nothing happening here,â Tomsaid after a few more minutes. âLetâs head down to the warehouse district.â
âFine by me,â Nancy said. âWe can check with the chief.â
The warehouse district was quiet, too, according to the officers in a police car they stopped. Tom was impatient.
âTheyâre around here somewhere. I can feel it!â he exclaimed, hitting Nancyâs dashboard with his fist. âWhat do you say we check under the Interstate bridge?â Tom said.
âThatâs almost out of the district. Thereâs nothing in that area except some scrap metal yards,â Nancy countered.
âExactly. See, I figure the gang hangs out somewhere near the warehouse district, not in it. They wait until theyâre sure the âheatâ has cooled, and then they move in.â
âSure,â Nancy agreed, looking at Tom with increased respect. He was very sharp! âWhy didnât I think of that? Letâs go.â
From a distance the bridge was a graceful, looping M outlined in lights. Up close it was a soaring steel dinosaur lumbering into the river on colossal concrete legs. Nancy coasted slowly through the wasteland that lay under the span. Wrecked cars and garbage were strewn about.
On the far side was a collection of auto salvagers, concrete mixing plants, and scrapyards. Twisted chain link fences wandered along the roadside.
âLooks deserted,â Nancy remarked uneasily.
âMaybe, maybe not. Letâs drive around,â Tom suggested.
Yellow anticrime lights turned the area into something from a nightmare. Nancy turned left near a scrap metal yard.
âThere! See him?â Tom exclaimed suddenly, pointing.
Nancy snapped her head around. Leaning against a chain link fence near the open gateway to the scrapyard was a figure in black. A rubber Wolfman mask was pulled over his head.
âYes!â Nancy twisted the wheel and swung toward him. As her headlights swept over him, the Wolfman darted inside the yard. Strange, she thought. Hadnât he seen them approaching sooner?
âLetâs go!â Tom said. âWe can catch him!â
âShouldnât we callââ
âThere are two of us. We can corner him!â Tom had his door open already. As Nancybraked to a halt, he leaped out and dashed into the yard in pursuit of the Wolfman.
Nancy grabbed her keys and followed. She was worried. Tom was taking a terrible risk.
On the other hand they now had one of the robbers cornered. The chain link fence was twelve feet high and topped with barbed wire. No way was the Wolfman going anywhere. This was their best break yet, she knew.
Inside, she looked around. There was no sign of either Tom or their prey. Which direction should she go?
âNancy! Up on the scaffolding!â Tom called from somewhere nearby.
She turned toward the scrapyardâs office building. It was an old wooden structure two stories high. Metal scaffolding enveloped it. Then she saw the Wolfman darting up a ladder.
âI see him!â she called.
Nancy raced to the ladder. Should she follow? She looked around. Still no sign of Tom. He was probably on the opposite side of the building, she realized, closing in on the Wolfman from the other direction.
She decided to risk it. This time she was not facing her adversary alone. Nimbly she spedup the ladder. No Wolfman. She scrambled up another ladder and found herself on the roof. The stairwell enclosure in the middle of the roof provided the only cover. The Wolfman had to be hiding behind it!
Nancyâs heart was pounding. Quietly she tiptoed to the edge of the roof and looked down. On the ground two stories below her was a collection of scrap metal. Razor-sharp edges glinted in the half light.
âTom?â she called. Where was he?
Suddenly two hands smashed into her back. With a scream, she went hurtling off the platform toward the jagged metal below!
Chapter
Eleven
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