“Sort of. I’m a shooter.” I gestured to the closed trailer. “I recorded you with the horse. Is it okay if I interview you too?”
His smile under the handkerchief faded. He glanced at his father, who’d already gone back to work spreading wood shavings on the floor of the second trailer. “I don’t know. We’re leaving as soon as my mom gets back.”
“Running away is more like it.” Grandpa took off toward the house. “Eighty-five years I’ve been here and more fires than I can count. Never left. Never left once . . .” His rant petered out as he got farther from us.
“Dad, wait.” Pete’s father started after the old man, but stopped when he saw a woman approaching on horseback. He pointed at his son. “Here she is. If there’s anything else you want in the house, get it now. We may not be able to make another trip.” Pete’s father turned and ran to the house.
Pete hurried to meet the horse and rider.
I followed. “Do I have permission to videotape you?”
He reached out for the horse’s reins. “I guess so.” He held the horse steady while the woman dismounted. “How’d it go?” he said to her.
I put the camera back on my shoulder and started recording.
“As well as it could, under the circumstances.” She wore a handkerchief and goggles. “I got them down to the lower pasture, at least.”
She saw me so I said, “I’m from KJAY in Bakersfield. What are your plans for your animals?”
She lowered her goggles and handkerchief. “I’m getting this one into the barn.”
I followed as she led the horse inside.
I immediately adjusted my camera settings for the different light while she and Pete removed the saddle. The smell of hay and animals inside the old wooden structure almost overpowered the fire.
“Can you talk a little bit about your plans?” I turned the camera on the woman. “And where your animals are going?”
She began walking the horse up and down the length of the barn. “We’ve got three horses at the shelter in Elizabeth already and we’ll drop off these last two now.” She pointed at Pete. “Go make sure the trailer’s ready.”
Pete ran out.
“What about the cattle?” I said.
She turned the horse at the end of the barn and began walking back toward us. “We got about a dozen out, but there’s no more time. We have to go.”
“What’s going to happen to the ones left behind?”
“I don’t know, but leaving them is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.”
“You’re talking like they’re dead already.” Pete had returned and overheard her. “But they’ll be okay in the lower pasture. There’s marshland down there.” He turned to me and I instinctively swung the camera to him. “Animals survive all the time if they can make it to water. One of the firefighters told me.”
“I hope you’re right,” Pete’s mom said, bringing the horse forward. “Except with the drought this year, there’s less water coming down the creek feeding the marshes.”
They loaded the horse into the second trailer. Once the door was secured, Pete’s mom pointed at him. “Check the trucks again. Make sure everything is secure. I’m going to check the barn one last time.”
I followed her back inside. “Do you know what happened to the McClellans who used to own all the land on the other side of the highway?”
She stopped and looked at me. “The kids were grown and moved away long before old Mr. McClellan sold everything. I think he moved to San Diego.” She went back to checking the stalls. “Probably better that way. He didn’t have to stay and see the weirdo living at Bonny Hazel now with his own personal harem.”
She joined me at the doors and shut off the overhead lights. “We may be a little gossipy around here, but there are too many stories about those people’s shenanigans for it all to be untrue.”
Her husband appeared in the doorway. “I got Grandpa in the truck. Let’s go.”
We all went back outside.
The mother stopped. “The vet papers. I left them by the door.” She started toward the house.
“No.” Pete started running. “Let me get it. Grandpa needs your help.”
I ran after the young man. I was slowed by the camera. By the time I caught up, he’d already gone inside. He picked up some papers by the door and then hesitated. He glanced around the living room. The lights were off, but you could recognize the obvious missing pieces—a dark square on the wall where a picture once hung, the end table sitting by itself without a chair.
“I need to ask you a couple questions about the lake yesterday,” I said. “Does Arnaldo have access to a boat?”
Pete looked surprised by the question, but answered, “Sure. He’s practically in charge of Search and Rescue.”
“Could he have used the Search and Rescue boat to go to Road’s End?”
“Anyone with a key to the gate can take the boat out.” Pete frowned at me. “What’s this about?”
I didn’t answer. “When you and Arnaldo went to do the dive yesterday, did he tell you the dead woman was his ex-girlfriend?”
It was obvious from Pete’s expression that Arnaldo hadn’t. “I don’t know anything about that, but if you think Arnaldo did something wrong, you’re way off base. He’s a great guy. He’s working, like, three jobs so his wife can stay home with their daughters. He’s the guy who takes care of everybody.”
“Did you come up to the surface after the two of you found the body?” I watched as Pete’s annoyance with me turned into dislike. “How long was Arnaldo alone with the body? Could he have sabotaged the autopsy?”
“Arnaldo would never do that.” Pete walked forward and forced me out the door. “If you have questions, go talk to him instead of asking me behind his back.”
“I don’t know where he is.”
Pete shut the door. “He’s doing first aid.”
The trucks pulling the horses stopped in front of the house. Their headlights backlit the smoke in the air.
I followed Pete around to the passenger door. “Where is Arnaldo doing first aid?”
“I don’t know.” He opened the door. “He was here last night helping us with the cattle. Then he left to go help the Red Cross.” Pete got in the truck and reached for the door.
