When I left the Doright home with papers in hand I saw a streak of black and green in the woods which I guessed to be Bess and Stella. I kind of didn't know what to do with myself. My job was helping anyone who needed it but I had no way of knowing who would run into trouble. I decided George probably needed assistance. I took off into the woods in the direction I thought the trap door should be. Let me tell you, even with the flashlight it was hard going. Because I couldn't be lucky and have a full moon so I literally had to scan my searchlight everywhere to not bonk into anything. I wonder what everyone else is doing. I know Stella and Bess are running for the truck. Esti is definitely asleep. I could only hope the Dorights were all asleep. George is doing whatever it is she thinks she can do to close up the trap door. Joe and Nancy are escaping the lair. So here I am doing nothing important to save the day. Why did I give myself this job again?
I pick up my pace to a jog when I see a light pointing at me from the ground. It occurred to me that if George was jamming a door her light wouldn't be on the ground pointing into the woods.
When I reach the trap door a log was rolled over the door and the flashlight shone over it. George, however, was nowhere to be seen.
"George?" I call, in an overly loud voice.
No reply.
So, to be honest, I am all psyched up, it's dark and creepy, add to the fact that I am on a case and tired and you see why when I felt a tap on my shoulder I freaked out. I swear I must have jumped a foot up before calming.
I heard a giggle as a figure appeared out of the over heavily darkness.
"Boo," George cackles. She picks up the fallen light and flips her jacket's hood onto her dark head. The teenage girl's eyes shone in the little light, giving an outward touch to her spunk. "I'm going to close off the study door to the secret hospital lair. Kind sir, would you care to join me?" She regally bobs her head towards me.
"You gave me quite a scare," I blame as she and I jog back to the house.
She makes a sound like she was smirking.
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When smoke is crinkling out the windows of the abandoned house where no one is supposed to be awake, you kind of worry. When your brother is supposed to be waiting outside that house, you start getting anxious. But when you step in the door and see your villain closing off a burning study that your brother is inside, you have a panic attack.
Doright turned at the sound of the front door opening. Neither George or I had expected him to be awake, much less starting fires. Not that I ever found out whether or not he started it (I supposed he did). George darted away as Doright advanced.
"Look, we can do this peacefully like civilized adults."
Doright grins madly.
"Or, since there are not two civilized adults in the room, I guess we can fight this out like the clique criminal and detective we are," I mutter to myself.
Doright simpers evilly. "No matter what I do this will not be peaceful and you know it. Anyways, you're not even an adult so how could you work so how could you work ANYTHING out as an adult. You are a little boy."
Glancing to the side, Doright picks up a sturdy walking stick. He raises it up into the air and is planning on bringing it down on me. I dodge quickly to the left, scrambling for safety. He whirls and his weapon wildly pierces the air. I duck and slide to the other side of the small, narrow foyer. With a scream of rage, Doright swoops his rod toward my midsection. I caught it in time and push the weapon back, sending it flying toward the study. It hits the flaming bookcase with a crack and sends sparks flying. Doright charges for me, his fist settling into my stomach. Regaining my composure, I send a flying punch somewhere near his head. He ducks, swerving and throws a hand to my head. I duck again and merge to the right, kicking out my left leg. My leg connects with his knee, knocking him off balance sending him tumbling. I pounce and we roll on the floor. Finally, Doright hits his head on the wall and runs out of energy. His eyes closed and the fight leaves the older man. I breathe heavily and stand to my feet, slightly dizzy from the encounter. After I recomposed myself, I checked Doright's pulse and found him still alive.
George, during this whole commotion, had located a fire extinguisher and was battling the flames. The flames still roared and were starting to encroach out of the study. I run out the door and scour the perimeter of the house in search of a faucet and hose. I figured water and lots of it were our best option. The house had a bed of flowers outside, and although they were dead they clued me into the fact that there was, in fact, an exterior water source.
I finally located a hose hidden in the grass and leaves. I follow the dirty, black hose to the house and turn the faucet on. I quickly drag and lug the coiled rubber to the window of the house. I pull off my work boot and place in on my hand. Punching windows had become way too common of a practice in my line of work and within seconds the hot glass broke and fire and smoke poured out.
With water continuously flowing in, the fire died and exhausted in less than twenty minutes. I drop the hose from my tired hands and bound into the house. George had pulled her jacket over her face so only her eyes peeked out and was carrying a flashlight into the ashy room. I yank my shirt over my nose and survey the charred room.
