guy who just happens to be named Denson?"

  "Well, it's worth a try." Elizabeth sighed.

  An hour later the first part of the mission was completed. Bruce stopped his Porsche across from 1386 Lakewood Drive. It was a small, plain-looking house with a short side driveway leading up to a wooden side door. Nothing special at all, a house like every other one on the block. "That can't be Phillip Denson," Jessica said lightly, pointing at the bare-chested young man mowing the front lawn. He had sandy hair and was good-looking, but didn't look much older than Bruce or Nicholas.

  "Does Denson have a son?" Elizabeth asked.

  "If that guy is Denson's son, this is our lucky day." Bruce grinned.

  "What do you mean?" Nicholas asked, perplexed.

  "We just happen," Bruce said mildly, "to have a special weapon with us. Just give Jessica five minutes with that poor sucker, and she'll find out anything we want!"

  "Bruce Patman, you shut up!" Jessica said hotly. "Just because you think you—"

  "Stop it!" Elizabeth hissed. "Come on, you two, we need to work together, not start arguing with each other. Jess, I think Bruce has a good idea," she added hastily. "He may not have put it very tactfully, but still! What do you think?" she added. "Could you just find out whatever you can from this guy?"

  "Oh, all right," Jessica said, mollified. "I'll do what I can."

  A minute later Jessica had crossed the small front lawn and stepped right in front of the boy with the mower. He turned the mower off so he could hear her.

  Up close the boy was even better-looking than Jessica had first thought, with thick, sandy-blond hair and bright hazel eyes. But something in his expression made him seem aloof.

  "Hi," he said, shading his eyes with one hand. "Can I do something for you?" He looked quickly at the Porsche parked across the street and squinted, trying to see the others in the vehicle. "You guys lost or something?"

  "No," Jessica said, twirling a lock of blond hair around her finger. "As a matter of fact, we're doing a project for a student newspaper. We're taking a census," she lied.

  "A census?" the boy said, looking blank.

  Jessica flashed him her most winning smile. "Well, it's actually more like a poll," she amended, lowering her eyes a little. She didn't have to pretend to be interested—the boy really was good-looking. "We're looking at different neighborhoods, interviewing homeowners at random," she went on, making her story up as she went along. "We're just asking a few questions. Would you consent to a brief interview? I mean," she added slyly, "you are the owner here, aren't you?"

  The boy flushed. "My name's Mitch," he said, sticking his hand out awkwardly. "Mitch Denson."

  "I'm Jessica," Jessica said sweetly, taking his hand and squeezing it warmly.

  Mitch looked nervously around him. "But I'm not the owner," he told her. "My father is."

  "What's his name?" Jessica asked, taking out a small notebook and pen from her shoulder bag and trying to look like a real polltaker. "And what sort of work does he do, if you don't mind my asking?"

  Mitch looked a little dazed, as if Jessica could ask him whatever she pleased. "His name is Phillip," he told her. "And he's—well, I guess he calls himself a computer consultant these days."

  "Hmmm," Jessica said, writing furiously in her notebook. "That sounds fascinating."

  For the next few minutes, Jessica kept asking questions. She asked how many cars the Densons had, whether or not they had a TV, and how often they went out to eat. She was beginning to run out of ideas when to her relief Mitch turned the tables.

  He was beginning to relax and enjoy himself a little. "What about you?" he said and grinned. "What do you do with yourself—when you're not driving around asking people questions, that is."

  Jessica tossed her hair back and gave Mitch her most alluring smile. "You know," she said softly, running her eyes over his glistening chest and shoulders, "it sure is hot out here today. Do you think there's any chance I could bug you for a glass of something ice-cold?" She looked over his shoulder, toward the house. "If no one's at home . . ." She let her voice trail off suggestively.

  Mitch turned bright red. "Uh—as a matter of fact, someone is home," he muttered. "My dad said—I mean, my dad's home. He's sleeping." Suddenly Mitch's composure was gone; he seemed nervous.

  "Oh." Jessica looked crestfallen. "I really am thirsty," she reminded him.

  "I'll get you a glass of water," Mitch said, hurrying up the front walk to the porch.

