Moving Target (4 page)

George nodded. “It's aching again. I'll wrap it before we leave here.”

“CJ, pass me an apple,” Kendra said, reaching across the table to tug on his shirt sleeve.

Her ploy to divert CJ's attention from George was so obvious that Nancy had to bite the insides of her cheeks to keep from grinning.

They were planning their next stop of the afternoon when a blue minivan that Nancy had seen on the road earlier pulled into the parking area by the rest rooms. A door slammed, and a few minutes later a handsome, dark-haired man with the husky good looks of an athlete walked confidently over to the table.

Nancy guessed his age at about twenty-five.

“Michael Kirby,” he said to Ned, who was at the far end of the table. He thrust out his hand. “Mind if I join you?” he asked, after Ned had made introductions. “I hate to eat alone.”

“Sit down,” Ned replied, and everyone on the bench shifted to make room. “You're one of the few people we've seen since we left town. This road is really off the beaten track.”

Michael pulled out a sandwich and a bag of chips and started to eat. “Yeah, not much traffic out here, except for farm equipment. I saw you at that fruit stand before I turned off for Kenville. I thought I might run into you here.”

“Do you live around here, Michael?” Kendra asked, flashing him an engaging smile.

“No. But I cover this territory regularly. I sell athletic equipment. I hit all the little towns off the beaten path.” He passed his bag of chips to Kendra. “Actually,” he continued, “my company's thinking about sponsoring a cyclist in the
big race next month. I thought I'd sort of check out your group and size up the two leaders. See if I could pick us a winner.”

“What company do you represent?” CJ asked, looking over at Michael's van, which was unmarked.

“American Sportstyle, and a couple of others,” Michael said, following CJ's gaze. “And if you're wondering why the van doesn't have a company name, it's because I've been robbed one time too many.”

“I
was
wondering,” CJ said.

“Well, I'll tell you. You put a name on the van and everybody knows you could be hauling expensive sports equipment—bikes, accessories, weight benches. My van's been broken into so many times that the advertising wasn't worth it.”

“Out here?” George asked.

“Out here,” he repeated. “Not everybody you meet on this route is a clean-cut athlete or part of a picnicking family.” He nodded his head toward the children, who were riding on the ancient swings with Jennifer pushing them. “I can vouch for that.” He took another few bites of his sandwich, then waggled a finger at George. “That's a nice bike you've got,” he said. “Noticed it when you pulled into the fruit stand. You were flying! New?”

“Yes,” George said. “As a matter of fact, it is. And I love it. This is the first time I've had it out on a long ride.”

“Do you live in Emerson?” he asked.

“No,” she said.

“Student?”

George nodded absently and reached for a cookie.

“Bike like you've got costs plenty,” Michael said, munching on the last of his chips.

When George didn't volunteer any information, Michael laughed. “I guess what the papers say must be true. College kids have more money to spend than any other age group in the country.” He licked his fingers and stood up. “Well, I've got to be getting on my way. I may run into you again later, down the road. I have to make a couple of stops in town, around here.” He turned to Ned. “Are you staying at Bannon House tonight?”

Ned nodded. “Bannon House tonight and then Lakeview tomorrow. Then we circle around through Woodside and back to Emerson by Monday night.”

“Good route! County fair is on in Bannon,” Michael said. He flashed a smile at Kendra. “Great rock group on the program—Timeline. Maybe I'll see you there.” He walked to the rest rooms, and a few minutes later the van pulled out of the parking area.

“Okay, everybody,” Erik said, walking over to the table. “Social time is over. Let's go!”

“Just a minute,” George said. She had unzipped her backpack and was rummaging
through the contents. “That's weird,” she muttered to herself. “I know I put it in here.”

“What are you looking for?” Nancy asked.

“My knee support. Nan, I'm losing it! I
know
I put that thing in here this morning. I'm sure I didn't put it in my pannier.”

Nancy frowned. “I saw you put it on top in your backpack, then zip it up.”

“Well, it's not here now.”

CJ, who was watching the search, heaved his backpack up to the bench and unzipped it. “Not to worry,” he said. “I always carry one. You can use mine. Here”—he rapped his knuckles on the bench—“sit down and put your leg up here. I'll help you.” He took an elasticized knee brace from his pack while George sat down.

“Well, what is this?” Kendra asked, walking toward the couple. She stared at CJ. “The resident doctor, are you?” she asked sarcastically.

“A biology major is as close as you're going to get to a medic on this trip,” he replied without looking up.

“There, that should do it,” he said to George, giving the brace a final pat. “Too tight?”

“No, it feels good,” she said. “Thanks.”

“Any time.” He took her hand as she swung her leg off the bench and stood up.

Kendra had moved over toward the grove of trees and was talking animatedly to Jennifer. The family with the children had left, and Erik, who'd been watching off to one side, walked over to
George and CJ. “I see you're getting closer to the infirmary,” he commented. Then he turned around. “Okay,” he yelled. “Everybody over here!” He waited for Kendra and Jennifer to join the group before he continued. “Now, this next stretch of road is a little more challenging than the one this morning.”

“He sounds like a tour guide,” Nancy whispered to Jennifer, who nodded and moved away.

“It winds around, in and out of hollows, and you'll run into some uphill grades—nothing major if you've ridden in Colorado, but enough to give you a workout. Oh, and keep on the pavement as much as you can. There's loose gravel on the shoulders and a deep gully for drainage on our side of the road. Let's go!”

He swiveled around and marched off toward the bikes, flanked by Kendra and Jennifer.

