I was running back to the car to try to get out of the wind and smoke when my phone rang. I didn’t know the caller, but recognized the area code as L.A.
I shut the door and answered, “This is Lilly.”
“I’m sorry,” a woman said. “I was calling for Rod Strong.”
I remembered that Rod had given me his station phone after I lost mine in the lake. “This is his shooter. I’m using this phone today.”
“Can you put Rod on real fast? He knows me. Tell him it’s Helen Henry from KBLA.”
“I’m not with him. I’m down at the fire line shooting video.”
“Are you the one who shot that interview with the governor?”
“Yes.”
“Fantastic work.” She paused. “Look, we should talk later. You and Rod make a great team and we’re always looking for talent.”
“You can reach Rod on his personal cell phone. I’ll give you the number.”
“I’ve already got it. We go way back.” I heard her clicking a mouse. “Here it is. Okay, good talking to you.” She hung up.
Bell returned. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Let’s get going. I want to get back to the satellite truck and start feeding this video.”
Bell gave me the keys to her car and told me to follow.
“Don’t you want to drive your own car?”
She shook her head. “The Santa Theresa rig belongs to the IO. I wouldn’t feel right letting someone else drive it without his permission—especially a journalist.”
I agreed to follow her over the summit and down to Tilly Heights, where someone else would take it the rest of the way. Bell promised to then take me back to Rod and the satellite truck. At the highway we turned left and started toward the mountain. I felt an almost instant release of tension. The mass of red, gray, and black filled my rearview mirror instead of my windshield.
The smoke lessened. Halfway up the mountain I switched off the windshield wipers. I kept the headlights on, but not because I couldn’t see the road without them.
We neared the overpass and I slowed to glance down at the barely flowing creek. I thought about the cattle Pete’s mom had taken down in the marshes. How could they survive a firestorm a hundred times worse than the one I’d just witnessed?
The sound of tires shrieking against asphalt brought my attention back to the road. Bell’s taillights jerked and then jumped into the air. I slammed on my brakes. Her SUV flipped. Glass shattered and metal smashed into the pavement. I jerked hard to the left as the massive vehicle rolled past me and into the nature preserve’s fence.
EIGHTEEN
Friday, 8:59 a.m.
My Suv tilted and for a moment I thought I was going to roll too, but then it righted and came to a stop.
With my engine still running I jumped out and raced to Bell. I heard a sharp pop in the distance and then behind me the sound of breaking glass, but I was too focused on getting to Bell to care.
The SUV had gone straight through the fence and landed right-side up in the trees. It faced out toward the road, but I couldn’t see Bell through the web of shattered and cracked glass that was now the windshield.
Without slowing I continued my sprint around the SUV to the driver’s-side door. The window had fallen out and I reached in, trying to deflate the air bag. “Tracy? Tracy, can you hear me?” With my other hand I pulled the phone out of my pocket and checked for bars. I had none.
“Get . . . ,” I heard her say.
I hit the air bag and what looked like talcum powder flew out of it. “Tracy, it’s Lilly.”
“Get down.”
I gave the bag another punch. “Don’t worry. I’m calling 911. I just need to get a signal.”
“No,” she said. “Get down.”
“We’ll get you down from the mountain. I promise.”
“Not me,” she managed to say. “You get down.” Bell turned her head. Pieces of glass fell from her hair. Blood trickled from cuts on her forehead and nose. She took a gasp of air and said, “Sniper.”
Another pop sounded in the distance. A bullet pierced the metal frame of the windshield inches from my head. I dropped to the ground. The SUV gave me cover, but Bell was exposed. I yanked on her door, but it was too damaged to open. “Tracy, you need to get down on the seat. Can you do that?”
“I think so.” I heard the seat belt unbuckle, then she cried out.
I jumped up. “Tracy?”
She was lying on her side. “I think my ribs are broken.”
Another pop. A bullet cracked the windshield and continued through the driver’s headrest.
