See No Evil by Franklin W. Dixon Read Free Book Online

something had happened to Lisa, and he knew he had to go for it.
    He flung himself through the open window and prayed there was no one inside to sound an alarm.
    His prayer was answered.
    There was no one to make a sound when he entered the room.
    But there was someone there.
    Someone lying face down on the carpeted floor.
    Someone he recognized instantly.
    "Lisa," he gasped, a sick feeling going through him as he looked at her. She lay there, as still as death.

Chapter 7
    GRITTING HIS TEETH, Joe reached for Lisa's wrist. Her hand was limp as he felt for her pulse. He closed his eyes for a moment, sighing with relief. He could feel the pulse, beating steadily.
    Gently, he turned her over on her back.
    He clenched his fists when he saw the bruise marks on her neck. He wanted to get his hands on the guy who had tried to strangle her.
    But he had more important things to do then. He went into the bathroom and soaked a washcloth with cold water. When he returned, he pressed it on her forehead and cheeks.
    Finally her eyelids twitched, then fluttered open.
    "What — ? Where — ?" she mumbled until her eyes focused on the face peering down at her. "Joe! What are you doing here?"
    "First, tell me what you were doing on the floor," said Joe as he helped her get to her feet.
    "I was getting ready to go down to meet you when there was a knock on the door," Lisa said. "If this were New York City, I might have been more cautious. But aside from the neighborhood mugger I met last night, Bayport seems like a safe place. I didn't think twice about opening the door when the guy said he was an electrician checking the wiring. The moment it was open a crack, he forced himself in. The next thing I knew his hands were squeezing my throat and I blacked out."
    "Did you get a good look at him?" asked Joe.
    Lisa shook her head. "He was wearing a black stocking mask."
    "Sounds familiar," said Joe. "In fact, it sounds like an instant replay of what happened to Callie." He looked around the room. Drawers had been pulled out of a desk and a bureau, and clothes were yanked off hangers and strewn around the floor.
    "If he didn't fit the description of the mugger who went after Callie, too, I'd say it was just a robbery. But we have to figure it was more than that."
    "No doubt about it — especially considering what he said to me," said Lisa.
    "He told you something?" said Joe.
    "Just 'Stop sniffing around—or you'll stop breathing.' He made sure I heard that before he made me black out," said Lisa, wincing at the memory.
    She glanced around her littered room. "Seems like he was looking around for any notes I might have taken. He didn't find anything, though, because I still haven't written anything." She shook her head. "I just don't see how anything ties in with anything else."
    "I'm beginning to think that black book Callie had must be the key," Joe said. "It's a good thing she was so gung-ho to break the code. In fact, she or my brother may have done it already."
    "Then she's in danger, even more now than before," Lisa said. "Maybe your brother, too. Before we do anything else, we'd better warn them that this guy is still on the prowl and playing rough."
    "Maybe they're still at Ernie's," said Joe. "That's a pizza place where they were meeting after school."
    "We can take a cab," said Lisa, grabbing a silk scarf and putting it around her throat to hide the bruises. "Feminine vanity," she said with a smile.
    Joe grinned back. Then he said, "No need for a cab. I've got my van in the parking lot—if you don't mind the interior. Sometimes I give the guys on the football team a lift—and people have told me that there's a certain atmosphere that lingers."
    Lisa grimaced. "It's a good thing I like athletes. Let's go. I just hope we're in time."
    When Joe and Lisa arrived at Ernie's, Frank and Callie were still sitting in a booth, staring at the indecipherable remains of Callie's notes and trying to think—without success—of what to do next.
    After