Baby-Sitting Is a Dangerous Job by Willo Davis Roberts Page A

air conditioner doesn’t work right if the windows are open.”
    I was beginning to feel wobbly in the middle. What if Jeremy hadn’t done anythingto set off the alarm? What if there had been a burglar? What if there hadn’t been an alarm, and someone had gotten into the house?
    About that time, as we walked back toward the entry hall, a young officer came back. “Looks like somebody tried to jimmy the lock on the side door into the garage,” he said.
    The feeling in my stomach got worse.
    â€œIt’s a blind area, big high hedge shields that side of the house from the neighbors. They didn’t see anything, though they looked out when the alarm went off. Doug’s checking out the alley, to see if anybody went out that way.”
    Clancy grunted again. “All right. Make sure all the doors and windows are secure now. We better contact Mr. Foster, let him know it looks like an attempted break-in.”
    â€œWill you catch him? And put him in jail?” Jeremy wanted to know. He did a little skip of excitement.
    â€œMaybe,” Clancy said. “You here alone with the kids, Darcy?”
    â€œYes, until the housekeeper comes home around four. She’s having root canal work done.”
    Clancy was frowning. “We’ll make sure everything’s secure before we leave. You want to stay here, or should we take you all over to your own house?”
    A part of me wanted to go home. What if a real burglar came back? He might not be scared by the alarm the next time, or he might feel he could steal whatever he was after before the police got there.
    I didn’t know how the Fosters would feel about my taking their kids somewhere else, though. And the kids weren’t scared. Jeremy thought it was entertaining, and Melissa and Shana took their cue from him.
    â€œI guess we’d better stay here, unless Mr. Foster thinks we should leave,” I said slowly.
    Clancy called the bank from the white telephone in the living room. Mr. Foster seemed satisfied that the police had routed the intruder, and Clancy assured him that they’d have a patrol car keeping an eye on the place for the rest of the day.
    Clancy hung up the phone as the last of the officers returned to the house.
    â€œNeighbors at the end of the block say a carcame out of the alley right after the alarm went off, but they didn’t get a good look at it. All they’re sure of is that it was dark, and probably five or six years old. Lady said she can’t tell one model from another, but she thinks it was black.”
    Black. I remembered the car I’d thought followed Tim and me away from this house, and (maybe) the same one that had parked so the occupants could watch Irene and me when we went to the store. Could it have been the same one?
    I opened my mouth to tell Clancy about the mysterious car, but he was already turning away, and Shana said firmly, “I have to go potty.”
    By the time Shana was taken care of, the police had gone. I stood looking at the phone, wondering if I should call Clancy and tell him about the car.
    I’d feel stupid if it turned out to be just somebody who liked to look at girls. I knew Tim and his friends often drove around and watched girls.
    But what if it wasn’t only girl watchers?
    I decided to call Tim. He’d know what to do.
    I dialed our number, and Jimmy answered it. He didn’t know where Tim was, he’d driven off ten minutes earlier. I swallowed and read off the Fosters’ number for him to write down. “Tell Tim to call me when he comes back,” I said, and Jimmy promised he would.
    I felt a little better, which was a mistake. I didn’t know Tim wasn’t going to call back until it was too late.

Chapter Seven
    Jeremy was so excited over the burglar alarm and the police coming that there was no way of calming him down. At least not any way that I could think of.
    He whooped and hollered and raced around being a