I fell to the ground again. “I don’t have any bars and we’re pinned. Is your radio working?”
“No. The air bag hit it.” She paused to take several difficult breaths. “I think that’s what broke my ribs.”
“Do you know where the sniper is? Did you see anything?”
“There was a muzzle flash from the fruit stands when he shot my tire out.” Her voice was fading and the pauses were getting longer. “He was waiting.”
If she was right, then the trees would probably hide the rear of the SUV. Should I try to get a signal back there? Was it safe enough to stand?
I rolled over onto my belly and looked out the underside of the vehicle. Directly across the road, my SUV sat with the engine still running and the door ajar.
I sat back up and leaned against the driver’s door. “Tracy,” I said. “Can you hold on until someone drives by? They’ll have to stop when they see the accident.”
No answer. “Tracy,” I repeated. Still no answer.
I grabbed the door handle and pulled. “Tracy, can you hear me?”
The door wouldn’t budge. I jerked it with all my strength. The SUV rocked back and forth.
Another crack. As I dropped backward into the dirt, a terrible pop exploded from the remaining front tire. Pain and a high-pitched ringing filled my left ear. I watched as the entire SUV slowly tilted down toward the deflating tire.
I crawled to the rear. I didn’t cautiously inch my way up or throw something in the air first to make sure it was safe. I leapt to my feet. My hand held the phone in the air and pointed it in every direction. No signal. I thought about running into the trees, but that would leave Bell defenseless.
I tore off the yellow jacket. It easily covered my forearm. I pulled back, then smashed it into the fragile rear window. The cracked glass fell like a curtain. I put my arm through and pulled out the first thing I touched. First-aid supplies. I reached farther in and threw aside two fire blankets. Underneath, a jack, a tire iron, gallon jugs of water, a fire extinguisher. Nothing I could use.
A black plastic case sat out of my reach up against the rear of the backseat. I put my torso in through the window and reached for it.
My ear still rang, but I thought I heard Bell moan.
“Tracy?” I said.
My chest stung where it rested against the glass at the bottom of the window, but I pushed myself even farther and grabbed at the plastic briefcase. I made contact and pulled it toward me.
I opened it, paused for a moment, then crawled with it back to the driver’s-side door. The sniper must have seen movement because a bullet hit the dirt near my foot. “I’ve had just about enough of this,” I mumbled.
I took both flare guns from the case and loaded them. I raised one and shot straight into the air. Without pausing I dropped it and grabbed the other. I leapt up and fired straight across the hood of the SUV. The sparking red missile tore through the twilight and exploded into the fruit stands.
Nonessential personnel were kept out. Bell, still unconscious, was stabilized first by firefighters who quickly drove up from the bottom of the mountain, and then by two Red Cross nurses who were allowed in from Tilly Heights. At some point a hand crew arrived. They went to work cutting down trees lining a designated section of highway so the medevac chopper could land. This all felt like hours, but in reality was probably only twenty minutes.
I tried to explain what had happened, and why I thought I was the target, but knew I sounded overwrought.
“Whoever the gunman was,” I said, “he must have fled back into the trees behind the fruit stands.” I pointed. “There’s a driveway there too. You need to warn whoever lives up there. They might be in danger.”
“They’ve all evacuated.” The deputy took out a map and pointed to where we were. “And that area back in there is full of unmapped dirt roads. If this fellow had a car in the trees, then he’s already gone.”
“Then at least go check Bonny Hazel. The gunman could have run across the road into the nature preserve when I wasn’t looking.”
The deputy didn’t say anything.
“You should hurry. If it was someone at Bonny Hazel, they could be destroying evidence.”
“The thing is, miss, are you sure it was deliberate?” His voice had the slow quality people use when speaking to small children. “Isn’t it possible someone was shooting at an animal and your vehicle got hit? Everyone knows we’ve got cougars in the area. Some idiot might have decided to drive up here and bag one.”
