The Blue Coyote (The Frannie Shoemaker Campground Mysteries Book 2) (17 page)

“My shoulder hurts a little.”

Jane Ann jumped up and rushed
over to him. “Your left shoulder?”

“Yeah...not a big deal.”

“Larry,” Jane Ann looked up,
pulled out her phone and thrust it at Larry. “Call 911 for an ambulance!”

“What? What is it?”

“I don’t know, but it could
be a heart attack. I’m not taking any chances.”

“It’s not a heart attack...”
Mickey protested but his wife interrupted him.

“How do you know? You’re no
expert.”

“But an
ambulance
?”

“We currently have no wheels,
remember? Unless you want to drive the Rocket around the countryside looking
for the nearest hospital, because none of us know where it is. So just shut up.
Frannie, can you get me an aspirin?”

Frannie ran to the trailer.
Larry was giving the dispatcher their location and campsite number. When
Frannie returned, Jane Ann was on the phone with the dispatcher. She excused
herself for a moment and covered the mouthpiece.

“Give him one—and he
has to chew it—no water,” she instructed and went back to the phone.

“No water?” Mickey protested.
Jane Ann’s look ended the rebellion.

Larry meanwhile, had called
the ranger. She arrived and parked her truck across the road in an empty
campsite.

“I hope you weren’t planning
a quiet evening with a book,” Mickey said to her, his voice barely above a
whisper.

“Mickey!” Jane Ann said. “For
once, stay quiet.”

“Is there anything I can do?”
Sommers asked.

“Frannie and I will probably
need a ride to the hospital,” Larry said. “Our truck is in the ditch—I
think the sheriff was going to see about getting someone to tow it, but right
now we have no transportation.”

Sommers nodded. “It’s the
least I can do.”

Frannie had fetched a blanket
to cover Mickey while Jane Ann monitored his pulse. In the distance they could
hear a siren approaching.

“Where will they take him?”
Frannie asked Sommers. “Where’s the nearest hospital?” She felt almost
betrayed. All the worry all weekend about the kids and Taylor finally lifted
and now this. But she knew it wasn’t about her this time—it was about
Mickey and Jane Ann. She kept a close eye on Jane Ann, whose demeanor seemed
unshakeable.

“Probably the county
hospital.”

Finally, flashing lights
bounced through the trees and the ambulance was there. EMTs jumped out and
surrounded Mickey. A gurney was produced and wheeled over the rough ground to
Mickey’s lawn chair. Jane Ann quietly and efficiently filled the EMTs in while
they lifted him to the gurney and then loaded him in the back of the ambulance.
Larry followed Jane Ann, hugging her, and informed her they would be following
with Ranger Sommers. She climbed in beside Mickey; the doors closed and the
wailing siren cut the night again.

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

Happy Camper Tip #16

There are some special
camping accoutrements that turn out to be very useful. An old ratty parka
stored under the bed is handy for
those
Midwestern
spring and fall nights when Mother Nature decides to crack a record or two.
Leather BBQ gloves are a real plus working around the grill—one pair can
even be shared. Electric skillets can be used inside or out for everything from
a full breakfast to a pot roast or baking a cake. Rice bags—or bed
buddies, or whatever
name
you prefer—are a real
plus when camping. They are the cloth bags filled with rice, oats, cherry pits,
or some other substance that can be heated in the microwave and used on sore
muscles or other aches. A good comfortable lawn chair is an absolute must.
Inflatable ice buckets take little space and are great to chill the wine. And
there are times that an inflatable hot tub would be
really
nice to have.

Late Sunday Night And Monday Morning

The contrast between the
dark, dangerous junkyard where they had spent the first half of the evening and
the bright, sterile hospital waiting room was almost too much for Frannie’s
system to handle. This hospital had not yet been ‘updated’ with expensive
artwork, new carpet and furniture to the corporate look that many medical
services had taken on.

She and Larry had been
sitting on utilitarian chrome and vinyl chairs for about two hours. They had
scanned all of the old magazines, drank stale coffee, and watched
close-captioned news on the muted TV, but had not heard yet from Jane Ann. Sommers
had updated Sanchez and he had stopped by to tell them that Taylor was fine
physically and they would be returning to the campground.

Larry leaned back in his
chair and rested his head against the wall while Frannie fidgeted. She couldn’t
tell if he was asleep or not. The silence in the waiting room seemed to consume
the very subdued middle-of-the-night hospital noises in the background. Frannie
got up and went to the restroom. When she came back out, she walked over to a
large window and looked out over the city. A door closed behind her. She turned
to see Jane Ann coming toward them.

Frannie couldn’t read her
face. Jane Ann dropped in the chair Frannie had vacated, jolting Larry awake.
Frannie sat on her other side and took her hand.

“What is it? How is he?” she
said softly.

The tears streamed down Jane
Ann’s face. Frannie realized that although she had seen her sister-in-law in a
lot of tough situations, she had never seen her cry like this.

Jane Ann tried to speak, but
gulped several times. Larry slipped his arm around her shoulders and she
dropped her head against him. She sat up again and took a deep breath.

