“But didn’t they tell you to evacuate?”
Dennis shook his head. “I told him it was a bad idea, but he said it would only take a minute, but now it’s been an hour and I’m really starting to worry.”
“Why would he go to Bonny Hazel now?”
Dennis got a map out of his truck. “After he called you about the phone messages, he found a GPS program on the dead lady’s phone.” He opened the map to Mt. Terrill. “There were a bunch of saved locations down in L.A., but only two here.”
Dennis pointed to where Rod had drawn a small red circle in the valley and scribbled a set of coordinates directly on the map. “He got all excited because this is where the wildfire started two weeks ago. The dead lady had the exact spot saved in her GPS.” Dennis’s finger ran up the mountain and stopped at a similar circle to the northeast of Bonny Hazel. “He said he needed to go check the other location before the fire came through and destroyed whatever was there.”
I tried to take a deep breath, but my heart was beating too fast. “Have you tried calling him?”
“There’s no answer, but that doesn’t mean anything. The worse the smoke gets at the top of the mountain, the worse cell reception gets.”
“How long has it been since you split up?”
“An hour. Maybe a little more.”
“Okay.” I looked one direction and then the other. “We need the police right now.”
“There’s nobody here. Looting broke out in Tilly Heights. They got groups of kids mixed in with real criminal types. They’re all running around busting windows, grabbing stuff. They got houses getting broken into. It’s a mess over there.”
I pulled out my phone and dialed the station. Callum picked up on the first ring. “Lilly, good. You took a news van without asking, which normally I’d be mad about, but since we need you and Rod over in Tilly Heights, I forgive you. Get over there right away. We’re hearing all kinds of scanner traffic about—”
“Stop talking and listen. I think they were growing the pot in two locations. Rod got the coordinates of the second grow off Jessica’s phone. He went to go check it out and now he’s missing.”
“Did you try calling his cell?”
“He’s not answering.” I barely paused before continuing. “If they were trying to salvage plants before the fire, then Rod would have walked right in on them.”
“Okay. I’m getting numbers and making calls.” I heard him pounding on a keyboard, then he screamed into the newsroom, “Everybody, over here. I mean everybody.”
“You need to get help,” I said. “I’m counting on you. Everyone here is gone fighting the fire or the looters.”
“I’m putting you on hold for a second.”
“No. I’m hanging up and then texting you the coordinates.”
His voice rose. “Why are you hanging up? Don’t do anything stupid.”
I hit the end button, then texted the coordinates.
Dennis looked pale and shaken. “You don’t really think something could have happened to him?”
I dug into my gear bag and found Lucero’s business card. “You need to raise the alarm here. Tell anybody you can find.” I handed him the card. “Call this detective too. He knows all about the murder.” I got back in the news van. “Give them the coordinates and tell them we need help.”
“Wait.” Dennis tried to stop my shutting the door, but failed. “You’ll never get through. They’ve got the highway blocked off at Tilly Heights.”
I started the engine. “I know a back way.”
Dennis pounded on my window. “You don’t have time. The fire could blow up any minute.”
“Then you better get help fast.”
TWENTY-TWO
Friday, 4:55 p.m.
I drove like a madwoman. I should have been stopped and arrested for reckless driving, but all the police were in Tilly Heights.
I pulled in behind the building and cut the engine. “Bud,” I screamed, before I was even out of the van. I ran to the back door and threw it open.
Inside the kitchen, Bud froze with a baker’s tray in his hands.
I tried to catch my breath. “Rod’s trapped on the other side of the mountain at a marijuana grow and the fire is coming and if we don’t go save him, he’s going to die.”
Bud dropped the tray and started for the door.
Outside, he stopped me on the way to the news van. “My ride this time.” I barely had time to retrieve my gear bag before he’d jumped in the Double Down Donuts van and started the engine.
If I’d driven like a madwoman, Bud drove like a madman on speed. I tried to give him directions to the back road over the mountain—the one the officer thought the sniper used—but he knew that route better than me. “I’ve been usin’ it to make deliveries,” he said. “You just make sure your seat belt works.”
