The Blue Coyote (The Frannie Shoemaker Campground Mysteries Book 2) (9 page)

It wasn’t until she had
seated herself in an empty chair near the fire and Larry handed her a glass of
wine that she realized Agent Sanchez was back and had joined their circle.

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

Happy Camper Tip #8

Cooking can be a major part
of the entertainment when camping, but that doesn’t mean you can’t find ways to
simplify. Space and time can be saved by mixing dry ingredients at home in
Ziplock bags, such as sauces or pancakes. Aluminum foil and parchment paper can
make clean up easier. On the other hand, we seldom use paper plates and other
disposable dinnerware. If you have to wash up pans or prep materials anyway, a
couple of plates and glasses don’t add much time. We plan most of our meals in
advance but keep a few emergency convenience foods on hand to handle changes in
schedules or weather. And if you have a group, what could be better than a
potluck?

Late Saturday Evening

Sanchez had refused a beer or
wine but accepted a mug of Mickey’s coffee. He leaned forward. “Mrs. Shoemaker,
you look a little done in.”

Frannie smiled. “Well, I can
honestly say that having children is definitely for the young. But mostly I
can’t believe what all has happened since the middle of the afternoon. Did
Larry tell you about Social Services?”

Sanchez frowned. “I’m really
sorry about that. Unfortunately, as a reaction against abuse cases that got
swept under the rug in the past, once a case is put in motion under the current
system, there’s almost no stopping it.”

“I know why it’s there. I
used to teach and had
all the
mandatory reporting
training. And it seemed reasonable then—until you’re on the other side.”

He nodded. “Well, I’ve had a
chance to check out some of the things you mentioned this afternoon. You are
correct about the road construction in the area when Courtney Jamison
disappeared. We don’t have names yet of who worked on that crew.”

“Frannie, tell him about what
you are thinking about hiding the Trats girl,” Nancy prodded.

Sanchez looked at Frannie,
who shrugged. “Well, if the kidnapper is someone in the campground, and the
girl is still alive, they couldn’t have taken her far. After the program
tonight, our Joe said someone
can’t
just disappear.
Obviously, of course, but I got to thinking more about where she could be
hidden instead of who might have done it. And just now, Sabet—out of the
mouths of babes, right
?—
was talking about hiding
something in plain sight. She was talking about the magic show. Unfortunately,
I don’t know much about this area. But no one has left the campground, right?”

“Except Ms. Sloan,” Sanchez
said, watching a man with a couple of kids stroll by the campsite.

“Yes, that’s right. No sign
of her?”

Sanchez shook his head. “Of
course, it’s possible that she is not gone of her own volition. But it would be
awfully odd for a child and then a mature woman to be abducted by the same
person. I can’t imagine a motive.”

“Maybe Ms. Sloan remembered
something that would give the kidnapper away. She was taken to silence her,”
Nancy said.

“One kidnapping in broad
daylight in a campground full of people is difficult enough; the odds against
two with no one seeing anything must be astronomical,” Sanchez said.

“Have you found any
connection between Maddie Sloan and the road workers—or the Trats
family—or anyone else for that matter?” Ben asked.

“None,” Sanchez answered.
“But we haven’t been able to find out anything about Maddie Sloan at all. No
sign of her existence.”

“Maybe that isn’t her real
name,” Mickey said. The rest of his group looked at him in surprise. Mickey was
flippant so much of the time, anytime he voiced a serious
thought,
it was a shock to all of them.

Frannie said, “And I also
heard from one of Ms. Sloan’s neighbors tonight that Taylor’s parents are split
and that there was a custody battle, so this may not be a stranger abduction at
all.”

“Seems the campground
grapevine is more thorough than our investigation techniques,” Sanchez said.
“We just found out about that tonight too, and we are trying to run down Mr.
Trats’ whereabouts. I did discover that Bernie Reid, the storyteller, did
perform near Sharm
Crossing
about four days before
Courtney Jamison disappeared.”

“Then—,” Frannie began.

“But,” Sanchez held up a
hand, “by the day of the disappearance, he was performing in South Dakota. And
he was doing his act this afternoon at a nearby nursing home when the abduction
took place.”

