Nancy smiled, but her eyes were now searching for Ned. There he was, she thought, near the stage. He was looking around, too. For her? Taking a deep breath, Nancy crossed the room.
"Hi, Ned," she said.
He didn't say a word, only took her hand and led her off to the far side of the fireplace. They turned to face each other. Nancy could hear the music start for the next dance, but the only thing that mattered now was Ned.
He was staring down at the floor. She was about to say something when he spoke up. "I really lost it this afternoon," he said, his brown eyes shining. "I'm sorry. Nan. You know I didn't mean those things I said."
"Of course I do," Nancy responded. "I said things I didn't mean, too, and I'm sorry. I really do understand the way you feel about Professor Trainey. It's just that-"
"It's just that you're too good a detective not to follow up on all the evidence you find, no matter where it leads," he finished. "And I wouldn't want you any different."
Nancy put her arms around his neck. "Oh, Ned-I'm so glad you understand." She pulled his head down to hers, and their lips met in a kiss that lasted a long time.
When they parted, Ned held her close and ran his fingers through her hair. "Why don't we get our coats and go for a drive?" he said breathlessly. "It's a beautiful night."
"I'd love it," Nancy replied.
They were walking past the alcove that held the house phones when Ned squeezed her elbow. He put his finger to his lips and pulled her back out of sight.
"Gerry? It's me." Nancy recognized Professor Trainey's voice. She strained to make out the words.
"Yes, I know," she heard the professor say into the phone. "It can't be helped. Late tomorrow night? Yes, the camp should be quiet. No junior detectives to get in our way."
Chapter Eleven
Nancy heard Trainey hang up and then watched him walk away.
Ned was slumped against the wall, his eyes filled with misery. He stared at her. "You were right about the professor all along."
The bitterness in his voice surprised Nancy. Her heart ached for him. "I'm sorry, Ned," she said, slipping her arms around him. "I kept hoping it wasn't him, but-"
"'Junior detectives,'" Ned spat out. "And I kept telling you how much he respected and cared about his students. He thinks we're a joke!"
"He must be pretty desperate," Nancy pointed out. "I don't think he would have gotten involved if it weren't for his money problems. And let's face it-if he is involved, our investigation must really be getting in his way."
Ned's eyes widened. "If? Of course he's involved. You heard what he said. He's planning something for tomorrow night. And he was talking to Turkower!"
Nancy remained impassive. "I've got to admit, that surprises me," she began slowly. "After what Gerald did today to save me, I was starting to think he was okay."
Ned was obviously confused, and Nancy realized that she hadn't told him about her dip into the river. She took a deep breath and told the whole story. "Gerald pulled me out," she concluded.
"I just can't believe that someone I admired so much could be involved in something so awful." Ned shook his head. "Trainey is such a hypocrite."
Nancy stepped back. "Look, Ned. I don't have any real proof against the professor, just what Brad said, so let's not jump to conclusions. What I really need to do is catch the poachers in the act, and it sounds like I might be able to do that tomorrow night."
Ned brightened a little. "Are you still up for that drive?" he asked. "I know I am. I'm sick of thinking about this mess."
"I'll run upstairs for my jacket," Nancy replied.
When she came back down dressed for the outdoors she waved goodbye to Bess, who was dancing in a square with Jack. Her friend gave her a big grin, then Nancy went out to the parking lot. It was quite chilly, and she was glad to see that Ned had put the top up.
"Feel like looking at the moon from the shore of Yellowstone Lake," he asked her softly as he started the Jeep.
On an impulse Nancy leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
He reached over and squeezed her hand. "Will you forgive me for being so pigheaded?"
"I already have, Ned."
They'd just turned onto the parkway that ran beside the lake when Nancy said, "Ned, look. Somebody's in trouble."
Parked on the opposite shoulder was a low- slung Italian sports car. The driver was standing with a flashlight pointed under the raised hood.
Ned pulled over and then carefully turned around so he could light up the sports car. He leaned out and called, "Need help?"
The driver moving toward them was very familiar. They had both seen that face on countless posters and CDs.
"Is that who I think it is?" Ned said to Nancy.
Nancy studied the man's liquid brown eyes and curly, honey-colored hair. "It is. It's Randy Dean!"
"Hi there!" Randy stopped next to Ned's door and leaned over to peer into the window. "Thanks for coming to my rescue."
"You have car trouble?" Ned asked.
The rock star shrugged. "It looks that way. I went over a big bump a while back and heard a loud thump. Then, about half a mile back, the engine started sputtering. Now it's stopped. Do you know anything about cars?"
"We both know a little," Ned replied. "We can take a look if you'd like."
"Great." Randy backed away, and Ned and Nancy got out of the Jeep. He held his hand out to Ned. "I'm Randy Dean."
Ned grinned. "Yeah, we figured that out. I'm Ned Nickerson and this is Nancy Drew."
"Hi, Nancy." She was surprised at how personable and open Randy seemed.
Ned reached for Randy's flashlight, clicked it on, and peered under the hood. Nancy joined him.
They poked around under the hood for a few minutes, then Ned said, "I don't know what's wrong. Let me see if I can start it."
Ned climbed into the driver's seat, but when he turned the key in the ignition, the engine only coughed and sputtered.
Nancy leaned inside and looked at the array of gauges on the dashboard. "Did you know you're out of gas?"
Randy frowned. "That's impossible. I filled the tank just an hour ago."
Ned got down on the ground and shone the flashlight under the car. "You've got a leak in your fuel line," he reported. "It must have happened when you hit that bump. All your gas has leaked out," he said, getting up and slapping his palms against his jeans.
Ned offered to take Randy to the hotel. The rock star transferred his luggage from the tiny trunk of the sports car to the Jeep and climbed into the backseat next to it.
"I read a magazine article about you the other night," Nancy said casually. "It mentioned that you collect whistling marmots."
"I used to have quite a few of them," Randy admitted. "They make fun pets. But I don't collect them anymore."
"Why not?" Nancy asked.