Hot, Shot, and Bothered

by Nora McFarland

  After a pause, he looked at me. “But Jessica must have gotten the shoulder fixed after she moved to L.A., or else there’s some other explanation. Why would anyone hurt her?”

  “You tell me. You’re her first love.”

  He turned away. He resumed putting away supplies, but I had the feeling it was just an excuse not to look at me. “That may be true, but I don’t know anything about her life now. None of us saw her after she left town. Honestly, I hadn’t thought of her in years.”

  “But you, Lee, and Byrdie have all stayed close? You and Lee even worked together.”

  “You mean the landscaping business?” When I nodded, he continued, “That was a side thing we ran out of the Garden Center. Lee and I both have green thumbs so it was easy.”

  The flap opened. I moved so a Hotshot could enter.

  “I pick up a lot of side jobs like that,” Bedolla continued. “Before all the development in Tilly Heights, that’s how everyone was around here. Even Lee’s dad—he ran the store, but he also worked as a handyman. That way of life is disappearing fast now.”

  The new Hotshot finished closing the flap behind him. He was in his early thirties and had a captain’s insignia on his uniform. “Sorry to interrupt.”

  Before he could continue, I jumped in. “Was Arnaldo working here two days ago? I’m interested in Wednesday afternoon through midnight.”

  “Sure he was.” The captain looked from me to Bedolla and back again. “Why on earth do you want to know that?”

  “She’s checking my alibi.” Bedolla’s tone was amused, not angry.

  “Are you sure he was here,” I pressed. “On Wednesday evening and night?”

  “Of course.” He looked at Bedolla. “What’s going on?”

  “Don’t worry. She’s just doing her job.” Bedolla shifted gears. “How about that kid with the broken ankle? Any word yet?”

  “That’s why I came to see you.” A gust of wind battered the tent and the captain had to wait for the noise to fade. “The injury’s not as bad as we thought.”

  Bedolla brightened. “That’s great news.”

  “And it means the Red Cross nurse will be back soon and you can finally get out of here.”

  “Thanks. I’d stay as long as you needed me, but I have to admit I’d like to get some rest.”

  The captain started to go, but stopped and looked at me. “Are you being escorted by someone? Because you should think about getting out of here too.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m with Firefighter Bell.”

  He was frowning as he pulled his handkerchief back up over his face and walked out.

  I gathered my equipment. “I don’t suppose you know if any of the McClellan family is still in the area?”

  He shook his head.

  As I started to leave he said, “I hope you’re wrong about how Jessica died.”

  I stopped. “Would you prefer that she died because she was stupid? It’s pointless.”

  “Would you prefer that she died because someone hated her? That’s pointless and sad.”

  I found Bell by our car. I hadn’t put my handkerchief up and couldn’t now with my arms full. “I’m getting in,” I said while trying to breathe. I quickly loaded my gear in the back.

  Bell got in the front seat moments after me. “It’s only a sprain, and it looks like they managed to carry the kid out to a vehicle. They’re not using the chopper.”

  “That’s good news.” I should have been glad for the firefighter. But mostly I was glad I didn’t have to feel guilty about blowing off a great story. “I’m done here. Let’s go find Brad Egan.”

  “I know exactly where he is. The sprained ankle came from his crew.” She paused. “But we should make it fast.”

  “Why?”

  “The fire’s gained more ground. They’re evacuating all nonessential personnel from this side of the mountain and pulling back the hand crews another five miles.”

  We started back toward the highway, but before we got there, Bell turned down another dirt road. Even with the headlights and windshield wipers on it was still difficult to see through the smoke and blowing ash. We drove for two or three miles like that.

  Eventually flashing lights appeared on the road ahead. I couldn’t tell how many vehicles there were, but Bell pulled in behind a truck from the Fish and Game Department. “I’ll go ask for Egan. You can wait inside if you’d like. We can even do the interview in the car.”

