The Nightmare Game Read Online Free PDF

killers.”
    Shelley looked over her shoulder. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said scornfully.
    Ned was already shrugging and turning away toward the bus stop. “Give it a rest, Fip. What does it matter what she says? Robbo’s big enough to take care of himself.”
    Then, miraculously, they’d gone. And Shelley was listening to Warren, drinking in his cover story without questioning a single word. When he held out the photograph, she gave a disconcerting giggle.
    â€œI’ve never seen him look like that ! What was he doing ?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Warren said hastily. “I just found it in his bag. It’s the only thing I’ve got and if I can’t find him—”
    â€œIt’s OK. Don’t worry.” Shelley patted his arm. “I can tell you who he is. His sister’s a friend of mine.” She looked around at the people flooding out of school. “I can’t see him, though. He might not come out this way.”
    â€œI only need his name,” Warren mumbled. “And maybe—his address?”
    He was afraid that would make her suspicious, but she was too busy being helpful to think of anything else.
    â€œI can’t remember the number, but I know the house all right. It’s by the Memorial Park—almost opposite the main gates—and it’s got a big bay window on the ground floor. With a bush growing up against the wall underneath. If you go there you’ll be able to spot it easily.”
    â€œAnd—his name?” Warren prompted. Hardly daring to breathe.
    Shelley giggled again. “Fancy forgetting to tell you that. He’s called Robert Doherty.”
    For a second, because he was so nervous, Warren thought she said Robber Doherty . The shock must have shown in his face, because Shelley gave him a curious look. Then she glanced at her watch.
    â€œRobert’s OK. Really. But I’ll come with you if you like. I’ve just about got time.”
    â€œNo,” Warren said hastily. “No, I’m fine. I just need to phone my mom and then I’ll go around there. Thank you. Thanks a lot.”
    He backed away around the corner, as quickly as he could. He’d almost done it. He’d almost found out where one of the kidnappers lived. But his whole body was shaking with nervous tension. It was all he could do to walk as far as McDonald’s.
    He ordered fries and a milkshake and sat at the nearest table, eating handfuls of fries and taking the lid off the shake so that he could drink it in big gulps. A couple of girls were watching him and giggling, but he couldn’t help that. He needed something to get himself through the last bit of his mission.
    Â 
    BY THE TIME HE CAME OUT OF McDONALD’S, IT WAS ALMOST dark. It took him ten minutes to walk to the Memorial Park and he was out of breath again by the time he reached the gates, but he was determined now. He wasn’t going to go home without knowing the house number.
    Crossing the road, he walked along the row of the houses on the other side. There were only a couple with bay windows and their front gardens were dark and shadowy. He couldn’t see which was the one with a bush under the window. Not without going closer.
    For two or three moments he dithered, shivering in the cold wind. His feeling of danger was stronger now. This was the kidnappers’ lair. It might be the place where they were keeping Hope. He had to check it out properly. But suppose they saw him? He had never felt so vulnerable and afraid.
    Then he pushed his hands deep into his pockets—and felt the balaclava his mother always made him take to school in the winter. He’d never worn it. That would have been asking for trouble. Platt would have had a field day if he’d turned up at school with his whole face covered except his eyes.
    But now, suddenly, the balaclava was perfect. He pulled it on and headed toward the first house with a bay