The Blue Coyote (The Frannie Shoemaker Campground Mysteries Book 2) (7 page)

“Sanchez,” Frannie said
quietly and played a double three. “Chicken Foot!”

Mickey and Jane Ann had been
at Bat Cave with the Shoemakers and turned to look at the car going up the
road, but Ben
said
“Who’s Sanchez?”

“A DCI agent who was at Bat
Cave when we were,” Larry answered. “I guess I’m not surprised. If they
determine this actually was a kidnapping, the FBI will probably be called in
too.”

Sabet looked up from deciding
her next play. “FBI? I thought that girl was just lost.”

“We don’t know yet,” Frannie
told her. “We hope that’s the case and that they find her soon.”

“I think one of those Blue
Coyotes got her,” Joe said solemnly. “They should look for him.”

Frannie looked at him,
surprised. She thought he was in the camper changing clothes during that
discussion with the ranger. Apparently he heard just enough through the open
windows to fire his imagination.

Sabet looked at her brother
with scorn. “There’s no such thing as a blue coyote, Joe.”

“Ha! Those people
said—,“ retorted Joe before Frannie shushed him.

“I think it’s your turn,
Joe.” The game continued while the adults kept one eye out for more activity on
the road. Sabet won the second game, and Jane Ann got up from the table and
stretched.

“We’re doing steaks tonight?
I’m going to fix some potatoes in the Dutch oven so I think I’ll go mix up the
sauce.”

Ben licked his lips. “I can’t
think of anything that isn’t better with sauce.”

“I’m doing a salad,” Frannie
said. “And I have bread pudding in the cooker.”

Nancy said, “I have a new
recipe for roasted Brussels sprouts and pears. I think I’ll partially cook the
sprouts in the micro, and then finish them in foil on the coals.”

“Eww—,“ Sabet started
to say but her grandpa pointed two fingers at his eyes and then at her. She
ducked her head and snickered as she stacked dominos back in the tin.

“We all
love
Brussels sprouts,” he said firmly. “Why don’t you go in and
help Granny Fran toss the salad—but not on the ceiling! Joe can help me
get more firewood out of the truck.”

She began to giggle
uncontrollably at the lovely thought of lettuce and tomatoes on the ceiling and
ran into the camper with the dominos. Larry and Joe headed to the back of the
pickup and Larry pulled a large tub of firewood from under the cover.

“Can you get one end of this,
Joe?”

“Sure!” Joe reached up and
grabbed one end and his face showed the strain as he gamely helped lift it down
to the ground.

“Quite a helper you have
there, Mr. Shoemaker,” a voice said from the side of the truck. Larry looked up
to see the short stocky frame of Warren Sanchez. His dark straight hair fell
across his forehead, which he frequently swept back in a trademark gesture with
his left hand. He held out his right hand to Larry. “We meet again—sooner
than I expected.”

Larry stood up straight and
took the hand. “Yes, unfortunately, under these circumstances. I’m afraid there
are some here that consider me a suspect as well.”

“I’ve heard. Sounds to me,
though, like your window of opportunity was pretty limited, based on the
timetable the sheriff described.”

“My wife will be glad to hear
that.”

“I thought maybe she would
have this solved by now,” Sanchez said with a small smile.

Larry rolled his eyes. “She
has her theories.”

“I’m sure she does.
Seriously, I would like to talk to her. Ranger Sommers said Mrs. Shoemaker
accompanied her to interview a Ms. Sloan?”

“That’s the woman who Taylor
Trats talked to?” Larry said.

“Yes, and now
she
seems to have disappeared. And
Sommers said that she specifically instructed the woman to stay put.”

Larry’s mouth dropped
momentarily. “Joe, go see if Uncle Mickey and Ben will help you take this wood
over, okay, Bud?”

Joe nodded eagerly and headed
over toward Mickey while Larry led Sanchez toward the trailer steps. When they
got inside, Sabet was covering a bowl of greens with plastic wrap and Frannie
was making room in the refrigerator for the bowl. She looked up and, with a
slight frown, saw Agent Sanchez follow Larry in the door. He fumbled briefly
with the temperamental door latch and turned to face her. She relaxed a little
at the sight of his pleasant expression. Surely, if he suspected Larry, it
would show.

