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

by Karen Musser Nortman

  “Okay, I’m not arguing, Grandpa, but how do you think he did it?” she asked.

  Larry shrugged. “I don’t know. It was a magic trick but I don’t know how he did it.”

  Sabet frowned. “I just don’t see how you can hide something in plain sight.”

  “That’s magic for you,” her grandfather grinned at her.

  As they got up to leave, Frannie’s mind returned to Taylor Trats. Maybe trying to figure out who took the girl, if indeed she wasn’t just lost, wasn’t as important as figuring out where she might be hidden. Joe was right; no one could just disappear.

  If the culprit was someone in the campground, and all the campers were still here, Taylor would have to be hidden somewhere nearby. Even with the campground closed, it wouldn’t be that difficult to get out of the park on foot, but a vehicle was another matter. Taylor could have been removed from the park by vehicle, but if she was being kept alive, the kidnapper had to be able to get to her on a regular basis.

  Frannie didn’t want to think about the other option—that Taylor was not still alive. Of course if the kidnapper was Maddie Sloan or the girl’s natural father, either of them could have taken Taylor somewhere else. And there was the possibility still that Maddie Sloan was a victim, not a culprit, or gone for some totally different reason. Frannie let out a big sigh just as they exited the nature center.

  “What’s the matter?” Jane Ann asked.

  “Too many possibilities,” Frannie said, looking up at the sparkling stars. A few clouds had started to drift across the moon. She relayed her thinking to Jane Ann. Nancy came up on Frannie’s other side.

  “Have you guys solved this yet?”

  “No, but Frannie’s got some interesting ideas. You need to pass those on to Agent Sanchez, Frannie.”

  “Thinking about it all is like trying to pick up mercury,” Frannie said. “Like Maddie Sloan—where does she fit in, or does she at all? I think I see a connection between two parts of the puzzle, but when I try to tie them together, they scatter off in different directions.”

  “Frannie thinks maybe the focus should be on where Taylor Trats could have been hidden. Most of the suspects have had pretty limited movements,” Jane Ann explained to Nancy.

  Nancy nodded. “Good point. If she was kidnapped, how did anyone get her out of the park in the middle of the afternoon? And where could they keep her nearby?”

  All the women were silent for a moment, not wanting to consider the other alternative.

  “Not to change the subject,” Nancy said, “which of course means I’m going to, is Sam coming to pick up the kids tomorrow? We could take them back—we’ll have to leave by mid-afternoon.”

  “Thanks, but Sam’s already planning on the morning. Larry had to work to convince him not to do it tonight. I love bringing them but frankly this time it will be a relief not to have to constantly worry about them. I thought Sam was being paranoid with all his warnings when I picked them up, and look what all has happened.”

  Sabet caught up with them from behind, where she had been chatting with the men.

  “Gran, can we watch a movie tonight when we get back?”

  Frannie hesitated. She normally tried to downplay the electronic entertainment when they camped, but tonight the thought of the kids being safely tucked in the trailer had a lot of appeal.

  “I think that might be a good idea,” she said, putting her arm around Sabet’s shoulders.

  “Do you have any vampire movies?”

  “Oh, that’d really help you get a good night’s sleep! No vampire movies, but I have one I’m pretty sure you haven’t seen, and I think you’ll like it.”

  “What? What is it?”

  “Another surprise. Plus, we have bread pudding that we haven’t eaten yet.”

  “Gran, you are just full of surprises,” Sabet complained. She slipped out from under Frannie’s arm and dropped back to tell Joe the plan.

  They had arrived back at the campsite. While Ben and Larry built the fire back up, Mickey decided to make a pot of coffee.

  Jane Ann brought out bowls and ice cream for the bread pudding. They sat around the fire to savor the warm dessert.

  Sabet’s thoughts were back to the disappearing princess. “You know,” she licked her spoon thoughtfully, “I think the first princess was in that pile of puppets on the table. I don’t think she ever was in the box.”

  “No,” Joe said. “She fell in the box!”

  “I’m not so sure, smarty,” Sabet retorted.

  “Hey,” Larry told her. “Joe has a right to his opinion, too.”

  “Sorry,” she said not very convincingly. “But we all thought she went in the box because he showed us the box. But she could have fallen behind the box. He never showed us the whole pile of puppets, because he wanted us to look somewhere else.”

  Larry looked at Frannie, grinning. “She definitely takes after you. She’s another Sherlock Shoemaker.”

  Frannie felt a little warm rush of pride. “That’s excellent, Sabet. You may be right. But now it’s time for bed.”

  Sabet started to protest out of habit, but Nancy told her, “You need to rest that brain. Agent Sanchez may need your help tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, right...NOT!” Sabet said, but had her own proud little smile as she followed Frannie and her brother inside.

  “What’s the movie, Grannie Fran?” Joe asked. “Sabet said you wouldn’t tell her.”

  Frannie got out a DVD from the end cabinet and held it up. “It’s an old one called ‘The Long, Long Trailer’ and all kinds of silly things happen to these people when they’re camping for the first time. Sabet, do you want to make some popcorn? Joe, go ahead and get your pajamas on while I set this up.” Frannie pulled the DVD player out of its little travel niche and hooked it up. She put in the movie, and by the time she was ready to go back out to join the adults, the kids were tucked in their sleeping bags, on their stomachs with baskets of microwave popcorn, giggling along with Lucille Ball’s antics.

  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?

  Chapter Nine

  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 r
eturned 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.