Free 04 Once Upon a Thriller by Carolyn Keene

unsettling. The last I heard, he had retired to Florida and was doing well. That’s the main reason Rick and I became so reclusive and protective of our privacy. We didn’t want to go through something like that again,” she said.
    â€œHave you heard from him recently?” I asked.
    â€œNo, I haven’t,” she replied with a shake of her head. “I actually have no reason to suspect him, but we do have a history, so it’s one possibility.”
    â€œAnyone else?” I said.
    She shook her head again. “I’m afraid there’s no one I can think of.”
    I took down the former stalker’s name anyway. Though it didn’t sound like a promising lead, I intended to look into it. Then I gave her my number and asked her to call if she thought of anything else. “If anyone comes to mind, please let me know. Who knows what they’ll do next to set you up?”
    â€œI’ll definitely be in touch if I think of anything,” Lacey said. “Nancy, I should let you know that I’m going to tell my husband Richard what’s transpiring. I don’t want either of us letting down our guard.”
    She walked me to my car and warned me to be careful.
    â€œI know Avondale has a peaceful facade, but one never knows what lies beneath.”
    Even though it was warm outside, Lacey’s words chilled me to the bone.

    Another exhausting day. I drove back to town, looking forward to the quiet of my room at the inn. Now I had to write the article, and by the time I was done with it, I realized I hadn’t solved a thing and had actually created more questions than I had answered.
    Just after seven thirty, I hit send with my article to Ned. Then I called to let him know it was on its way.
    â€œYou sound beat, Nancy,” Ned said. “Maybe I should drive to Avondale tomorrow and help you out.”
    â€œI’m fine. If I can’t figure this case out in the next two days, I promise to turn it over to the sheriff,” I told him. I was about to hang up, when there was a knock at my door.
    â€œHold on a minute, Ned. Let me see who this is.” I padded past the Dr. Seuss chair and opened the door.
    Nobody was there.
    But on the ground was an envelope with my name. I opened it, wondering what it could be, a thin slip of paper fluttered out. I picked it up and read the typewritten note:
    STOP PRESSING YOUR LUCK. IF YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOOD FOR YOU, YOU’LL GET OUT OF TOWN NOW.

CHAPTER TEN

Stalked
    â€œNED, I’LL CALL YOU RIGHT back,” I said, and hung up.
    I peered at the note and realized it had been typed on an old-school typewriter rather than printed out from a computer. I looked at the letters closely and realized that all the T s were more faded than the other letters, as though that key on the typewriter didn’t work quite so well.
    I looked up and down the hallway and didn’t see or hear a soul.
    Suddenly my phone rang, and I jumped. “Hello? Who is this? What do you want?”
    â€œNancy? It’s me, Ned. You said you’d call back in a minute—what happened?” He sounded panic-stricken.
    â€œNed! I’m sorry—but I think I will take you up on your offer. Can you come to Avondale first thing tomorrow?” I said.
    â€œOf course I’ll come. But are you all right tonight?” Ned asked.
    I assured him I would lock my door, not open it for anyone, and meet him at the Avondale Diner at eight a.m. We said good night and I got into bed, still tired and now a bit scared.
    Not surprisingly, I had trouble falling asleep. A million thoughts filled my head. I must have been closer to who was behind this mystery than I realized. Who’d left that note, written with a typewriter?
    I sat up in bed. Typewriter . . . there was one right on the desk in my room. I turned the night table lamp on and walked over to the desk. I took a sheet of the Cheshire Cat Inn stationery and put it in the