The Mystery of the Vanishing Victim

to,” Brian replied.
    Mart obeyed, and although the engine turned over forcefully, it didn’t catch.
    Mart and Brian tried four times to start the old car. The last time, the low, slow growl of the engine told them they were wearing the battery down.
    Mart turned off the engine and climbed out of the car. He went over and stood next to Brian, and the two boys talked in low murmurs that Trixie couldn’t decipher.
    After a few moments, the two boys climbed back into the car and sat down.
    “What’s happening now?” Trixie asked.
    “There’s a chance that we’ve flooded the engine. We’ll wait a few minutes, then try it one more time.”
    “And if it doesn’t start then?” Trixie persisted.
    Brian shrugged, trying to seem casual. “Then we’ll have to walk to a telephone and call for help,” he said.
    “Or we could just sit tight and wait,” Mart added. “I think the police patrol this district pretty frequently. A squad car will probably be along shortly.”
    Trixie shivered as she imagined the two equally unattractive alternatives. Walking through these deserted streets, with all their shadows, didn’t sound appealing. But neither did sitting in the car and waiting for the police—or for whoever might come before the police did!
    Mart had been fumbling in the front seat, and suddenly he gave a triumphant shout. “I found a flashlight!” he exclaimed.
    “Good for you!” Brian said. “I should have thought to look for one. Let’s have another look under the hood. If you’ll hold the light for me, I might be able to see something that I didn’t see before.”
    The two boys once again climbed out of the car and peered under the hood.
    Trixie looked up at the sky. The early summer days were long, but now stars were beginning to appear in the rapidly descending darkness. “We could make a wish,” she said, trying to sound jovial.
    Honey’s voice was barely a whisper in the stillness: “I already did.”
    “Trixie,” Brian called, “we need some help.”
    “What is it?” Trixie asked.
    “It helps a lot to have Mart holding this light for me. So I want you to get behind the wheel and turn the key and step on the starter. Maybe I’ll be able to see what the trouble is this time,” Brian said.
    “Me?” Trixie squawked. “I’ve never driven a car in my life!”
    “I’m not asking you to drive the car! I just want you to turn something and step on something! You’ve done that before, haven’t you?” Brian snapped.
    Trixie bit her lower lip as tears sprang into her eyes. She knew that Brian’s anger wasn’t really at her but at the car and at the dark and at his own sense of helplessness. Still, she was nervous enough, without having someone yelling at her.
    Reluctantly, she climbed into the front seat of the car. In her anxiety, it seemed like ages before she even found the key, but she refused to ask for help from her equally anxious older brother. Finally her hand touched the cold metal, and her foot found the starter button on the floor. “I’m ready when you are,” she called.
    “Now!” Brian called.
    Trixie turned the key and stepped on the starter. The engine turned over, but even slower than the time before. It sputtered and almost caught; then it died again.
    “I think I’ve spotted the problem,” Brian called jubilantly. “Just hold on a second and try it again when I give the word.”
    Trixie waited, straining forward, every muscle of her body tensed. She felt as if she were lending all of her energy to Brian, to aid him in getting the car started.
    Trixie jerked around when she heard a stifled scream from the backseat, then screamed herself as she saw a man in baggy clothes standing, silent, next to the car.
    It was the hitchhiker!

Hit and Run! ● 3

    FOR WHAT SEEMED LIKE A YEAR, Trixie stared up into the hitchhiker’s face. There was a growth of stubble on his chin and upper lip. His face was so thin that the cheeks seemed to have collapsed beneath the cheekbones. Above his long, pinched-looking nose, his thick, dark eyebrows were drawn together in a menacing frown.
    Suddenly the eyebrows relaxed, and the thin lips drew back in a smile, revealing crooked teeth. “Sorry. I must have scared the daylights out of you, coming up behind you in the dark,” he said in a soft, gentle voice.
    Trixie let out her pent-up breath, then slowly drew it in again. She felt the beating of her heart begin to slow down. “It was sort of a jolt,” she admitted.
    “I