  I pulled the handkerchief up. “I didn’t come all this way to sit in the car.”

  We both got out. The darkness could have passed for night. It was probably a good ten degrees hotter than it had been at Bonny Hazel. A hand crew worked nearby, desperately trying to strengthen the natural firebreak the road provided. A nearby tree, lit by an engine’s headlights, violently swayed in the wind. I cringed in anticipation of its snapping, but it continued to whip back and forth.

  Bell went to find the crew’s superintendent. I got my camera out and tried to shoot video. Two Fish and Game officers passed carrying rifles. I stopped one and asked for an interview.

  “Sorry.” The man had to shout to be heard over the wind. “We’re pulling back to the spike camp.”

  I turned on the camera light and hit record anyway. “Just a couple questions.” I gestured to the rifles. “Are you part of the team hunting the cougars?”

  He nodded. “We got one overnight, but there are reports of two more. They’ve been displaced by the fire and are probably disoriented and hungry.”

  “If you leave, does that mean the firefighters here are vulnerable? What if they get attacked?”

  “Worst case, each of the trucks has a weapon on it, but it’ll never come to that.” He gestured to the fire. “The cougars are smart enough to run the opposite direction. You and I should follow their lead.” He turned and jogged to the waiting SUV. Moments later I saw a pair of retreating taillights.

  I set up my sticks and attached the camera. The body of the wildfire was still far away, but the flames from a small spot fire burned in a nearby field. An enormous length of hose ran from two Kern County fire engines out to where the firefighters were working to put it out.

  In my camera, the men appeared as black silhouettes against the red horizon. The burning backdrop made the water from their hoses look like a spray of red sparks.

  I stopped recording when Bell approached. “Egan’s here, but his captain pulled him off the line. They’re sending him back to headquarters.”

  “Why?”

  “Said he was distracted. There’s no room for that out here.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Nobody wanted to say so, but I think Egan not being at a hundred percent might have contributed to their man getting injured.” She pointed to one of the trucks. “He’s waiting over there, out of the wind.”

  I packed up and we walked around the truck.

  Egan sat on the ground with his back against one of the massive tires. A pair of headlights down the road lit his profile. He wore a handkerchief, but I didn’t have to see his face to know he was miserable. Whatever I thought about him personally, something was sad about this big man’s being crumpled and low.

  He heard us approach and looked up. For a moment he stared, but then he saw the camera and turned away. “Oh, please, not now.”

  I set down my camera and sticks. “I need to speak with you about your sister.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I never should have talked to you in the first place.”

  Bell touched my arm. “This isn’t a good time. If he doesn’t want to talk, you have to respect that.”

  I came around and stood in front of him. “Why did you say all those bad things about Jessica?”

  “Everyone’s going to see it, aren’t they?”

  “No. I told my assignment manager to only use the part at the end.”

  “The end?” He looked up. “What did I say?”

  “That when you were both kids she followed you around trying to get you to teach her stuff. Y
ou said she loved the lake and you hoped she was at peace.”

  He pulled down his handkerchief and swiped his face with it. “Thank you for not using the other stuff.”

  “I need to ask you about Jessica’s shoulder.”

  “That’s what I keep thinking about.” He winced. “Her drowning may be because she could no longer swim, and Mom always saying her shoulder was my fault because . . .”

  He started crying.

  I waited a moment or two, hoping he’d pull himself together. “Okay,” I said. “Okay. I know you’re upset, but we need to talk.” I waited. The wind gusted around the truck. Ash and embers blew though the space under the vehicle and hit my legs. Egan put a hand up to momentarily shield his face, but still didn’t compose himself.

  I pulled down my handkerchief. “You need to stop crying. We have to talk about how Jessica died.” The contrast with our first meeting could not have been greater.

  “Lilly, that’s not an appropriate tone.” Bell gave me the kind of look my mother used to give Bud. She knelt and placed a hand on Egan’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Your sister is in a better place now.”

