Hard Eight (Stephanie Plum 8) - Page 72
Mrs. Palowski wrapped her arms tight around herself. “Evelyn dragged Dotty into this, didn't she? It's not like Dotty to take off from work and pull Amanda out of school to go on a camping trip. I think something bad is going on. I heard about Steven Soder, and I went straight to mass. I didn't pray for Soder, either. He can go to hell for all I care.” She crossed herself. “I prayed for Dotty,” she said.
“Do you have any idea where Dotty might be? If she was trying to help Evelyn, where would she take her?”
“I don't know. I've tried to think, but I can't figure it out. I doubt Evelyn has much money. And Dotty is on a tight budget. So I can't see them flying off to someplace. Dotty said she had to stop at the mall yesterday to get some last-minute camping things, so maybe she really is camping. Sometimes, before the divorce, Dotty and her husband would go to a campground by Washington's Crossing. I can't think of the name, but it was right on the river, and you could rent a little trailer.”
I knew the campground. I'd passed it a million times on the way to New Hope.
OKAY, NOW I was cooking. I had a lead. I could check out the campground. Only thing, I didn't want to check it out alone. It was too isolated at this time of year. Too easy for Abruzzi to ambush me. So I took a deep breath and called Ranger.
“Yo,” Ranger said.
“I have a lead on Evelyn, and I could use some backup.”
Twenty minutes later, I was parked in the Washington's Crossing parking lot, and Ranger pulled in beside me. He was driving a shiny black 4 X 4 pickup with oversize tires and bug lights on the cab. I locked my car and hoisted myself into his passenger seat. The interior of the truck looked like Ranger regularly communicated with Mars.
“How's your mental health?” he asked. “I heard about Soder.”
“I'm rattled.”
“I have a cure.”
Oh, boy.
He put the truck in gear and headed for the exit. “I know what you're thinking,” he said. “And that wasn't where I was going. I was going to suggest work.”
“I knew that.”
He looked over at me and grinned. “You want me bad.”
I did. God help me. “We're going north,” I said. “There's a chance that Evelyn and Dotty are at the campground with the little trailers.”
“I know the campground.”
The road was empty at this time of day. Two lanes winding along the Delaware River and through the Pennsylvania countryside. Patches of woods and clusters of pretty houses bordered the road. Ranger was silent while he drove. He was paged twice and both times he read the message and didn't respond. Both times he kept the message to himself. Normal behavior for Ranger. Ranger led a secret life.
The pager buzzed a third time. Ranger unclipped it from his belt and looked at the readout. He cleared the screen, reclipped the pager, and continued to watch the road.
“Hello,” I said.
He cut his eyes to me.
Ranger and I were oil and water. He was the Man of Mystery, and I was Ms. Curiosity. We both knew this. Ranger tolerated it with mild amusement. I tolerated it with teeth clenched.
I dropped my eyes to his pager. “Jeanne Ellen?” I asked. I couldn't help myself.
“Jeanne Ellen is on her way to Puerto Rico,” Ranger said.
Our eyes held for a moment, and he turned his attention back to the road. End of conversation.
“It's a good thing you have a nice ass,” I said to him. Because you sure as hell can be annoying.
“My ass isn't my best part, babe,” Ranger said, smiling at me.
And that truly did end the conversation. I had no follow-up.
Ten minutes later we approached the campground. It sat between the road and the river and could easily go unnoticed. It didn't have a sign. And for all I knew, it didn't have a name. A dirt road slanted down to a couple acres of grass. Small ramshackle cabins and trailers were scattered along the river's edge, each with a picnic table and grill. It had an air of abandonment at this time of year. And it felt slightly disreputable, and intriguing, like a gypsy encampment.
Ranger idled at the entrance, and we scanned the surroundings.
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