He made incredible time, and soon we’d driven up the southern side of Tilly Heights, crossed over the ridge, and were on the other side of the mountain. Bud had a radio in his car and we listened for emergency traffic. Bell had said that the fire wouldn’t blow up until it reached the foothills. Once that happened, the blowup might occur immediately, never, or any point in between.
Fortunately, the fire still hadn’t reached the foothills when we emerged on Highway 55 from behind the fruit stands. Bud barely slowed before crossing the road and entering the nature preserve. I told myself not to look down the mountain as we crossed. The view ahead was upsetting enough. If it weren’t for the heat, we could have been in a snowstorm in the middle of the night. The windshield wipers couldn’t remove the ash and debris fast enough. The wind gusted and roared against the sides of the van.
We reached the fork where the BONNY HAZEL sign pointed to the left. I gestured to the road on the right, where a gate blocked access. “According to Rod’s map, the grow is about two miles in.”
Bud backed up. “Hold on.”
He floored it. Fortunately, the gate had been left unlocked. One of Bud’s headlights cracked, but otherwise the damage was minimal.
I don’t know how long we drove. My perception of time was alternately slowed down and sped up. We didn’t have a GPS, so there was no way to know how close we were to Jessica’s coordinates.
I saw the KJAY truck in the headlights. “Stop.”
The truck was unlocked, but empty. I found the yellow firefighter’s jacket inside with my camera and sticks. I put on the jacket and tied a handkerchief around my mouth. The digital camcorder we’d used at the airstrip was sitting on the counter with Rod’s laptop. I dropped it into one of the coat pockets along with my Swiss army knife, Mace, and two flashlights. I got out.
Bud stood next to the entrance to an even smaller dirt road cutting straight down the mountain. He was shielding his face from the wind so I handed him a handkerchief. After putting it on, he pointed down the road. “It’s down there, Little Sister.”
“How do you know?”
He shone a flashlight on a pile of shrubs and tree branches. “They must have been usin’ these to hide the entrance.”
I started down the road.
“Hold on. We can’t go straight down. They probably got guns.” He pointed into the trees. “You circle ’round until you come to the creek. Come in slow. I’ll come in from this side.”
Bud switched off his light and disappeared into the trees. I turned off my flashlight too. My eyes adjusted and I found I could see fairly well. I walked for a few minutes until I found the creek. I followed it down the mountain, staying in the trees until they abruptly stopped. I turned on my flashlight. A field of marijuana plants began and ran on past the edge of the light. They reached up to my chest and reminded me of a cornfield halfway to maturity.
The field bordered the creek, but I could tell something was wrong with the water. I stepped to the edge and shone the flashlight down. A short distance from where the trees stopped, a large vinyl dam blocked the creek. Its edges were smooth, as though the long tube were filled with air. The creek water was being divert
ed into a nearby pool to irrigate the grow. The temporary dam wasn’t stopping all the water, nor was it probably meant to, but it did drastically reduce the flow down the mountain.
I touched it and the vinyl easily gave. It was too solid and heavy to be filled with air, and I guessed it had water inside.
I heard an engine and quickly shut off my flashlight. I thought I saw a light from somewhere among the marijuana plants. I cautiously began walking toward it. The light got stronger. Finally I saw a truck parked in a clearing. The wind sent smoke swirling in its headlights.
Something moved and I stopped. A man walked quickly through the beams. It was Arnaldo Bedolla.
He wore a handkerchief, but I easily recognized him. “This is your own fault. Don’t try and make me feel guilty.”
I couldn’t see whom he was speaking to, but from his anxious body language I guessed it wasn’t a pleasant conversation. “If you and your girlfriend had minded your own business, you wouldn’t be here now.” He paused to listen, but what he heard upset him even more. “I’m fighting to survive. This is life or death for me. I can’t go to jail like some—”
Noise came from a radio attached to his belt. He ripped it off, listened for a moment, then took off running into the darkness.