  “Actually, she’s in the Bakersfield morgue.”

  Their heads both jerked to me.

  “And she’s there because someone murdered her.” I knelt down. “I know I’m being a jerk, but you need to pull yourself together and help me find out who did it.”

  “Murdered?” he said. “The police didn’t say anything like that.”

  “Jessica couldn’t have started the boat with her bad shoulder.”

  “But they’ve got engines now that—”

  “It was an old engine with a pull-cord starter. I saw it myself.” I gave him a second to digest this, then continued, “You need to go see the Elizabeth police and demand that they launch a full investigation.”

  “Me? Why?” He straightened and pulled back. “They’re the police. They know what needs to be done.”

  “They’re ignoring Jessica because of the wildfire, and by the time they get around to investigating, there isn’t going to be any evidence left.”

  He thought for a moment. From the look of alarm on his face, he was probably struggling to come up with an excuse not to get involved. “Maybe she got her shoulder fixed,” he finally said.

  “How do I know what she was doing all those years down in L.A.?”

  “Stop thinking about yourself. You owe Jessica this.”

  “Owe her?” Egan stood up. He towered over me without even trying. “She left us and never looked back.”

  My voice rose. “I’ve been talking to people who used to know your family, and after your mom died, things were really bad for Jessica. Your father unraveled. He was drinking and from what I’ve heard, even abusive.”

  I expected Egan to deny it or yell at me, but instead he glanced at Bell. That glance spoke volumes about what Egan knew, or at least suspected, about his father’s parental fitness.

  “You had a responsibility to help your little sister,” I continued. “But you were too busy worrying about yourself to come back home. At least speak up for her now that she’s dead. You’re the only family she has.”

  His eyes closed and he leaned against the truck. The light from the other truck’s headlights shone behind him, so I couldn’t see his face.

  “Wouldn’t you want her to do the same for you?” “Fine.

  “His head turned. The harsh light emphasized the bags under his eyes and deep wrinkles, making him look much older. “It’s not going to change anything, but I’ll go talk to the police.”

  “Thank you.”

  The raised voices of the unseen Hotshots had been getting steadily louder and more frequent. The wind gusts were also strengthening.

  Bell stepped back. Her voice was polite, but firm. “If that’s settled, I think we should give Senior Firefighter Egan his privacy.”

  “I just have two questions.”

  Bell dropped polite all together and concentrated on firm. “Senior Firefighter Egan doesn’t want to go on camera.”

  “It’s not on camera and it’ll just take a minute, I promise.” Before either of them could say no, I turned to Egan. “You said Jessica was having an affair with a married man. Why do you think that, and who’s the man?”

  He cast an ugly glance up the mountain. “There’s some creep living up there studying the lizards. Jessica was sleeping with him.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I went out with some old friends last time I visited Dad. After a couple beers, they all started making cracks about Jessica being back in town.”

  My voice rose. “But that doesn’t mean she was having an affair. Her nonprofit owns the nature preserve. She was probably here on business.”

  He shook his head. “No. I made them tell me. It was humiliating, but I wanted to hear it.” He grimaced, as though reliving the moment his frenemies had told him. “She was spending the night there on weekends. Sometimes sneaking in on Highway 55 from Mojave so she didn’t have to drive through Elizabeth or Tilly Heights.”

  Why would everyone at Bonny Hazel lie about Jessica’s visits? Were they all lying to cover up something, or was Jessica meeting one of them secretly? I would have sworn Farris and the mad scientist had been telling the truth. Then again, I wasn’t the best judge.

  I looked at Egan. “How did your friends know about it?”

  “There’s a spot where people sell fruit and stuff by the highway. Jessica stopped and bought something, told somebody who she was. They all knew her car after that. Word got around.” He shook his head. “I guess the creep practically has a harem with young girls coming and going all the time.”