"Looks like some great minds think alike," I mutter.
I follow her gaze to a burnt bookshelf covering the door to the underground.
"I'll try to move it if you'll get the hose," I offer. "There is bound to be more of the fire behind this."
George scurries out as I advance to the wooden structure. I push it aside with my shoulder easily. I guess it wasn't real wood. I yank the door open and sure enough, a roaring fire blazed in my face. I couldn't see through the fire and smoke down the stairs to see if Joe and Nancy had escaped the flames. My eyes began to water and burn and I stepped away coughing and stuttering as George moves in with the hose. Nancy and Joe should have made it down the halls and up the stairs at least. Did that mean they were burned to death? Doright wouldn't have set ablaze his study if he didn't know we were escaping. After all, he would have no need to prevent people from coming out if he didn't know they were trying to escape. When this is all said and done I'm going to have a lot of questions I need to be answered.
The flames which had been inching for space on the charred floor disappeared. The water kept spurting until every inch of the stairs had been touched. I gingerly stepped onto the charred boards as George replaced the hose to its rightful home. Some of the boards squeaked or creaked a welcome and others sagged and groan. Every step had me wondering if the step would truly hold my weight or if I was going to plunge to the bottom of the underground lair. Soon, I made it to the landing. As I reached for the door's knob, I thought I heard a scuffling behind it. Opening the door with my shirt over my hand to protect it revealed two men fighting an all out, rough, body-to-body brawl. One was reddish brown haired with tan skin that shone with beads of sweat. He wore a white, now dirty, shirt with a pair of red sweat pants. Muscles bulged from under his shirt and he looked upset, not even angry at the young man he was fighting. The other man was blonde haired and paler skinned. He wore all black from his black jeans to his dark hoodie, giving the overall feeling that he was a cat-burglar. His eyes were tired and enraged as he attacked the man.
"Get Nancy!" my brother shouted. "She's in the closet!" His face had a large scrap across it which began to bleed as his opponent smacked him to the ground. Joe started shouting the words tumbling out of his mouth. Even I who had heard Joe talk my entire life couldn't follow. It was a taunt about how Morgan couldn't fight and that he was here against his will and he had made the wrong choices and he could fix them by joining the right side. I didn't stop to listen to all of it, especially when Joe was so tired that he was slurring in between English and the little Spanish he knew after goofing off in class during high school. I paced to the closet Joe had mentioned and found a half conscience Nancy Drew inside. She looked worse than when I had last seen her. When was that? It must have been an hour ago, maybe two, but it felt like a century. I cupped Nancy's cheek in my hand and she stirred a little and blink a few times. I didn't even bother to look back at Joe. My brother was a big guy; he could handle his own down there.
I wasn't as careful taking the stairs this time. I bolted up as quickly as possible. On the way out the front door, I ran into George tying up Doright. I paused to rest a moment, setting Nancy down on a chair. George flew to her friend's side as I slumped down onto the floor.
"Bess and Stella pulled up with the truck in the yard," George stated as her brush Nancy's hair off her face. The strawberry blonde teenager knocked her head to the side and sagged a little in her chair.
I nodded in recognition, adrenaline the only thing still keeping my conscience. "I'll take Nancy out. Do me a favor, would you? Help Joe before he kills himself."
With that, I picked up Nancy and heave her upward. George quirked her eyebrow at me. When I left leaving her nonverbal question unanswered, she shrugged and headed downstairs.
Who knew a beat-up pick up would be such a welcoming sight? Bess jumped out and held open the back door as I placed Nancy in the backseat. Stella gushed over her daughter while I spoke to Bess.
"Is Stella alright?" I ask in a hushed tone.
Bess nods as I sag against the car barely able to keep my legs underneath myself. "Paramedics and cops are on the way. Where's the rest of the gang?" She nods to the house.
"George should bring Joe and maybe Morgan Doright out soon."
"Good. I'll drive Stella, Nancy and whoever else needs it to the hospital as long as you can take care of the cops.
I saluted, which sent Bess into tired giggles. It was funny when I was on a case beautiful girls like Bess Marvin didn't intimidate me at all. Her giggles and gorgeous smile actually gave me some energy and motivation. Bess started the engine as the injured Joe appeared. When everyone was loaded, I closed the door and Bess took off. One day, not today, I'll have to ask George how she separated Morgan and Joe so quickly.