I hurried to the clearing. Rod sat on the ground leaning against stacks of gardening equipment and fertilizer. His hands were tied behind his back and he wore a handkerchief over his mouth.
“Lilly?” He looked up at me. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead, leaving a track in the accumulated ash. “You’re in Bakersfield.” His voice was weak and raspy.
“No, I’m here, but I’d rather be in Bakersfield, so come on.” I tried to help him up, but he moaned and pulled away. He had a dark stain on his suit jacket. “Are you hurt? What happened?”
“You need to go. Bedolla’s radio . . . the fire’s at the foothills. You need to run.”
I took the Swiss army knife from my pocket. “I’m not going anywhere without you.” I glanced over my shoulder before cutting his hands free. “Is it just Bedolla or are the Fitzgeralds here too?”
“They’re here too.” He struggled to take a breath, then his glassy eyes focused on me. “How did you know?”
“All three of them claimed not to have seen Jessica since she moved away, but there are pictures in her apartment of their kids and she left them money in her will. They never lost touch with her.”
“In retrospect it was probably a mistake to lie about that.” Byrdie Fitzgerald stood at the edge of the clearing pointing a rifle at us. Even though she’d been acknowledging an error, her voice sounded bright and upbeat. “But since the four of us were partners in this extremely illegal farm, I thought it best to downplay our friendship.”
The color of the shirt tucked into her jeans coordinated with the handkerchief covering her face and the gloves on her hands. She gestured with the rifle. “Please stand up and put your hands where I can see them.”
I started to stand.
A man ran out of the darkness struggling to carry something. “Why aren’t you in the truck? Arnie says we need to go. It’s at the foothills.” Lee Fitzgerald adjusted his hold on the marijuana plant. The root-ball had hastily been wrapped in a trash bag. He saw me and stopped.
Byrdie glanced at him. I took the opportunity to hit the record button on the camera in my pocket. Rod and I locked eyes. I was sure he’d seen me.
Byrdie looked back. “I said, please put your hands where I can see them.”
I put my hands in the air. “There’s no point in hurting either of us. It’s too late for that. I already told the Sheriff’s Department everything.”
“You’re bluffing.” There was no doubt or uncertainty in Byrdie’s voice. “You don’t know enough to tell them anything. And a few photos in Jessica’s apartment aren’t proof of murder.”
“I found one of your marijuana plants there too.”
Lee’s handkerchief popped into his mouth as he took a quick gasp.
Byrdie glanced at him. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t see any harm in letting Jessica take one. You know how she was with plants. I thought it would be dead in a week.”
“You were wrong,” I said. “The Sheriff’s Department has it now, and they know you lied about your friendship with Jessica. They’re getting warrants as we speak. They’re going to go over your house, your boat, your dock, Lee’s office.”
She giggled. “They won’t find anything. I was smarter than that and we all have alibis.”
“You sure do,” I said. “And Lee and Arnaldo’s are even real. Too bad yours isn’t.”
Byrdie didn’t say anything, but her knuckles turned white as she grasped the gun.
Rod managed to raise his head. “But Byrdie was only home for ten minutes. She didn’t have time to commit the murder.”
“She didn’t have time if she drove home.” I looked from Rod to Byrdie. “But Search and Rescue is just down the road from city hall. All she had to do was get the key to the gate from Arnaldo. Then Wednesday night she left her meeting at six, drove down to the lake, and then took the Search and Rescue boat for a quick ride home. It cut her commute time in half.”
“Byrdie, they know,” Lee said. “She told the police everything and they know.”
“You let Jessica into the house,” I continued. “Lured her down to the dock, knocked her out, towed your own boat out to Road’s End, dumped her in the water, and then returned to Search and Rescue. Even if you changed clothes, you still would’ve had plenty of time. It was very clever.”
Her eyes stayed fixed on me. “It was even more clever than you realize. Jessica very stupidly got into the Search and Rescue boat before I hit her over the head with a rock. Any evidence they find is useless because the same boat was used to retrieve the body.”