  A voice cried out on the other side of the truck. Several more voices quickly followed. I couldn’t understand the words, but I knew what panic sounded like. Egan and Bell ran around the front of the truck. I picked up my gear and followed. Without the truck as a shield, a windstorm of burning shrapnel pelted us. I stumbled and covered my eyes. “Pull back,” someone screamed.

  I managed to open my eyes. The flames spread like a bucket of water thrown into a wind machine.

  Egan raised his goggles and ran to help pull in the hoses.

  “Get out,” a man shouted at Bell.

  “We got a spot fire jumping the line. Air support is on its way. Everyone needs to clear out.”

  We leapt back as an SUV raced past. I hit record and raised my camera.

  Bell grabbed my arm. “Not now.” Two more vehicles tore past. “Come on.”

  We both ran for her car. I kept the still-recording camera on my shoulder.

  As soon as Bell started the engine, I rolled down my window. Flames were now burning on both sides of the road.

  Bell floored the gas pedal. “What are you doing?”

  I rested the camera on the open window. “I’m shooting.”

  Bell slammed on the brakes. Crew members sprinted across the road. Behind them a tree exploded. I turned the camera and felt heat on my hand and face. A horn blasted and seconds later I saw one of the fire engines fly past in the viewfinder. Bell floored the gas again.

  We left the flames behind. After a few moments I pulled back and raised the window. I wasn’t moving, but my heart raced. I turned and looked out the back window. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Firefighter Bell, but why is everybody else driving the opposite direction, and should I be worried about that?”

  She laughed. “A, call me Tracy. B, they’re all driving the direction their vehicles were facing. C”—Bell pointed ahead to a pair of taillights barely visible through the windshield wipers—“not everybody is going the other way, and D, this road loops back around to the spike camp.” She laughed. “And we still need to pick up my car.”

  “You’re worried about your car? What about the wind? Is this the blowup? Shouldn’t we be hauling butt back up the mountain?”

  “That was just a tiny spot fire that jumped its containment. A blowup would be a hundred times worse.”


  I couldn’t imagine an experience that intense, but more than that, I couldn’t imagine surviving it.

  Bell must have sensed my fear. “Don’t worry. If something really catastrophic had happened, and there were no other options, we could’ve deployed a personal fire shelter.” She hooked her thumb back. “I’ve got two in the rear. Anyone working on or near the fire line is required to carry one. It’s sort of like a sleeping bag, but the fabric is silica and fiberglass.”

  “You mean I’d actually be able to crawl into this thing and not get burnt?”

  “Not you.” She smiled. “You’d have to share mine so I could deploy it properly. All fire personnel train on how to use them so when the time comes, we know how to trap breathable air. In a real firestorm, you wouldn’t survive without knowing how to use it.”

  I heard the whipping blades of a helicopter. Bell paused as it passed overhead flying low. The sound filled the car. The metal frame shook and I felt the vibrations rattle through me.

  When the noise faded, Bell continued, “They used to call the shelters shake-and-bakes, but that’s discouraged now for obvious reasons.”

  The road did eventually loop back around to the spike camp. We entered from the opposite direction, but even in the reduced light I recognized the same bathrooms and picnic tables. The crews that had pulled back were congregating here to regroup. Several vehicles from Egan’s crew that had fled in the opposite direction were already parked here.

  The infrastructure of the spike camp was almost completely dismantled. Even the first-aid tent Bedolla had been working in was gone.

  Bell pulled in next to an Orange County FD vehicle. She got out and checked in with whoever was in charge. I got a couple sound bites from some of the men from Egan’s crew. I asked where he was, but no one knew for sure. He’d officially been pulled off duty so he’d probably gotten a ride back to headquarters.

  I still hadn’t confessed to Egan that it was me, and not Jessica, who’d vandalized the THINK SAFETY sign all those years ago. I wanted to believe it was our abrupt departure that had denied me the opportunity, but hadn’t there been several chances to tell the truth before the spot fire erupted? Was I now going to let the matter quietly fade away, appeasing my conscience by saying there was no right time?