I shoved my shoulder into the gap before he could get it closed.
“Hey, what’s going on here?” the father said.
“I need to know where Arnaldo Bedolla is.”
He reached across Pete and grabbed the door. “He’s at the spike camp.”
I stepped back. Both pickups drove away towing the horse trailers.
Bell’s SUV pulled up. I walked around to the passenger side and got in.
Bell turned on her windshield wipers and sprayed cleaner on the glass. The dirty area outside the wiper’s path was almost black. “Sorry. This crew’s too busy for interviews.”
“That’s okay. I got what I needed.”
She gave it some gas and we started back out to the highway.
“Can you take me to the spike camp?” I said. “That’s where Bedolla is.”
“Which one?”
I turned to look at her. “There’s more than one?”
“This fire is over seventy thousand acres. Yes, there’s more than one spike camp.”
Spike camps were remote and usually near the fire line. Hand crews such as the one Brad Egan was on needed a place closer in where they could replenish supplies and get access to first aid.
“I guess start at the closest one.”
She nodded. “All right. Brad Egan’s down that way too.
At the highway we turned right. We passed two trucks going the opposite direction and had to shield our eyes from their powerful headlights.
“They’re starting to clear out,” she said. “We’ve probably only got another hour or two before we have to leave too.”
A little farther ahead, we slowed and then turned at a sign advertising a public campground. Bell
switched on her windshield wipers and left them on. The stream of ash and embers was constant now. We followed the twisty dirt road through pine trees until we reached the campground.
It was still fairly dark, but I was able to make out several fire trucks and other official vehicles parked there. Among them was a large SUV with the Elizabeth Search and Rescue logo.
Bell looked out the windshield. “Hopefully my car is here.”
“Your car?”
“I gave it to Brad Egan last night so he could drive back to his crew. I need to get it back in case the fire blows up.” She smiled. “That is, if you don’t mind driving this one.”
“I can’t take it all the way to headquarters. Rod’s expecting me.”
“We’ll work something out.”
Bell parked the SUV next to a large truck two men were loading with supplies. We raised our handkerchiefs and got out. A burning leaf floated between us and landed in the ash. Bell put it out with her boot.
“How far are we from the fire line?” I asked.
Her eyes crinkled up and I knew she was smiling. “Don’t worry. We’re not close and the winds are still fairly low.”
I looked around. Several Hotshots sat at a picnic table devouring sandwiches under their handkerchiefs. It was so dark that they had a Coleman lantern on the table with them.
Bell pointed to a large tent next to the campground’s public restrooms. A light inside made the white fabric glow in the halflight. “That’s first aid. If Bedolla is helping the Red Cross, he’ll be inside.”
I collected my gear and started walking. The closer we got, the more hopeful I felt—as in, I was hoping a murderer was inside. Not the everything-will-work-out, spiritual-grace kind of hope.
We entered. The tent’s fabric made a thumping noise as the wind jostled it. A work light on a stand illuminated a folding table, cot, and several camp chairs. In the corner, clear plastic bins filled with medical supplies were stacked in rows. More supplies were laid out on the table. Arnaldo Bedolla was using them to replace the dressing on a shirtless Hotshot’s arm. The young man’s pants and boots were caked in dirt and grime. His torso wasn’t much cleaner.
Bedolla wore the same dark green pants and orange Search and Rescue shirt as he had at the body retrieval. I tried to recognize the man who’d almost drowned me, but couldn’t. All I’d seen were a pair of men’s legs in dark pants. It could have been Bedolla or Farris or Professor Polignac or just about any other man in the area.
He glanced up at us. “Hello.” He looked older than the day before. Exhaustion does that to people.
The firefighter turned to see who’d entered. When the relatively young man saw my camera, he grinned. I doubted I could muster that kind of enthusiasm while smelling as bad as he did. Then I remembered that I probably did smell as bad as he did.
I lowered the handkerchief and spoke to Bedolla. “I’m Lilly Hawkins from KJAY. We met yesterday at Lake Elizabeth.”
“I remember.” He didn’t sound alarmed or worried. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m Firefighter Tracy Bell with the information officer’s staff.” She gestured to me. “I’m escorting Lilly on a ride-along. She’d like an interview, when you’re free.”
Bedolla finished applying a piece of tape to a gauze pad on the firefighter’s arm. “I’m free now, but I’m no good at that sort of thing. You should talk to one of the boys.”
He’d declined to be interviewed at the lakeshore too, which in retrospect should have made me suspicious. Everyone wants to be on TV.
A truth the young Hotshot was about to illustrate. “I’ll give you an interview.” He pulled a clean navy-blue T-shirt over his head and covered his perfect abs. “My mom’ll go crazy if I’m on TV.”
Bell started to say something, but I cut her off. “Sorry. I’m looking for civilians.”
The Hotshot was disappointed, but he recovered and turned to Bedolla while touching the new bandage. “Thanks, you’re the best.”
“You need to be more careful out there.” Bedolla spoke like a caring but reserved father. “It’s not a bad cut, but you need to do a better job of keeping it clean.”
