Free The Blue Coyote (The Frannie Shoemaker Campground Mysteries Book 2) by Karen Musser Nortman Page B

Taylor.”
    “Well, they won’t let us
help. Let’s try and keep things normal for the kids. How about a game of
Chicken Foot?”
    Frannie sighed. “Good idea.
Kids!” They were back to shooting Mickey with their new weapons, who was
reacting very dramatically. “Want to play Chicken Foot?”
    A chorus of “yeahs” and
“woohoos” ensued. “I’ll get the dominos,” Joe yelled and charged into the
camper. He returned with the heavy metal box and dumped the dominos on the
picnic table. “C’mon, Grandpa! Uncle Mickey, are you going to play?”
    “Sure.” Although Mickey was
comfortably nestled in his reclining lawn chair, he was a sucker for any kid’s
request. Frannie grabbed a soda from the cooler and a cushion for the hard
picnic bench. Ben and Jane Ann took seats next to Sabet.
    There was comfort in the
dappled sunlight on the table and the groans and cheers generated by the game.
Frannie would lose herself in the play and banter only to be jolted to reality
at the sight of a searcher in the woods or the sheriff’s car on the road. She
needed to find out when Bernie Reid had done a program at the RST school . Maybe Tammy remembered but she didn’t even know
which campsite Tammy and her family were at.
    Mickey won the first game,
and they flipped the dominos back over, stirring them with the flats of their
hands to accomplish a shuffle of sorts. They each drew seven more and set them
on edge; Joe’s arranging took a little longer until he was sure they were
evenly spaced and that Mickey couldn’t see what he had. No one had a double
twelve but Jane Ann had a double eleven and put it in the middle to start the
game.
    The men rehashed the football
game between turns—a close Iowa victory—and Nancy described a new
project her community development agency had started.
    While Frannie was waiting for
her turn, she noticed a generic beige sedan rolling slowly down the road toward
the Trats’ campsite. The glimpse she got of the head in the driver’s window
gave her a start; she wasn’t sure if it was a feeling of hope or doom. The man
was Agent Warren Sanchez of the State Department of Criminal Investigation.
Frannie and Larry had both cooperated and butted heads with him after the
murders at Bat Cave State Park. She hoped Sanchez had stronger memories of the
former.
    She caught Larry’s eye, and
nodded toward the passing car. It was too late to see the driver and Larry
raised his eyebrows and shrugged.
    “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