Lee couldn’t look at her. “How can you talk about it that way? Like you’re proud of it?” He leaned his weight against the truck and took deep breaths.
“Why did you agree to this, Lee?” When he didn’t answer, I continued, “Were you the one who started the fire? Did Byrdie tell you she had to kill Jessica to protect you?”
“The fire was an accident. Even Jessica understood that.” Beads of sweat ran down from Lee’s hairline. “I was spending the night out there. I wasn’t even being careless, but sparks from my campfire ignited some brush.”
Byrdie’s voice rose. “Everything would have been fine if Jessica hadn’t insisted on confessing. She was as good as killing the rest of us.”
There was a noise behind the truck. Arnaldo Bedolla came running out of the darkness. He carried another plant. “Why are you still here? You’re blocking me. I told you to take the truck and—”
Bedolla saw me and abruptly stopped. He hesitated for only a moment, then looked at Byrdie. “Shoot them. There’s no time. We have to go.”
I saw movement in the trees behind her.
“Just for the record, Arnaldo”—and considering that I was recording him, I meant it literally—“you were the man at Road’s End who tried to drown me, right?”
He shook his head. “It wasn’t personal. I thought you’d seen me.”
“The sniper ambush felt very personal.”
Byrdie smiled. “That’s because I was the one shooting, and by then I didn’t like you. When Arnie phoned with a description of your car, I was only too happy to try and stop you.”
“We don’t have time for this.” Arnaldo looked at Byrdie. “The fire could blow up any minute. Shoot them or give me the gun and I’ll do it.”
Byrdie steeled herself and tightened her grip on the rifle. Lee reluctantly looked away.
Bud lunged out of the darkness. He grabbed the rifle right out of Byrdie’s hands and pushed it straight into the air. Lee ran to help her, but I dove at him. He was twice my weight, but I made up for it by being crazy fierce.
That left Bedolla. I turned from my position on top of Lee to look. Rod was on his feet. He swung his good arm an
d connected with Bedolla’s jaw. He leveled him in one punch, but immediately collapsed to the ground.
“Back up,” I heard Bud say. I looked in the other direction and saw him holding the rifle.
“Rod?” I ran to him. He didn’t answer. The stain on his jacket had doubled in size. I ripped the sleeve off. There was blood everywhere.
A shriek came from Bedolla’s radio, then a voice. Even before my brain processed the words, I knew from the panicked sounds that we were in trouble. “I’m pulling my shots off the ridge. I got visual on a blowup with flames thirty, maybe fifty, feet high. I’ve never seen it this bad, over.”
Arnaldo Bedolla was the first to move. He didn’t say anything. He jumped up and ran into the darkness.
“Go,” Byrdie yelled at Lee. They ran for the truck.
And Bud let them. He lowered the gun and hurried to us. “We gotta run. I’ll carry Rod.”
I tried to rip Rod’s sleeve off. “They shot him earlier and I think the bullet is still in his arm. I’m not sure we can move him. He’s lost too much blood.”
Lee slammed shut the rear of the truck.
“Rod,” Bud shouted. “Boy, can you hear me?”
Lee jumped into the driver’s seat. I recognized a Fitz’s logo as they flew past.
Bud, his face grim, looked up from Rod. “You try and stop the bleedin’. I’ll be back with the van as fast as I can.”
Another set of headlights followed the Fitzgeralds’. A Search and Rescue truck tore through the clearing without stopping.
Bud waited for Bedolla to pass, then ran up the road.
I applied pressure to Rod’s arm.
Through the trees, the sky swelled with orange and gray light. It lit the outlines of the grow, and for the first time I could see how far it stretched. There must have been four or five hundred plants.
I heard a roaring engine in the distance and for a second wondered if another car might come barreling out of the darkness. I put my hand up to shield my eyes from the burning embers in the wind and tried to look. There was no car. That’s when I realized the sound came from the fire, and it was getting louder.
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