by Lynn Bohart
“Julia,” Doe finally said behind me. “This could get dangerous.”
I sighed. “I know, but it can’t be more dangerous than what that girl might be facing.”
The door to the McDonald’s opened. Eva and Ponytail Guy came out carrying several bags of food. As the two approached the motorhome, Ponytail Guy happened to look over in our direction.
He stopped mid-stride, staring into the front window of our RV.
I quickly looked away, as the others moved away from the windows.
Too late. He’d made us.
He scowled and climbed into the Jayco. Within seconds, whoever was driving backed up and sped out of the parking lot, making a hard turn onto the main road right in front of us.
“Let me drive,” Blair said, touching my shoulder.
I turned. She was standing behind me, with those blue eyes set in an iron stare as she watched the retreating motorhome.
“Oh, no,” Rudy complained. “C’mon, you guys. This is a 40-foot motorhome, not a sports car.”
“We’ll be fine,” Blair said, switching places with me.
She put her seat belt on, shifted the Hulk into drive and pulled expertly into traffic, following the white motorhome. The Jayco picked up speed, but didn’t return to I-90. Instead, it continued out into the country.
We followed at a brisk pace.
I sat on the sofa behind Blair, leaning forward to see through the front windshield.
Blair kept us within three cars of the motorhome. At one point, the back curtains parted and a face appeared. It wasn’t the girl, though. It was Eva peering back at us.
A few minutes later, the Jayco made a right turn onto a country road.
Blair followed.
Now there were no cars in between us.
The white RV accelerated again. We barreled down the road, both motorhomes rocking back and forth as we took the curves. Doe, Rudy, and I held on tight.
The road was narrow and hilly as we passed homes and farmland. We drove like that for about a mile before coming upon a set of railroad tracks. As we approached the tracks, the lights began to blink and the bell clanged.
They didn’t slow down.
“Blair?” I cautioned.
“Blair?” Doe repeated.
A train approached from around a hill to our left, speeding toward us. The railroad track barriers began to drop.
Blair’s foot reached for the brake.
The motorhome in front of us smashed through the barriers as they descended, barely missing the train that rumbled past only a moment later.
Blair brought the Hulk to a screeching halt, throwing open cupboards in the main cabin. Dishes and canisters of sugar, flour and cereal flew out. The canisters broke open, layering the carpet with their contents, while some of the dishes hit the counter and shattered.
“Damn!” Blair said, slamming her hands against the wheel.
Doe glanced at me, her face white.
“We need to stop this,” Rudy said, looking around at the mess behind her. “I promised to deliver this thing in pristine condition.”
“We can clean it up,” Blair said, never taking her eyes off the train as it lumbered past.
The train was a transporter and took a full minute to pass. By the time it did, the white motorhome was long gone.
Blair pulled slowly forward over the tracks, careful to avoid the broken barriers. The road we followed was lined with trees and wound around more farms and a few barns. We passed two cross streets, where Blair slowed down, but the white RV was nowhere in sight.
She continued for another couple of miles, but we were just going deeper into the countryside. By the time the road began to climb a steep hill, she turned the big rig around. A minute later, she pulled over to the side of the road and stopped.
The four of us sat in silence, probably contemplating a range of thoughts. Rudy was certainly pissed off. Doe was probably concerned. Blair was most likely disappointed she’d lost her quarry. And me? I felt deflated.
Finally, Rudy spoke up.
“Now what?”
“You have to admit something’s wrong, Rudy,” Blair said, turning in her seat. “Otherwise, why would they have risked being hit by a train in order to get away from us?”
I glanced at Rudy. She had also turned in her chair and was staring at the beautiful carpet, now marred by food and glass shards. She looked like she had just lost a championship basketball game. Finally, she inhaled a deep, cleansing breath and looked up at us.
“I agree. I repeat…now what?”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Rudy’s question prompted a long pause as we each considered a potential way forward. If the others were like me, the adrenalin was still coursing through their veins, and my mind was a blur.
“Can we take a short break?” I finally said. “That was scary, and frankly, I need a moment or two to process what just happened. We whizzed past a fruit stand back there. Why don’t you guys do a little shopping, while I clean up in here? We can huddle up afterwards.”
“Fine,” Rudy said with a grim expression. “But I’ll drive.”
Blair shrugged and relinquished the captain’s chair. Rudy slipped behind the wheel. She started the engine and pulled back onto the winding road without a word, stopping several minutes later when we got back to the main road. A large produce stand sat at the corner.
“I’ll help Julia,” Doe said to Rudy. “Can you get some grapes and a couple of nectarines?”
“Sure,” she replied with a tight lip.
She and Blair climbed out while Doe and I stayed behind. Doe watched them move away from the motorhome, and then said, “Just give her some time, Julia. She’s feeling responsible. The bonds of our friendship are a lot stronger than a big green motorhome.”
“I hope so,” I said, picking up a broken bowl. “I didn’t mean for all of this to happen.” I leaned over and scooped up more broken glass and dropped it all into the trash can. “But now I don’t know what to do. Rudy is furious. Those people nearly got themselves killed. And there may be a girl in danger, and yet we have no way to help.”
