This was the land Jessica had fought to save thirteen years ago. Byrdie had even accused her of valuing it more than human life. Is that why she finally came home after all these years? Because the land was in so much danger?
I pictured Jessica Egan walking out of her father’s old house with a box.
“Why didn’t you tell them I painted the THINK SAFETY sign?”
“I didn’t like the way they asked.” She opened the trunk on the old Civic hatchback in the driveway. It was already packed to the roof. “My dad and the police thought they could bully me. I enjoyed showing them they were wrong.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
“You’re welcome.” She moved something in the trunk and slid in the box.
I nervously shifted my weight to the other leg. “You’re really going to L.A.?”
She nodded. “I’m eighteen today. Dad is going to be mad I took the car, but he can deal with it. It was my mom’s anyway.” She moved a large, flat rectangle that looked like a wrapped painting. “I only wish it didn’t have leather seats.”
“You really believe in all that stuff? Animal rights and all that?”
She turned and gave me a dirty look. “What do you think I’ve been doing all this time?”
I shrugged. “Trying to make your dad mad.”
She went back to packing the car. “Is that what you’ve been doing the last few months?”
I didn’t answer. I watched her shift a few more things to make space. When she finished, I held an envelope out to her. “I brought you this.”
She opened it and frowned. “Where did this come from?”
“It’s the money you paid me this summer, for lying to your dad. It’s not a lot. Just a hundred and fifty.”
“I paid you fifteen dollars a week for nine weeks. That’s a hundred and thirty-five, not a hundred and fifty.” She tried to shut the trunk with her hand holding the envelope. The door slipped. Her right hand instinctively reached for it, but then she grimaced in pain.
I jumped in and helped her.
“Thanks.” She rubbed her bad shoulder. “Besides, I thought you spent that money.”
“I did.”
She looked at the envelope again, then her eyes shifted up to me without moving her head. “Why is this money in an envelope from Otto’s Pawn?”
“I sold a couple things.” I laughed. “But it’s okay. I’ll get a real job now that the summer’s over and buy it all back.”
She held the envelope out to me. “You don’t have to pay me just because I didn’t tell them you painted the sign.”
“It’s not for that.”
“Then what’s it for?”
I hesitated. “Bad things happen down in L.A. You might get into trouble or something.”
She laughed.
I looked away, embarrassed by my own sincerity. “You might need a way home. This can be your emergency bus money or something.”
She looked back at the house. “This hasn’t been home since my mom died, and I don’t have anything in common with my friends anymore. I’m not coming back.”
“Then don’t spend the money.” I started backing up. “You can hold on to it in case things go wrong and you have to make a porno or something.” I was half serious, but we both laughed.
“I have a job waiting for me.” She held out the envelope. “You need this more than me.”
“I’m already home. Even if I’m a screwup, at least I’m home.” She opened her mouth to protest again, but I cut her off. “If your mom were alive, she’d be giving you this money. Everyone needs a way home, even if they never use it.”
FOURTEEN
Friday, 5:05 a.m.
Lilly?” Rod’s voice brought me back from the memory.
“I’m over here,” I called. “Watch your step.”
I heard the crunch of his approach. The sound abruptly stopped right behind me, followed immediately by a sudden gasp.
“My camera won’t do it justice,” I said.
“No wonder Jessica Egan was heartbroken.” Rod took the final step and stood next to me. He gazed out at the red horizon rising from the flames. “I’ve never been here before, and this breaks my heart.”
Behind us I heard someone approaching. “Rod, where’d you go?”
“We’re out here,” he said.
Dennis joined us. He whistled. “Some view.”
We moved Dennis’s camera out to the edge of the trees and ran more cable. Once we had a signal back to the station, Rod fed his edited video followed by the raw stuff. My biggest problem was getting a light set up for Rod. I didn’t have enough extension cord to reach, but found several more coils in Dennis’s satellite truck.
I let Rod work out the content of the live shot with Callum and the L.A. assignment manager, while I focused on getting the technical details perfect. We were on the air by five thirty. Rod stepped out of the camera’s view almost immediately so we could show a live picture of the fire while he spoke. He gave updates on the evacuations and then tossed to the package he’d edited in the van. While tape was playing, he put the handkerchief back over his face.
My phone vibrated at one point during the half hour we were live, but I had to ignore the call. As soon as we were clear, I checked the caller ID. It had been the IO. I sent Rod back to the satellite truck to escape the smoke and rest his voice. When he was gone, I called the IO back.
“We’re still trying to locate Arnaldo Bedolla,” he said. “But Firefighter Bell is on her way to your location. Once she arrives, you can start the ride-along, or if you have more national live shots scheduled, she can wait.”
“What do you mean, national?”
“I just saw Rod on CNN.” The IO’s voice was casual, as though this were no big deal. “I assumed you were doing the camerawork. Nice, by the way. I think you’ll get some job offers out of this. Rod too, obviously.”
“Obviously,” I managed to say.
“If you want to wait, just let Bell know. You’ll have to change positions in a couple hours anyway. They’re coming through there to thin the trees.”