“Something weird is going on here,” Nancy said to Ned as they followed CJ and George to the bike racks. “I saw her put that brace in there this morning. I saw her zip the pack. Somebody has to have taken it.”

“But who'd steal a knee brace?” Ned asked.

“Well, I can think of two people who don't have George at the top of their Best Friends list. Kendra's furious with her because CJ's paying too much attention to her, and Erik is so jealous of her being able to keep up with him that he'd do almost anything to keep George from winning.”

She reached up with both hands and lifted her
hair off the back of her neck. “It's like he has a compulsion to win—at any cost.”

Ned shrugged. “I don't know what we can do about it,” he said. “Except keep an eye on George”—he grinned at Nancy—“which CJ seems to be doing a good job of.” His voice became serious. “Nan, there's no proof that anyone stole the brace. Maybe she
did
forget it.”

“Ned, she did
not
forget it. I saw her put it in her backpack.” The exasperation in Nancy's voice was obvious. “Somebody in the group must have taken it.”

“Or the guy who came for lunch,” Ned said.

“No, it couldn't have been him,” Nancy said. “He wasn't anywhere near her things. But while we're on the subject, I didn't like him very much.”

“Why not?”

“Well, he was asking George all those questions—about where she lived and if she was a student and about her bike. I just didn't like him.”

They unlocked their bikes, checked to make sure that the tires didn't need air, then followed the others out to the road.

Erik had been right about the route, Nancy thought, later that afternoon. There were sudden curves and dips in the road. In addition, the stately elms that lined the way had already dropped some of their leaves, and those, together with puddles from a recent rain, made parts of
the road slick. There was little conversation among the riders. Everyone was too busy concentrating on safely maneuvering the route.

Nancy was keeping a close eye on Erik and George, who were not riding quite as far ahead of the group as they had been that morning. But to Nancy's dismay, Erik was definitely in the lead. She took a curve, shifted gears, and worked at pumping uphill. It was getting late in the afternoon, and she was thinking of how good a hot shower would feel, when suddenly George disappeared from view.

Nancy put on a burst of speed, racing ahead of the group. At the top of the hill she braked, skidded, and jumped off her bike, scanning the road in front of her. Then she noticed something off to the side and realized it was a person, not a thing.

It was George—and she was lying motionless in the deep gully.

G
EORGE
!” N
ANCY YELLED
, sliding down the slope to reach her friend. “George!”

Filled with concern, she crouched down beside the tall girl, who now lay so still in the mud and leaves of the gully. George groaned quietly and tried to move. Nancy reached for the water bottle on her friend's crippled bike, pulled the scarf from her neck and doused it with water. Very gently, she wiped George's forehead. The side of George's cheek was scraped from the brambles she'd slid over when she was thrown from her bike, but she didn't appear to have any major cuts.

Nancy just hoped that George didn't have any serious injuries. Slowly George's eyes opened. She blinked twice and moved one arm, then the
other, as if testing to see that everything was working.

“Boy,” George said weakly, “that was a surprise.” She bent her left leg at the braced knee and then tried the right one. Both moved freely. “Just checking,” she said to Nancy.

“Can you sit up?” Nancy asked, cradling her arm under George's shoulders. “Is your head all right? I mean, I've heard about people getting head injuries even when they're wearing a helmet.”

George banged on the helmet with a fist. “As all right as it's ever been,” she quipped, grinning at Nancy.

“You know what I mean,” Nancy said, with just a trace of impatience in her voice. “It's not funny, George. You could have been seriously hurt.”

“Actually, I landed on one shoulder, but it seems to be okay.” She carefully moved her shoulders back and forth as Nancy helped her to sit. She looked up as Ned and CJ slid down the embankment. “Oh, good grief,” she said. “I'm about to become Exhibit A. I hate to have everybody staring at me. I'm fine. Really!” She stood up, still somewhat wobbly, and brushed the leaves and mud from her clothes.

Nancy could tell that she was embarrassed by all the attention.

“I'm just a klutz, that's all,” George muttered.

With CJ supporting her on one side and Nancy
on the other, they made their way back to the side of the road, while Ned carried the disabled bike up to the shoulder where the rest of the group was waiting. Erik, on hearing Nancy yell, had turned around and come back. As if that weren't bad enough, just then Michael Kirby happened to drive by, and Kendra and Jennifer flagged him down. He pulled his blue van over to the side of the road and got out.

“What happened, darlin'?” Michael asked George.

Nancy saw George wince. Anyone who knew George knew that calling her “darlin' ” wouldn't go over well.

George shook her head. “I shifted gears, and the next thing I knew I was in the ditch. I don't know what happened.” She paced off the area of the accident, examining the road surface. “There are no potholes here, no big rocks, no slippery spots. It doesn't make any sense.”

“Well, don't look at me,” said Erik, his tone belligerent. “I was a good eighth of a mile ahead of you when you did your swan dive. Probably your knee gave out,” he continued, with a trace of smugness, “and you lost your balance.”

“My knee was fine,” George retorted, unconsciously moving her hands to the brace that firmly supported the knee. “No problem. I don't know what happened.”

“I think I do,” said Nancy. She was crouched down beside the bike with CJ, examining the
brakes. “Your brake cables popped.” She paused. “And it looks as if it wasn't an accident.”

“You're kidding!” said George. “But who—”

Michael moved away from the girls and squatted down beside Nancy to inspect the brakes. “This probably came defective from the factory,” Michael said. “You can't believe the slipshod workmanship that goes into things these days. I mean, everybody knows about the recall rate on cars. Bikes are no better. Some guy on the line at the factory has a bad day and presto! Some unlucky customer gets a defective bike.”