The Blue Coyote (The Frannie Shoemaker Campground Mysteries Book 2) (16 page)

Toward the west edge of the
lot, she saw Mickey stop abruptly and raise his hands. She halted a ways back
and although she couldn’t see what had put him in the frozen stance, she
surmised that Reid held Jane Ann in a life-threatening situation. She moved
more slowly and quietly into the next lane over and continued toward the lane
Mickey was in. As she got closer, a low, menacing voice reached her.

“I’m not kidding. I’m getting
out of here and she’s just become my ticket.”

“No, please.” This was
Mickey, his voice almost breaking. “Don’t hurt her. Turn yourself in before
it’s too late.” And Frannie thought of the Lone Ranger and Roy Rogers Westerns
of her childhood, when those illustrious heroes could usually talk the bad guy
down.

“Ha!” Reid was scornful.
“It’s
way
too late for that.”

Frannie’s heart sank for
Taylor Trats and her mother—and even her deadbeat dad. She edged forward.
Mickey, Reid and Jane Ann were on the other side of the next old van. Frannie
crouched down, looking under the van to check out their actual locations and
relationship to each other. Judging from their feet, Reid was behind Jane Ann
and Mickey faced them from eight or ten feet away. Frannie assumed that Reid
was using his knife to threaten and control Jane Ann.

She straightened partially
and crept around the end of the van behind Reid. Peering around the corner, she
could see Reid’s back, his left arm around Jane Ann’s waist and his right arm
raised and cocked, probably holding the knife at Jane Ann’s throat. Mickey
still stood with his hands raised, his face infused with panic.

Frannie could see that he
noticed her but fortunately seemed too frightened to either register her presence
or give her away. She was sure that she was every bit as panicked as Mickey.
How to distract Reid? She could hit him behind the knees with something but if
he was holding the knife on Jane Ann, the results couldn’t be good.

Reid said to Mickey, “I’m
walking out of here. Don’t try anything and she’ll be okay. You walk ahead of
us.” His voice was flat but firm. Mickey still stared at him, unable to
function.

Frannie remembered Reid’s
effective use of misdirection in his act. Time! There just wasn’t any time to
think or plan!

Reid grabbed Jane Ann’s left
arm, twisted it behind her, and started frog walking her toward Mickey and the
entrance. Mickey still didn’t budge. Frannie tried signaling him to talk, make
noise, anything—but she was afraid she wasn’t getting through.

Suddenly he started to
blubber. “Please don’t do this. Take me and let her go!”

Reid’s laugh was harsh. “Even
with feminism, a damsel in distress is still a damsel in distress. Now move!”
Frannie already had headed around to the other end of the van.

“I can get you money,” Mickey
was pleading.

“Won’t do me much good if I
can’t get out of here.” Footsteps scuffed as Reid pushed Jane Ann ahead of him.
Frannie rounded the front end of the van at a crouch and could again see Mickey
with his hands in the air, just beginning to turn to walk ahead of Reid.

Frannie had been mulling
options, none of them good, and knew she simply had to act. She rushed out from
the protection of the van, head down, and tackled Mickey around the midsection,
tumbling down with him.

******************

Happy Camper Tip #15

Checklists, part II: It is
also useful to have checklists of staples, emergency items, and other needs.
During the camping season, we try to keep the camper stocked with basic spices,
small containers of sugar and flour, oil, Ziploc bags, foil, etc. Our first
trip of the season always reveals a few forgotten items. Then, during the
season, one of two things happens.
1)We
run out of
something and forget to restock, or even more often, 2)we run out of something
at home and I think “There’s olive oil (or soy sauce or toilet paper or....) in
the camper,” go out and ‘borrow it,’ and forget to put it back. A magnetic
backed notepad on the oven door is useful to note items that have been used up
or temporarily removed.
If I remember to write it down.
AND check the list before the next trip.