We said good-bye, then I immediately dialed the station.
I was breathing hard through my handkerchief when Callum answered. “KJAY, we’re on your side,” he started, but then abruptly changed tone. “Listen here, you puke-face pervert, I’ve told you a thousand times to stop calling. We’re not—”
“It’s Lilly.”
“Lilly? What’s with the heavy breathing?”
“I’m mad and I’m wearing a handkerchief.”
“Why are you wearing a handkerchief?”
“I’m outside and the smoke is bad.” My voice rose. “Don’t you want to know why I’m mad?”
“Not particularly. If the smoke is bad, why are you calling from outside?”
“Never mind that. How dare you put us on national TV without so much as a heads-up?”
I heard his chair creak and knew he was leaning back. “CNN wanted to dip in. It was the right call not to tell Rod. He would have been a nervous wreck.”
I hadn’t realized Callum knew about Rod’s stage fright. It had been a surprise to me when I’d first discovered the truth, but then I’m usually the last to know.
“And don’t get snippy with me,” Callum continued. “You’re in no position to play the outrage card. How about that promise you made me earlier tonight?”
I lowered my voice. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t even try to lie.” I heard the sound of his chair snapping forward. “I know you’ve been chasing the drowning and ignoring the biggest story of your career.”
“Callum, I—”
“And you’re dragging Rod right along with you, sabotaging his best chance to make it to a big market.”
“I’d never sabotage Rod.”
“People do stupid, dishonest things when they’re scared of losing the person they love.”
“Don’t you get it, Callum? I’ve always known he was going to leave. It was over b
efore it started.” I paused to get control of myself. “But I don’t want him to fail. I would never go behind his back to sabotage him.”
Callum sighed. “You might not mean to, Lilly, but that’s exactly what you’ve already done.”
Fear quickly replaced anger. “What do you mean?”
“That four a.m. live shot you missed.”
“What about it?”
“The Today show wanted Rod. They’re three hours ahead, on East Coast time. Rod could have been doing live shots with Matt Lauer, but instead he was running around with you, following your freaky, contrary self off a cliff.”
I didn’t say anything.
Callum’ tone softened. “For once, listen to me. I know you and I know Rod. For some reason, you’ve decided the drowning is your story. You’re just the kind of crazy newshound who bites somebody’s butt and doesn’t let go. Even if the world is about to end up there, even if you could make your career by sticking with the fire, even if you lose your job, you will chase your story because that’s who you are.” He paused. “And because I know Rod, I know he’s going to back your play.”
“What’s your point?”
“Whatever shenanigans you’ve got planned, don’t mess up his chances. Don’t ruin this opportunity for him. Don’t make his being in love with you turn out to be a bad thing.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
For a moment neither of us said anything. Then Callum broke the silence. “You have another hit in twenty minutes. KBLA is taking it live, and probably CNN.”
I ended the call and double-checked all the camera settings and connections. I walked back to the clearing. I passed the satellite truck and got my gear from my own live truck. I left the keys in the ignition. By the time I was done, a red SUV with the Santa Theresa Fire Department logo had pulled up. It had the same windshield-wiper eyes as my live truck. Bell got out. She wore a yellow firefighter’s jacket over her black uniform.
“Thanks for coming.” I quickly loaded my gear and then got in the passenger seat. “Let’s go.”
“What about Rod?”
“He has to stay and do a live shot.”
Instead of doubling back the way she’d come, Bell drove down the other side of the mountain, toward the fire. The trees blocked most of our view, which was fine by me.
I dialed Rod’s cell phone.
It took several rings, but he answered. “Sorry. Dennis and I fell asleep.” I heard him yawn. “Do we have another hit?”
“You do. In five minutes. I’m on my way to interview Jessica’s brother and then hopefully Arnaldo Bedolla.”
“What?”
“I knew you wouldn’t let me go alone, so I left without you.”
Bell glanced at me in surprise, but quickly put her eyes back on the road.
“Lilly.” The grogginess vanished from Rod’s voice. “Come back. I mean it.”
“I’ll only be gone for an hour or so. Dennis can handle things.”
“This is not okay, Lilly.”
“I know you’re mad,” I said into the phone. “But I also know I’m right. You’re the only reporter in a sixty-mile radius and you have a functioning live signal. We have a responsibility to broadcast the fire. KJAY is counting on us.” I paused. “And more than that, it’s good for your career. We both know you’re going to get job offers after this.”
“I don’t want offers if it means we’ll end up living in different cities.”
I took a deep breath and said it. “You don’t need to use me as an excuse anymore. You haven’t been nervous going live once tonight. The stage fright is gone.”
He didn’t answer so I said, “We’ll talk about it when I get back.” I hung up.
There was an uneasy moment between Bell and myself. In the background two portable scanners played from where they were attached to the dashboard. The only light came from the SUV’s headlights on the dirt road ahead. Several times Bell looked as if she was about to say something, but then stopped herself.
Finally I crossed my arms. “I’m sorry for spewing my personal life all over you.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not very professional. I usually do a better job of keeping my personal and work life separate.”
