by Mary Feliz
“There are more tacks in the drawer if you can’t find one on the board,” I said, guessing what was amiss.
“It was something else Kon said. Something that worried me.”
Chapter 19
During fire season, safety awareness is as important on the trail or in wilderness surroundings as it is in fire-prone residential areas. Be aware of potential threats in your immediate area, and heed recommendations from officials. In periods of extreme fire danger, make alternative plans.
If you see smoke or a fire, hustle back to civilization and notify authorities immediately. Never try to escape a fire by travelling uphill. Heat and flames rise.
From the Notebook of Maggie McDonald
Simplicity Itself Organizing Services
Tuesday, August 8, Evening
“Kon Sokolov is the ranger who found Patrick,” I reminded Max. “Paolo told me on the way home from the medical examiner’s office on Sunday.”
“I’d forgotten,” Max said. “But he asked if we knew the guy who died. Kon said he doesn’t normally approve of ‘helpful civilians,’ because they get in the way and put themselves at risk. But then he told me Patrick was different. Both of them had been keeping an eye on an illegal marijuana cultivation area. It had diverted water from one of the natural springs on the downhill slope west of the ridgeline.”
“West?”
“Right. Close to where Kon found Patrick.”
“Did you ask if he thought the growers had a hand in Patrick’s death?”
“He gave me one of those looks that told me he wouldn’t answer even if I did ask. He warned me those guys are big-time bad news. The rat poisons they use to protect the crop is nasty stuff that’s been outlawed for decades and hurts deer, raptors, coyotes, and mountain lions. They divert springs and dam creeks, which damages the entire watershed. Their fertilizers make the algae grow in the ponds and kill off the fish. Up and down the food chain, they create barren deserts out of some of the richest and most beautiful habitats in the world. And then there’s all the garbage and sewage generated by the guys who look after the plants. They pack in supplies, but they don’t bother to haul out their trash.”
“Take a breath, professor. I get it.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to lecture.” Max picked up a mug and the carafe from the coffeemaker, which was empty. He measured out a new batch and waited while it brewed. “Those illegal farms are dangerous for people too though. Kon made sure the kids knew what to look out for—irrigation pipes where you wouldn’t expect to find them, heavily used trails that aren’t marked on any map, piles of garbage in remote areas, and unexpected erosion. Wander into territory these growers have staked out, and they’ll defend it with lethal force.”
“I thought we were talking about public land. Doesn’t all that property between here and the next ridge belong to the county?”
“Exactly. But when the bad guys claim it for their own, it’s not safe to argue. I don’t want the boys, or you, going up there right now—not unless you’re in a big group or have the dogs with you. No solo meditation walks, okay? Kon says California Fish and Wildlife guys call the shots on when they round up the growers, eradicate the crops, and restore the streams. That’s slated for later in August.”
“Why wait?”
“I’m not sure. Something to do with the harvest. Maybe waiting means the bad guys don’t have time to replant.” He shrugged. “The problem is that the closer it gets to being picked or cut or whatever they call it with weed, the more valuable the plants are and the more fiercely they’re defended. These guys actually carry assault rifles, according to Kon.”
“Assault rifles? What’s the range on those things?” I glanced nervously out the window toward the hill and the mountain beyond it. “And how far is that ridge from here, a mile?”
“More like three-quarters, as the bullets fly. Do you know how many summer camps are within range up there? Kon didn’t want to guess, but it’s a lot. Hundreds of kids. Maybe thousands. He was glad they’d been evacuated because of the fire.”
“Yikes. Is it safe for us to be in the backyard? What about between the house and barn? Are the dogs safe?” My voice rose in panic.
Max pushed his hair back from his forehead. “As long as we don’t look like we’re threatening their livelihood, I think we’re safe. But do you know who runs those illegal grows?” he asked.
I shook my head, knowing I didn’t want to know but that Max would tell me anyway.
“If Kon is to be believed, and I think he is, it’s the big cartels from Mexico, Colombia, and points south.”
“But why here? Why in our sleepy little town with our sleepy little summer camps for sleepy little kids?”
“It’s like everything else in California since the dawn of time. Land. Land and water. All national, state, and county land is free to those who don’t respect public property or the health of the environment. Growing it here cuts their distribution costs and eliminates any need to bother with drug-sniffing dogs at the border. They still smuggle in their dangerous pesticides, but no one on the border is looking for those.”
I shuddered and was tempted to close the blinds on the kitchen windows. Who knew how many desperate people in the drug trade had put us in their gun sights over the last year? Previously my biggest fear had been stumbling over a rattlesnake on a hike. But apparently there were far more lethal snakes out there than rattlers.
After dinner, we let the kids take off to play video games or to plan their backpacking trip to the coast, assuming conditions would one day materialize in which it was again safe for them to make the trek. Their health and safety, which included their mental health, was paramount right now. None of us, especially not the boys, thought doing dishes and cleaning the kitchen was the best way for anyone to heal their grief. Besides, after the increasingly frantic and crazy events of the last few days, Max and I needed to regroup and plan.