“I promise I will.” The Hotshot’s tone abruptly changed. “Grandpa.”
Bedolla grinned at him. “Get out of here.” The Hotshot left and Bedolla spoke to Bell. “You should wait until the Red Cross nurse gets back. She ran down to the fire line to assist with an injury, but she’ll be back soon.”
Bell frowned. “Nothing serious, I hope.”
“Broken ankle.” Bedolla picked up the bloodied gauze pads and threw them away. “She’s getting the kid stabilized until the medevac chopper arrives.”
It took all my willpower not to run for the car. Video of a firefighter being airlifted to the hospital would get played over and over on every major news outlet.
“I didn’t hear anything.” Bell’s head dropped. She immediately began adjusting knobs and buttons on the radio strapped to her chest.
“Why don’t you call them from outside while I shoot this?” I planted my sticks in front of Bedolla.
If this worked, it would remove my biggest obstacle. Bell had been ordered to help me and knew my primary focus was the drowning and not the fire, but she had no idea I suspected Bedolla of wrongdoing. There was no way she’d stand by once I began hammering him with accusations.
Bell glanced at Bedolla. He nodded his head and then sat down in the folding chair next to the table. Bell looked relieved. “Okay. I’ll only be a minute or two.”
I attached the camera to the tripod, then hit record. “Say and spell your name for me.”
Bedolla complied while removing his rubber gloves.
I took a seat next to the camera. “Tell me about Jessica Egan.”
Bedolla froze. “Jessica? Why do you want to know about her?”
“You pulled her body from the lake yesterday, right?”
He nodded. “You know I did. You were there.”
“And you found her boat out at Road’s End?”
“Not just me. There were three of us.” He thought for a moment. “You didn’t really come all this way to ask about Jessica? Don’t you want to know about the fire?”
I ignored his question. “Why didn’t you tell anyone you knew her? Isn’t it against protocol to pull your ex-girlfriend’s body out of the water?”
He frowned. “No, actually it’s not, and I did tell people.”
“Who?”
“I said right away, as soon as I heard it was Jessica.” He looked at me. “And not because it was a conflict of interest, like you’re implying. I was upset. I didn’t want to see her like that.”
I thought back to his behavior at the lakeshore. Bedolla had stood by, silently loading equipment, while the local officer talked about the trashy bimbo who’d gotten herself killed. “So your official statement is that the officer on the scene knew about your prior relationship?”
He shook his head. “I don’t remember specifically if he knew or not, but I told plenty of people. I had to be talked into making that dive. It’s bad enough pulling a body from the water. It’s horrific when it’s someone you care about.”
“Were you still in love with her?”
“Of course not. I haven’t seen Jessica in almost fourteen years.” He stood up. “I don’t want to talk anymore. Turn that thing off.”
This is where Rod would have stepped in and said something nice. That was pretty much beyond me, so I turned off the camera and stood too. “I think Jessica was murdered.”
“What?”
“Pete freaked out and returned to the surface when you found the body, didn’t he? You had ample opportunity to sabotage the autopsy.”
“Why would I do that?” He stared at me for a moment, then understanding flashed across his face. Unfortunately he started laughing. “You think I killed Jessica? Are you serious?”
“She broke your heart. You’ve probably hated her all these years.”
He laughed again
and sat back down. “Jessica and I were friends when we were kids. Our going out just sort of happened when we hit puberty, but I wouldn’t say my feelings were particularly deep. More like, neither of us knew there were any other options.”
“That’s the only reason you dated her?”
He raised one of his legs and set the ankle across his knee. “Jessica’s older brother, Brad, was a big deal around here. We went to all his football and basketball games. Jessica used to worship him. We all did.” He lowered the leg he’d just raised. “I’m not proud of this, but dating Brad Egan’s sister was like dating royalty.”
“But she dumped you. That’s humiliating.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t mind when she broke it off. After her mother died, she turned into a freaky hippie, and not even at a time when everyone was doing it, like in the sixties. This was the nineties. People were watching Seinfeld and figuring out the Internet.”
This was not going well. Bedolla was giving reasonable answers to all of my questions. He wasn’t nervous or panicking.
“Let’s cut to the chase here. I couldn’t have hurt Jessica.” He began putting medical supplies away. “I was here from noon Wednesday to noon Thursday. I only left because they needed me to dive.”
“Oh,” I said.
He smiled. “Apology accepted.”
SEVENTEEN
Friday, 7:47 a.m.
The adrenaline I’d been running on started to fade. I sat down and rubbed my head.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” Bedolla said.
“It’s not personal. It’s just that I’m back to square one. I have no idea what happened to Jessica.”
He looked up from the supplies. “You really think she was murdered?”
“She had a bad shoulder. She never could have started the boat by herself.”
He thought for a moment. When he did finally speak, he sounded troubled. “That’s right. I remember. She busted up her shoulder really bad trying to impress her brother.”
“Trying to impress him, how?”
“Brad was hot on archery and Jessica kept bugging him to teach her. He finally got annoyed and dared her to even try to draw his bow. It was a recurve, probably as tall as she was.” Bedolla shook his head. “It did not end well.”
Hot, Shot, and Bothered Page 20