Free False Notes by Carolyn Keene Page B

was starting to wonder if we were wasting our time. Car after car had emerged from the garage, but Granger hadn’t been in any of them.
    Finally, just as I checked my watch for the millionth time and saw that it was a little after seven thirty, I caught a flash of movement in the dim interior of the parking garage. A moment later a late-model blue sedan pulled up to the ticket window, and its driver leaned out to hand a pass to the attendant.
    I gasped, sitting bolt upright. “That’s him!” I said, recognizing the driver immediately. “It’s Morris Granger!”
    “It’s about time,” George muttered sourly.
    The three of us crouched down in our seats, hiding our faces as the blue sedan pulled out. Granger didn’teven glance our way as he drove off down the nearly deserted street.
    I threw my car into gear so fast that the engine stalled. “Rats!” I muttered, turning the key to try again.
    “Nice driving,” Bess commented with a giggle.
    Ignoring her, I pulled out and followed Granger’s car. There wasn’t much traffic for the first couple of blocks and I hung back as far as I dared, not wanting him to notice that he was being tailed. Soon he turned onto busy State Avenue, and I was able to stay a car or two behind him without fear of being sighted.
    “What’s the point in this, anyway?” George complained. “He’s probably just going to drive home, eat dinner, and go to bed. Or something equally thrilling.”
    I clutched the wheel tighter, knowing that she was probably right. Still, I kept my gaze trained on the taillights of the blue sedan. If he was heading home, he would be making a left soon onto Jackson Street.
    And if he did, I was thinking maybe I should just admit that my friends were right and take them home. Driving out to Granger’s place again wasn’t going to help Leslie any.
    My left pinkie finger hovered just over my turn signal, ready to hit it for the turn onto Jackson—butto my surprise, Granger drove right through the intersection without pausing.
    “Hey,” Bess said. “Shouldn’t he have turned back there?”
    My heart leaped with sudden hope. Maybe we hadn’t wasted the last two and a half hours after all.…
    “Yep,” I said. “ If he was going home. Which he’s obviously not.”
    George still didn’t seem convinced. “All right, so he’s going out to eat before he heads home. Big deal.”
    But instead of turning right to head over to River Street with its bustling shops and lively restaurants, he turned left onto Union Street. I followed.
    “Ugh,” Bess complained. “Why did he go this way? Everyone knows it’s a mess because of the hospital construction work.”
    Sure enough, the street narrowed quickly into one lane. The construction workers had gone home for the day, but their orange road cones and signs remained.
    I slowed the car to a crawl. There was no other traffic in sight, and I didn’t want Granger to spot my car and get suspicious. He pulled past the cones and stopped at the curb, then climbed out without glancing around.
    “Check it out,” I whispered, my heart pounding with excitement. “He’s going into the hospital construction site!”
    The future site of the Granger Children’s Hospital was little more than a maze of support beams with a few temporary plywood walls here and there. Piles of concrete, lumber, and stone sat everywhere, and pale gray plaster dust coated everything, giving the area the look of a moon colony beneath the dim gleam of the setting sun. As we watched, Granger walked right into the heart of the construction site, carefully stepping around the worst of the debris in his business suit and expensive leather shoes.
    “What in the world is he doing here at this hour?” George asked in confusion.
    I parked haphazardly in the nearest available spot at the curb, almost flattening a road cone in the process. “Don’t you get it?” I whispered. “This must be where he’s keeping Leslie! It’s the perfect place to hide