The Deadliest Dare Read Online Free PDF Page B

colonial mansion with a five-car garage next to it. A small gray van with Goodhill Antiques lettered on its side was parked in front of the row of garages. All the doors were closed, but the front door of the house was wide open.
    Something isn't right here, Joe thought. He parked his car in the drive, jumped out, and ran to the red-brick front steps.
    Very slowly and quietly he climbed the steps to the gaping doorway. He halted for a second at the threshold, straining his ears.
    Not a sound came from inside the big house.
    Joe stepped into a long hallway that stretched the length of the house. At the far end, a high, wide window threw a long rectangle of bright afternoon sunlight onto the floor.
    The edge of it just touched the body on the floral carpet.
    It was a bald man dressed in black, probably the Sinclair butler. He lay facedown thirty feet from Joe and the doorway. His left arm was twisted under him, and there was a smear of blood across the hairless top of his head.
    Joe thought he saw the man stir, moving his head slightly. So, he's not dead, Joe thought. But he sure needs help.
    He rushed inside to aid the injured man— and that was his mistake.
    Before he'd taken five steps, someone stepped out from behind the door. Joe's only hint of danger was a slight creak in the floorboards behind him. Then came a blinding clout to the back of his head. A second blow, even harder than the first, spread fire across his temple.
    Joe managed to turn on wobbly legs. The whole world became gray, then went dazzlingly bright. He only saw his attacker in silhouette, a dark shadow raising an object to strike again.
    Joe had to stop this guy, fight back, beat him off. But his arms and legs would only move in slow motion. Either that, or this guy moved incredibly fast. Before Joe could even raise his fists, he was blackjacked once again.
    That was it. His arms dropped, and his legs lost it altogether. Joe fell to his knees. He swayed there, trying to get up again, but his body betrayed him. His muscles wouldn't obey, and his head pounded.
    He managed one wild lurch, but it didn't bring him to his feet. Instead, thrown off balance, his dazed body merely toppled to the floor.
    Strangely enough, as he fell, his vision became clear for a moment. He saw the broad floral pattern of the carpet clearly as it came rushing up at him.
    Joe hit the floor with a thump—and then there weren't any flowers, there wasn't any floor.
    There was absolutely nothing.

Chapter 7
    Frank sat, staring down at the faded Persian carpet. Or rather, he kept a wary eye on the calico cat stalking across it.
    The problem was, this cat wasn't built for stalking. Her well-padded stomach brushed the floor as she moved forward, and she waddled rather than slunk toward his ankle. The cat darted forward—to rub against his leg, making a rattling, wheezing noise.
    "Mehitabel," said the heavyset, gray-bearded man across the study, glancing up from his cluttered desk. "Don't go annoying Frank."
    The cat ignored him.
    "She's not annoying me, Professor Marschall," Frank assured him, trying to shift his leg away from the huge cat. Wherever he moved it, the cat followed with its rattling purr.
    The professor was holding the sheet of cream-colored paper up to the light from a narrow, leaded, stained-glass window. "This is a fascinating watermark," he said.
    "Can you identify it, sir?"
    Marschall chuckled, causing his whiskers to waggle. "My job at the university is authenticating old manuscripts. Certainly, this paper is less than three hundred years old. But did you doubt I could identify it, Frank?"
    "No, sir, that's why I brought it to you."
    Professor Marschall smoothed the sheet out on a clear patch of desktop. Then he stared at it through a large magnifying glass. "Quite interesting, yes." Leaning back in his chair, he shut his eyes.
    The elderly professor was a friend of Fenton Hardy's and had known Frank and Joe since they were small. When he was a little kid, Frank had