“He has an ulcer,” she
finally managed to get out.

“What?” Frannie said. “But
that’s good, isn’t it? I mean, more treatable than a heart attack, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jane Ann got out
a smile through her tears. “They’ll put him on antibiotics for a while but
think he’ll do okay. That doesn’t mean that he isn’t at risk, of course. I was
just so afraid—I really didn’t think he’d make it—you know he’s
never had the healthiest life-style. And the indigestion combined with the
shoulder pain...”

“But what about his
shoulder?” Larry asked.

“He bruised it when Frannie
pushed him down.”

“Oh, I’m
so
sorry,”
Frannie
said.

“No, no,” Jane Ann put her
other hand over Frannie’s. “Like you said, it was his shoulder or my throat!”

“So are they going to keep
him overnight?” Larry said.

“No,” Jane Ann said. “They
said he’d be ready to go soon. That’s what I was wondering—how are we
going to get back?”

“Sanchez said to call him
whenever we needed a ride,” Larry said.

“Okay, I’ll go see how long
they think it will be. I believe we’re all past ready for bed!”

“So true,” Larry agreed,
pulling out his phone.

By the time they wheeled out
a sheepish but tired-looking Mickey, Sanchez had returned to the hospital and
came in to collect them. He shuttled them back to the campground listening
attentively to Jane Ann’s medical report on Mickey. When they arrived at their
site, he thanked them profusely for their help in the case. He stood by to help
while Jane Ann got Mickey to the camper and promised to return in the morning.

Larry went to the door of the
Ferraros’ camper.

“Have you got your phone
handy, Jane Ann?”

She came to the door. “Yes,
why?”

“Just keep it near you
tonight and if you need anything, call.”

“Yessir, but I suspect we
will both sleep like the dead.”

“Don’t say that. Good night,
sleep tight.”

“You too,” She smiled weakly
and closed the door.

The next
morning, Frannie barely remembered entering their own trailer and getting into
bed.
She had no idea
if it took her more than two minutes to fall asleep, if she got up in the
night, or if she tossed and turned at all. By the time she woke, even Larry was
up and must have taken the coffee pot out as well. As she dressed, she could
hear voices out around the fire. Mickey and Jane Ann must also be up.

She was surprised as she
stepped outside at the warmth of the outside air. No wind to speak of and sunny
skies helped tremendously. Around the fire, Larry and Mickey visited with Agent
Sanchez—no sign of Jane Ann.

“Good morning!” Sanchez
greeted Frannie as she descended the steps.

“Good morning, yourself,”
Frannie replied, “and we’ll hope a better one than yesterday!”

“I’m sure it will be.”

“How are you feeling,
Mickey?” she asked.

“Really much better,
except...” and he rubbed his shoulder, “for this shoulder.”

“I suppose I’m going to have
to hear about that the rest of my life,” Frannie grinned at him. “I’m surprised
Jane Ann let you out by yourself.”

“Only because she’s still
asleep,” Larry said. “Apparently, having been held at knife-point and taking
her husband to the ER was just too much for her in one day.”

“I’ll have to roust her soon,
though. Agent Sanchez brought us breakfast—and the morning paper.” Mickey
nodded toward the picnic table. A large cardboard box sat at one end. Frannie
walked over and peeked in. A pastry box sat on top of several
styrofoam
carry-out containers. The newspaper
lay
along side the box.

“Wow!” Frannie looked back at
the agent. “Thanks!”

Larry had gotten up and
poured her a cup of coffee. “Not just any breakfast, either,”
Larry
said, handing her a steaming mug. “It’s from Ellie’s
Eats.”

“Double wow,” Frannie said.

“I’ll get Jane Ann before it
gets cold,” Mickey said, hefting himself out of his chair and heading for his
motorhome.

“I’d better get plates,”
Frannie said, but Larry indicated an empty lawn chair.

“Sit. I’ll do it.”

Sanchez smiled at her as she
took a chair. “Well, Sherlock, you’ve done it again. Why did you think of that
junkyard?”

“Mickey made me think of
that. We were talking about how you could hide the van in plain
sight—really because of Reid’s magic tricks the night before. Mickey said
they could have put it in a used car lot.” She went on to explain how they knew
about the junkyard and how they decided it would be a much better hiding place
than any of the small used car lots in the area.

“So have you found out
anything from Reid?” she asked him.

“Good morning!” Jane Ann
called out, as she emerged from her motorhome.

“I’ll fill everyone in while
we’re having breakfast,” Sanchez told Frannie. He stood up to greet Jane Ann.
“You had quite an evening. I hope you got a good night’s sleep after all that.”

“Took a little while to
unwind and drop off but when I finally did, I slept like the old proverbial
log.”

“Agent Sanchez brought us
breakfast and I was just about to eat yours,” Frannie said.

“You’re starting to sound
like Mickey,” Jane Ann said.