“Mrs. Shoemaker,” he greeted
her with a little nod. “How are you doing?”

“I’ve been better.”

“I understand.” He looked at
Sabet, hesitating. “Is this your granddaughter?”

“Yes, this
Sabet—Sarabeth. Sabet, this is Agent Sanchez from the Department of
Criminal Investigation.”

“Wow,” said Sabet.

“Why don’t you go out and
make sure your brother doesn’t give Uncle Mickey too much trouble while we
visit a minute?” Larry suggested.

Sanchez opened the door again
and Sabet went past him giving him the eye the whole way. She’s probably
wondering if he has a gun, Frannie thought.

“Mrs. Shoemaker,” Sanchez
began.

“Please call me Frannie.”

He looked uncomfortable, one
of those people raised to reserve use of first names only for close friends.
“Um, I understand you went with Ranger Sommers to identify the woman Taylor
Trats asked for help.”

Frannie became curious. “Yes,
I did. Why?”

“She seems to be missing.
Ranger Sommers said she told the woman not to leave the campground.” He didn’t
make it a question but was obviously looking for verification.

“That’s what she told
her—Ms. Sloan, I believe.”

“We’ve checked the whole
campground and no sign of her.”

“Hmmm. I mentioned to the
ranger that I thought it was odd that she didn’t have a vehicle—only her
tent. The ranger thought it might be parked in the overflow parking.”

“Her registration didn’t have
a license number on it—but I understand that many people don’t put those
in. Don’t have it memorized and plan to do it later. So we
are
having
to check registrations on every car in that lot. Meanwhile, I
wondered if you noticed anything about her that might be helpful. You don’t
seem to miss much.” His compliment was grudging.

“Nooo, except she did say the
incident had happened an hour and fifteen minutes before. I thought that was
pretty precise for something like that. Do you mean that her tent and her stuff
is gone too or just her?”

“Just her, as far as we know.
There’s a small tent, a lawn chair, and some firewood.”

“Sleeping bag or air
mattress?” Frannie asked.

“No.”

Larry said, “That’s odd, too.
Any clothes?”

“No again.” He looked back at
Frannie. “Your husband says you have theories about this case?”

Frannie looked at Larry,
surprised. “Well, it’s more like I have questions.” She told him about the road
workers, their behavior, and the proximity of construction to the last child
abduction. “I told the sheriff about that and he seemed interested; I think he
was going to check to see if any of these guys worked near Sharm Crossing. Then
a little while ago, a woman at the playground told me that the storyteller
who’s performing here gave a program last spring at her son’s school near Sharm
Crossing.”

“Was it at the same time as
that disappearance? I remember the case.”

“I didn’t realize until I got
back here and looked at a map where RST School was. She just said it was in the
spring.”

“Do you know her name?”

“Just Tammy. A young woman
with at least two children.”

“Well, that should be easy
enough to check. I imagine the storyteller has had pretty thorough background checks,
though, with all the performances he does for kids. No connection to this Ms.
Sloan that you know of? You didn’t see her talking to either the road workers
or the storyteller, did you?”

“No, the only times I’ve seen
her was when that little girl stopped her in the road, when we passed her on
our hike, and when the ranger and I went to talk to her,” Frannie said.

“Well,” Sanchez said. “Sounds
like a lot of loose ends. Thanks for your help. I’d better get back to the
sheriff and see if anything else has turned up.” He fumbled again with the door
and headed down the steps with Larry and Frannie following. Sanchez nodded at
Mickey and Jane Ann as he left the campsite.

“Agent Sanchez!” Larry called
after him and loped to catch up to him.

Sanchez turned. “Yes?”

“I forgot to ask—the
sheriff said we needed to stay in this campsite. Is that still the case?
There’s another program at the Nature Center tonight that we’d like to take the
kids to and we also generally use the campground showers and restrooms during
the day.”

Sanchez shook his head. “As
long as you’re in the park, I don’t think there’ll be a problem. I’m actually
in charge of the investigation now, although I don’t want to step on the
sheriff’s toes any more than necessary. I’ll talk to him but you can go
anywhere in the campground.”

“Thanks.”

Sanchez left and the adults
all eyed one another, waiting for someone else to speak.