When Max came back to the house after taking out the dogs and the garbage and shifting the laundry down in the barn, I was still drying the dish I’d plucked from the rack before he’d left. “You’ve been pondering,” he said as he took it gently from my hands and put it away.
“Do you think we’re looking at this all wrong?” I asked.
“How so?”
“We’ve been focused on who wanted Patrick out of the way. Who had a grudge against him.”
“Right.”
“Do you think it could be something else entirely? I mean, we agree that everyone we know liked Patrick. So, assuming there was a rationale for injuring him and leaving him for dead, we’re missing some other motivation—something other than hatred.”
“I’m with you so far, but what other reason could there be?”
“There was that case in Texas years ago when a cheerleading mom killed the mother of her daughter’s rival to ensure that her offspring had a lock on the top spot on the team.”
“The problem is that if anyone wanted Patrick’s coaching spot or Teddy’s position in band, cross-country, or soccer, all they had to do was say so. Teddy or Patrick would have been happy to share their responsibilities or give them up entirely.”
Max was right. Neither Patrick nor Teddy was particularly competitive. They were happy being in the midst of things, organizing fun activities, and making sure everyone was included. Jostling for position wasn’t for them. “If it was a competitive thing, though, Pauline Windsor would be the one I’d question first.” A kernel of an idea began to sprout in my brain, but I tamped it down, for now.
“Agreed. Pauline wasted no time in accusing Tess, did she?”
I shook my head, bit my lip, chose another bowl from the drying rack, and considered another possibility. “What about corporate espionage?”
“Elaborate.”
“Do you know what kind of engineering Patrick did? Did he work on one of those su
per-secret projects with a code name? Like the early iPhone team? Could someone have been stalking him to learn his secrets?”
“And then pushed him off the ridge?” Max’s voice was filled with skepticism.
“Bear with me. There’s been talk in the news lately about high-tech companies that poach engineers from competitors. And questions about the legality of nondisclosure agreements. What if someone wanted to get around all that? What if they’d been trying to overhear phone calls or steal Patrick’s laptop and things went too far?” Max was drying the silverware and tossing it in the drawer. Loudly. “Is it too much like a Hollywood caper movie with a Silicon Valley twist?”
Max nodded. “I’ve never thought much of the supposed logic behind that nondisclosure stuff, though as an academic I observed it from an objective distance.” Up until a year ago, Max had been a professor of computer and software engineering at a small private university in California’s Central Valley.
“But wouldn’t it shorten development time for some of those hot consumer products if you could steal the technology instead of creating it on your own? Wouldn’t it give your company a leg up while hobbling your competitor?”
“In theory, yes. But look at it as a practical matter.” Max rubbed his chin and took on a professorial look and stance. “In any technical field or in the arts, ideas bubble up all the time. They’re built on concepts that came before. Chances are, more than one person will have a breakthrough at the same time, right?”
“Of course,” I said.
“But even if ten people had the same idea, each person’s ability, resources, and vision would mean the implementation would vary.”
“Like at back-to-school night, when they post artwork done by thirty kids with the same assignment and identical materials. No two paintings look alike.”
“Precisely. And the problem is magnified when you consider that most people with a good idea won’t be able to turn it into a product. Maybe they’re missing the funds required, or the expertise to resolve an intermediate step. Or, as happens often, completing a small-scale proof-of-concept project satisfies their intellectual curiosity, but when it comes to manufacturing, marketing, and sales, their interest fizzles.”
“You’re saying it takes a team?”
“Exactly. And it takes the right team. That’s one of the things I’ve learned about managing engineers since I joined Influx. They aren’t interchangeable cogs. When you get the perfect mix of talents and interests, a team can do incredible things. But distract them, remove a guy like Patrick who turns a hodgepodge of talent into a team, or throw in a troublemaker, and you’ve got nothing.”
I pushed my hair back from my forehead and sighed, “So, no matter how valuable the technology is, stealing it wouldn’t get you far?”
“Right.”
“Then why are the business pages full of news about takeovers and lawsuits related to patent infringement?”
“It’s not unusual for companies to come up with similar solutions to market problems.” Patrick tossed a spoon in the drawer, then pulled it back, held it up to the light, and buffed it with his towel before adding it to the others in the drawer. “Patents and licensing are a significant profit stream for every big company. But lawsuits are expensive too. That’s why corporations settle so many lawsuits before they get to court. Forget the big Hollywood crime and conspiracy scheme. The easiest and least expensive way to nab technology someone else has is to phone them up and ask how much they want for it. The two parties whip up a license agreement, and everyone goes home happy. Happens all the time.”
I wasn’t ready to let my theory go. “But what if you took out the star player? What if Patrick was the key? Could someone have tried to recruit him, failed, and then indulged in the sort of thinking that creates a deadly love triangle? ‘If I can’t have him, no one else can have him’?”
Max looked pensive and sat down at the kitchen table, his eyes fixated on a corner of the kitchen ceiling. I finished putting away the few remaining dishes, set up the coffeemaker for the morning, and refilled the cat bowls with fresh water and kibble.