Frannie sat back and took a
sip of her wine. “Hmmm. So if she was abducted, it could be someone from the
campground and she could be hidden nearby, or it could be her biological
father, or Maddie Sloan, in which case she could be anywhere by now. Doesn’t
narrow anything down much. Did you find out if Maddie Sloan had a vehicle?”

“Another puzzle.
All of the vehicles in the overflow parking are accounted for by
other campers
, but she may have already been gone when they checked. And
if that’s not her real name, who knows?”

“Her neighbor said there was
a white van parked by her site for a little while this morning,” Frannie said.

“There was a white van in the
parking lot when I went to the restroom this afternoon,” Larry said, and looked
at Frannie. “You know, right after Taylor went and talked to Maddie Sloan. Of course,
there’s
a million white vans around. And it seems like
every report on TV of strangers accosting
children,
they’re in a white van. It’s almost become a stereotype.”

“But there’s probably not
that many in the campground. Does anyone pull these things with a van?” Sanchez
indicated the trailer with his head.

“No,” Ben answered, “but they
can be used to pull popups and they’re pretty handy for tenters.”

“Getting back to your idea
about Taylor being nearby, this park is out in the country and we have searched
all of the surrounding farms. All of them are occupied, so there isn’t really a
shelter nearby that someone isn’t regularly in and out of.”

Frannie sagged. “It would be
pretty hard to hide a van out in the open, despite what Sabet says,” she
admitted. “No old barns or sheds?”

Sanchez shook his head. “Not
that aren’t
being used.”

Frannie got up. “I need to
check on the kids. I’ll be right back.”

She entered the trailer to
find both children sound asleep and Lucy trying to toss a salad in the moving
trailer on TV. Frannie smiled—Sabet would have loved this part. Oh well,
another time. She turned off the DVD and TV, as well as all the lights except
the one above the stove, kissed each of them and tucked their sleeping bags
around them, and headed back outside.

“Out like lights,” she
reported to Larry.

“As much as I hate to say it,
if Taylor was no longer alive, she would be much easier to hide,” Sanchez was
saying. The rest of the group sat quiet at that sobering thought. “One other
thing, Mrs. Shoemaker. Did the neighbor know anything about Maddie Sloan? Had
she visited with her?”

“No, I asked her that and she
said not. Just greeted each other in passing.”

“Do you know this woman’s
name?”

“Um...Joan I think.”

Sanchez got up to leave.
“Okay. I’ll see if possibly she’s thought of anything else. Thanks for your
time.” He got in his car and slowly drove down to the tent loop.

Ben got up and put more wood
on the fire.

“Why would a woman the age of
Maddie Sloan be kidnapping a child anyway?” Jane Ann said. “Wouldn’t that be
pretty unusual?”

“She could be involved with
the sex trade, I suppose. I understand it can be lucrative,” Larry said.

Nancy shivered. “How awful. I
don’t even want to think about it.”

“It is awful, but I’m afraid
it exists,” Larry said.

They sat staring at the fire,
their thoughts held hostage to the dark possibilities of man’s inhumanity to
man.

Ranger Sommers was passing on
the road, and seeing the group, she walked toward the fire. Frannie felt
slightly defensive. She hadn’t spoken to the ranger since she exited the DNR
truck in a huff that afternoon.

“Good evening, folks.”

They responded with murmured
nothings and looked at the ranger questioningly.

“I owe Mr. and Mrs. Shoemaker
an apology,” she began, eliciting looks of surprise from some of the group.

“I’m sure I gave you the
impression this afternoon that Mr. Shoemaker was our prime suspect in the
disappearance of Taylor Trats. That was never the case, but because Mrs. Trats
made the accusation, we had to consider it. Agent Sanchez has vouched for you
in glowing terms,” she said to Larry. “I left Bat Cave Park last summer on
Sunday morning and didn’t realize how instrumental you were in solving that
case.”

“Apology accepted,” Larry
said. “Under the circumstances, I would have done the same. And for the record,
it was my wife who did most of the detective work at Bat Cave, not me.”

