Nancy turned to the backstage area. She remembered a ladder that would lead to the metal catwalks overhead. Sally and Will were hanging from the catwalk. Nancy felt around until her hand touched cold metal—a rung of the ladder. Nancy climbed until she reached the catwalk, forty feet in the air.
It was darker up there than on the stage below. Nancy gripped the handrail tightly as she inched toward the net in which Sally and Will were trapped.
“Sally? Will?” she called down to them. “Are you all right?”
Their answers were muffled. Redding had gagged them too.
Nancy moved closer until she was standing just beneath the rope that hung over the metal railing. She wasn’t strong enough to lift the net up to the catwalk. What could she do?
A tiny flame suddenly appeared in the air before her, with an eye and a nose behind it. Startled, Nancy stepped back, nearly losing her balance.
“Watch your step, Ms. Drew,” drawled a deep male voice. “It’s a long way down.”
It was Dan Redding. And he wasn’t holding just a lighter. In his other hand he held a gun, and it was aimed straight at her.
She should have known Redding would be waiting. He wasn’t about to leave with the job only half-done.
“They’re waiting for you on the set of ‘Cop,’ ” Nancy said, trying to sound casual.
Redding laughed. “There’s a much more important show to do here,” he said. “The final episode of ‘Nightside.’ And I mean final.”
Nancy’s mind raced. She decided to try flattery. “I hear you’re incredibly talented. I knew you were the star of ‘Cop,’ but I never knew you created it too.”
The flame flickered, and Nancy could see a grim smile behind it. “People think if you’re a good-looking actor you can’t think too,” Redding said. “But all the years I was doing stunts and acting, I was watching those producers. I knew I could put on a better show than they could.”
“Looks like you did,” Nancy said. “I saw a clip of your show this morning. It was really great.”
“It is great,” Redding said with a touch of sadness. “And for a while everyone else thought so too. Until they came along.”
Nancy knew Redding meant Will and Sally.
“You can’t blame them,” Nancy said. “The audience decides which show they like better.”
“How could anyone like their show better than mine? They’re just a couple of clowns cracking jokes every two minutes. My show is serious drama.”
“Isn’t there room for both?” Nancy asked.
“The networks don’t think so. They told us that unless our ratings improve, we’re off the air. I can’t let that happen.”
Redding moved the flame to the side of the rope that held the sandbags. Nancy smelled something burning—Redding had singed the rope.
Nancy had to distract him before he burned it any further and the balance broke.
“Mr. Redding!” Nancy blurted before she knew what to say. “Uh . . . you may not know it, but I’m a detective myself.”
“I figured,” said Redding. “Or you wouldn’t be standing forty feet in the air watching me do this. Of course, I wasn’t prepared for an audience for this show. So after it’s over, you’ll have to be the grand finale.”
“Tell me one thing before you go through with it,” Nancy said. “How did you come up with such a complicated scheme?”
The flame moved away from the rope. Nancy sighed inwardly.
“Same way I write my show,” Redding said. “I figured a mystery convention would be the perfect setting for a real murder mystery. I sent the security chief a memo telling him there was going to be a fake kidnapping of the ‘Nightside’ stars. I told him it was a publicity stunt and not to call the police.”
“He sure believed you,” Nancy said. “We had to twist his arm just to get him to look inside Sally’s room. He kept calling us ‘crazy mystery people.’ ”
Redding laughed. “That’s exactly the way I would have written it.”
“But I didn’t believe it was a stunt,” Nancy said. “I knew it was a real kidnapping.”
“I never figured some kid would be on my trail,” Redding said.
Keep talking, Nancy begged Dan Redding silently. Just keep talking.
“Anyway,” Redding continued, “since I knew somebody would figure it out, I planted the phony clues in that photo to make people think Braddock did it.”
“So the cement wall behind Sally and Will in the photo was a wall of the theater,” Nancy said.
“Right,” Redding replied with a grin.
“What about Peter Thornton?” Nancy asked. “He’s been running around like he’s got something to hide.”
Redding smiled. “He does, but it’s nothing you’d care about. He’s planning to drop Will as a client—”
“—and represent you instead,” Nancy finished the sentence.
“How did you know?” Redding asked.
“Matt Ziegler told us.”