He sighed. “In a logical world, it doesn’t hold water, Maggie. Despite what you read in the business pages, we need to compare notes with suppliers throughout a project, particularly if we’re asking them to rush advances in their technology so that we can piggyback our next idea onto theirs. And we know we aren’t their only customer. Developing products fast and first isn’t the only key to success. Making sure the products are reliable, easy to use, and available at the right price is critical—among a great mix of other elements. Most good companies, the ones that will be around for a while, know it can actually be more profitable to be the second or third to release a product, if you take the time to make sure your version is better than anyone else’s.”
“So, bottom line, crime doesn’t pay?”
“There’s a reason clichés become clichés.”
“Still, logic doesn’t rule out a madman who decides murder is the best way to resolve a problem, does it?”
“Or a madwoman,” Max said.
That idea I’d buried earlier resurfaced, and I glanced at my watch, trying to decide whether I had time to pursue it this evening.
Chapter 20
Overplan your hike. Hike with others. Stay together. Leave information listing your route, travel partners, and your expected date and time of return.
From the Notebook of Maggie McDonald
Simplicity Itself Organizing Services
Tuesday, August 8, Evening
The kids came barreling down the back stairs, followed by the dogs, temporarily ending my efforts to flesh out my seedling idea.
From the foot of the staircase, David slid across the smooth tiled floor in his stocking feet, skidding to a stop at the table and plopping his laptop in front of me. “Look at this. We found a route that doesn’t go into any of the burnt areas and is upwind from the fires. What do you think? Can we pack up our stuff and go tomorrow?”
I examined the three beaming faces of boys who’d plotted out their version of the perfect backpacking trip. Their first without adult supervision. I hated to burst their bubble and was thankful when Max did it for me. He slid the laptop to his side of the table and refreshed the screen, scrolling to follow their route.
“Great job, guys. This looks like a terrific plan. But—”
The boys moaned as one and looked deflated. “No fair!”
“Didn’t you hear what Ranger Sokolov said about the Central American drug cartels?” I asked.
Their eyes grew large, and they pulled chairs up to the table, eager to hear more. “Drug cartels in Orchard View?” David scoffed. “Have you been listening to talk radio?”
Max shook his head. “The boys and the dogs had already headed back down the hill when the ranger and I had that conversation.”
Max filled the kids in on the information he’d gleaned from Kon about the dangers lurking right outside our back door from criminals, wild animals, and poisonous snakes. At the mention of snakes, Brian lifted his feet from the floor and rested them on the bottom rung of his chair. Teddy grimaced. David, who had been lobbying for a reptile-filled terrarium since he’d spoken his first words, grinned.
Max made a valiant attempt to sidestep the drama. “Look, the state parks, the Open Space Preserve, the camps, everything is closed in case they need to get fire crews in there. The wind can shift in a heartbeat. Keep this plan. It’s a good one. But save it for after it rains and the danger has passed.”
The boys seemed disappointed but resigned to their fate. “Are there any cookies left?” Brian asked, changing the subject. I convinced them to bring their clean laundry up from the barn before they decimated our snack supply.
While they were gone, the phone rang. It was Forrest with bad news.
“I can’t get Tess out,” he said. “They arraig
ned her today. She’s been charged with first-degree murder and held over without bail.”
“No! Not Tess. On what grounds? She’s a mother, not a flight risk.”
“Apparently she recently renewed passports for her and Teddy, but not for Patrick. The prosecuting attorney argued that meant she’d planned to kill Patrick and take her son out of the country.”
“That’s ridiculous. Tess and I took care of that together right after school got out. She needed to renew her passport. Patrick gets his taken care of at work. We took the boys to get their photos in one fell swoop. I did mine, too. You know how it is, if you don’t renew those things when you’re thinking of them, you forget. We wanted to make sure the boys had current passports for any trips they might go on in high school or college.”
“Tess told me, and I reported that to the judge. Everyone’s been renewing passports because of the rumors swirling about changes to Homeland Security legislation and the Transportation Security Administration requirements. But the judge wasn’t buying it. I’ve argued cases in his court before. He’s got a rigid and narrow view of legal precedents. I’m not sure he believes in bail for murder or any capital offense.”
I cringed at the reminder that Tess had been charged with murder, which carried the possibility of a death sentence in California. “Can she appeal?”
“She can. And I’ve already submitted the paperwork. But our chances of winning are slim. I don’t know any recent cases where bail appeals have been granted.”
“Can we visit or phone her? She must be eager to check on Teddy.”
“She can call out from the jail, but you can’t call in. I’ve set her up with the calling card she needs. The best thing to do, I think, is to make an appointment with her to call at a time when Teddy’s sure to be here. I can relay a message to her for you.”
“But what about visiting?”
Forrest was uncharacteristically slow to respond. I was about to ask whether we were still connected when he sighed and answered. “Go online to the Department of Corrections. You and Teddy can fill out a request to be approved visitors. The paperwork is supposed to take three days to go through, but with budget cuts, processing now takes at least a week. And none of the inmates are allowed visitors for the first week anyway. I hope to get her out of there before a week’s time, but it wouldn’t hurt for you to complete the forms, just in case we run into a snag.”