Before I could finish yelling at him, he got pulled away by a call on his radio.
That’s when Byrdie Fitzgerald arrived in her SUV. She wore a pink-and-black suit and black heels.
I went to meet her. “You got here fast.”
She tied a black handkerchief over her face and shut her car door. The burnt oil smell from the chain saws and the sharp odor of freshly cut timber were actually worse than the smoke. “I was getting a tour of the firebreak above Tilly Heights when the call came over the radio.”
“I thought only essential personnel were being let in.”
“I told them I was essential.” She was back to sounding sweet and upbeat, but I didn’t doubt her ability to force her way through a roadblock. “Would you mind bringing me up-to-date on what happened?”
I gave her the quickie version and finished by saying, “It’s time someone called in the BII.” The California Bureau of Investigation & Intelligence was sort of like the FBI for California, but their assistance had to be requested.
“My police chief won’t like bringing in outsiders, but you’re right, we need help. I’ll push him.” She looked at me and frowned. “Maybe you should think about getting some serious medical attention.”
“Do I look that bad?”
She smiled. “Let’s just say, you’ve seen better days.”
We both heard a sound and looked up. Seconds later I was running for my camera. I stayed tight on the helicopter and then did a smooth pullout to a wide shot as it landed. I was above it on the road, so the red sky appeared behind the gradually sinking chopper.
I was speaking with the pilots when the KBLA satellite truck arrived.
Rod jumped out and ran to me. “What happened? Are you all right?”
I started to tell him that I’d never been in any real danger, but stopped. Why even try? Rod could smell a lie on me from a mile away. “I think I almost died, again.”
He put his arms around me. For once I let him.
I brought him up-to-date on what I’d learned and included how everyone at Bonny Hazel had lied about Jessica’s visits. When I finished, I handed him my tape. “Here’s everything I shot.”
He took it. “Why are you giving it to me?”
“I’m also going to need you to take my gear for a little while.”
“I love you too,” he said.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. I’ve never seen you trust anyone with your gear before. It’s like a normal person declaring their undying love.”
“Very funny.” I gestured to the medevac. It was backlit by the red-and-black view down the mountain. The pilots looked almost ready to go. “They’re taking Bell to Bakersfield and I’m hitching a ride. I need to get a definite answer about whether or not Jessica had her shoulder repaired when she lived in L.A.”
I waited, but Rod didn’t say anything. “I thought you’d be happy I’m leaving. This gets me out of the line of fire. Whoever keeps trying to kill me won’t get a third chance.”
He reluctantly nodded. “You’re right. I’ll drive down to Bakersfield after you and we’ll make a plan from there.”
“No. It’ll take you hours to get through traffic and down the canyon. Besides, you’re needed here.” I gestured down the mountain to the sea of flames and smoke. “The fire is too important a story and you have a lot riding on this . . . career-wise.”
“I could care less about my career.”
I shook my head. “You should care. You’re bored out of your mind producing the eleven. I didn’t want to see it, but tonight you’ve been like a kid in a candy store.”
Dennis approached. He handed Rod a handkerchief. “We should be ready to go live in a couple minutes.
Rod thanked him and tied the handkerchief over his nose and mouth.
Dennis looked at me before starting to walk away. “Glad you’re okay, Lilly. We were pretty scared when we heard the radio call.”
He returned to his truck and Rod pulled me toward the tree line.
After we’d taken a few steps into the forest he lowered his handkerchief. “Maybe I have been bored, but that doesn’t mean I want to go back on camera.” He took a breath. “And that’s not me using you as an excuse to stay here because I’m afraid to try. You’re insulting us both if you really believe that.”
“Then why are you still here?”
His forehead creased. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I lowered my handkerchief too. My voice was remarkably calm considering how I felt. “You’re handsome and rich. You’ve got a doctorate from one of the best schools in the country. You’re practically a celebrity. Why would you choose to live in the meth capital of California with a contrary, breaking-news junkie who has a high school diploma and a trashy past she can’t talk about?” I paused. “It makes no sense.”
