by Lynn Bohart
“So the possible suspects are Amy’s boyfriend and maybe this staffer,” Rudy said. “Not much to go on.”
“David said they’re also looking at her stepfather. His business is in some trouble. Maybe he’s hoping to get some money out of Senator Owens.”
“He’d have to use an intermediary,” Rudy countered. “Otherwise, Owens would know who he is.”
“It seems pretty callous to kidnap your own stepdaughter in order to save your business,” Doe said.
“Depends on how he feels about her,” Blair said. “Remember, she’s a teenager. She’s probably pretty tough for both of her parents to live with right now.”
I smiled. “Sounds like you’ve had some experience in that regard.”
“Let’s just say that knowing how my dad felt about some of the boys I brought home when I was seventeen, I wouldn’t have put the thought of abduction past him. He wasn’t very successful in locking me up at night.”
“Is that where you learned to use handcuffs?” Rudy asked with a snort.
Blair gave her a sly smile. “No. That’s where I learned to get out of them.”
÷
We took the turnoff for Mt. Rushmore after lunch and disembarked to join the throngs of tourists filing up the long walkway that extended under the Avenue of Flags. It was a cloudless day, with a crisp blue sky, and although the sculptures of the four presidents seemed small compared to photos, they were framed by the beautiful Black Hills of South Dakota, making them awe-inspiring nonetheless.
After taking several photos, including one in which we framed Blair’s head in between Roosevelt and Lincoln, we joined the crowds of visitors in the gift shop. I bought a small copper bell with a color picture of the sculpture lacquered on it for Amelia, hoping she wouldn’t drive her mother insane by constantly ringing it. I also found a gift I thought would bring a smile to April’s face. It was a key chain with a small flask attached to it. The flask was emblazoned with the heads of the four presidents, and the thought of giving it to her made me laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Rudy said, coming up behind me.
I showed her the key chain. “April is having an especially difficult time with a few of our guests,” I said. “I doubt I’ll have to explain the significance when I give this to her. What did you find?”
Rudy held up a flimsy pair of handcuffs. “For the princess.”
I snickered. “You really are a wicked old woman. But knowing Blair, she may actually appreciate the gift.”
“And have a way to use it,” Rudy said with an evil grin.
By late afternoon we were checking into the Happy Camper Trailer Park in Rapid City, South Dakota. Because Rapid City is so close to Mt. Rushmore, it’s noted for its elaborate Fourth of July celebrations. In fact, almost every small town within the surrounding area boasts of having one.
Rudy had made reservations at this particular campground because it was situated on the banks of a lake and offered its own fireworks show. Within a very short walk, we would have a front row seat.
We ate inside the motorhome so clean-up would be quicker and we could get down to the lake. When dinner and dishes were finished, we grabbed jackets, blankets, lawn chairs, flashlights and a cooler with a couple of bottles of wine and headed for the water. We contemplated taking Tinker Bell, but in the end, decided to leave her behind in case she might be spooked by the noise. Doe had bought her a rawhide chew toy at the gift store and tossed it to her new best friend just before we left.
It was a short walk to the small recreation lake. The sun was setting, and the shore was already filled with groups of people spread out with picnic baskets, small barbeques, coolers, chairs, and blankets of their own. A heavy barge, on which the fireworks were stacked, floated in the middle of the lake. A rim of green hills and trees framed it from behind.
Americana, I thought to myself. I just needed a hot dog.
Speaking of, a concession stand had been set up at the tree line. Since the temperature still hovered in the high eighties, a lot of people wandered away from it with ice cream cones, popsicles, big drinks, or colorful snow cones.
We found a vacant spot by a canoe rack and set up our chairs. Blair dug into the cooler and broke out a bottle of Riesling and handed out plastic tumbler cups. I brought out the box of cookies I’d bought at the bakery in Buffalo. I opened the top and passed it around, offering a mixture of miniature chocolate chip, oatmeal raisin, and snickerdoodles to my friends. When Blair ignored the box and passed it on to Doe, I surprised her with a small bag of sugar free brownies. She rewarded me with a smile.