  "Can't I come in with you?" Jessica asked beseechingly, hurrying after him. "I'll be quiet," she added coyly.

  Mitch looked very uncomfortable. "Naw," he said at last. "My father really hates being disturbed. But I'll be back in a minute," he promised. "Don't go away."

  "I won't!" Jessica sang out sweetly. The minute the screen door had banged shut behind him, she hurried up the porch steps and leaned over the small railing to look into the living room window.

  Jessica wasn't certain exactly what she'd expected to see. But she almost gasped in surprise when she saw Mr. and Mrs. Morrow, right there in the Densons' living room.

  Mrs. Morrow jumped to her feet the minute she saw Jessica's face in the window. "Wait!" Jessica mouthed at her, but the next instant Mrs. Morrow was pulling her husband out of sight.

  "What are you staring at?" a cross voice beside her demanded.

  Jessica whirled around, her heart skipping a beat. Keeping her voice as cool as possible, she reached out for the glass of water Mitch was holding. "Your house is adorable," she cooed. "Just adorable! Sorry to be such a snoop, but I needed to know exactly how your living room is furnished. For the poll," she reminded him.

  Mitch leaned over the porch rail and peered in the living room window as if to make sure she hadn't seen something she shouldn't have. "Well," he said at last, mollified, "I guess that's all right, if that's all you wanted."

  "That's all I wanted," Jessica said perkily, taking several swallows of water and handing him the glass. "Thanks for the drink," she said sweetly. "Now, I'd better be going! We've got two more towns to cover before lunch!"

  After flashing Mitch the friendliest smile she could muster, Jessica headed back to the Porsche.

  "It was one of the Wakefield twins," Skye Morrow told her husband, pressing her hands to her temples. Mr. and Mrs. Morrow were in the little bedroom that had been designated as theirs since Phillip Denson had brought them to his house. Mrs. Morrow had closed the door tightly behind her, but even so she kept her voice to a whisper. "But I'm not sure which one."

  "I wonder what she was doing out here," Mr. Morrow said, shaking his head. "Was she alone?"

  "I couldn't tell," his wife whispered back. "All of a sudden I saw her staring into the living room window. That's why I dragged you out of the living room so quickly. I didn't want anyone else to look in and see us."

  "I think Phil's still out," Mr. Morrow said, glancing at his watch. "I haven't heard his car in the drive yet."

  "If one of the twins knows we're here, they might be able to get in touch with Nicholas," Mrs. Morrow said hopefully. "After all, the twins are friends of Nicholas's, and he might have told them about his trip. . . ." Mrs. Morrow's voice trailed off as she thought about her son. Just then it was hard to imagine she'd ever see him again.

  "Look, Skye," her husband said gently, "we've just got to hang on a little bit longer. Denson's bound to crack. Somehow I can't imagine his really carrying out this crazy scheme of his."

  Mrs. Morrow hid her face in her hands. She knew her husband too well not to hear the note of fear creeping into his voice. Phillip Denson was a mean little man with grandiose ideas. She wouldn't put anything past him—not anything at all.

  From the minute this nightmare had begun, with Denson kidnapping them as they left their house for the airport, Mrs. Morrow's grief and worry had been concentrated on one person: her daughter, Regina. What made her angriest about Denson's plan was that it involved innocent Regina. It made Mrs. Morrow tremble with rage to think of Phillip Denson's girlfriend meeting Regina in Switzerland and hustling her back to Sweet Valley.

  Angry as she was, Skye Morrow knew that her best hope of protecting her daughter lay in obedience. Everything Phillip Denson said had to be law as far as she and her husband were concerned. Otherwise, there was no telling what he and his accomplice might do to Regina.

  "I'm worried," Mr. Morrow said, looking anxiously out the tiny bedroom window. "If the Wakefield twins are mixed up in this somehow, they could make everything even more complicated than it already is. If Denson catches them snooping around here he could kill us—or them—without giving it a second thought."

  Mrs. Morrow looked horrified. She hadn't thought of that. "Or Regina," she whispered. "They could hurt Regina."

  Mr. Morrow looked grim. "I just hope they aren't involved," he muttered. "Or that if they are, they make damn sure they know what they're doing!"