More than that, it was an unusual make
of tire. Craig was actually studying the finger prints, so to
speak, of an automobile!
More slowly now and carefully, we proceeded, for a mistake meant
losing the trail of Elaine. Kennedy absolutely refused to get
inside our cab, but clung tightly to a metal rod outside while he
stood on the running board--now straining his eyes along the road
to catch any faint glimpse of either taxi or limousine, or the
dust from them, now gazing intently at the ground following the
finger prints of the taxicab that was carrying off Elaine. All
pain was forgotten by him now in the intensity of his anxiety for
her.
We came to another crossroads and the driver glanced at Craig.
"Stop!" he ordered.
In another instant he was down in the dirt, examining the road for
marks.
"That way!" he indicated, leaping back to the running board.
We piled back into the car and proceeded under Kennedy's
direction, as fast as he would permit. So it continued, perhaps
for a couple of hours.
At last Kennedy stopped the cab and slowly directed the driver to
veer into an open space that looked peculiarly lonesome. Near it
stood a one story brick factory building, closed, but not
abandoned.
As I looked about at the unattractive scene, Kennedy already was
down on his knees in the dirt again, studying the tire tracks.
Pages:
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68