“Thanks, Julia. I appreciate you thinking of me.”
“I thought of you, too,” Rudy said. She reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out a plastic bag. “Just for you,” she said, giving me a knowing wink.
Blair knit her brows as she took the bag. Clearly, she suspected an insult. When she opened the bag and pulled out the handcuffs, she burst out laughing.
“Oh, Rudy, I always knew you cared about me more than you let on,” she said. “Thanks. I know just what I’ll do with these.”
“And who you’ll do it with,” Doe emphasized with a mischievous glint in her eye.
We chatted amongst ourselves and people-watched as the sun sank below the mountains in the distance, leaving an orangey-pink glow behind. As we reminisced about fireworks displays when we were kids, told funny stories and generally enjoyed each other’s company, I felt the heavy weight of the past month or so begin to lift from my shoulders. This is what I lived for: the warmth of my family and friends.
The fireworks were set to begin at nine-thirty. At quarter after the hour, the sight of all those ice cream cones took its toll, and I had to have one of my own. I asked if I could get one for anyone else, but no one took me up on my offer.
I climbed the sloping lawn to the tree line and got in line behind two women who between them were big enough to blot out the sun. Okay, that was unkind. But, in comparison, my few extra pounds seemed inconsequential.
As I waited impatiently for the line to inch forward, I glanced around. To my right, an Asian family had staked out the area on the other side of the concession stand. There was a mom and dad with three toddlers–two boys and a girl. The little girl looked about four years old, and I couldn’t help but smile. She reminded me of my daughter, Angela, at that age. I sighed at the anticipation of having my own grandchild someday and thought I should give Angela a call to check in.
I shifted my weight and turned to the left where four teenage boys were hanging around a big boulder, laughing and setting off smoke bombs, irritating anyone who passed by.
The line inched forward again when my cell phone went off. It was David.
“Happy Fourth of July,” he said when I answered.
“You, too. Are you doing anything?”
“No. We’re still embroiled in this case. We’ve had to run down multiple potential sightings of the girl, none of which panned out. But so it goes. What are you doing?”
I explained where we were and how soon the show would start.
“It always makes me feel like I’m in a war zone,” I said, referring to the fireworks. “I’m glad you finally found Dylan, though. He didn’t have much to say, I take it.”
I kept inching forward as people left the line. Unfortunately, two girls joined their mother a few people in front of me, slowing it down again.
“He says he drove around all night after he and Amy broke up and ended up in the park about four in the morning. He fell asleep and didn’t wake up until almost noon.”
“So, he was there, in Luther Burbank Park when she was abducted?”
“Yep. But no one was with him, so no alibi. We’re keeping him under watch.”
“What about the woman who is backpacking?”
“Haven’t found her yet. However, we learned that Owens planned to fire her when she got back.”
“Did she know that?”
“Yes. His Campaign Chair confided in h
er.”
“Why was he going to fire her?”
“She actually worked for his campaign and was in charge of paying invoices and tracking donations. They found out she’d been pocketing some of the smaller donations and raiding the petty cash.”
“Whoa. Do you think she could be pissed off enough to have his daughter kidnapped?”
David sighed. “I don’t know. According to the Campaign Chair she wasn’t well-liked. She was a bit of a rabble-rouser, and her boyfriend is one of those weekend militia guys. If she was mad enough, she could have talked him into helping her with it. But, there has finally been a ransom notice.”
“Hey, lady, move up!” a kid behind me snapped.
I whipped around and realized the two big women in front of me had left, leaving a gaping hole between me and the order counter.
“Sorry,” I mumbled to the kid behind me. “Oh, shoot. I want to hear about the ransom note, but I’ve gotta go. Let’s talk tomorrow.”
