Hot, Shot, and Bothered

by Nora McFarland

  The female ranger rushed over to Rod. “You must be an expert at reading people. Can you look at something for us?”

  “That’s a great idea.” The male ranger pointed to Bell’s laptop. “Tell us what you think about the boy who’s standing with the blond girl. I think he’s a creep.”

  “No way.” Bell glanced at the monitor and shook her head. “I was there when the video was shot. I met him. He’s a nice guy. He has a ponytail and glasses, for goodness’ sake.”

  “Maybe it’s because I’ve got three daughters of my own, but there’s a moment where he’s looking at her . . .” The male ranger mimicked fangs with his two index fingers. “It’s like he’s a wolf and she’s Bambi.”

  We all laughed, then Rod said, “I don’t know if he’s a wolf, but I agree that the girl is an innocent who didn’t realize what she was saying.”

  The male ranger leaned around Bell and started the video playing. On the laptop screen, the girl spoke while the boy watched her. “They keep trying to scare us, but if it gets dangerous, the firefighters will come save us.”

  “Now.” The male ranger pointed. “Watch him now.”

  “I mean, they can’t let us die,” the girl continued. “It’s their job to save us no matter how dangerous it gets.”

  We all saw it at the same time. A kind of sly, predatory smile from the boy in the glasses as he watched the girl making an ass of herself.

  “I don’t believe it.” Bell stopped the video. “I think his name was Farris. He was so nice and polite.”

  The male ranger smiled at Rod. “I bet you’ve met all kinds of nasty characters in your line of work.”

  I saw my chance and went for it. “You know, it’s too bad neither of you have a camera. You could take a picture with Rod Strong to show everyone he was here.”

  The woman’s eyes popped. “My cell phone’s got a camera in it.” She ran to her desk.

  The man went to a filing cabinet and began opening drawers. “And we’ve got that old Polaroid too.”

  “I’ll be outside with the equipment.” I got all the way to the door before Rod took gentle hold of my arm.

  “Hold on. I need to ask you about that Heimlich cable for the live shot.” He glanced over his shoulder, then still smiling quietly added, “What are you doing?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Heimlich cable?”

  “What are you doing?” He repeated with more urgency.

  “Nothing. I’m checking on the equipment.”

  The male ranger rushed to Bell’s desk. She pulled back as he began opening drawers. “I know it’s here somewhere.”

  “Take your time,” Rod said to him. “I’m sure you’ll find it.” He turned back to me and whispered, “You’re lying. Why?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Why did you throw me into this photo op? Usually when pretty girls say they’re fans, you start growling.”

  “Maybe I didn’t realize she was pretty.”

  For a moment he panicked, but then smiled. “Oh, no. This does not get turned around on me.”

  I smiled back. “Just stall. Keep them occupied.”

  The female ranger joined the search for the Polaroid. “After we take a couple regular pictures, maybe we can think up some fun poses. Do we still have that Davy Crockett hat?”

  Rod frowned, then whispered, “I’m not doing this.”

  “I’ll watch Doctor Who with you. Any of them you want. Even the one with the crazy hair.”

  “They all have crazy hair.” His eyes widened and he took a quick breath. “Wait, you mean Tom Baker?”

  “You pick. I don’t care.”

  He thought for a moment, then countered, “How about instead you go with me to Jareth’s Ball?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know who Jareth is or why he’s having a party, but that does not sound like a fair trade.”

  “It’s whatever the market will bear, and right now that’s the price for my cooperation.” He paused. “And you have to wear a costume.”

  “Hey, everybody.” The female ranger hit buttons on her phone. “I think I can upload pictures straight to the Internet.”

  Rod grimaced.

  I rushed to agree before he could take back the offer. “I’ll go to the party, but you have to keep all three of them occupied for at least ten minutes.”