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

Happy Camper Tip #6

Roasted Brussels sprouts and
pears: Trim and halve 1 pound of Brussels sprouts and precook in the microwave
4-5 minutes. Toss the sprouts with a Bartlett pear cored and wedged and a
couple of shallots cut in wedges with a couple of tablespoons of olive oil.
Spread on a large piece of foil. Sprinkle with sea salt and pepper and 1
tablespoon of lemon juice. Add a few sprigs of fresh thyme and seal the foil
into a packet. Sprinkling with a little balsamic vinegar adds a nice touch,
too. Lay the packet on grill over the fire or in coals and cook for about 10
minutes, turning once.

Early Saturday Evening

“Gran, can I go see if Tessa
can come over for a little bit?” Sabet asked.

Frannie nodded. “Don’t go
anywhere else though. Stay where I can see you.”

“Okay.”

Frannie checked on Joe’s
whereabouts and found him preoccupied again with his marshmallow gun. She took
the opportunity to fill the other adults in on Sanchez’ visit.

“Sounds like he doesn’t
suspect Larry, at least,” Mickey said.

“No, and I hope he convinces
the sheriff and the ranger of that too.”

“Frannie’s envisioning me in stripes,
I’m afraid,” Larry said.

“It isn’t a joke, Larry.
These things can get way out of hand,” she answered.

“Sounds awfully strange that
Ms. Sloan is gone, too,” Nancy said. “And her stuff is still there?”

“No sleeping bag or clothes,
but her tent and lawn chair
are
.”

Sabet returned to the
campsite. The forlorn expression on her face gave Frannie a twinge. “What’s the
matter, honey?”

“Her mom said she
can’t
play with me again. What did I do?”

Frannie put her arm around
Sabet’s shoulders. “Nothing. You didn’t do a thing. People are just out of
sorts because of the missing girl.”

Sabet looked up at her. “Why
do they think Grandpa did it?”

Frannie cleared her throat.
Miss Big Ears, indeed. “They don’t know him like we do. And when something like
this happens, people look for someone to blame. Grandpa talked to the girl last
night and that’s all they know, so they’re blaming him. Agent Sanchez knows
Grandpa and doesn’t believe he did it and soon the sheriff and the ranger will
know that too.”

“This is crazy,” Sabet said,
and Frannie heartily agreed.

“Sabet, you want to help me
with the Brussels sprouts? And I have some other things to bring over,” Nancy
said.

The expression on the girl’s
face was now comical. She liked Nancy and was a willing helper, but a little
reluctance crossed her face at the mention of the hated vegetable.

“Sure,” she finally said. She
followed Nancy back to the Terell’s trailer, toting and cooing to Chloe.

Joe tuned into what was going
on around him. “I want to help too!”

“You can help me finish the
potatoes,” Jane Ann said.

“Can I wear Uncle Mickey’s
cooking hat?” Joe asked, jumping up.

“Absolutely.” The two headed
into the Ferraros’ RV.

Larry and Mickey stoked the
fire while Ben brought more firewood over from his camper. Temporarily without
a task, Frannie sat and stared unseeing at her hands. This whole episode was so
unreal
that one part of her brain
told her heart—or her stomach—wherever the emotions were, that this
had to work out—things this unjust wouldn’t stand in the light of examination.
But the other part of her brain knew that sometimes they did. There
are
miscarriages of justice. Should she
have confidence that wouldn’t happen here? Or prepare
herself
for some bizarre twist and do whatever she could to help clear her husband? And
this all detracted from the real issue: finding the Trats girl.

Another strange car pulled
alongside their campsite, a compact nondescript gray sedan. A short,
dark-haired young woman got out wearing dark slacks, tailored jacket, and white
blouse and carrying a clipboard. She tugged at her jacket, smoothed her hair
and headed toward their group. As she approached, she glanced at her clipboard.

“Larry Shoemaker?” Her gaze
shifted quickly from one man to another. Larry raised a hand and stepped
forward.

“I’m Larry Shoemaker.”

She looked at Frannie. “Are
you Mrs. Shoemaker?”

“Yes.”

“Can we talk in private?”

“What is this about?” Larry
asked, somewhat defensive.

“Mr. Shoemaker, my name is
Maya Brown. I represent the local office of the Department of Human Services. I
have some questions to ask you.”

