Nodding, Nancy stood up. “Those footprints are about the same size as Darci’s, which is why I immediately thought she’d made them. But now I’m not so sure.” She aimed the light closer. “Look at the pointy toes.”
“So? Maybe Darci borrowed her mother’s shoes.”
Nancy flicked off the light. “Maybe. But if you were a teenager out to burglarize someplace, what would you wear?”
Bess thought for a moment. “Probably my flat-heeled boots or my tennis shoes.”
“Exactly.” Nancy started back to the Mustang.
Bess followed behind her. “Okay. So what do the pointy shoes prove?”
“Nothing,” Nancy told her. “Yet. But maybe Shana’s right. I need to stop concentrating on just Darci and Lawrence.” When she reached the car, Nancy turned and gave Bess a troubled look. “There may be others who are out to ruin The Nutcracker.”
• • •
“So what else did I miss?” George asked Bess and Nancy as they drove through the snow-covered pine forest. It was Sunday morning, and the girls were headed into the park to cross-country ski. “A car chase, a mouse-headed monster, and missing ornaments,” George went on. “My ski party wasn’t half as exciting.”
Nancy laughed. “We’re going with you today so we can forget all the excitement at the dance school.”
“Boy, would I like to forget it.” Bess yawned from the backseat of Nancy’s Mustang. “I’m exhausted from all that sloshing around in the snow. Not that I would have picked skiing to help me forget. A buffet breakfast at some trendy new restaurant is more my style.”
“That’s for sure.” George laughed. “I’m surprised you volunteered to go with us.”
“It was either that or go into the dance school,” Bess explained. “Madame actually called this morning to say that Mrs. Wolaski was showing up and would I like to come in and help. I had to think of a quick excuse. Going skiing with you two was the only thing I could think of.”
“I talked to Madame this morning, too,” Nancy said. “The police contacted her. The ballet school’s van was definitely the one that ran into us. Fortunately, since Madame can prove she wasn’t driving it, she won’t be liable.” Nancy frowned. “Unfortunately, Lawrence can’t prove he wasn’t driving it. The police said he has no alibi, except when he was with Darci, and that wasn’t until later. And since Lawrence is an employee of the school, the school can be liable for the damages to all the other cars.”
Bess groaned. “Oh, no. Poor Madame. She doesn’t need lawsuits on top of everything else.”
“Which means you’ve got to prove who was driving that van, Nancy,” George said.
Nancy nodded as she pulled the Mustang into the parking lot. “And soon.”
But half an hour later, when the girls skied into the park, Nancy tried to forget about Madame and her problems. The sun was sparkling through the branches of the pine trees, making the snow glisten. And since it was fairly early, the three of them had the trail all to themselves.
“Ready for something besides the beginner trail?” George called to Bess when they reached an intersection in the trails. She pointed up a hill with her ski pole.
“Uh, I don’t know.” Bess’s cheeks were bright red from the cold and exercise. “I always forget how much work this is. Can’t we go back and have lunch?”
With a grin, Nancy checked her watch. “It’s only ten o’clock. And why would you want to be inside on such a great day?” She looked up through the trees. “Just look at that sky.”
“Not without my dark glasses,” Bess grumbled.
“Cheer up, Bess.” George laughed at the disgruntled expression on her cousin’s face. “It sounds like help is on the way. Hear that engine? Maybe it’s a park ranger bringing us some hot chocolate.”
Nancy looked up the intermediate trail. It sounded as if the snowmobile was coming down the steep hill.
Suddenly it zoomed into sight, bouncing over a ledge of rock and tearing down the trail toward them. Nancy caught a glimpse of the driver. He was wearing a black ski mask over his head.
“That’s no park ranger,” George called over her shoulder. “This guy’s not supposed to be on the trail.”
“Maybe we’d better tell him.” Nancy slid her skis forward. The driver was going down the hill very fast, and instead of slowing down as he approached them, Nancy heard him accelerate. He was going to run right into them!
“Get off the trail,” Nancy yelled, waving her ski pole at George and Bess.
Doing a neat turn, Nancy quickly coasted into the woods. Ahead of her, she could see George ski into a small grove of pines. But right behind her, Bess was still on the trail. Her left ski was crossed under her right one, and she couldn’t move.
“Bess, hurry!” Nancy cried.
“I can’t,” Bess wailed. Suddenly, she toppled sideways, landing in the middle of the trail.
“Bess!” Nancy flipped her own skis around. But as she looked back up the trail, her heart caught in her throat. The snowmobile was barreling down, picking up speed. And the driver was leaning over the handlebars, steering right for Bess!
12
A Lost Clue
Nancy threw herself forward into the snow. Reaching in front of her, she grabbed Bess’s ski jacket. Using all her strength, Nancy pulled her off the trail.
The snowmobile zoomed past in a spray of snow, running over the back tips of Bess’s skis. Then it skidded to a stop, spun around, and faced them again.
“Look out! It’s coming back!” Nancy screamed. Scrambling to her knees, Nancy tried to free her boots from the bindings.
“Nancy, get down!” she heard George yell. Looking up, she saw her friend standing in the middle of the trail. George’s skis were off, and she was holding a tree branch in both hands like a baseball bat.
Dropping down, Nancy flattened herself against the snow. She could hear Bess breathing heavily beside her. But after seeing George, the snowmobiler apparently had second thoughts. With a roar of the motor, he turned around and headed away from them.
“Whew. That was a close one,” George finally gasped. Throwing down the branch, she reached out her hand to Nancy. “Let me help you up.”