Frannie wanted to disagree on
both points but decided it was best at this point to keep her mouth shut.

“Can we offer you a cup of
coffee?” Ben said raising his mug.

Sommers hesitated and then
said, “That sounds great. I still have other things to check in the campground
so I’ll have to limit it to one.”

Mickey jumped up to get a mug
from their trailer and Ben pulled out an extra lawn chair. Sommers glanced at
Frannie several times, gauging her reaction, while she sat down and accepted
the steaming coffee.

“Did you finish searching the
park?” Nancy asked to fill the awkward silence.

“No,” Sommers sighed. She
sounded exhausted. “More volunteers will be coming out from town as soon as
it’s light.”

“I know there are some small
caves here,” Frannie said. “But I don’t think there are any big enough to hide
someone in, are there?”

“Not really; they’re all
pretty shallow,” Sommers said.

One of the logs cracked,
split,
shot
sparks in the air, and then fell in on
itself. Mickey made a strategic adjustment in the remaining logs and returned
to his chair. They gazed at the kaleidoscope of flames and embers. Larry told
the ranger about the white van. She looked skeptical.

“About the only thing more
common around here than a white van is a white pickup.” She looked pointedly at
Larry’s truck.

“Exactly,” Frannie said. “But
it would not be a good plan to attempt a kidnapping with a red Corvette.” She
tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

“I wouldn’t have given the
van I saw in the parking lot another thought if not for the woman mentioning
that she saw one this morning at Maddie Sloan’s campsite,” Larry said.

“I just meant that without a
license number, it
will
be the old needle-in-a-haystack
situation. I’ll check with Agent Sanchez but I’m guessing he’s already put out
a bulletin on it,” Sommers said. She drained her coffee and handed Mickey her
mug. “Thanks for the coffee—I’d better get moving. You folks have a nice
evening, under the circumstances.”

They watched her go and
returned to the subject of the kidnapping.

“Could someone—whoever
owns the van—be keeping the girl in it?” Ben said. “Assuming the
kidnapper is someone camping here, they wouldn’t have a house or anything nearby
to hide her.”

“Lots of campers in these
parks are from nearby towns though,” Nancy said.

“Good point. But, if not,
they couldn’t just leave the van, or any vehicle, along the road. So you’re
back to a barn or some structure where it could be hidden,” Frannie pointed
out.

“I think it’s Maddie
Sloan—or whatever the hell her name is—and she’s long gone,” said
Mickey. Suddenly the smoke from the fire shifted his way, and he waved it away
with one arm, backed his chair out of the circle with the other and moved to
the other side of the fire.

“Well, we’re probably not
going to solve it tonight. I think I’ll head in,” Ben said. He looked up at the
sky. “Looks like some clouds are moving in.”

The others followed his gaze
and watched silver gray clouds drift across the moon.

Mickey said, “Chance of rain
by morning.” He had appointed himself their weather guru.

Larry and Ben took Cuba and
Chloe for a short trip around their loop. When they returned, they reported
that all was dark at the Trats’ site. Frannie was in the trailer rinsing out
her wine glass when Larry came in with the dog.

“About what time did Sam say
he is coming in the morning?” she whispered.

“Think I’ll lock this,” Larry
muttered, fumbling with the door latch. He looked up. “Around 10:00.” He headed
back to the bedroom.

Frannie picked up a couple of
socks and Joe’s video game off the floor and turned out the lights. After using
the bathroom and brushing her teeth, she was surprised when she got into the
bedroom to see Larry still fully dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed. He
was bent over, elbows on knees and hands clasped, staring at the wall.

“What is it?” she asked.

He shrugged, was silent for a
moment, and then turned to face her.

“It was almost easier when I
was under suspicion. It
is
partly my
fault. If I had left Taylor Trats alone, she wouldn’t have left this road and
would still be here.” He sighed. “Then this abuse investigation on top of
everything else.”

She sidled around the bed and
sat beside him. “That’s true. I’ve never seen you like that, Larry. If any of
the rest of us had gotten that upset about the training wheels, you would have
said that, while it was rude, it wasn’t against the rules.”