This Side of Evil by Carolyn Keene

There was a life at stake. George’s life.
    Ned ran back to Nancy, panting. From the look on his face, Nancy knew he hadn’t seen a thing.
    “It’s no use,” he gasped, out of breath. “Whoever it was—had everything planned perfectly. All I could see was a pair of taillights disappearing around the corner. I didn’t even see the car. The garage was too dark.”
    “Well, we know one thing,” Nancy said. “The kidnapper had to be a man. George is no featherweight.”
    “Not so fast,” Ned cautioned. “A woman could have managed to carry her with that fireman’s carry. All the weight is over your back and legs. You could carry me if you had to.” He shook his head. “No, it still could be a woman, Nancy.”
    “Whoever it is, he—or she—is a pro,” Nancy said, picking up the syringe carefully. “This was probably loaded with some kind of quick-acting sedative. Once George was blinded by the tear gas, she was knocked out with this.”
    “Now what?” Ned asked as they made their way back up to the press box to pick up Ned’s camera. “Do we call the police and report a kidnapping?”
    “Only if we have to,” Nancy replied grimly. “We know more about this case than the police could find out in a week. But there is one person we have to check out, and on the double.”
    “Oh?” Ned asked. “Who’s that?”
    Soberly Nancy looked at Ned. “Who knew we were going to be here this afternoon?”
    Ned shook his head. “Nobody. Except Lake Sinclair, that is. She had to because she arranged the passes for us.”
    “Right. And remember the first time we met her? She was wearing a white jogging suit, just like the top the attacker had on. There was a weight room in her condo, too. If it was a woman who kidnapped George, it could have been Lake.”
     
    “Passes?” Lake gasped in surprise. She was standing in the middle of her kitchen, surrounded by trays and platters of food. “I didn’t arrange any passes for you. I meant to, but I didn’t have time. I’ve been too busy getting ready for my party tonight.”
    “If you didn’t, then who did?” Ned asked.
    “The blackmailer, of course,” Nancy said wearily. “Remember the letter I got? Obviously, he’s made good on his threat to hurt you or George.”
    “If you need proof that I wasn’t involved,” Lake added, picking up a tray of tiny sandwiches, “ask anyone here.” She turned to a white-aproned caterer who was working behind her at the stove. “Tell these people where I’ve been all morning, Philippe.”
    “She’s been right here in the kitchen, mademoiselle,” Philippe answered in surprise. “Of course.”
     
    “Well, that’s that,” Nancy said. It was nearly two, and she and Ned had just gotten back to the apartment. “It’s obvious that Lake really didn’t have anything to do with George’s disappearance.” She looked around the apartment. It seemed so empty without George.
    Nancy picked up the phone. “I’d better let Ms. Amberton know what’s happened.” She was still out, so Nancy left another message to tell her that George had disappeared.
    Nancy put the phone down with a sigh. “I guess there’s nothing to do now but wait.” She stretched wearily out on the sofa, her hands behind her head. “The kidnapper’s bound to get in touch with us, sooner or later.”
    “Well, while we’re waiting,” Ned said, “I vote for a sandwich. We never even ate lunch. How about it?”
    “I think there are some cold cuts in the refrigerator,” Nancy said. “And some soda.”
    They had just settled down to the salami sandwiches Ned had made when there was a knock on the door.
    “Delivery service,” someone called.
    “We’re not expecting anything,” Nancy said to Ned in a low voice.
    Cautiously Ned went to the door and opened it as far as the chain would allow. “It is a delivery,” he reported. “A plastic box.”
    “Where’d you get this?” Nancy asked, coming up behind Ned.
    The boy shrugged. “Don’t