And folks who put me in a passion
May find I pipe in another fashion.
O N WEDNESDAY MORNING, NINA WAS EATING her breakfast when her father came to the door. Paul had just gotten up and was pouring himself his first cup of coffee, and Bob had been up for hours E-mailing on the computer and playing with Hitchcock.
“Grandpa!” Harlan hugged Bob and followed him into the kitchen.
“Figured I had to come to you,” he said to Nina, and sat down. “Long time no see.”
“Well, Dad, what a surprise.”
“When I got the call from Bob last night, I decided to drop by. Okay with you?”
“How about a cup of coffee?”
“Sounds good, Paul.” Harlan, hale, red-faced, and loud-voiced as always, was wearing a Pebble Beach Company golf shirt and creased pants. At sixty-four, he had already been retired for years and he lived for the putting green. “My own daughter moves here and doesn’t come to see me. I have to come to her. Hard to imagine, isn’t it, Paul?”
“I’m sorry, Dad, I’ve been so busy-” Harlan ignored her crummy excuses and turned to Bob.
“So you’ve been chatting up Swedish girls in the Land of the Midnight Sun?”
“Not exactly,” Bob said.
“What brought you back so soon?”
“Stuff.”
“You talk just like your mother at your age, which is to say, not at all. You okay, though?”
“I’m okay.”
“Glad to be home?”
“Yeah. I guess this is home.”
Harlan accepted the coffee and began telling them about his new house in Pacific Grove and how Angie and Isaiah were doing. He made it all sound so normal and homey that Nina began thinking to herself, How come I’ve stayed away?
Still, she never felt comfortable with Harlan’s new family. Her stepmother, Angie, was younger than Nina, and Nina’s half-brother, little Isaiah, was more than thirty years younger than she. Nina didn’t feel that she belonged in this new family constellation.
And, to be unfair, she still thought Harlan had remarried too soon after her mother’s death. But Bob had none of these reservations, and was asking a lot of questions about his Uncle Isaiah, age three.
“We got him this electric-powered toy loader. Tot size, but he can raise and lower the loader and pick up dirt. He’s a hoot. He rides up and down the driveway all day in it.”
“This I gotta see,” said Bob.
“Come on over this morning and you can. I’ll take you boys to Cannery Row for pizza and drop you off later.”
Bob said, “Mom?”
“Your mom can come too. You too, Paul.”
“Sorry, Dad, but I have a prelim on Monday.”
“As always. How about it, bud?”
“Is that okay, Mom?”
“Sure,” Nina said. “Clean clothes in the laundry room. Hustle now.” When Bob had left, she said, “I really am sorry, Dad.”
“I’d like to spend some time with you, Nina-pinta.”
“I’ll try to do better. We’ll have dinner soon.”
“Where’s Bob sleeping?” Harlan was looking around.
“In the second bedroom. Paul’s study.”
“That’s all you have? Two bedrooms? Angie and I have four. He ought to stay with us. He’ll drive you two crazy in this little place, and Angie likes to make nice dinners. Not that you couldn’t make a nice dinner if you had the time,” he added.
Before Nina could respond, Paul sat down across from Harlan and said, “That’s a mighty nice offer, Harlan.”
“I’d love to have Bob for the summer. I’ll teach him to play golf. While you people figure out what you’re doing.”
“Isn’t that a great idea, Nina?” Paul said.
“It’s very nice,” Nina said. “I’d have to give it some thought. And talk to Bob about it.”
“Sure, sure. I know Angie wouldn’t mind a bit, though. And he hasn’t spent much time around Isaiah. He’s Bob’s uncle, after all.” And my half-brother too, Nina thought. Dad, why does your life have to be so complicated? This thought was followed by a chastening realization: She took after Harlan in that respect.
Bob came back in with his backpack.
“You ready to roll?” Harlan asked him.
“I just wanted to ask you something first, Mom. In private,” Bob said.
“Sure, honey.” They closed the door to the main bedroom.
Bob said, “I was listening to you guys. About living with Grandpa.”
“Oh.”
“What did you think of his idea?”
“What did you think, Bob?”
“I think it sucks,” Bob said. His blue eyes blazed out of his face. “I want to live with you, Mom. We’re the family. You and me and Hitchcock. I like visiting Grandpa but forget it-it’s us, right? Right?”
