by Gordon Ryan
Nicole Bentley was put on paid administrative leave while a shooting board conducted a routine investigation of the incident. The board cleared her of any wrongdoing, but she began counseling—a mandatory requirement for agents involved in a fatal shooting.
A handwritten note from Dan Rawlings, offering his condolences on Samuels’ death and the tragedy of her loss, went unanswered through the following month, part of which Nicole spent with Al’s wife, Linda, and her three children.
It was emotionally wrenching to watch Al’s family. Though it was in no way her fault, Nicole couldn’t help feeling a sense of guilt over her partner’s death, to say nothing of the trauma she experienced as a result of having to shoot the gunman. She doubted that she would ever be able to erase the sounds, sights, or even the smells of that bloody afternoon from her memory.
Chapter 16
Yolo County Administration Building
Woodland, California
In mid-October, less than two weeks before the election, Dan Rawlings was visited by three members of the board of supervisors. It was not unusual for supervisors to drop in to visit or to promote a particular agenda item, but Dan was immediately cautious regarding their intentions.
“So, Dan, how’d your weekend go?” Charlie Paulson asked.
“Fine, Charlie, just fine. And you?”
“The usual. Football games, family sports. Listen, Dan, we’ve come to discuss a sensitive issue, and the others … well … the others sort of asked me to be spokesman.”
Marjorie Tomkins and Harold Hawkes sat quietly on the couch in Dan’s office. Dan noticed that Marjorie was fidgeting and Harold wouldn’t hold Dan’s eyes. Jack Rumsey, in one of his never-ending homilies, had warned Dan that if a man wouldn’t hold your eyes, at least for a moment, watch out.
“Charlie, I’ll help any way I can. You know that.”
“Of course we do. Dan, we … that is, the board, feels you’re doing a bang-up job, and of course, the land reform issues have been, well, have really caused us a lot of grief, what with those dead-set on development and the old timers wanting to keep the farms intact.”
Dan could see that Charlie was having a hard time getting to the point of their visit, and he wasn’t certain if this deputation was representative of the full seven supervisors or just the three now before him.
“Charlie, you know I love this valley as much as anyone, and the land development issues are certainly divisive. But is that what you actually came about today?”
“I guess … well, not really, but it does affect the valley. In fact, Dan, it affects all of California.”
Secession. Well, I expected it sooner or later, Dan thought. “California’s a big issue, Charlie.”
“Yeah, it is, Dan, and we … that is, Marge, Harold, and me, we came to see how you felt. We’d like to know where you’re gonna stand, so to speak.”
Dan rose and moved to the window where he did most of his contemplation. Dan saw the reflection of his three visitors in the glass as they quickly stole looks at each other while they thought he was looking away. He waited until they stopped exchanging nervous signals and slowly turned around, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Charlie, what’s the collective board’s official position on the secession of California?”
Dan was calling their hand, blunt and forthright. He figured these three hadn’t actually polled the full body, and the issue had not, at least officially, been brought to a vote before the board in public session. A majority of California’s other counties had already officially addressed the secession—some against, but even more in favor.
“Well, we haven’t talked with all the supervisors, but us three, we wanted to get an idea of where you were gonna stand—what you were gonna recommend to the board. Have you thought about that yet? You know we can’t put it off much longer. Many of the counties have already taken a stand, and in a couple of weeks, we’ll all have to vote. It looks like, well, at least the polls say the referendum will pass again. We’ve got to decide how we’re going to go.”
Thought about it! Dan reflected. Little else had been on his mind since the two previous elections had passed so overwhelmingly. That in itself had been a shocker and had even confused the pollsters, some of whom had predicted a narrow defeat while others had predicted a passage of the issue based on their pre-election voter sampling.
“Charlie, you know that on most issues before the board, I offer a recommendation, since that’s my job. This issue, however, is one of conscience and one that each supervisor will have to decide for themselves. In fact, each Californian will have to make that decision as well. It has a finality to it. You know, we can’t really be opposed to the secession and go on about business as usual if the secession passes. Even the Tories who remained in the colonies after the Revolution found it hard to continue their lives and their business. No, Charlie, I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to make a recommendation to the board.”
Dan thought Charlie looked deflated at not having pulled out Dan’s position.
“But you have a position on it, don’t you, Dan? I mean, you’re a Californian—have always been, along with your family.”
Dan turned again to look out the window at the budding trees struggling to overcome the cold late autumn snap. He’d known for months what his decision was, although it had seemed easier not to acknowledge it … even to himself. But here they were, pushing for a declaration. Delay wouldn’t serve any purpose, and the necessity of a formal venue, such as a board of supervisors’ meeting, was not a proper place for the appointed administrator to announce his position and surprise everyone. No, Dan thought, the year was about to turn, the upcoming court-ordered special election was at hand, predicted by most pollsters to be an overwhelming “yes” vote in favor of secession. No confusion about the fact that he might lose his job over this issue … that had always been a distinct possibility. Better to play his hand, as Jack would say, and turn his hole card up.