She didn’t take her eyes off the road. “You know how hard it is for a man to become a firefighter?”
I was taken aback by the abrupt change in subject, but managed to say, “Hard.”
“You know how hard it is for a woman?”
“I’m guessing harder.”
She smiled and nodded. “I was an intelligence officer in the navy. I didn’t believe anything could be more difficult than my military training. I was wrong. I flunked out halfway through my first time at the fire academy.”
“But you made it eventually.”
“On my third try.” Her smile softened into pride. “My point is, I know what it’s like to hide the mushy personal stuff because you’re afraid male coworkers will think less of you. But sometimes worrying too much about that stuff only makes it a bigger deal.”
“It’s not just the mushy stuff that I’m afraid people will see.”
“Then what?”
I tried to turn away and look out the window, but it was too dark to see anything. “If people know I’m happy now, then if it ends, all they’ll see is a sad girl with a broken heart, and not their boss who’s going to kick their butt if they’re late again.”
“Maybe it won’t end.”
I didn’t answer.
A few moments later, a tall chain-link fence appeared in our headlights. We turned and joined another dirt road running parallel with the fence below and the ridge of the mountain above. A bulldozer had already come through tearing out anything flammable in a line along the side of the road. Hopefully the firebreak would hold and protect the antennas on the ridge.
I pointed to the fence on Bell’s side of the car. “Is that the nature preserve?”
“Yes. It’s their western property line.”
Since the IO hadn’t located Arnaldo Bedolla, I had to choose between visiting Bonny Hazel inside the nature preserve or Jessica’s brother where his hand crew was working in the valley. I easily chose Bonny Hazel.
The closer I got to seeing Brad Egan again, the less I wanted to do it. I didn’t like the way he’d talked about Jessica on camera, and I was angry that he hadn’t done more to help her after their mother died. But mostly my reluctance stemmed from guilt that he’d been blaming Jessica for vandalizing the sign. When I saw Brad again, I’d have to tell him the truth.
As if sensing my reluctance, Bell said, “Why do you even need to talk to Brad Egan again? There are lots of other Hotshots you could interview.”
“I think his sister was murdered. I need to tell him and get his help with the police.”
Bell’s head whipped from the road to me and then back again. “Really?”
“Really. I’ll shoot what I can of the fire, but that’s not my primary reason for taking this ride-along. I’m working the drowning.” I looked at her. “Is that going to be a problem?”
She shrugged. “The IO said to help you however I could. It’s between you and your boss what story you shoot.”
“Thank you.” I guess it was also between me and my boss if I defied him and ended up getting fired. “How long do we have? When is the blowup happening?”
She chuckled. “We’re not scheduling it.”
“But it’s going to happen, right?”
“No one knows, but late this afternoon will be the most dangerous time. The National Weather Service is predicting freakishly strong winds then, which is also when humidity will be almost nonexistent and the temperature will be at its highest. You add all that to the fire reaching the foothills and you get a potential blowup.”
I took out a map and, in the light coming off the dashboard, tried to see where the valley and mountain met. “Why the foothills? Why can’t it blow up anywhere?”
“The
upward slope of the mountain and the shape of the terrain could create a chimney. The speed of a blowup is completely unpredictable. It could be sixty miles an hour or only five. Or it could never blow up. There’s no way to predict.” She smiled. “So I prefer to be optimistic and think it won’t happen at all.”
“When my life is at stake, I prefer pessimism.” I also prefer pessimism when nothing’s at stake, but I kept that part to myself.
As we neared Highway 55, Bell slowed the car. This was the same highway Rod and I had used to climb through Tilly Heights. Bell and I were just catching it on the other side of the mountain. From here it continued straight down and into Terrill Valley. It actually went all the way out to Mojave when there wasn’t a massive wildfire blocking the road.
Bell waited to make sure there was no cross traffic, then turned down the highway. The red horizon filled the windshield. I couldn’t help but think there was something very wrong with anyone who chooses to drive toward a view like that.
We hadn’t gone far before Bell slowed. On our right was a clearing with several shuttered fruit stands advertising local citrus and honey.
Bell pointed to a dirt road across the highway where there was a break in the nature preserve’s fence. “This is the only way in to Bonny Hazel. Since the house is actually on the nature preserve, it’s been that much harder to get equipment in and out.”
She made the turn. It was a relief to be back inside the forest and not looking straight down into the burning valley. About a quarter mile in, the road forked. Our headlights illuminated a padlocked gate on the right. On the left, a pretty wood sign with an arrow said BONNY HAZEL.
Bell followed the sign, and a quarter mile later we emerged at a huge swath of cleared ground. It was as though a giant circle had been stamped out in the middle of the forest. Harsh work lights illuminated row after row of tree stumps. I guessed many of them had once been the house’s namesake hazelnut trees.
The ground between the stumps was black from a controlled burn. This was another way to remove flammable material— actually set a fire on purpose so there was nothing left to burn when the wildfire arrived. Several Hotshots walked back and forth checking for flare-ups. The still-smoldering areas glowed against the dark landscape, and thick smoke hung in the air.
Hot, Shot, and Bothered Page 17
