Free Choosing Sides by Carolyn Keene

jacket and threw it at the dog, covering his head. Before the dog could shake the jacket off, she jumped forward to hold him still.
    â€œQuick, Bess!” she said urgently. “Help me get him into the laundry room.”
    Bess’s eyes were wide with fear as she jumped behind the dog and pushed on his haunches, while Nancy pulled him through the doorway. The Doberman locked his legs and tried to buck out of their grasp, his furious snarls barely muffled by the jacket. When they got him just inside the laundry room, Nancy took her jacket, and sheand Bess jumped backward through the doorway, then slammed the door shut. A second later, they heard the dog jump at the door, barking with fury.
    Bess shuddered. “I can’t believe I just did that,” she breathed, leaning against the kitchen wall.
    â€œMe, either,” Nancy replied as she sank into a chair at the round kitchen table. “I had no idea Mr. Hill had a dog.”
    Bess took a few deep breaths. “I guess we’d better start looking around before a neighbor hears that barking and decides to call the cops!”
    â€œGood idea,” Nancy said. “I’ll search downstairs, and you check the bedrooms.”
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    â€œFind anything?” Bess asked a half hour later, joining Nancy in the den.
    Nancy held up some press clippings she’d found on the desk. “Just these. They’re articles about Caroline’s run for mayor. But I haven’t found anything linking Steve Hill to the frame-up.”
    â€œI couldn’t find anything, either,” Bess said, letting out a sigh of frustration. “I can’t believe we’ve hit another dead end.”
    Checking her watch, Nancy said, “Yikes, the debate’s starting in just fifteen minutes! I’ll drop you off there, then call Ned to make sure he’s the only one at Gleason’s office. We’d better get going.”
    After leaving by the front door, the two girls drove across town to the River Heights cultural center, where the debate was being held. Bess went into the auditorium, while Nancy phoned Ned from the lobby.
    â€œThe coast is almost clear,” Ned told her over the phone. “The last person is about to leave—I convinced her that I could handle the phones so she could watch the debate. I’ll be the only one here.”
    â€œGreat,” Nancy said. “I’ll be right over.”
    She hung up the phone and started for the door, walking past groups of River Heights residents who were arriving for the debate. She had only gone a few steps when she recognized a short, distinguished-looking man with graying blond hair standing by the auditorium doors. It was Alan Blount, Nancy realized, the man who had given Caroline the huge donation at her fundraiser Sunday night.
    Nancy paused as Patrick Gleason, surrounded by a small group, entered the lobby. He smiled and waved at people he passed. When he got to the auditorium doorway, he reached out to shake hands with Alan Blount.
    Don’t bother trying to get Blount’s support, Nancy thought. Then she saw Alan Blount lean toward Gleason and mutter under his breath, “Knock ’em dead, Pat!”
    Nancy was stunned. What was Alan Blount doing encouraging Gleason, when he had donatedso much money to Caroline’s campaign? Had the fencing ring scandal made him switch sides?
    Nancy shook her head and hurried out the door. She didn’t have time to think about that now.
    It was ten minutes after four when she arrived at Patrick Gleason’s headquarters, where Ned was alone. He gave her a big smile, but Nancy thought she saw a glint of unease in his eyes.
    â€œHow’s the case going?” he asked.
    Nancy quickly filled him in on her interview with Anna Dimitros and the search of Steve Hill’s house. “We still don’t have proof linking anyone to the frame-up, though. Or to Bobby Rouse’s