I hung up and quickly moved up to order a Rocky Road cone. A minute later, I was heading back to the canoes when a couple of kids almost ran me over. I stopped short to let them pass.
As I waited to be sure I had a clear path, a familiar face crossed in front of me. My head whipped around to follow the man who carried a large cup of beer.
I refocused my eyes and took a quick breath.
It was the skinny guy with the ponytail from the Wolf Creek Campground walking away from the other concession stand line. He was wearing baggy jeans and a ball cap pulled backwards, along with a dirty tank top that showed off fully tattooed forearms.
My heart fell as my gaze followed him. Not because he wasn’t dead as I had previously assumed. I guess that was a good thing. But because I had been wrong.
As I watched him, a young boy bumped into him, spilling his beer. He turned angrily as the kid ran away, and I noticed that underneath the hat stretched backwards was a bandage on his forehead.
Ah ha! I thought. He must have run into that branch just like Officer Romero suggested. I hadn’t been crazy. At least he’d been there on the ground, though not exactly dead.
He disappeared on the other side of the canoes.
I stood for a moment, narrowing my eyes as I watched him. I returned to my friends, but instead of stepping to the left where we were sitting, I lingered at the end of the canoe rack, peeking around to the right. Sure enough, he had joined the red-haired woman. They were positioned at the end of the rack alone. No sight of the beefy guy with the beard.
I made a quick decision.
I stepped to the left and handed my cone to Blair, while I grabbed the back of my chair and dragged it towards the end of the canoe rack. Rudy looked over with a furrowed brow.
“What are you doing?”
“Uh…I just want to make sure I can see everything.”
I planted my chair in the dirt, took back my ice cream cone and glanced to my right. Sure enough, I could just see the legs and feet of the two people I hoped to overhear.
I sat down as a loudspeaker crackled and a booming version of the national anthem burst forth, forcing all of us to stand. The music ended, and a voice said, “Welcome to Happy Camper’s annual Fourth of July celebration. Sit back, relax and enjoy the most spectacular fireworks display this side of Mt. Rushmore.”
There was a lull in the crowd as everyone took their seats again. Meanwhile, I leaned forward, licking my cone and listening to see if I could hear anything from my right.
And I did.
“We should have never gotten into this, Eva,” the man said. “And now we have to go all the way to Chicago. That wasn’t part of the plan.”
“It will work,” the woman replied. “And we’re going to make a ton of money.”
“But we’re taking the biggest risk. And this Yoda guy Monty is always talking to is pulling all the strings.”
Two girls ran in front of me, screaming, so I missed Eva’s response.
I leaned forward more, straining to hear.
“Monty has things under control,” she said. “I trust him.”
“But what about the side trip he wants to take to Lake Cleary?”
“He said they have to pick something up. That’s all,” Eva replied.
“I don’t like it…don’t trust…new guy…Roy…”
Once again, the two girls screamed, and I missed a portion of his sentence.
“Monty can control Roy,” Eva replied. “You worry too much. And you need to stop drinking. Monty doesn’t like it.”
“Monty doesn’t own me. And this Yoda is trouble. I’m telling…”
Boom!
I flinched, almost dropping my cone.
The first huge firework exploded in the darkening sky above us, putting a halt to anymore eavesdropping. The first big firework was followed by three smaller ones in red, white, and blue. For the next thirty minutes, we sat in rapt attention until the show played out to the music of Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture.
By the time the show ended, it was dark. The sky around us was filled with smoke, and the air was dense with the smell of sulfur. People picked up blankets and chairs and began leaving the beach area, chatting amongst themselves.
As we headed back to the Hulk, I held back a moment to watch the couple next to us. They veered off to the left. Ponytail Guy stumbled once and bumped into the red-head. She pushed him away. They disappeared through some trees to another part of the campground. Since I didn’t have an excuse to follow, I caught up to the others.
Minutes later, we were back at the Hulk. Doe was about to put a leash on Tinker Bell to take her for a walk.
