The Mystery of the Castaway Children

Don’t leave anybody at the farm who might be held as a hostage. It seems that Roger Higgins chose the worst possible company for his poker game. They were all ex-cons from the state penitentiary. Roger owes money to one named Sax Jenner, who got out last month. So just do what I say, and don’t waste any time about it.”
    “But what about Davy?” Trixie blurted.
    “I have men looking for him. Now, move!”
    Trixie hung up and relayed the sergeant’s orders to the others. They immediately stopped eating and started getting ready to go. Trixie raced to her room to get a jacket. On her way up the stairs, she glanced back through the open door of the guest room.
    She shouted to the red T-shirt bending over Dodgy’s basket, “Bobby, don’t try to lift Dodgy! Brian will carry him.” As she reached the top of the stairs, she heard the slam of the downstairs bathroom door. Jacket in hand, she ran back down the stairs and met Brian in the hall, with Dodgy in his arms.
    “Everybody else is in the wagon,” he told her.
    “ ’Cept me,” Bobby said. He went to the refrigerator for the baby’s next bottle and snatched up a box of diapers from the counter. The last one into the Bob-White station wagon, he slid into the front seat next to Trixie.
    Jim drove as fast as he could without going over the speed limit. They had made it as far as the outskirts of Sleepyside, when headlights blinded Jim briefly. The lights dazzled Trixie’s eyes, too. Beside her, Bobby’s T-shirt was a white blob.
    “Idiot!” Jim muttered.
    Brian twisted in his seat and said, “That looked like—”
    “I know. That red job of Roger Higgins’s,” Jim said, glancing into his rearview mirror.
    Red.
    Jim had said “red”!
    Suddenly Trixie turned to Bobby. “When did you change your T-shirt?”
    Before lunch,” Bobby said. “Moms made me.”
    “But it isn’t red!” Trixie said.
    “It never was,” Bobby retorted.
    “Are you sure?”
    “Sure, I’m sure. It’s my T-shirt!”
    “What is this—” Brian began.
    “Turn around, Jim!" Trixie yelled.
    The others swiveled their heads toward her.
    “Trixie!” Mart exploded.
    “I thought the sergeant said to come straight to the station,” Honey said, her voice rising in alarm.
    “And,” Trixie shouted, “he said not to leave anybody in the house who could be taken as hostage, and Davy Dodge is in our house!

Hostages ● 14

    SURROUNDED BY SHOCKED SILENCE, Trixie lowered her voice to a whisper. “Please—I saw him there,” she pleaded.
    “Okay,” Jim sighed. He swung into a driveway, backed out, and started toward the farm. “Something tells me we should go to the station first, then to the farm, but—”
    “Hurry!” croaked Trixie.
    “Look up there,” Dan said. “Looks like Higgins was turning around to come after us.”
    Sure enough, the red sports car had pulled into a driveway. The minute Jim passed it, however, it moved back onto the road, accelerating to catch up to the station wagon.
    “He’s following us!” Honey gasped.
    Jim increased his speed. Dodgy broke into a fretful whimpering.
    From the backseat of the Bob-White station wagon, Mart said sharply, “Watch it, Jim. Those headlights are coming up on us awfully fast.”
    “I know,” Jim said tensely. “I’ve been trying to shake him, but he just hangs in there.” He gritted his teeth. “He’s got us trapped!”
    Suddenly the whole interior of the wagon was flooded with light that blazed into Jim’s eyes. “Shift that mirror!” he snapped at Trixie.
    Trixie obeyed, watching those freckled hands on the steering wheel and praying silently. If anyone can get us out of this nightmare, Jim can....
    “Don’t slow down,” warned Brian. “He can’t miss hitting us.”
    “I’m sorry, gang,” said Jim, his voice cracking a little. “All I can do is stay on the road and hope I have time to make the turn at the mailbox. Hang on, everyone!”
    He negotiated a curve in the road, sending gravel flying but still managing to keep the car upright. Brian doubled over to shield Dodgy more effectively.
    “If ever we needed Sergeant Molinson to check my speed, this is the time,” Jim muttered.
    “There’s the mailbox,” Trixie said as she wrapped her arms around Bobby and braced herself for the turn into the farm lane.
    Jim clenched the steering wheel tighter and, without braking, swerved into the*lane. The red car shot past, still on Glen Road. Jim immediately slammed on the brakes.
    “Watch