Free A Race Against Time by Carolyn Keene Page A

that showed the tire pattern clearly, I tucked the photo into my backpack. Then I eased the dirt block into a plastic bag and placed it on a shelf in his office refrigerator. I put a sign in front of it saying PLEASE DO NOT DISTURB and signed my name.
    Then I planned my next move.
    I really wanted to locate Officer Rainey. If I could just talk to him, I could ask him about Red Shorts. And now I had even more to ask him about—Ralph Holman. It was six twenty, and I was tired. I also needed to call my team, as promised. I decided I could do a much better job of that over a latte.
    I grabbed my bike, locked up Dad’s office again, and headed for Susie’s Read & Feed, a bookstore and café on River Street. It’s one of my favorite hangouts. It’s a great bookstore, with new and used books. Andit’s also a charming café. I locked my bike in the rack outside Susie’s and went in.
    “Hey, Nancy, welcome,” Susie Lin called to me from the back of the café. She’s the owner.
    “Wait a minute,” Susie said as she joined me. I was looking at the large bulletin board in the café, covered with job offers and other ads. “Aren’t you supposed to be tooling around the countryside right now? I thought you were in the race this weekend.”
    “I’m on a short break,” I said. “Bess is riding this leg.” I really didn’t want anyone to know what I was doing—not even Susie.
    “Bess? Well, good for her! But you . . . you’re on a break. What’s up?”
    “Nothing, really. Just couldn’t race without having one of your muffins first.”
    “It’s apple-nut today,” Susie told me, pointing to the chalkboard propped up over the cash register. Susie always writes the day’s specials on it in her distinctive no-nonsense block letters. She makes incredible muffins.
    “So what can I get you?”
    “Mmmm, at least one muffin,” I answered. “And a latte.”
    “You want the muffin warmed up?” Susie asked.
    “Absolutely.”
    “Take a seat—I’ll be right back.”
    I looked around. There were several serious book buyers probing the shelves, but the Saturday evening regulars hadn’t strolled in yet, so I had a nice choice of tables.
    I took a seat at a small round table with chipped blue paint. I plopped my backpack into the chair next to me and dug into it for my phone. As I was looking down, two hairy legs walked past my table and stood in front of the chalkboard with their calves toward me.
    I couldn’t control the shudder that ran through my body when I saw who had wandered in. I didn’t see his face, but I’d recognize those red biking shorts anywhere.

10
     

Spinning My Wheels
     
     
    The man in the red shorts stood with his back to me for a few more minutes studying Susie’s chalkboard. Finally I heard his voice for the first time. It was low and scratchy.
    “I’ll have a veggie wrap and an Americano,” he said. “Extra mustard on the wrap.”
    “For here or to go?” Susie asked.
    “Here, I guess,” he said.
    “It’ll be just a few minutes,” Susie said. “Have a seat anywhere.”
    The man turned and started toward the book-cases—the biology section—but I stopped him with a question.
    “Excuse me—I saw you at the starting line of thebike race this morning,” I said. “How come you’re not out on the course? Aren’t you on one of the cycling teams?”
    I held my breath when he looked at me because he could have been asking me the exact same question. But my gamble paid off. Apparently he didn’t recognize me without my racing clothes. To him I was just a patron of Susie’s.
    “Uh, no,” he answered. “I was just there to . . . uh . . . I was—do I know you? Haven’t I seen you around somewhere?”
    I held my breath while he stammered out his questions. Maybe my first impression was wrong. Maybe he did recognize me.
    “No, I don’t think so,” I answered quickly. “You might recognize me from this morning, though, hanging around the start of the race. Like I said,