The Secret at Solaire

  “What was all that about?” George asked.

  “I don’t know,” Yvette said.

  Me neither, Nancy thought. But it’s definitely one more strange incident at Solaire to add to the list.

  • • •

  Nancy, Bess, and George had just left the salon when they saw the woman who worked at the office desk hurrying toward them.

  “Ms. Drew,” she said, “your photographs just came back. Would you like to pick them up?”

  “Definitely,” Nancy replied.

  She and Bess and George followed the woman back to the office, where the woman handed Nancy a sealed paper envelope. “Hope they turned out well,” the woman said with a smile.

  “Thanks,” Nancy said. “I can’t wait to look at them.” But she made herself wait until she and her friends were safely back in their casita.

  The first half of Kim’s roll was all desert shots—a majestic saguaro cactus, the Catalina Mountains at sunset, a stand of wildflowers, a coyote crossing a dirt road.

  “Here are the ones from the hike,” Nancy said, holding up one of the group shots. Then she frowned. “This is interesting,” she murmured, looking at the photograph Bess had taken of her and Kim. “Check out what’s behind Kim,” Nancy said, handing the photo to George. What was behind Kim was the opposite shore of Tanque Verde Creek—the sloping white rock where Nancy had last seen Kim seconds before the flood hit.

  “You mean the rock?” George asked.

  “I mean this bit of brown and blue plaid on the rock,” Nancy answered, pointing to a small corner of plaid at the very edge of the picture. “It looks like it could be the elbow of someone wearing a plaid shirt. Was anyone in our group wearing plaid that day?”

  George and Bess both thought for a moment before shaking their heads.

  “But we were the only ones down there,” Bess said.

  “We thought we were,” Nancy said, trying to ignore a creeping feeling of dread. “But what if someone else was there all along? And what if the floodwaters didn’t get Kim? What if our mystery person did?”

  7

  Spies in the Night

  George sat cross-legged on the bed, her dark eyes disbelieving. “Let me get this straight,” she said slowly. “You’re saying Kim Foster was kidnapped?”

  “I’m not sure,” Nancy admitted. “There’s a good chance she was swept downstream by the flood. But Search and Rescue still hasn’t found any trace of her.”

  “But who would have kidnapped Kim?” Bess asked. “And why?”

  “Kim was trying to give me some sort of information about Solaire,” Nancy said slowly. “I think someone wanted to make sure she never told anyone anything.”

  Bess ran a brush through her straw-colored hair. “I can’t believe someone from the spa would get involved in a kidnapping,” she said. “That’s crazy!”

  “Maybe,” Nancy agreed. “But what if Alain had been at the falls at the same time we were?”

  “Alain doesn’t wear anything like that shirt,” Bess said. “He usually wears workout clothes.”

  “Actually, I haven’t seen anyone here wearing a flannel shirt,” George admitted. “The sun’s been too hot. Just about everyone wears T-shirts or polo shirts or tank tops.”

  “That’s true,” Nancy said with a sigh. “If there was another person down at the falls, it could have been someone totally unconnected to Solaire. Which makes this even more of a mystery,” she added.

  “Maybe we should go to the police,” George suggested.

  “The police already know about Kim’s disappearance,” Nancy reminded her. “Jacqueline said they’ve been working with the Search and Rescue team, looking for her.”

  “But they don’t know what’s going on here at the spa,” George pointed out.

  “Neither do we,” Nancy said glumly. “And we have no real evidence whatsoever. I need more information before I can go to them.”

  Later that afternoon, the three girls sat near the edge of the pool, talking. The day was getting cooler, and they were the last guests remaining by the water.

  “It’s just too beautiful to go indoors,” Bess said contentedly. “I’m even thinking I need some outdoor exercise. Maybe I’ll sign up for a riding lesson tomorrow.”

  “Oh!” Nancy exclaimed suddenly.

  “Oh, what?” George asked.

  “Hank Meader, that’s what.”

  Bess dangled one leg in the cool water. “What about him?”

