Gone: A Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys Mystery

9. Nancy

"When I rode home from the ball, everything went pretty smoothly. Almost no one was out on the road that late at night. It was about one in the morning before I reached the far side of River Heights. I was coming up on the bridge when a man walked across the road. I wasn't going very fast and I was far enough away when I saw him so I had time to slowly squeeze the brakes to a stop. The odd thing was the man didn't seem fazed at all, almost as if he expected me to be out on the road the exact time that I was. He walked up to the car window and jerked the door open. I was so started and in my own thoughts that I didn't even move.

'Get out,' he ordered me.

When I saw the bulge in the pocket of his coat I decided that it was best not to take my chances. I stepped out of the car. The man put his hand in his pocket, pulled out the gun so I could see it in the headlight and dropped it back in his pocket. I placed my hands in the air and took a couple of steps towards him.

'Don't move,' he growled.

So I didn't. As he moved into my car and began to rummage around I tried to think of every possible way to get out of this situation without a bullet in my body, but I came up blank. The man started a fire in the front seat of the car and I saw the flame lick the driver's seat.

'Don't you go ruining my new car,' I shouted at him and lounged. The man caught me before I could throw myself at him and pulled out his gun. I heard the safety click out of place as the rain started to fall.

'Stay there,' he growled.

As it began to pour he pushed my car down the hill towards the ravine. It crashed and broke into flames.

'My car,' I remember breathing.

'That's right! No one will believe that you survived that crash.' The man pulled back his fist and I blacked out.

When I came to I was in this cell and the young man was sitting in the chair next to the door.

'Hello,' he had said.

'Where am I?' I asked.

'You are in the underground lair, as I call it, of John Doright.'

'Who are you?' I asked.

'I am his nephew,' he replied. 'Morgan Doright. With all the last name stuff you would think my uncle would be the first one to do the right thing. He has had me down here, never seeing the light of day for three months. And now you are here too. So much for doing right.' He laughs mirthlessly.

'Why am I here?' I remember looking around and over course seeing nothing but what is in here now."

I survey the room and see the chair by the room and the tapestry hanging on the wall. The only difference from any other day in the boy sitting in front of me and the keys in his hand rather than on the door. I move my head on the wooden cot and admire his dirty face. He has a smudge under his eye that I can't decide if it is from fatigue or a scuffle.

"He had this voice like he was trying hard to be mean, but he was never meant for the role.

'That's for me to know and you to find out. But look, I'm working for my uncle. I want to be your friend and I am going to figure out a way for you to escape. But I have to stay on his good side if I want to eat dinner and keep my life at the end of the day. So I have to do whatever he tells me to.'

I nodded, though at the time it really didn't make much sense.

'Now I have to act like the bad guy. I'm going to take you to my uncle and I want you to struggle and try to get away. Pretend we didn't have this conversation. I need it to look realistic so my uncle doesn't suspect anything.'