Late Sunday Evening

Reid was so startled that he
swung his knife around to counter this unexpected event, leaving Jane Ann just
the opportunity she needed. Reid still held her left arm behind her back, but
she was able to swing her right elbow back hard and catch his nose, then
straighten her arm back out and grab his wrist and twist.

Frannie had scrambled back up
and lunged to grasp Reid’s wrist with both hands. Together, she and Jane Ann
forced him to drop the knife. Mickey, who had lumbered back to his feet after
Frannie’s tackle, picked up the knife, and pushed Reid to the ground, half
kneeling on his chest.

“Get off, you oaf!” Reid
gasped. Mickey just shook his head, a little smirk on his face. He had no wish
to discuss it and besides, couldn’t get his breath to talk anyway. Frannie was
bent over hands on knees, panting. Jane Ann had collapsed on the ground,
leaning against the front wheel well of the truck. Her head was back and her
face as pale as Frannie had ever seen it.

Mickey looked over at her,
concern on his usually jovial face.

“You okay, honey?”

She nodded but still couldn’t
speak. Shouts came from the other end of the lane as Larry and Agent Sanchez
rounded the corner at a run. Sanchez came up to Reid, gun trained on him, and
nodded to Mickey.

“You can let him up now, Mr.
Ferraro.”

“I’m not so sure,” Mickey
said barely above a whisper, “that I can get up.” Larry arrived right behind
Sanchez and bent over to give his brother-in-law a hand.

Still holding the gun on
Reid, Sanchez handed Larry a set of handcuffs, saying, “Would you do the
honors?”

“Did he jump you?” Larry
asked Mickey, as he cuffed Reid’s hands behind his back.

“No
..
.,”
Mickey arched and rubbed his back. “Your wife did.”

“What?” Larry asked, looking
at Frannie.

Frannie shrugged. “It was you
or Jane Ann’s neck, Mick.” Mickey had hobbled over to his wife and gingerly
helped her up. Jane Ann, who was always so cool and collected, who hadn’t
hesitated to bloody Reid’s nose, now stood shaking, with her head on Mickey’s
shoulder.

“Sorry,” Frannie said looking
at the rest of them.

“I’ll decide if you have
anything to be sorry about when I hear the whole story later,” Larry told her.

“Larry,” Frannie grabbed his
arm. “Is Taylor—?”

“She’s okay,” Sanchez said.
“She was being kept in the back of that van. The sheriff has Maddie Sloan, or
whoever she is, in cuffs, and as soon as we deliver this guy, he will take them
to their new accommodations. Let’s go so we can get Taylor back to her mother
as soon as possible.”

Frannie felt a huge wave a
relief. “She’s okay?” she repeated.

Sanchez nodded. “Scared of
course. But okay physically.” They were headed down the lane toward the
entrance, Sanchez in the lead prodding Reid ahead of him. The other four
supported each other, Larry the only one who could walk normally. As they
neared the front of the yard, reflections from the red and blue light bars
painted the old derelicts along the path with an
other-worldly
aspect.

They rounded the corner of
the lane. Sheriff Bonnaman leaned against one patrol car, arms crossed. Frannie
could see a woman’s head in the back seat. The back door of another car was
open and Taylor Trats sat in the back seat cocooned in a brown fleece blanket.
A deputy crouched by the open door talking to the Trats girl.

As they approached the cars,
a fresh wave of fear crossed Taylor’s face when she recognized them. Sanchez
escorted Reid to the other side of the sheriff’s car, put his hand firmly on
the back of Reid’s head and pushed it down as he guided him into the cruiser.
Another deputy moved around to that side of the car, standing guard while
Sanchez walked over to Taylor Trats.

“These are the people who
found you, Taylor,” he told her.

Now she looked confused.
“But—,” she started and then stopped, looking from one to the other.

“I talked to your mother,
Taylor,” Frannie told her. “She wanted us to help find you. We’re very sorry
about all of this but so glad you are all right.”

“Let’s get going,” Sanchez
said. “It doesn’t look like your truck is going anywhere right now. I’ll
arrange for a tow truck. Do you want to wait for it or go back to the
campground now?”