Frannie’s stomach lurched
again. Now what? Would this never end? Larry led the way inside the camper. He
indicated that Ms. Brown could have the chair while he and Frannie sat on the
couch. He didn’t wait for Ms. Brown to explain her visit. He said again,
“What’s this about?”

She took a deep breath and
hunched forward, concentrating on her clipboard. “I understand you have a
grandson staying with you?”

“Yes, just for the weekend,”
Frannie jumped in. “Why?”

“We have received an abuse
report about him.” Maya Brown finally looked up at them.

“What
!?
”
Frannie sat forward as Larry lightly put a hand on her arm. “What are you
talking about?” She felt her voice come out in a screech.

Instead of answering, Ms.
Brown posed her next question. “Where is your grandson now?”

Larry said, “He’s in the next
camper helping my sister with supper.” It crossed Frannie’s mind that now the
woman probably thought they were using Joe as slave labor, too.

“All right, I’ll talk to him
when we are done here. The boy has some bruises?” She tugged at her jacket
again.

“Yes, I took him and his
sister on a hike earlier this afternoon, and he slipped on a rock and fell in
the river. His sister got to him first and pulled him out but he scraped his cheek
and bruised his arm. Who made this complaint, anyway?”

“I can’t tell you that.
Weren’t you watching him?”

“Of course I was watching
him. But he’s seven and if you knew anything about children, you would know
that seven-year-olds don’t stand still. What do you mean, you can’t tell us? We
have a right to know who—“

“Not in abuse cases. Did you
get him medical treatment?”

“No!” Frannie threw her hands
up. “This is crazy! It was that Trats woman, wasn’t it, who complained?”

“Frannie,” Larry said. “Calm
down. We
will
get this all
straightened out.”

“Why didn’t you take him to
the ER or somewhere for treatment?” The woman was determined not to deviate
from the proscribed questions.

“It was a small scrape and a
little bruise. I wouldn’t take anyone to the doctor for that.”

Ms. Brown cocked an eyebrow
as if Frannie’s judgment would be suspect in all such cases and wrote on her
clipboard. She then took down contact information for Sam and Beth. Frannie
cringed. She would have to contact Sam before this woman did.

Ms. Brown asked Larry if he
would take her to “the child.” Larry nodded, cast a sideways glance at Frannie,
and led the way out of the camper. Frannie followed, reluctant both to face the
music and to be left out. On the way across the campsite, Ms. Brown said to
Larry, “I will also need to talk to the boy’s sister.”

“She’s helping another friend
with food next door. I’ll get her while you talk to Joe.” He tapped on the
screen door of Ferraro’s motorhome and called out, “Jane Ann?”

Jane Ann came to the door,
wiping her hands on a towel, a puzzled look on her face. When she saw Larry,
she started to give him some static, and then spotted the unfamiliar woman
behind him. “Yes?”

“Jane Ann, this is Maya Brown
from Social Services. She is here to check on Joe.”

Jane Ann’s mouth dropped
open. “Joe?” she almost squeaked. “He’s right here. Why?”

“There’s been an abuse
report,” Larry said quietly.

Understanding dawned. “Oh, I
see. That woman. Joe, wipe your hands off and come here.”

Joe’s appearance in the
doorway brought muffled giggles from all and even cracked Ms. Brown’s facade a
little. He was swathed in a huge checkered apron with a large spatula-wielding
pig on the front and his narrow little face Grinch-smiled out from under
Mickey’s chef’s hat.

Maya Brown gave him a little
smile. “Joe, can I talk to you a minute?”

Joe shook his head. “We
aren’t done with the potatoes, yet.”

Jane Ann nudged Joe’s back
gently. “I’ll wait until you get back to finish,” she told him. “I couldn’t do
it without your help.”

Joe came down the steps
carefully to avoid tripping on his apron and looked up at Maya Brown from under
his huge slipping hat. She couldn’t resist a bigger smile.

“Joe, I need to ask you a
couple of questions about how you got hurt this afternoon. Can we go sit at the
picnic table to talk?”