“Right,” Nina said. “Don’t worry, honey. Go visit Isaiah and we’ll talk later.”
She and Paul drove together to the office. Paul hadn’t broached the subject of Bob again, though she felt the pressure of his patience, and Nina had already moved into work mode.
They stopped at the photo shop to pick up blowups of Wish’s photos, which had come out well, and carried the manila envelopes upstairs to the office. Sandy hadn’t come in-it was visiting hours at the jail-and Paul began telling Nina about his visit to the Robles Vista facility. The director had spent a long time with him and Paul was of the opinion that none of the residents had the physical ability to carry out the arson fire on the hill below them.
“These people are severely disabled,” Paul said. “Blind or wheelchair bound, almost all of them. One of the blind guys is very independent and works out, but the director thought it would just be impossible. Besides, as he pointed out, to torch their hillside could result in having Robles Vista burn down too. The handicapped facility is right above that model home.”
“Has Crockett talked to them?”
“Every resident has been interviewed. I talked to Crockett, and he says none of them could be a suspect, even if he didn’t already have Wish. Most of them seem to be resigned to moving, though there is a great deal of anger and insecurity.”
Nina said, “Okay. Scratch them. No jury’s going to buy them as alternate suspects. We’re back to Siesta Court.”
“Danny and Coyote and the Moneyman.”
“Elizabeth played me an interesting tape last night. From the Siesta Court block party I attended.”
He was on the computer. “About Elizabeth. I meant to say, uh, sorry about getting juiced last night. I don’t even know why I did that. So what about this tape?”
“I think Elizabeth just wanted to talk to me anyway. And I know you don’t drink that much, but Paul, with Bob around, we’re going to have to straighten up in general.”
Paul swiveled around so he was facing her. He looked like he was thinking that the good times were over.
Nina said, “I really want that chair, Paul. That is the most comfortable, coolest chair in the world.”
He leaned back and let a beatific expression cross his face. “It is.”
“So that’s a no? You won’t let me use that chair? I have to use this director’s chair?”
“Honey, without my chair, I’m nothing.”
“Not very chivalrous.”
“I’m much nicer to my wives. But let’s not go there this morning, we have work to do.”
Nina fidgeted uncomfortably, just to make him feel bad, but he was pretending not to see it. So she went over to him and sat down on his lap.
“A compromise,” she said as he put his arms around her. “Anyway, she taped a conversation in which several men were standing in a group apart from the rest of the party, having a quick conversation. Their voices were lowered, but you could hear some of it. They were toasting Danny’s death.”
“They were what?”
“I’m telling you. They said, ‘Good riddance.’”
Paul thought for a moment, then said, “They must figure Danny was responsible for the fires. Even so, it’s damn cold.”
“I think it might be more than that, Paul.”
“What do you mean? Who are we talking about, anyway?”
“Darryl Eubanks, George Hill, Sam Puglia, David Cowan, and Ted Ballard.”
“You think-what? One of them is the Moneyman?”
“One of them? Or all of them?” Nina said. “If it’s all of them, you see, there wouldn’t be six thousand two hundred fifty dollars missing from anybody’s account. They each could have pitched in part of the money to pay Coyote.”
“I don’t know. First of all, who’s going to set all these fires for a little over six grand? Ben already told me that Danny hadn’t had an influx of money. So was he not involved after all? It doesn’t make sense.”
“No, you’re right, but we have to start untangling this somewhere and I still feel this money in Coyote’s bank account is hard evidence of something.”
“Okay. What now?”
“I’m glad you asked me that, Paul.”
“What are you up to?”
“I’m going to call Debbie again. And ask her about the sum of twelve hundred fifty dollars, whether that rings any bells for any of the women.”
Paul was nodding. “Twelve-fifty times five. Six thousand two hundred fifty. I get it, even if it sounds extremely far-fetched. Can’t hurt. Meantime, I’m scheduled to go talk to the Boyz again and get them ready to testify. Maybe they’ll remember something else.”
Debbie was out on the deck, if the birds chirping madly in the background were any indication. “Just thought I’d check in,” Nina said.