Frannie felt a moment of
surprise. She had forgotten about the truck and was even trying to remember
where they parked it.

“I think we all need to get
back to the campground,” Larry said. “Where will they take my truck?”

“Maybe I’ll have the sheriff
or one of his deputies handle it. They’ll know who to call and then they can let
you know.” He raised his hand to signal the sheriff, who was just about to pull
out of the junkyard. After loping over and making his request, he returned to
the group.

“You can all ride back with
Deputy Dawd.” He indicated a tall, skinny middle-aged man in uniform by the
third cruiser.

Mickey’s mouth dropped open.
“Did you say Deputy Dawg?”

“Dawd—with a D,”
Sanchez said.

“I get that a lot,” Dawd
said, “but just from older people.”

“Gotcha!” Larry said to
Mickey. And to Dawd, “Thanks for the lift. We’ll try and keep Mickey under
control.”

Sanchez got in his car and
started the engine. Larry got in the front seat of the next cruiser with Dawd,
and the others climbed in the back seat. When everyone was buckled in, Dawd
backed his cruiser around into the junkyard driveway and followed Sanchez back
down the dirt road.

They rode in silence at first
and soon arrived at the turn onto Williams Avenue, the gravel road that led to
the back entrance to the park.

Turning in the passenger
seat, Larry broke the silence. “I’m dying to know...Frannie, what did you do to
Mickey?”

“Well,” she looked at Mickey
and Jane Ann, “we knew Reid had a knife and when I saw Reid from behind, the
way he was holding Jane Ann, I realized he must have his knife at her throat. I
couldn’t tell for sure but I didn’t dare do anything to him. I decided to use a
little of his own misdirection against him instead. I went around the other end
of the old van they were next to and head-butted Mickey instead.” She grinned
at them all. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

Larry looked at her and
started to laugh. “Oh, man, wish we had that on film! That’s crazy.”

“It worked,” Frannie said
defensively. “Reid didn’t know what to think and took the knife away from Jane
Ann’s neck just long enough for her to do him in—so to speak. Maybe he
thought I was Maddie Sloan for a second—I don’t know.”

“Hey, I helped,”
Mickey
protested, as Dawd turned the squad car into the park
entrance.

“It was definitely a team
effort,” Jane Ann said smugly, “and we did it all without Mr. Cop.” She reached
up and patted Larry on the shoulder. “No offense, bro!”

Larry smiled. “I quit being
offended by you when I was two, Sis. Otherwise I wouldn’t be the well-adjusted
contributing member of society that I am.”

“I wasn’t even born yet when
you were two.”

“See? Just proves how
well-adjusted I am.”

“Doesn’t anyone care that I’m
the one who had to take a hit to pull this all off?” Mickey complained.

“No,” they said in unison,
and then laughed, Mickey included.

“I appreciate that you were
there to be the ‘fall guy,’” Frannie told him with a smirk.

Dawd was just shaking his
head. “Wow, I take back my crack about being old,” was all he could say.

“Oh, we’re old, all right,”
Mickey
said. “We feel it big time.”

They were all quiet again as
the road wound down through the little valley of the Bluffs River, across a
bridge, and climbed back up toward the campground. Complete dark engulfed them
under the trees, reminding them of the terror they had all felt in the
junkyard.

When they reached the
campground entrance, they caught up with Sanchez’ cruiser. He had pulled in at
the Ranger’s residence and gathered around the car were Ranger Sommers, Mrs.
Trats, one of the sheriff’s deputies and Sanchez. Lights blazed from every
window of the little ranch house and spilled over the group in the driveway.

Dawd continued into the
campground. Larry directed him to their loop.

“Agent Sanchez will want to
talk to you when he finishes with Mrs. Trats,” Dawd said.

“We aren’t going
anywhere—thank goodness,” Larry told him.