Joe nodded reluctantly, stole
a look at his grandmother, and followed Ms. Brown to the other side of the
campsite and sat down on the bench. Ms. Brown kept her voice low, and Frannie,
back by the fire, couldn’t really hear, but watched Joe shake his head and nod
in response to questions. At one point, he pointed to the bruise on his cheek
and opened his palms to show the DHS woman the scrapes. Finally he shook his
head firmly, and glanced again at Frannie. Ms. Brown got up and shook Joe’s
hand. He scooted back into the Ferraro motorhome as quickly as his attire would
allow.

Larry had returned with Sabet
and introduced her to Maya Brown. “Sabet, Ms. Brown has some questions for you
about Joe’s accident this afternoon.”

Sabet looked puzzled. “What
accident?” Great, thought Frannie.

“How he got his bruises,” Ms.
Brown said quickly to forestall any prompting on Frannie and Larry’s part.

“Well, I wouldn’t call it an
accident
,” Sabet stated firmly.
Frannie’s stomach flip-flopped.

“Really?” The dial on Ms.
Brown’s suspicion meter was rising again. “Why not?”

“I
told
him to use his walking stick, but he threw it away right
before he went down by the river.” Sabet was indignant about the folly of
younger brothers. “If he had his stick, he wouldn’t have lost his balance.”

Maya Brown nodded and made
more notes on her clipboard. “I believe that’s all,” she said to Sabet. “Thanks
for your help. You can go.” Sabet turned and made a beeline back to Terells’
trailer.

Ms. Brown smiled and turned
to Larry and Frannie. “Mr. and Mrs. Shoemaker, I apologize for this incident. I
believe I’m satisfied that this was an accident—“

“Thank goodness,” said
Frannie, letting out a breath.

“But,” continued Ms. Brown,
“because there was a complaint, I still have to file a report, and I am also
required to notify your son.”

Frannie’s shoulders sagged
again. “But why?”

“It’s the law,” Ms. Brown
said simply. “Thank you for your time.” She turned on her heel and headed back
to her car.

Frannie opened her mouth to
protest, but Larry said, “Don’t. Let it go.”

She looked at him, her eyes
wide. “Larry, this is crazy. What next? If someone had told me ahead that this
was not a good weekend to bring the kids, I would have thought: What? Bad
weather?
Big parties in the campground?
What? Who
could have imagined
this
?”

He rubbed his head. “I know.
It’s like a nightmare that just gets worse. I’d better call Sam right away
before she does and give him a heads up.”

“Yeah...but this will just
confirm all of his worries,” Frannie said. Ben and Mickey walked over to them
as Jane Ann and Joe came out of the camper carrying a cast iron pot. She saw
their faces and said to Joe, “Why don’t you see how Nancy and Sabet are coming?
Ask them how long they need to cook the sprouts.”

“Okay!” He took off the
apron, discarding it on a lawn chair, but still wearing the hat, headed around
his grandparents’ trailer to the Terrells’.

“Larry, what in the world is
going on? That Mrs. Trats filed a complaint?” Jane Ann was indignant.

“I’m sure it was her,” he
said, taking out his phone. “Frannie can tell you what we know—I need to
call Sam.” And he stepped away from the group.

Jane Ann set the pot on the
grill and swung it over the fire while Frannie explained, and then said, “I
guess I’m really not surprised. She made that accusation right when you got
back. She must be dealing with her daughter’s disappearance by lashing out at
everyone else.”

“Not everyone, Jane Ann,”
Frannie sighed. “Just us.”

“As far as we know,” Jane Ann
said.

“You’re right.”

“You want me to go clean her
clock?” Mickey offered.

Frannie smiled with effort
and Ben said, “Frannie, I’m with Larry that it will all get cleared up. They
need to find that girl. I just hope you and Larry don’t end up on the Child
Abuse Registry for years because of this.”

Frannie’s stomach turned over
again and she looked at Ben in shock. “Can they do that?”

“I’m afraid so—whether
the report is founded or not.”

Larry returned to the group,
folding his phone and returning it to his pocket. “Sam says, ‘Tell Mom I trust
her.’”

“Really? He wasn’t upset?”

“Well
,—
I
had to talk him out of coming to get the kids tonight,” Larry said and then
noticed the look on Frannie’s face. “I mean, because of the abduction, or
whatever it is. I convinced him that we would not take our eyes off them until
he gets here tomorrow morning as planned.”