His face melted and he put his arms around me. “Sweetheart, I wish I had your past. While you were having fun, I was pretending to be someone I’m not, and hiding all the things I really love because they weren’t cool. There’s nothing you ever did that could be more pathetic than that.”
Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or maybe I felt guilty about not confessing to Brad Egan, but I didn’t hesitate to try to prove Rod wrong. “Oh, yeah? You know what the prank was, that Jessica got blamed for? I went out to the THINK SAFETY sign with a couple guys I’d known five seconds. We took two six-packs of beer and some spray paint and I got up there and changed the wording. I changed 54 LIVES LOST SINCE 1955 to 54,000 LIZARDS LOST SINCE 1955. Then I drew a green thing on the bottom with a red stripe.”
“Sweetheart, that’s terrible.” He pulled back to look at me, but didn’t let go. “It’s a salamander not a lizard.”
His face was deadly serious. Then the corners of his mouth began to twitch.
“You’re making jokes?” My voice rose. “It’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
“No, it’s not. Don’t you get it?” I pulled away. “The sign didn’t mean anything to me, but it means something to the people who live here. Those numbers are human beings. There were parents of kids that drowned who had to see what I did to that sign.”
Rod’s voice was getting hoarse. “I’m not saying it wasn’t bad, but it doesn’t define who you are right now.”
“Rod, there is no magic do-over button. We don’t get second chances to erase mistakes and try again.”
An engine started, followed by the whine of the propeller blades beginning to spin. I ran back out to my gear bag and Rod followed.
“Hey,” one of the pilots shouted. “We’re ready to go.”
I picked up my gear bag and then turned to Rod. “Please, please take good care of my camera.”
“I love you too,” he yelled as I ran for the chopper.
I climbed inside and with some help got strapped into a chair. “Hey, you wa
nt some coffee?” One of the pilots turned from the front seat. I recognized him from the airstrip. “I’ve got a fantastic fair-trade Sumatra. It’s not a great morning coffee, but I like the juicy acidity.”
Lilly Hawkins drinking coffee is one of the biblical signs of the apocalypse. In a mark of just how messed up I felt, I said yes and drank it all.
Twenty minutes later we landed on the roof of Bakersfield Medical Center. I ducked into an elevator while everyone was focused on Bell. I walked out the main entrance. A KJAY news van was double-parked outside. I opened the sliding side door and climbed in. “Do you know what the ticket is for parking in an ambulance zone?”
Freddy turned from the driver’s seat. “You’re welcome, dude. It’s a total pleasure to chauffeur you around on our day off.”
“I’m sorry.” I fastened my seat belt. “Thank you for coming to get me. I’m only giving you a hard time because I don’t want Trent to fire you.”
“I totally told him not to park here.” Teddy reached back from the front passenger seat and offered a white Smith’s Bakeries bag. “But he was freaking that you shouldn’t be walking out to the parking lot, you know, ’cause you’re, like, messed up.”
I took the bag and then turned to Freddy. “Really?”
He shrugged. “I can’t let anything happen to you, dude. It would take months to break in a new chief.”
I pulled one of my favorite sun-shaped, smiley-face cookies from Teddy’s bag. “Thanks.”
“So where to?” Freddy said. “Back home to Casa Hawkins in Oildale?”
“How do you feel about a road trip?”
I slept most of the way. I awoke at one point to the sound of the Wonder Twins’ angry voices.
“Dude, get your head out of your butt,” Freddy said. “If John Mellencamp went on a murder spree, and Bruce Springsteen took him down, Springsteen is totally the get.”
“I totally think it’s Mellencamp,” Teddy said. “He’s the one who acted all crazy and out of character. You expect Springsteen to stop him because he’s a badass. He’s just doing what he always does, being awesome. Mellencamp is the get because he did the weird thing.”
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