  I left before Rod could say anything else. Outside, I passed the truck and camera, then I casually walked around to the back of the building. The first window had the blasting air conditioner in it. I crouched below the second, then cautiously peeked into the office. The aide still sat facing the wall. I found the Swiss army knife inside my cargo pants. I opened the nail file and inserted it into the space between the lower and upper panes. I soon had the window unlocked.

  I quietly pushed the frame up. I reached for the phone, but the cord stuck on the side of the desk. I pulled and maneuvered, but it wouldn’t budge. I hoisted myself up over the ledge so my stomach rested on the sill and my legs hung out behind me.

  I heard Rod’s voice just as the door opened. “I think I saw it in here.” He appeared in the doorway, saw me, and abruptly stopped. He wore a Santa hat.

  I froze, still balanced on the sill and with my outstretched arms holding the cord.

  “Or not.” Rod grabbed the doorknob, then jerked it toward his body.

  The aide took one of the earbuds out and turned his head toward the door. “What now?”

  Behind Rod I saw movement. “No, I think you’re right.” The female ranger tried to look around Rod. “I saw it in there last week.”

  Rod stepped backward. “This isn’t a good time.” He pulled the door tight to his body. “The room’s being used.” He looked at the aide. “Sorry to bother you. Go back to work.”

  “What did you want?”

  “Nothing.” Rod gestured to his ear. “Put your headphone back in. We didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  “Too bad, you have disturbed me. At least tell me why.”

  Rod stammered, unsure what to say. He was actually a pretty good liar, but he was terrible at thinking up the lie.

  I curled my hand into a C-shape and tilted it up and down toward my mouth to mean coffee.

  “We’re drinking,” Rod said.

  “What?” The aide ripped the other earbud out.

  I violently shook my head.

  “No,” Rod rushed to say. “We’re not drinking.”

  I shook my head again and repeated the cup motion.

  “I mean, yes. I think.”

  “We’re looking for the Polaroid,” the female ranger called from behind Rod.

  The aide paused. He looked at Rod in the Santa hat. “Are you drunk?”

  Rod glanced at me. I shook my head and cupped my hand again. This time I tried to mimic steam rising off the top of the cup.

  “I think we’re dancing, maybe.”

  The aide shook his head in disgust. “Go away and don’t come back.” He put the earbuds in and turned back to his laptop.

  Rod gave me a nasty look before shutting the door.

  I waited a few moments, then freed the cord from the side of the desk. I pulled the whole thing outside. I crouched down under the window and dialed information. I scribbled the Elizabeth Police Department’s nonemergency number on my hand with a Sharpie from my cargo pants.

  While I waited for someone to pick up, I took deep breaths. Without realizing it, I tend to telegraph what I’m thinking and feeling. Lately, I’d gotten a lot better at holding more of myself back, but would that be enough to pull off this kind of lie? At least it wasn’t in person.

  After a few more rings, a woman answered. I couldn’t hear well over the air conditioner, but it sounded like the support officer I’d met earlier.

  “Hi,” she said. “Is the governor there yet?”

  Caller ID is a beautiful thing—to subvert. “No, he’s late. But they sent someone from the IO’s staff to babysit us. She says politicians are always late
.”

  “What a waste of manpower.” She paused. “So what can I do for you?”

  I took a breath. “I’m doing some advance work for tomorrow’s crew and we’re wondering about that boat parked out at Road’s End.”

  “What about it?”

  “The deck coordinator left a note that it might be a hazard for the choppers filling up on the lake tomorrow.”

  I froze as a mechanic walked past the side of the building toward the hangar.

  “Don’t worry,” the officer said through the phone. “Search and Rescue brought it in this evening. There’s another waste of manpower.”

  I waited a moment to make sure the mechanic wasn’t returning. “How’d we even know where it was? When I left work this morning, the deck coordinator said we didn’t have the time to search for it.”

  “Yeah, but then the mayor’s office pulled some weight.”

  The Elizabeth government wasn’t big or glamorous. Most elected officials had day jobs, if they weren’t already retired. My best recollection was that the title of mayor passed to a new city council member each year.