  “Yesterday, after we got back from the falls, I saw Hank by the fountain, talking to Alain,” Nancy explained. “Anyway, Rhonda Wilkins came up to him, all upset because she’d scheduled a riding lesson with him, and he’d missed it. Hank told her it was because he’d been out buying horse feed that morning, and the fan belt on his pickup truck broke.”

  “So?” George asked.

  “So Hank wasn’t where he was supposed to be yesterday afternoon. Maybe he wasn’t buying horse feed, either,” Nancy said. “Maybe he was really at Tanque Verde Falls.”

  Bess applied more sun block and took a drink of bottled water. “I don’t know, Nan,” she said doubtfully. “That sounds a little farfetched to me. Why don’t you believe Hank’s story?”

  “It’s just a hunch,” Nancy admitted with a smile. “To tell you the truth, this theory does sound a little crazy, even to me.”

  “Was Hank wearing a plaid shirt?” George asked.

  Nancy shook her head. “No, blue denim. But it was a long-sleeved shirt, and Hank dresses kind of like a cowboy. He’s definitely the type who’d own a plaid shirt. He could have been down at the falls, and then changed before coming back here.”

  George stretched out on one of the lounges. “Not that I understand why Hank Meader would want to kidnap Kim, or how he could have been standing there and escaped the flood . . . but how do we find out if he owns a blue and brown plaid shirt?”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure he lives on the grounds of the spa,” Nancy said. “There’s a small adobe house that must have been part of the original ranch, about a hundred yards behind the stables. I’ve seen Hank go into it.”

  “What if it’s the tack room?” George asked.

  “No one puts a tack room that far away from the stables,” Nancy said. “It’s got to be Hank’s house. And I’d love to have a look inside.”

  Bess scrunched her eyes shut tight. “Why do I have this feeling that I’m going to help you break into someone’s house?”

  Nancy grinned. “You don’t actually have to help me break in, Bess. All you have to do is distract Hank.”

  • • •

  Dinner had just ended later that evening, and the setting sun had turned the western horizon into a blazing streak of crimson. Nancy, Bess, and George left Solaire’s dining room and headed for the stables.

  “Let’s go over the plan one more time,” Nancy said.

  “Okay. I go into the stables and ask Hank if he’ll show me around,” Bess began. “I tell him I want to go riding tomorrow, and that I’d feel a lot better about it if I could see the horses first. Then I’ll take a long time at each stall—asking lots of questions and talking to the horses and stuff.” Bess reached into her pocket and pulled out a fistful of carrot sticks she’d taken from the salad bar. “See? I even came prepared.”

  “And I’m the lookout,” George continued. “I’ll hide somewhere near the door of the stables. As soon as Hank even hints that he might leave, I’ll signal you in the house.” She paused. “What kind of signal should I use?”

  “Um—how about throwing some dirt at one of the windows?” Nancy suggested. “I’ll hear that.”

  “Right,” George said.

  Nancy took a deep breath as she considered her own part in the plan. “And I’m going to break into Hank Meader’s house and search for the shirt.” She shook her head. “If my dad, the lawyer, only knew . . . ”

  Bess giggled nervously. “This sounds like a spy movie.”

  “We are spying,” Nancy admitted as the st
able building came into view. “But it’s for a good cause. We have to find out what happened to Kim.”

  Dusk was falling now. The wooden stables were lit from inside, and the scents of hay and horses filled the air.

  Nancy headed off to the right, planning to circle back toward Hank’s house.

  “Wish me luck,” Bess called softly.

  “Good luck,” Nancy whispered, “to all of us.” She walked as quietly as she could, praying that Hank didn’t have a dog or some sort of burglar alarm. At least none of the windows in the stables faced the house. Hank couldn’t possibly see her.

  The house was smaller and older than Nancy had realized. Its adobe walls were cracked from years in the sun, and the inside was completely dark. For a moment, Nancy wondered if anyone actually did live there.

  Calmly, Nancy walked up to the thick wooden door and knocked, just in case someone other than Hank lived there. When no one answered, Nancy tried the doorknob. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. I guess I’ll have to break in after all, she thought.

