Cold as Ice by Carolyn Keene Read Free Book Online

She kept a sharp lookout for anything unusual, pausing every so often to glance into the woods on either side of the path. She was about halfway through the woods when she noticed a line of footprints that left the path to enter a small clump of evergreens. Another line of footprints returned to the path a few yards farther on. The prints looked fresh,their edges still sharp. She bent down to peer in under the trees and felt her heart start to beat faster. What was that dark shape on the snow?
    Carefully avoiding the two lines of footprints, she made her way across the snow and ducked under the interlaced branches. As she neared the shadowy objects, the strong smell of gasoline filled the air.
    Nancy then saw that the shadow was a purple jacket with orange leather sleeves lying crumpled up on the snow. Jackpot! she thought triumphantly. Maybe the jacket belonged to whoever had set the boat house fire? When she bent down to pick it up, the harsh odor of gasoline intensified, causing her to cough.
    She carried the jacket back out to the path and held it up. She gasped when she saw the crossed oars on the back. There was a sinking feeling in her stomach as she turned the jacket around to read the name embroidered on the front.
    The jacket belonged to Rob Harper!

Chapter

Six
    A S N ANCY STARED at the jacket, a whiff of gasoline burned her nose, sending her into another coughing fit. But before she could get her breath back, a hand suddenly grabbed her shoulder.
    â€œOkay, young lady,” a gruff voice said. “You’d better hand that over and explain what you’re doing!”
    Nancy whirled around and found herself face-to-face with a beefy police officer, who sported a crew cut and glasses. She’d been coughing so hard she hadn’t heard him come up behind her.
    â€œOfficer, I think I’ve just found—”
    â€œYou’re coming with me, miss,” the officer cut in. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do!”
    If you’ll let me, Nancy said to herself.
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    Forty-five minutes later, at the police station, Nancy was still trying to explain what had happened, but no one was listening.
    â€œLook, Sergeant Balsam,” she said for what seemed like the billionth time, “if you’ll just telephone Dean Jarvis—”
    â€œI’ll get to that, Ms. Drew,” the police sergeant said. “But first,” he continued, “I’d like you to tell me again what you were doing in those woods with that jacket.”
    â€œI already—” Nancy began.
    He cut her off. “I know, you already told me. But I have a short memory, especially when I’m talking to people who’ve been tampering with important evidence. Try telling me again.”
    Nancy sighed and shifted in her chair. “I was walking along the path from the museum to the boat house,” she said wearily, “when I noticed some footprints going off into a clump of trees. Then I saw something lying on the ground in the middle of the trees. It was the jacket. When I brought it out to the path where the light was better, your officer came along.”
    â€œUh-huh,” the sergeant said. He frowned at her. “What would you say if I told you that apolice team swept that area earlier today and didn’t find a jacket or anything else? Would that make you think again about your story?”
    â€œI’m sorry, Sergeant,” Nancy said firmly. “I’ve just told you what happened. Either your crew missed the jacket earlier or it wasn’t put there until later.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t have been in the process of putting it there yourself, would you?”
    Nancy reminded herself to be patient and polite. “If you would just call Dean Jarvis,” she repeated, “he’ll tell you who I am.”
    â€œA detective,” Sergeant Balsam said with disdain. “Is that right? An amateur detective. And you think