“Charlie,” he said without looking back, “you’re right. I’ve always been a Californian.” He paused momentarily and then turned to face his visitors. “But I’ve always been an American, too.” He took several steps closer to the three supervisors, at which Charlie stood, more from nervousness than anything. “This is a personal opinion, even though I might not have admitted it to myself these past few months, and it’s not an official recommendation to the board. It’s quite separate from my political responsibility, but I’m personally opposed to secession. Please understand me—that is not, I repeat, not my recommendation to the board. I don’t feel it’s my place to make such a recommendation on such a personal issue, especially one with such widespread government implications. You’re the elected officials,” he said, looking at all three in turn, “and I’m your appointed administrator. I follow your direction, unless, in good conscience, I can no longer support your actions.”
Harold stood up beside Charlie, as did Marjorie. “Dan,” Charlie said, “I think … we think you should try to see the California side of the issue. We need to be united. You know the Woodland city manager, Roger Dahlgren—he came to see me, and he feels strongly. He thinks you should feel strongly, too, Dan, and his group …” Charlie paused, groping for the words, obviously nervous about discussing the Shasta Brigade. “Well, Roger says we should be united here in Yolo, and that it’s in our best interest to listen to Senator Turner. He’s only thinking of California and what’s best. Dan, you’ve been doin’ a bang-up job, like I said, and we’d like to keep you on, but, well, this issue is …”
There it was—on the table. That was the impetus of this visit. Dan had heard that Roger Dahlgren and some of his Shasta Brigade boys had been talking up support for Senator Turner’s stand, visiting many of the local businessmen. Some even went so far as to call it intimidation. But it was hard to oppose or interfere with a group of citizens who were only voicing support for the state’s U.S. senator. No bones about it, this was a not-so-subtle first approa
ch from a segment of the board of supervisors telling Daniel Rawlings, Yolo County Administrator, where he was expected to stand on the issue of California’s secession from the Union.
“Charlie, are you telling me my job’s on the line if I don’t support that bluster being put out by Roger and the militia?”
Charlie and Harold looked at each other and began to back slowly toward the door.
“I don’t know. I mean, I can’t speak for the whole board, but we, us three, I mean, feel you need to seriously consider your viewpoint. It’s not just bluster, Dan. Our United States senator has put his full weight and support behind it. You need to consider that. Besides, as Roger said, you’re a California guard officer. You owe your allegiance to the State of California. I’m sure you understand.”
“Yeah, I think I’m beginning to. Anything else I can help with today?” Dan said, inching the group toward the door.
“No, no. Thanks for your time. See you at the board meeting Thursday night.”
“Right. See you then. Thank you. Bye, Marjorie, Harold,” he said, shaking each hand as they departed.
“Bye, Dan,” Marjorie said meekly, obviously embarrassed by the visit.
Dan closed the door and turned once again toward the window. With Thanksgiving and then Christmas approaching, it wasn’t going to be a pleasant holiday, he felt. Not by a long shot. And if history served, the spring and then summer would be even longer and hotter. At least for the inner cities, it would potentially be a cauldron of violence.
* * *
Dan picked up the phone on the third ring when he remembered that Pat had stepped out to the post office.
“Good morning, Yolo County Administration, Dan Rawlings speaking.”
“Hi, Dan. This is Jean Waters. Bet you thought I’d forgotten about you.”
Dan immediately recognized the name of his literary agent, even though they had only spoken once since she had agreed to represent his manuscript. “Good morning, Jean. No, I’ve had you on my mind, but we’re pretty engaged out here at the moment.”
“How’re things in the Republic of California?”
Dan laughed. “This could well be an international call in a few months.”
“That serious? Well, that’s actually what I’m calling about. I waited until I found the right market for this unique story, and in October I offered Voices in My Blood to three of the larger publishers. They’ve been having a read for the past couple of weeks. Dan, if it will improve your day, I’m happy to advise that we’ve had offers from all three, and they’re hot. Since you added those closing chapters about the California secession, they want to move fast to be ready to respond in time for the elections. As it is, they’ll be several months behind the issues at best. They’ll have to jump their list and put Voices in My Blood in front.”
“Jean, I’m … well, I’m …” Dan hesitated, silent for a few seconds. “Actually, I don’t know what I am. I’m floored, that’s what I am.”
“Well, Mr. Daniel Rawlings, you’re about to become Waters & Hobson’s newest author. I told you that this book was compelling. Simon & Schuster has the best offer. Actually, they’re all pretty close on money, but S&S offers several advantages. First, they want to hit the streets as soon as possible, and second, they’re prepared to offer you a two, or, if you can develop a sequential story line, a three-book deal. Dan, they’ve offered four hundred twenty-five thousand just for Voices in My Blood. I believe we can get an advance in the neighborhood of one point two million for the three books, with staggered payments, of course, based on the strength of the subsequent outlines.” Dan was silent as Jean waited for his response. “You still there?”
“I don’t think so, Jean. I’ve just gone numb.”
“Ha,” she voiced, “this is the kind of news I love to deliver. Tell you what, I’ll fax the details and you consider them for a day. Don’t tarry, Dan—I need to get back to them tomorrow, so call me first thing in the morning.”