By the time they emerged from
the deputy’s car, each of them was beginning to feel the effects of their
exertions. They stretched and thanked the deputy; then headed to their
campfire. Mickey stirred the dying coals and threw a couple of logs on. They
sank into chairs and scooted closer to the flickering promise of warmth.

“What a relief that Taylor is
okay. What do you suppose they were going to do with her?” Frannie said.

“Not sure I want to know,”
Jane Ann said. “They must have had plans, or else why keep her alive?”

“But why even stay around?”
Mickey said. “If they had taken off, she might have never been found.”

“Reid had several appearances
scheduled,” Larry pointed out. “If he had disappeared before those were
finished, there would have been an immediate manhunt for him.”

Frannie agreed. “He couldn’t
break his routine.”

“What time is it,” Jane Ann
asked. “About 3:00 a.m.?”

“9:40,” Larry told her.

Headlights appeared along the
campground road and Sanchez’ car pulled in. He got out, brushing the falling
hair off his forehead, and opened the back door for his passengers. Mrs. Trats
got out and Taylor slid out behind her, clinging to her mother’s coat.

Larry hesitated, hanging back
by the fire, but Frannie walked toward them. Mrs. Trats stood by the car, her
arm around Taylor, who was still wrapped in the fleece blanket.

“How can I thank you?” she
said.

Frannie grinned. “Not really
necessary. Maybe just explain to Taylor that my husband is not a Blue Coyote?”

Mrs. Trats wiped one eye with
the heel of her free hand. “I
am
sorry, really. I was
so
scared.”

Frannie put her hand on the
woman’s shoulder. “It’s all over now. We’re glad she’s back safe and sound.”

Larry and the others now
joined Frannie. They made sounds of welcome to Taylor. Mrs. Trats nudged her
daughter.

“Mr. Shoemaker?” Taylor said
hesitantly. “I promise I won’t ride my bike any more.”

Larry shook his head. “That
isn’t necessary. If you’re still camping tomorrow, how about if I help you
learn to ride it without the training wheels?”

“Larry!” Frannie admonished.
“It’s none of your...”

“That would be great,” Mrs.
Trats said. “Taylor is supposed to have school, but I’m not going to send her
back until Tuesday.” Frannie the teacher almost protested, but kept her mouth
shut. Taylor probably needed a little down time with her mother.

Sanchez stepped forward.
“We’re going to take her to the ER for a checkover, just to make sure she’s
fine. But they wanted to thank you for all you did. If you’re still up, I’ll
stop back when they’re done.” He turned and helped them back into the car.
Taylor turned back and gave a little wave, the other hand clutching her blanket
around her. Sanchez pulled out and they returned to their chairs.

“So, I assume Taylor was in
the back of the van?” Frannie said to Larry.

“Yeah, I had to get the keys
from the front, and by the time I got the cargo doors unlocked, Sanchez and
Bonnaman were back there too. Probably a good thing; if it was just me, it
would have confirmed her worst fears.” He got up and adjusted one of the logs.
Mickey was uncharacteristically disinterested in the fire and stared off into
the darkness surrounding the campsite.

“How did you get separated
from Larry?” Frannie asked Jane Ann.

“He went up to check the van.
We had seen Maddie Sloan run down one of the lanes after Reid. So I thought I
would find you guys. I came around a corner and ran smack into him. He had that
knife right in my face and a pretty desperate look on his face.” She shuddered
and hunched further into her jacket. “Were you in the back of the yard?”

Frannie nodded. “We climbed
up in the cab of an old combine and could see quite a bit. I thought maybe we
could spot where everyone was but that didn’t really work out. Reid came right
by us but he didn’t look up and see us. It was a little tense there for a
minute, though, wasn’t it, Mick?” She looked over at Mickey when he didn’t
reply. “Mickey? What’s the matter?”

Mickey was looking a little
sour and holding his stomach. “Indigestion I think. Maybe my supper didn’t set
well with the events of the evening.” He spoke softer than usual.

Jane Ann sat up in her chair,
peering at him. “Do you feel okay otherwise?”