Doe put her hand on my shoulder. “We’ll figure it out together–like we always do.”
I looked up at her elegant face. Once again, she looked perfect. Thick salt and pepper gray hair that never seemed to move. And deep, dark brown eyes with long thick lashes that needed no enhancement.
“Are you mad at me, Doe?”
She smiled gently. “No. I know you too well. Your heart is in the right place. And you’re not like Blair. You don’t normally take big risks, so something is driving you on this. Which means your instincts are probably right.”
By the time Rudy and Blair returned, we had filled the trash can and used a small battery operated vacuum to get the top layer of stuff off the carpet.
“Looks better in here,” Blair said, stepping inside. She was munching on an apple and held another newspaper under one arm. “Anything I can do?”
“No, I think we’ve done as much as we can right now,” Doe said. “We’ll have to empty this trash can, but thanks.”
“It looks like we’ll have to stop somewhere to get the carpet shampooed,” Blair said, sitting at the table to open her newspaper.
Rudy had just climbed aboard holding a bag filled with produce. She glanced at the stained carpet, her face a mask of defeat. She turned without comment to put things into the refrigerator.
“I’m really sorry, Rudy. I’ll make this right. I promise,” I said again.
She paused. “I know you will,” she said staring into the refrigerator.
“I’m sure the Aberdeens have insurance that will pay for all of this,” Doe offered, snapping the small vacuum into a holder attached to the wall. “They’ll have to replace the counter over here by the sink, though. It got chipped.”
Rudy glanced at the counter behind her, inhaled and then sighed, closing the refrigerator door. She turned to me and crossed her arms over her chest. “I think
you may have been right about this, Julia.”
Doe raised an eyebrow at me and gave me a nod of encouragement.
“I just wish…I just wish…”
“What?” I asked her.
She sucked in a full breath. “I don’t know,” she said, exhaling. “I just wish there had been a better way to convince us.” Her eyes surveyed the damaged carpet. “How am I going to explain all of this to the Aberdeens?”
I glanced at Doe and Blair for help, but they looked as helpless as I felt.
“Rudy, I promise that if I have to personally pay for every single repair, I will. I’ll even pay for an increase in the Aberdeen’s insurance if that happens.”
She gave me a brief, crooked smile and then stepped around me and dropped into one of the swivel chairs. “Look, clearly something is very wrong with those people. Otherwise, why would they have risked their lives like that? They all could have been killed, so they must be hiding something. I just wish I knew what it was. Did anyone think to get their license plate number?”
“I got the first two letters,” I said.
“I was focused on not killing us,” Blair said, opening her paper.
“Well, maybe the first letters will help,” Doe said. “Have you talked to David lately?”
“No. I’ve called, but he’s really busy.”
“Well, I think you should call him again and give him whatever you have.”
“What?” Blair erupted, staring down at the U.S.A. Today on the table in front of her.
“What is it?” I asked, moving over to her.
“There’s an article about a man found shot to death in his mountain cabin in North Bend.”
“Washington?” I asked.
“Yes.”
North Bend is a community just east of Seattle, on the approach to the Cascade Mountains.
Why is that important?” I asked.
Her eyes were skimming the article. “Hold on. Uh…it says here that he lived all alone outside of North Bend.” She read some more and then looked up with raised eyebrows. “His son reported that along with some money, his dad’s old…white…motorhome was stolen.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I said, pushing in to sit next to her.
She turned the paper around so I could see the article. I skimmed the text and then pointed a finger at the fourth paragraph. “Wow, listen to this. ‘The only thing missing besides the money is my father’s old Jayco motorhome.’” I looked up at my friends. My body had gone cold. “He says it was white with a red and blue stripe.”
Rudy stood up and came to the table. “When?”
My eyes returned to the report. “They think it was either Friday night or Saturday morning. His body wasn’t found until yesterday.”
“Amy was kidnapped Saturday morning,” Rudy said. “You were right, Julia. And that means they’ve already killed someone.”
“Which also means they won’t hesitate to kill the girl if they’re confronted,” Doe said. She was sitting on the sofa with Tinker Bell in her lap. The dog seemed to pick up on her anxiety and nervously licked her hand.
Blair pulled the paper back. “It says here that the old man was found in his kitchen. The keys to the motorhome were gone. He thinks maybe they killed his dad for money to buy drugs and took the motorhome as an afterthought.”
“And we don’t know where they are now,” I lamented.
“At least now we have confirmation,” Blair said, looking at me. “The police need to be looking for that motorhome.”
“They probably are,” Rudy said. “I’d assume they have an APB out on it.”
“Then why are these guys driving across the country without anyone stopping them?” I asked.
“The authorities might only be looking for it in Washington State and states that border Washington, thinking they wouldn’t go that far.”
“Call David,” Doe said. “He needs to know. While you do that, I’m going to take Tinker Bell out.”
She put the leash on Tinker Bell and left the motorhome. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed David’s number. It was just after 1:00 p.m. local time, so it would be 11:00 a.m. there. It rang twice before he answered.
