095 An Instinct for Trouble by Carolyn Keene

turned vivid colors by the algae that lived in them. All at once she hit the brakes.
    “What is it?” Bess asked, alarmed. “Is some-
    thing wrong?”
    “Look-in the middle of those aspens,”
    Nancy replied, pointing.
    “What is it?” Bess repeated. “A bear?”
    “No, it’s a van,” Nancy said. “And if I’m not mistaken, it’s the same one that tried to run me off the road this morning.”
    “Are you sure?” Bess gasped.
    Nancy nodded and pulled onto the shoulder of the road. Getting out, she walked down a dirt trail toward the half-concealed van. As she approached, she saw the words Minden Linen painted on the side.
    “This is it,” she said over her shoulder. “You can see the dent where it grazed off the tree.
    And look.” She pointed to a streak of white paint on the bumper. “That’s from our car.”
    Bess glanced around nervously. “Do you think the people who did it are still around?”
    “I doubt it,” Nancy said. She pulled open the driver’s side door and peered inside. The keys were in the ignition. “I’m going to search the cab. Keep an eye out for me, okay?”
    “Just make it quick,” Bess urged.
    Hastily Nancy climbed into the cab and opened the glove compartment. She found nothing except the registration and insurance card, both issued to the linen supply company.
    Under the seat, she found a creased map of the park. She was climbing out when she suddenly heard a thumping sound.
    Beth paled. “Nancy, let’s get out of here.”
    The sound came again, louder this time.
    “There’s someone in the back of the van!”
    Nancy exclaimed. She ran around to the rear doors and yanked the handle down. It was locked. “Bess, grab the keys. They’re in the ignition.”
    Bess grabbed the large key ring, then dashed back to Nancy with it. The third key worked, and she yanked the door open.
    The van was piled with neatly folded linen, and lying on a pile of towels in the center was a middle-aged man with round, wild eyes. His hands and feet were tied, and in his mouth was a gag.

Chapter Eight
    Nancy and Bess scrambled into the van and quickly released the man.
    “Mr. Heckleby?” Nancy inquired as the man rubbed his chafed wrists. He nodded.
    “Are you all right?” Bess asked.
    “I’ve been better,” he replied, massaging his ankles. “But I sure am glad you came along.
    I’ve been tied up for hours.”
    “What happened?” Nancy asked.
    Heckleby pushed back his unruly gray hair.
    “Beats me,” he said. “I was driving along near Madison Junction when I saw a car blocking the road. I stopped and got out to see if I could help, and someone grabbed me from behind. I felt something jab my arm. When I woke up I was hogtied and gagged on the floor of the van.”
    “You must have been drugged!” Nancy ex-
    claimed. “Whoever it was hijacked your truck and tried to run me off the road with it.”
    “Who would do a thing like that? And why?” he demanded.
    “I don’t know,” Nancy replied, remember-
    ing the missing syringes and tranquilizer vials at the campsite.
    The girls helped Heckleby out of the van.
    “I’d better call the office and have them get a ranger over here.” He reached into the cab for his radio.
    Less than ten minutes later a park service cruiser pulled up behind Nancy’s car and two officers got out. They introduced themselves as Rangers Dillon and Cramer and took state-
    ments from both Nancy and Heckleby.
    Before leaving, the officers offered to drive Heckleby to the hospital in Gardiner, but he said he was too far behind on his rounds already. After thanking Nancy and Bess for rescuing him, he got into the van and drove off.
    Nancy was silent as she started the car and swung onto the road.
    “What are you thinking, Nan?” Bess asked.
    Nancy told her about the syringes.
    “You think someone from Ned’s group drugged Mr. Heckleby and tried to kill you?”
    “I can’t really narrow it down that far,”
    Nancy replied slowly. “Anyone could have