Larry had gotten the
breakfast things set up on the table, and Mickey returned, carrying a fresh pot
of coffee. They settled on the benches, and Agent Sanchez passed around the
carry-out
containers. One held a fragrant frittata dotted
with seasonings and fresh vegetables, another a huge pile of hash browns and
the last a mountain of sausage patties. A plastic tub was filled with fresh
fruit and the pastry box contained donuts and cinnamon rolls.

For a few minutes, a ballet
of passing, scooping, buttering and tasting occupied the group. Jane Ann looked
at Mickey’s plate and said, “Tomorrow it’s back to oatmeal and fruit for you.”
He didn’t answer since his mouth was full but put his arm protectively around
his plate in case she thought better of that plan.

Frannie licked some frosting
from her fingers and said, “Agent Sanchez was just about to tell me what Reid
has had to say for himself.”

“Actually, he hasn’t said
much of anything except to call his lawyer. Ms. Sloan, as she calls herself,
has been a little more forthcoming,” he said. “We have reason to believe they
are involved in supplying young girls to the sex trade—as subjects for
pornography and worse.”

They stopped eating and
looked at him, momentarily stunned.

“I guess we suspected as
much,” Larry said slowly, “but it’s revolting to hear it confirmed.”

“That isn’t all. Maddie
Sloan, whose real name is Diana Bertram, was the spotter. She would find a
young girl who seemed a likely target and snatch her when Reid had an alibi,
just like they did here. However, their original target this weekend was your
granddaughter.” He looked at Larry and Frannie. Frannie choked on the bite of
roll that she had in her mouth and grabbed her mug for a swallow of coffee.

“But when I scared Taylor
Trats into asking for Maddie Sloan's help, she changed plans and took the
opportunity that presented itself,” Larry said slowly.

Sanchez nodded. “So your
actions led to Taylor’s kidnapping, but if it hadn’t, it would have been
someone else. Don’t blame yourself.”

Frannie could barely keep her
breakfast down. Then she was struck by a wave of guilt for, in effect, thinking
it was better that they had taken Taylor than Sabet. It was just that you
understand the full ramifications of something when it hits closer to home. She
hoped that was it, anyway. The whole prospect of any children being used in
such a way was so vile, she usually buried her head in the sand, trying to
pretend it didn’t exist.

Jane Ann was shaking her
head. “How awful! No wonder people have become paranoid about letting their
kids out of their sight.”

“But,” Sanchez said, looking
at them all, “because of you, two of these creeps will be out of circulation.”

“Do you know how often
they’ve done this?” Frannie asked shakily.

“We’re pretty sure that they
are responsible for the disappearance of Courtney Jamison, the girl from
western Iowa, earlier this year and are hoping we will get enough information
to track and rescue her—if it’s not too late. The FBI will be helping
since this likely crosses state lines. Diana, AKA Maddie, is only cooperating
reluctantly right now but I think she’s going to see the wisdom of exchanging
information for a reduced sentence in a plea deal. Reid has already tried to
throw all the blame on her, so she’s getting her eyes opened.”

Larry said, “So the van I saw
in the parking lot was Sloan’s?”

“Yes, she walked Taylor
around to the restroom and then on the pretense of showing her something, got
her in the van and drugged her. Unfortunately, no one else happened to be in
the area at the time.”

“But Reid was performing at a
nursing home...” Frannie said. “How did she get the van to the junkyard and get
back in time for the ranger to question her?”

“She didn’t. She went back to
her campsite until after she was questioned. She assumed someone would want to
talk to her. Then she took her personal things and drove the van to the
junkyard. She and Taylor have been there ever since.”

“And Reid took them food from
Ellie’s but couldn’t leave without raising suspicion until his commitments were
done,” Jane Ann filled in.

“Correct,” said Sanchez. “So,
are you all ready to put these rigs away for the winter and give me some rest?”

“We’re headed to a fall blues
festival in a couple of weeks, but it’s in Missouri so you should be okay,”
Mickey grinned at him.

“Well, maybe each year I
should have you copy me on your schedule, so I know where I’ll be going,”
Sanchez replied.

Larry’s phone rang and he
opened it. “Sam,” he said to Frannie and moved away to take the call.

“Oh!” she grimaced. “We
should have called him as soon as we got up.”

“It’s been on the morning
news,” Sanchez said.

“I’ll call Ben and Nancy...and
Mom. They’ll be wondering,” Jane Ann said and went in to get her phone.

“Well, I’d better be heading
back,” Sanchez got up. “What are your plans for today?”

“I have to go back to the
doctor...assure them I’m still walking around,” Mickey said. “That’s this
afternoon. And we’ll have to find out about Larry’s truck.”

“Oh,” Sanchez said. “I forgot
that. The sheriff had it towed and he said this morning the damage isn’t too
bad and you should have it back this afternoon.” He shook hands all around, got
into his car, and drove off.

By the time Larry and Jane
Ann were off their phones, Frannie and Mickey had cleaned up the breakfast
things. They gathered back around the fire and rehashed the events of the day
before. Then Mickey read the newspaper account aloud to them and he and Larry
moved on to the sports page, pointing out that the evening’s activities had put
them way out of the loop.