  Carefully, she walked around the side of the house. The windows weren’t that far from the ground. She could probably boost herself up onto one of the thick wooden ledges, but then how would she actually get the window open?

  At the back of the house, Nancy found her answer. The back window was open. The sky was growing darker by the minute, and Nancy knew she had no time to lose. She jumped up onto the thick wooden ledge, then lowered herself feet first through the open window.

  Her feet came down and Nancy heard the sound of something breaking. She froze, terrified. What had she broken? Had someone heard her?

  Inside, the house was silent.

  Taking a deep breath, Nancy turned on her flashlight and found a broken terra-cotta planter on the floor.

  Nice move, Drew, she told herself, as she swept up the broken pieces and hid them deep in the garbage can.

  Using her flashlight, Nancy checked out the tiny living room, bedroom, and kitchen. In the bedroom closet, she found plenty of long-sleeved shirts, even a few that were plaid, but none of the patterns matched the one in the photograph.

  Maybe Bess was right, Nancy thought as she got ready to climb back out of the kitchen window. Maybe my theory was crazy. Then she realized there was one room she still hadn’t checked: the bathroom.

  Shining her flashlight ahead of her, Nancy entered the narrow bathroom. Lying in a heap on the tile floor was a muddy plaid shirt. Nancy’s hand shook with excitement as she took the photograph from her pocket and held it against the sleeve of the shirt. It was a perfect match.

  Now what? she wondered. It’d be bad enough if Hank noticed he was missing a planter. She couldn’t risk taking the shirt for evidence.

  Nancy made one more check through the small house, searching for something else that might lead her to Kim. This time, a photograph on top of the dresser in the bedroom caught her eye. The photograph showed a lovely young woman standing beside a white horse, holding a trophy. Could this be Hank’s daughter? Nancy wondered.

  She turned over the picture. The cardboard backing was slightly pulled down. Beneath it, Nancy could see what looked like newsprint. Curious, she slipped the photograph from its frame. A yellowed newspaper clipping fell out and fluttered to the floor.

  Nancy carefully unfolded the brittle piece of paper. It was a newspaper article, and its headline read: Local Woman, 20, Blinded by Tainted Cosmetics. Beneath the headline was the same picture of the girl with the horse.

  Nancy’s heart skipped a beat as she went on to read about Heather Sinclair, a promising equestrian from Arizona. She’d been studying in Paris and was blinded by a French-manufactured mascara. The cosmetics company, Jeunesse, paid Ms. Sinclair’s hospital bills but vanished before paying the damages they’d agreed to. The girl’s father, Henry Sinclair, was being forced to sell his ranch to pay for legal fees to try and bring the Jeunesse company to justice.

  Henry Sinclair, Nancy mused. Could he possibly be the same man as Hank Meader? There was no way of telling. How long ago did this happen? Nancy checked for a date, but the article had been clipped from the middle of a page.

  A sudden sound against the bedroom window made her jump. It was George’s signal—Hank was coming! Moving swiftly, Nancy slipped the article back into the frame and set the picture back on top of the dresser. Then she made her way back to the kitchen.

  “Please stall him, Bess,” Nancy murmured as she climbed onto the window ledge and lowered herself to the ground.

  George was waiting for her, and she whispered to Nancy to hurry. The girls glanced toward the barn, but they didn’t see Hank coming.

  Suddenly Nancy heard footsteps from around the corner of the house. She grabbed George’s arm, and the two of them sprinted off in the other direction, not daring to look back.

  • • •

  When the girls had finally let themselves into the room, Nancy’s heart was still pounding.

  “That was a close one,” Nancy said, collapsing into a chair.

  “Are you okay?” George asked at once. Even George was winded.

  “Fine,” Nancy told her. “I’ll explain everything I found in a minute, but first I need to make a call.”

  Nancy hurried to the bedside phone and dialed her father’s number. “Hi, Dad,” she said when Carson Drew answered the phone. “Yes, we’re all fine. I was wondering if you could do a little research for me. I need to know anything you can find out about a French cosmetics company called Jeunesse and an American girl from Tucson named Heather Sinclair, who was blinded by one of their products. Also anything you can find on Jacqueline and Laurent Rozier.”