“Let me do that,” I said sharply.
Doe gave me a curious look. “I’m fine taking her.”
“I need the exercise,” I lied.
She still looked at me funny, but handed over the leash. “Okay.”
“I’m going to get a fire going,” Rudy said. “We never got those s’mores the other night, and now I want one.”
“I’m going to take a shower,” Blair announced.
“Well, then, I’ll get the graham crackers and marshmallows out,” Doe said.
I grabbed a flashlight and a baggie (just in case) and climbed out of the motorhome with the dog. We walked down the main road until we reached a fork. I glanced both ways, wondering which way to go. I decided to turn left, thinking it seemed more in the direction the two had gone.
Tinker Bell stopped once to pee and then walked in front of me, tail wagging. We passed families roasting marshmallows, rolling out sleeping bags, washing dishes, or sitting at picnic tables sharing popcorn and drinks. Nowhere did I see the Jayco motorhome with the red and blue stripes.
I was getting discouraged when I hit a curve in the road and there it was, hidden around the corner in the last RV slot.
My heart skipped a beat.
I really couldn’t explain what it was about these people that made me so suspicious, other than I’d thought Ponytail Guy (as I now thought of him) had been shot in the head. But, now, I wondered about what I’d heard by the canoes. What had the woman meant by, “We’re all going to make a lot of money?” Were they selling drugs in addition to using them?
I paused in the middle of the road wondering what I should do. Then I remembered–I was out walking a dog. The white motorhome was the last in the row of campsites, bordering an area with grass and trees.
Perfect.
I proceeded forward as my heart rate sped up.
I’d never really been good at covert actions, even when Angie was younger. I’d once tried to sneak up on her and a couple of her girlfriends when she was a teenager, hoping to overhear their conversation about a boy she liked. Unfortunately, my foot rolled over a pencil on the floor, throwing me off balance. I stumbled forward with a cry of alarm and landed face down in the hallway, right in front of the girls. Angela just looked over at me and said, “Hi, Mom.”
As I approached the white motorhome, a raised voice made me look that way. Eva and the
burly guy I now thought was Monty were sitting at the picnic table, Eva’s red hair illuminated by a camp lantern. A tall guy with a shaved head, who must have been Roy, the new guy, had Ponytail Guy pushed up against the RV.
“I swear, if you don’t stop drinking, I’ll kill you! We have too much to lose,” he snarled.
I stopped and glanced their way. Roy seemed to sense my presence and turned. He let go of Ponytail Guy and stomped over to a chair by the campfire. Ponytail Guy rubbed his neck and stumbled around the end of the camper and off toward the lake.
I turned away and kept going until I stepped over the curb and into the dirt, my heart hammering.
What was going on with these people?
I purposely wandered to my right so I was hidden by their motorhome. I allowed Tinker Bell to sniff around and came up along the backside of the Jayco. Ponytail Guy had disappeared into the dark, so I decided to sit down on a big flat rock near the curb.
I’d no sooner gotten comfortable than a loud knocking made me turn toward the RV. Someone from inside the motorhome was banging on the wall.
“Dammit!” a voice growled from the other side of the vehicle.
I heard the motorhome door open and slam shut. Even though all the curtains were closed, I turned away in case someone looked out. But I listened carefully.
There was the soft murmur of a female’s voice. Then a male voice snarled, “Shut up! Eva, get in here!”
The motorhome rocked as Eva entered. She said something, but I couldn’t understand it. The male replied, “Just do it unless you want to blow the whole operation!”
The motorhome rocked again, and the door slammed. It was quiet for a moment. Eva spoke to someone, but again I couldn’t hear what she said. The motorhome rattled a bit as someone moved around inside. Eva, I assumed. A moment later, there was a soft cry and then all went silent.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
I jumped to my feet and spun to my right. Monty stood in the dark, his ugly face cast in shadow.
“I’m just walking the dog,” I choked out. “I didn’t mean to bother anyone.”