  I tried to sound disinterested. “Why was the mayor involved?”

  “It’s Lee Fitzgerald’s boat, so you understand.” I didn’t know who Lee Fitzgerald was, but his last name was on the biggest store in the area. “A friend of the family took it out last night and fell overboard or something.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “Sort of poetic justice. The dead woman is that Egan girl who spray-painted the THINK SAFETY sign back in ’98.”

  My jaw literally fell open.

  “Hello?” The support officer waited and after a moment said, “Are you still there?”

  “Yes, I’m here. It’ just . . . You know they never caught the person who did that.”

  “Everybody knew it was her. Even her dad always said it was her. And she left town right after it happened.”

  My grip on the receiver tightened. “That’s because she turned eighteen. She was a minor before that and couldn’t leave. She didn’t paint the sign.”

  “How do you know?”

  Suddenly the air conditioner cut out. That’s when I heard it— the soft rumble of a helicopter. I paused and the sound got louder as it approached the airstrip. “I have to go. The governor’s here. Thanks.”

  I slammed the phone back into its cradle and jumped up. I found myself face-to-face with the aide. He leaned over the desk and stared at me through the open window.

  “I can explain,” I offered.

  He followed the sound of the helicopter and looked toward the sky. “Is getting involved going to drag me into a local drama and wreck the governor’s schedule?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I don’t want to know.” He ripped the phone out of my hands, then slammed the window shut.

  I ran back around the building.

  Rod was standing at the camera. “What’s going on?” “Later.” I handed him the stick mic and pushed him back to his mark.

  Since KJAY was in breaking-news coverage, they were able to cut right to us. Rod did another fantastic job going live. He’d actually gotten better at it during his time producing. Despite the hated camcorder, I managed a nice pan as the entourage walked from the chopper to the SUVs. I spotted the aide glowering as the governor made a point of shaking hands with each of the officers. Finally they all boarded the vehicles and the entire convoy rolled out for Incident Command Headquarters.

  And that’s how I met the governor of the great state of California for the third time—from twenty yards back, and with absolutely no personal contact.

  Before she left, Bell called the IO on her radio and confirmed that the briefing had been moved back to one thirty. Rod and I called Callum to make plans for the rest of the night. He confirmed KJAY would take the L.A. station’s live feed of the briefing, but said Rod was expected to be there in case the officials took questions. Then KJAY would return to normal programming until four thirty, when Rod and I would need to be ready to go live again.

  “But hopefully you won’t be using the Internet for this live shot,” Callum said through my cell phone’s speaker. “We’re working on something. I’ll let you know in an hour or so for sure.”

  We all said good-bye and I ended the call. I raised my hand before Rod could speak. “Let me make one call and then we’ll talk about what happened in the back office.”

  I walked away and dialed information. Soon I was calling Fitzgerald’s in Tilly Heights. The harried saleswoman who answered said they were still open, but couldn’t guarantee for how long. I managed to keep her on the phone long enough to confirm that Lee Fitzgerald was at the store.

  I returned to the live truck.

  Rod had finished packing the equipment and was waiting for me. “So you want to tell me why you were hanging out the back window of that office?”

  “I needed information. Making a call using their phone was the only way I could get it.”

  “Really? Lying, breaking and entering, making the governor’s aide think I’m a drunk—those were the only possible ways to get information?”

  I cupped my hand and tipped it back and forth. “This is drinking coffee. You were supposed to ask him if he wanted some coffee.”

  Rod’s voice rose. “That’s the international symbol for alcohol.”

  “Then what’s coffee?” “There’s no way to silently communicate drinking coffee because nobody would ever need to keep that secret.” He pulled the silk handkerchief from his suit pocket and ran it along his forehead.

  “I know you’re upset, and I would be too, but I think the woman who drowned in the lake may have been murdered.”