  “What was that all about?” Bess asked after Nancy had chatted with her dad for a few minutes and hung up the phone.

  Nancy told her friends what she’d found in Hank Meader’s cottage. “I’m not sure why he was at the falls that day,” she said. “And I don’t know for certain that he has Kim—but it seems very possible.”

  George pulled a pillow from her bed and stretched out on the rug. “So what’s his connection to the girl in the photograph?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Nancy replied, “but I intend to find out.”

  “Well, I don’t know why you’re checking out the Roziers,” Bess said, sounding upset. “I’m sure they didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  Nancy sighed, not wanting to get into an argument with Bess. Then her eyes widened in panic. “I can’t believe it,” she said. “It’s gone!”

  “What is?” George asked, frowning.

  “My silver bracelet. The one Ned gave me. It says, ‘To Nancy, with love’ on the inside.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t just leave it somewhere?” Bess asked.

  “Positive,” Nancy said, her heart sinking. “I know I had it on before I went into Hank’s house. And now it’s gone.”

  The three girls jumped as someone pounded on their door. Putting a finger to her lips, Nancy went to open it. What she saw made her heart start racing all over again.

  Framed in the dark doorway was Hank Meader, a menacing scowl on his face.

  8

  Run for Your Life

  Nancy stared into Hank Meader’s angry face and felt herself start to tremble. He knows I broke into his house, she thought. How am I ever going to talk my way out of this one?

  “The Roziers want to see the three of you in the office,” Hank said. “Pronto!”

  “Wh-what?” Nancy stammered. Was he telling the truth, or was this some kind of ruse to get them out of the casita?

  “I said, they want to see you in the office,” Hank repeated. “Look,” he went on impatiently, “I’ve got a mare about to foal in the stables. I don’t have all night to run errands. Do you think you three could move it?”

  “He does have a mare about to foal,” Bess said quickly. “Her name’s Bonita and—”

  “All right,” Nancy said, “we’ll come with you.” Maybe Hank was telling the truth, but why had the Roziers summ
oned them?

  Silently, Hank led the way toward the main complex. By night the fountain was lit, throwing a soft cascade of silver water under the moonlight.

  The three girls entered the office and found both Jacqueline and Laurent waiting for them. “Merci, Hank,” Jacqueline said. “You may go now.”

  Hank tipped his hat and left, leaving Nancy more curious than ever. Did the Roziers know the girls had been spying? Were she and Bess and George about to be thrown out of Solaire?

  “I summoned you because we have received word from Kim Foster,” Jacqueline began. “I have already told the staff the news, and I am speaking to the other guests in the morning, but I know how particularly concerned you three have been.”

  “Did Search and Rescue find her?” George asked eagerly.

  “No, but there was no need,” Jacqueline explained. “We received this from her today.” She held out a typed letter to Nancy, who read the letter aloud to her friends.

  “Dear Jacqueline and Laurent,

  I just wanted to let you know that I am fine. I was swept downstream in the flood, but I managed to make it to safety. Still, nearly drowning is an upsetting experience—especially for a ‘wilderness expert.’ I need some time to think things through, so I will not be returning to Solaire. I’m going to spend the next few weeks in Phoenix, visiting museums and taking in the sights.

  I’d appreciate it if you could hold my mail and things until I return.

  All the best,

  Kim Foster”

  Nancy reread the letter silently. Something about it didn’t sound right. “Are you sure that’s Kim’s signature?” she asked the Roziers.

  “Of course,” Laurent said. “In fact, I will prove it to you.” He went over to a wooden filing cabinet, pulled out a typed form, and handed it to Nancy. It was Kim’s original job application. The signature was identical to the one on the letter.

  “So she’s really all right,” Bess said, smiling.

  “She’s fine,” Jacqueline said, putting the application away. “We will miss her, of course, and it was quite irresponsible of her to walk out on us, but we are very relieved that she is all right. Now, you girls must return to your casita and get a good night’s rest. Alain is waiting outside to walk you back to your room.”