“All right. I’ll stand by the fax if you can transmit now. I want to keep this confidential for awhile.”
“I understand. I’ll send it right now. And, Dan, my sincerest congratulations. I think you’ve just entered a new phase of your life. I’m pleased to represent you. Just to add to your confusion, the moment we sign with S&S—if that’s what you decide—I’m going to send the manuscript to an associate in LA. Movie rights are the next consideration. This could become a whirlwind and if so, it will all happen very quickly, so stay sharp. I’ll get the fax out right now. Have a good day, Dan.”
“Thanks. Oh, and Jean?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you, sincerely. I really appreciate all your efforts. This wouldn’t have happened without you.”
It was Jean’s turn to pause. “Thanks. That was considerate. At this stage, some authors wonder why the agent gets such a large cut. Thanks for understanding our worth.”
“No question about your worth. We’re a team in this, aren’t we?”
“Absolutely. Talk to you tomorrow, Dan. Bye.”
“Bye,” Dan said, as he replaced the receiver.
He leaned back in his chair and swung around to look out the window at the small park surrounding the building where people were beginning to appear as the lunch hour approached. What a day! A threat to his job by some of the supervisors, and then this. Dan found himself thinking of Rumsey Valley and the Almond Festival, a resplendent time of year with the almond trees in bloom throughout the length of the valley. California was his home and he was a Californian. How was he going to take a stand against all those people he’d grown up with, gone to school with, fished with, and cared about? With pressing and disruptive issues to deal with and the board of supervisors’ apparent split over the upcoming vote, this was actually a bad time for outside distractions.
He rose and stepped closer to the window, watching as Pat walked across the grounds, returning from the post office. Then, slowly, he began to laugh. How could any time be a bad time to sign a million-dollar contract? He was interrupted by the ring of the fax. Pat entered the office just as Dan retrieved several pages from the machine and started back for his office, still chuckling softly.
“Anything I can help with, Dan?”
“No, thanks. I’ve got it. Just some personal stuff. Think I’ll head for lunch and see you about one-thirty.”
“Good. Oh, Dan, I’ve got a dental appointment at four.”
“Fine. We’ll cover; no problem.”
“Thanks. You okay?” she asked, noticing his faraway demeanor.
Dan stopped before entering his office, glanced back at Pat, and smiled. “I’ve never been better,” he said, reaching behind the door for his coat. Then, stepping quickly to her desk, he bent down and kissed her on the cheek. She sat there, astonished at his unusual behavior, as he whistled his way out the door.
After lunch, Dan closed the door to his office and picked up the telephone, dialing the information operator for the 415 area code.
“Operator. What city, please?”
“San Francisco. A business listing for the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”
“Thank you, sir. One moment.” Dan waited several seconds until the computer voice provided the number, which he dialed and waited once more.
“Good afternoon. Federal Bureau of Investigation. How may I direct your call?”
“Special Agent Bentley, please,” Dan said.
“One moment, sir.”
Again Dan waited while his call was transferred, wondering how to initiate the conversation and feeling foolish, remembering his note which had gone unacknowledged. He momentarily considered hanging up, but then Nicole’s voice sounded, calm and professional.
“This is Special Agent Bentley; how may I help you?”
“Good afternoon, Agent Bentley. This is Daniel Rawlings in Woodland.”
Not missing a beat, Nicole responded. “Good afternoon, Mr. Rawlings. How goes our local government?”
“Well,” he laughed. �
��Some supervisors would say I’m still wet behind the ears, and I’d better wake up and smell the coffee.”
“You’re not alone, Mr. Rawlings. I just might have some of that attitude around here as well. By the way, I meant to respond to your kind note last month, but one thing or another …”
“I understand, Ms. Bentley. I’m sure it was a very trying time for you. How are you doing?” Immediately, Dan felt like a fool, and he grimaced into the phone, hoping she wouldn’t be offended by the personal nature of his question.
After a slight pause, she responded. “I’m fine, thanks. How are you?”
“Great.”
There was another awkward pause.
Nicole broke the silence. “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Rawlings?”
“Well, uh, yes. The reason I called is … I was wondering if you might, uh, be free for dinner.”
“When?” she asked.
“Uh, tonight? I mean, tonight,” he said, wondering why he was having such a hard time doing such a simple thing. “I know that’s short notice, Ms. Bentley, but, well, it’s been one of those days. I’ve had an absolute low, followed by an absolute high. I was hoping you might be willing to be a little spontaneous, and that I could conclude the day with some very pleasant company for dinner.” He grimaced again, feeling completely foolish. “How about it?”
Dan felt certain that Nicole knew he was as nervous as a young schoolboy.
“I don’t know. I’d hate to give the impression I don’t have anything to do. I mean, I do have a life, you know,” she parried. “Let me think about it for a moment.”
Silence.
“Ms. Bentley?”
“Yes?”
“Are you okay?”
“Sure. I need to ask you two questions. First of all, if I go to dinner with you, will you call me Nicole?”
“I can do that. What’s the other question?”
“Are you buying?”
“I’d planned on it,” he said, a smile beginning to cross his face.