The Secret at Solaire by Carolyn Keene

felt sorry for her. What Melina probably needed, she decided, was a good friend.
    â€œHi, Melina,” she said in a friendly tone. “Are you here for your mud treatment?”
    â€œI don’t think so,” Melina replied, “I just wanted to see what was going on in here.”
    â€œThe treatment is fabulous,” Bess assured her. “Now I know why Jacqueline has such perfect skin.”
    â€œYou don’t really think Jacqueline Rozier uses that stuff, do you?” Melina scoffed.
    â€œOf course Jacqueline uses Solaire products,” Yvette said quickly. “If you sit in that chair over there on the right, I’ll be with you in a moment.”
    â€œNo thanks. What if you just give me some of that stuff in a jar, and I’ll put it on in my room?” Melina countered.
    Nancy frowned. Melina seemed to enjoy making things difficult for people whenever possible.
    â€œIt’s not just the mud,” Yvette explained. “There is a cleaning solution to remove it, a gentle astringent and moisturizer afterward, and a special cream to be applied around the eyes. It’s best if you let me take you through the routine the first time.”
    â€œIt does feel great,” George said with a sigh.
    Melina hesitated a moment, then lay down in the chair on the right. “Okay, okay,” she told Yvette. But minutes later, when Yvette brought over the ceramic bowl filled with mineral mud, Melina sat bolt upright. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed, and then fled from the salon.
    â€œWhat was all that about?” George asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” Yvette said.
    Me neither, Nancy thought. But it’s definitely one more strange incident at Solaire to add to the list.
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    Nancy, Bess, and George had just left the salon when they saw the woman who worked at the office desk hurrying toward them.
    â€œMs. Drew,” she said, “your photographs just came back. Would you like to pick them up?”
    â€œDefinitely,” 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.
    â€œThanks,” 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.
    â€œHere 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.
    â€œYou mean the rock?” George asked.
    â€œI mean this bit of brown and blue plaid on the rock,” Nancy answered, pointing to a smallcorner 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.
    â€œBut we were the only ones down there,” Bess said.
    â€œWe 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?”
    â€œI’m not sure,” Nancy admitted.