“Franks here,” he said in a gruff voice.
“David, this is Julia.”
“Hey, hi,” he said, his demeanor quickly changing. “I’m sorry I had to cut you off earlier. It’s been pretty busy around here. Anyway, I miss you. How was the 4th of July show?”
“Never mind that. I’m calling for a different reason. I’m going to put you on speaker phone, if that’s okay.”
“Sure…um…is everything all right?”
I pressed the button to put the call on speaker. “Okay, can you hear me?”
“Yes. What’s wrong, Julia? I don’t like the tone of your voice.”
I looked at Rudy and Blair for support as I began my tale. “You’re not going to believe this, but I think we know who abducted Senator Owens’ daughter.”
There was a short pause. “Uh…go on.”
“We’ve run across an old motorhome several times on the trip. The people driving it are not very nice people. More importantly, I saw the face of a young girl at the back window as they were leaving a campground this morning. She was banging on the window and appeared to be trying to get out.” I paused to swallow and take a breath.
“A young girl? A kid?”
“No, sorry. She looked more like a teenager. I didn’t get a very good look at her.”
“Okay, keep going.”
“She was pounding on the window and trying to scream.”
“What do you mean, trying to scream?”
“It looked like she had a gag in her mouth.”
“You could see the gag?”
“Well, not very well. Something was in her mouth. That’s what I thought it was.”
Count to three.
“Hold on.”
There was the sound of a chair scraping the floor, and then David mumbled to someone with his hand over the receiver. Rustling. More chair movement.
“Julia, I’ve invited Detective Abrams to listen to this. I filled him in briefly, so go on. What did the girl look like?”
It amazed me how quickly he could transition into his investigative mode. Detective Abrams was the lead detective at the Mercer Island PD, and David’s boss.
“She had dark hair and dark eyes,” I said. “I only got a glimpse of her before someone pulled her away from the window and closed the curtains.”
“Julia, this is Detective Abrams. Are you sure this wasn’t just some kids playing a game?”
“I wasn’t sure at first, but we’ve run into these people several times. They parked across from us in the first campground we stayed in. We saw two men and heard a woman, but no children or teens. When they left, they left a cooler behind with a bunch of used needles in it, though.”
“Needles?” Detective Abrams asked. “Did they seem like they were on drugs?”
“ Uh…no. Not at all. We saw both men with beers in their hands, but that’s all.”
I decided not to try and describe the incident with Ponytail Guy lying on the ground, thinking it was just a distraction.
“Anyway, we crossed paths with them again at an outdoor Fourth of July show. I overheard them say something about a third man they didn’t like joining them, and a guy named Yoda who was apparently in charge. They also said they were going to make a lot of money and that they were going to Chicago.”
“They didn’t say how they were going to make the money?” David asked.
“No. Just that they were going to make a bunch of money. I happened to walk past their campsite later and saw all four of them outside, and then heard someone banging on the wall inside the motorhome.”
“You didn’t engage with them, I hope,” David interjected.
I glanced nervously up at my friends. “Uh…no, not really. Anyway, this morning I was up by the store as they were leaving. That’s when I saw the girl in the windo
w, just before they left the campground.”
“That’s the last time you saw them?” David asked.
“No. We passed them in a small town where they stopped for lunch and followed them when they came out. They realized what we were doing and ran from us by playing chicken with an oncoming train.”
“They actually slammed through the barriers,” Blair shouted over my shoulder.
The two men mumbled something to each other on the other end of the phone.
“Okay. What about the motorhome?” Detective Abrams asked. “Describe it.”
“It’s an old white Jayco motorhome with a red and blue stripe. It sounds like the one stolen from that old man in North Bend.”
“Is it a Washington license plate?”
“Yes. I just got the first two letters–XT,” I replied with an apologetic tone.
“That’s okay. That will help,” Detective Abrams said.
“Tell us again who’s in the motorhome with her,” David said.
“Four men and a woman,” I replied. “The guy who seems to be in control is a big, beefy guy with dark hair and a dark beard. His name is Monty. And, David…he looks just like Amy’s stepdad, Grant Dunphy.”
“What?”
I recognized the incredulity in his voice. He was probably wondering how I would even know what Grant Dunphy looked like.
“You’ve been on the internet,” he said in a measured tone.
“Yes. There’s a lot of time to kill on the road. Once I saw the girl at the window, I had to know more. The likeness is uncanny. Anyway, they’re traveling with a woman–a small redhead. She goes by Eva. The second man has sandy blonde hair he wears in a ponytail. We don’t know his name, but he’s about medium height and drinks a lot. Every time we’ve seen him, he has a beer in his hand. And he wears a baseball cap. The third guy is bald, and we think that’s the guy named Roy.”
“Good job,” Detective Abrams said.
Blair nudged me and whispered, “Tell him about the red-head in the photos.”
I shook my head no.
“Okay, but you’re not to engage with these people at all, Julia,” David commanded. “Do you understand? We’ll follow up.”
“But, David…”
“Stay out of it,” he snapped. “If you’re right, they’ve already killed the owner of that motorhome.”
