037 Last Dance by Carolyn Keene Page A

were cut, George—I had the tow truck driver check.”
    George gasped. “This person is playing for keeps. Whoever it is. Any ideas?”
    “It could be Jon. There’s a lot of evidence piling up against him. But it was Adam I saw inside the club, during the fire. I know I decided he was innocent, but now I can’t help thinkingthat he might have dumped Laurie in that cellar just before I got to him. And Ned told me once that Adam enjoys working on cars—he’d know how to cut a brakeline.”
    They were passing the place where Laurie had gone through .the fence. The tow truck was still there, backed up to Laurie’s car. George seemed deep in thought.
    “Jon could have done it—or paid someone else to take care of it for him,” she suggested after a long time.
    Nancy nodded. “You’re right,” she said, thinking of all the reasons she had to suspect Jon Villiers. He’d lied on several occasions. He had a criminal record. He was in debt. In fact, considering what he might get from the insurance, it was entirely possible that he’d tried to burn down his own club. He’d tried to break up with Laurie once, and there was—or had been—something going on between him and Pam Hastings.
    Still, Nancy sensed that Jon cared for Laurie. Deeply.
    “Basically,” she told George, “we’re back to square one. Somebody is either trying to kill Laurie or scare her away, and we still don’t know who that somebody is. Or why they’re doing it.”
    “We’ll find out,” George said confidently, but she looked a little doubtful.
    Within minutes they were pulling into the hospital parking lot.
    “Are you going to tell Laurie’s parents about the brakelines?” George asked.
    “I have to tell the police,” Nancy replied, “They’ll probably pass the word on to the Weavers.”
    George nodded her agreement as they entered the emergency room and stepped up to the desk.
    “We’re friends of Laurie Weaver’s,” Nancy said to the nurse in charge.’ “Could you please tell us how she’s doing?”
    The nurse flipped through a stack of cards until she found one with Laurie’s name on it. “Laurie is being admitted—for observation.”
    “What room is she in?” Nancy asked.
    “You’d have to ask the clerk at the admitting desk about that,” the nurse answered. “It’s upstairs, first floor.”
    “Thank you,” Nancy said. She and George found the elevator and went up one floor.
    Nancy was getting Laurie’s room number when George muttered, “Look who’s here.” .
    Nancy lifted her eyes and saw Adam Boyd being pushed out of an elevator in a wheelchair. Both of his hands were bandaged, but he was fully dressed.
    “Adam!” Leaving the admitting desk, Nancy walked over to greet him.
    “Hi,” he said, smiling at Nancy and George. The nurse who had been pushing his wheelchairleft for a moment to speak with one of the clerks at the main desk.
    “Are you going home today?” Nancy asked. The concern in her voice was genuine.
    Adam nodded. “Not a moment too soon, either,” he answered. “I was here all night. I hate this place.”
    George was looking at his bandages. “How bad are the burns?”
    He shrugged. “I’ll be okay in a few weeks,” he said. “They kept me here because of smoke inhalation, mostly.”
    Nancy and George exchanged a look, then Nancy placed a hand on Adam’s shoulder. “Get well soon, okay?” she said.
    “Okay,” Adam replied, looking pleased at the attention.
    “You didn’t say anything about Laurie’s accident,” George commented, when she and Nancy walked away.
    “Miss Weaver is in room three hundred seven,” the clerk told them when they reached the desk.
    “Thank you,” Nancy said to her. They were back in the elevator, moving toward the third floor, when she answered George. “There was no point in trying to get a reaction out of Adam,” she said. “He couldn’t have been the one to cut Laurie’s brakeline. He was here all night. So whyupset him? I’m sure he