  I gave him a quick rundown and explained about Jessica’s shoulder, the mayor’s involvement, and the police seemingly protecting Fitzgerald. When the time came to tell Rod that I’d known Jessica, I hesitated, then chickened out. I rationalized my silence by telling myself it wasn’t the time or place to tell that complicated story.

  Fortunately, Rod had calmed down by the time I’d finished. “I understand your interest in the drowning, but Callum was right. The fire has to be everyone’s top priority, and that includes you and me.”

  Except I owed Jessica. Not only had she covered for me, but now it sounded as if she’d been blamed for what I’d done to the THINK SAFETY sign all those years ago.

  I looked at my watch. It was 12:15. “We have an hour and fifteen minutes before the briefing. Let’s go to Tilly Heights and visit Fitzgerald’s store.”

  “But that’s the other side of the lake. We don’t have time for that.”

  “It’s not that far.” Rod didn’t say anything, so I added, “Think of all the people who must be there trying to buy supplies at the last minute. We can shoot video about the evacuation and ask questions about the drowning.”

  I could see he liked the idea, but was still wary. “I can’t miss the briefing. You heard Callum. I’m supposed to ask questions. I’m the entire press corps tonight.”

  “I promise we’ll leave in time. No matter what. We’ll pick up and walk out in midsentence if we have to.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “Please, Rod. I need your help.”

  His blue eyes shifted down and he looked at me.

  “This is why I asked you to come up here. It wasn’t because of the governor. I need you to help me get answers about this drowning.”

  I drove back south on the Lake Road in the live truck and Rod followed in his news van. We passed the turnoff for Search and Rescue headquarters down at the lake, and then the complex of local government buildings the sergeant had thrown me out of. The road hooked around and suddenly we were in Tilly Heights. A drive of a few minutes, and property values had tripled.

  The original Fitzgerald’s, or Fitz’s as everyone called it, had opened over thirty years ago in Elizabeth. The store wasn’t fancy, but served the needs of its customers. Five years ago it had closed and reopened in Tilly Heights. The new
Fitz’s stocked gourmet groceries, electronics, home goods, and even hunting and fishing supplies. It had become a locally owned, upscale Target.

  I pulled into the large parking lot. It was paved and well lit, unlike the lots common on the western shore. The bright electric FITZGERALD’S sign was shining from the top of the storefront. Rod and I each found spaces. The constant flow of cars in and out had created ridges of ash, one of which Rod stepped in getting out.

  He tried to dust off his shoes with a Kleenex, but it was a losing battle. “Is it just me, or is the ash worse here?”

  “The smoke is worse too.” I took my camera, sticks, and gear bag and locked the truck. Rod knew better than to try to help me with my gear. “This side of the lake is closer to the fire. I hate to break it to you, but your clothes are probably starting to smell.”

  He nodded in a bearing-his-burden-stoically kind of way that reminded me of Brad Egan.

  Near the store entrance, we passed an overweight man on a ladder nailing plywood to the large store windows. He wore a handkerchief over his nose and mouth as protection from the smoke. Half of the windows to the left of the automatic door were covered, but he was working by himself and looked as if he had a long night ahead of him.

  The man looked at my camera, but then turned back to his work as though he hadn’t noticed us. That was an unusual reaction, but I put it down to his urgent need to finish his task.

  The automatic doors opened. Perfumed air blasted us as we stepped inside. The lighting was soft and tasteful. The employees all wore green dress shirts and khaki pants. Wreaths of dried flowers hung at every checkout. Everything in the store felt elegant and relaxed. Everything except the people.

  “That was mine,” a woman at the checkout said. “I saw you take it right off the belt.” She lunged and tried to rip a bottle of water out of a man’s hands. The checker jumped in between them.

  Behind the registers, the aisles were bumper-to-bumper with carts and shoppers. The noise from so many voices almost drowned out the tasteful classical music playing overhead.

  Rod pulled me back against the windows as a man rushed past. He was pushing a cart with his elbows and texting with his hands.