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flipped on her bike’s computer—the same one she had rigged on all our handlebars. Instantly a map of the race course popped onto the screen.
    “You’re a genius,” Ned said, grinning.
    “Looks like I have everything I’ll need for two hours,” she said.
    “Well, we’re on standby for anything,” Bess told her cousin.
    “Okay,” I continued. “Precisely at noon we will signal you to stop. Remember we’ve got a GPS on board, so we have to be exact on the times. We’ll have one hour to eat.”
    “I’ve got the meals all packed, and they’re yummy,” Bess promised.
    “Ned, you’ll take the second shift from one until three. Then I’ll ride from three to five. We stop exactly at five for the night. I’ll do my best to get us to a cool campsite,” I added with a grin. “Remember, today’s the hard day—tomorrow we each bike only an hour, and the race will be over around noon.”
    I looked at a map of the race course. It took usalong a set of roads in and around River Heights and some of the neighboring towns. “Maybe we can camp along Swain Lake,” I suggested.
    “Excellent,” Ned said, looking at his map. “We should be able to make that.”
    “Okay, everyone, let’s ride,” I said. “George, I know you’ll give us a great start.” We sent her off with a cheer and she took her place with the other five riders at the starting line.
    “Deirdre’s sending Thad out first,” Bess noted, as Ned and I joined her in the truck.
    “I still haven’t even seen his brother—the elusive Evan Jensen,” I pointed out.
    “Deirdre’s team truck is ready to roll,” Ned said, “so he must be inside already. I wonder who she scheduled to ride next.”
    “She’s not really a sprinter,” I answered, “so she’s probably going to be up against you. Then Evan will be sprinting the last two hours each day.”
    “You can take him, Nancy,” Bess said. “You’re the best. Come on—let’s get in the truck. We can see the start from there.”
    I’m pretty good on a bike, but I knew I’d feel more confident about my ability to do well in this race when I actually saw my competition.
    The starter’s gun cracked, and the six cyclists burstaway from the line. Thad Jensen bolted ahead of the others, his legs pounding away at the pedals. The six trucks shifted into gear and chugged away after the bikers.
    The weather was still perfect. It was about sixty-eight degrees. The sun was masked by fluffy white clouds most of the time, and the air was dry with very little humidity.
    Much of the course had been roped off for the race, so we rarely had to contend with any other traffic. Bess settled into an easy cruising speed, and we settled back into our seats for the two-hour leg.
    “Have you been able to remember anything more about what happened to you yesterday?” I asked Ned. “Any memory flashes about seeing anyone hanging around the bike rack in the university parking lot, for example?”
    “I knew you’d be asking me that, Nancy,” Ned said. His arm was resting lightly on my shoulder. We had one of those nice wide trucks, so all three of us could sit up front.
    “Last night in bed, I went back over the whole thing in my mind,” Ned continued. “And I struck out completely. The only thing I remember for sure is that I definitely pulled the emergency brake.”
    “Bess and I checked your bike chain, and it lookslike some of the links were filed partway through,” I told him. “That plus the car mysteriously rolling into the creek . . . well, it doesn’t look good.”
    “Especially when you add in the flat tires this morning,” Bess said.
    “Exactly,” I agreed. “We need to be on our guard during this race.”
    We all talked some more about who might have sabotaged our cycle tubes that morning. But, again, no one seemed to have actually witnessed any suspicious behavior.
    “George is right,” Bess said. “It’s got to be Evan Jensen. It’s something Deirdre would totally be behind,