“Sam wants to know if you’re going to subpoena any of us,” Debbie said. “For this court proceeding.”
“That’s not the plan at the moment. A preliminary hearing is a lot less thorough than a trial. There will only be a few witnesses, and at the moment I don’t see you and Sam as involved.” She added the lawyer’s private asterisk: But that could change.
“What with Britta still in intensive care and Danny’s death and the Cat Lady, I just can’t seem to get to the gardening or the housework. All I do is worry. I wish I knew what was going on.”
Nina felt a jab of conscience. She had told Britta, not Debbie, about the threat to the children. Maybe Britta hadn’t spread the word before she was assaulted. “Debbie,” she began, but Debbie was ahead of her.
“We had a prowler a few nights ago. Behind David’s house. Now we’re all wondering about this guy Coyote you told us about.”
“Debbie, I think you should worry. I think you should be careful.” She told Debbie about Donnelly’s death. Then, taking a deep breath, she told her Nate’s words about the children.
“Our children?” Her voice was tremulous. “Here in the neighborhood? What is he doing? Why would he hurt Britta and set fires and threaten the children?”
“I just don’t know. But, you know, I don’t agree with the police that there isn’t a possible danger.”
“I think Nate doesn’t make things up. He does get confused, though.”
“That’s true.”
“But-someone hurt Britta. I need to talk to Jolene and Tory. And David.” Now she was in a hurry to sign off, but Nina said, “Wait. There’s one more thing. You know how I told you about the money Coyote received from somewhere?”
“Yes, you got us in a tizzy and nothing came of it.”
“I made a mistake,” Nina said. “The amount was twelve hundred fifty dollars.”
There was a long silence at the end of the line.
“Okay, then, gotta go,” Debbie said, feeding her a big tablespoonful of phony cheer.
“Call me if anything comes up,” Nina said.
“You bet. Oh, absolutely. Bye now.”
When Darryl got back from the hardware store, Tory didn’t seem to be around, and the kids, who had been playing in the backyard when he left, must be with her. When he opened the back door, though, he heard them next door and he went out into the backyard.
Tory and Debbie were chattering on the deck and the kids were trampolining. “Hey, ladies,” he called. They looked his way and Tory called, “Be right there.” So he put away the paint in the garage for his Sunday project and settled down in his La-Z-Boy to watch ESPN. He didn’t feel so good and he just wanted to be left alone, so of course Tory came marching in a few minutes later and, would you believe it, picked up the remote and turned off the tube.
“I want to know what you’ve been up to,” she said. “You better start talking.” She stood right in front of him, arms folded, face white, wearing her gardening jeans and one of her old flowered cotton pregnancy tops that gave her lots of room to grow.
“What’s the matter?” Darryl said. He set down his beer. “What happened?”
“You ask what’s the matter. Britta’s in the hospital, Danny’s dead, the hills are alive with the sound of crackling, the Cat Lady was murdered-murdered, Darryl. You don’t love me anymore. And you ask me what’s the matter? I’m going to pack up the kids and get out of here. I’m not staying here. We’re going.” Her voice sounded strange. He’d never heard her so angry. He stood up and tried to put his arms around her to calm her down, but she shook him off.
“You better listen this time,” she said. “I’ve had it.”
“But what did I do?”
“I don’t know what you did yet. I’m going to go check our bank records and find out some of what you did, but even before I do that, I’m going to tell you, Darryl, you better make up your mind if we’re going to stay married. I’m not putting up with it any longer. With you chasing after Elizabeth, jealous about her.” She burst into tears.
“Oh, sweetie, don’t get so upset.” Darryl felt helpless. “Where are the kids?”
“Debbie’s watching them so I can talk to you,” she choked out, and Darryl had that terrible sinking feeling that this was it, he was going to have to really talk to Tory. He wasn’t ready.
“We’re leaving you, Darryl,” Tory sobbed. It felt like getting hit with a ninety-mile-an-hour fastball. Darryl sat down. He couldn’t breathe. “I’m packing up. All because of you being so stupid. You don’t care about anything but your big stupid self. You just sit home and wait for your girlfriend to come to you. I doubt she ever will, but that’s the way you’ve decided to live.”
“But-but Pastor Sobczek-tomorrow-”
“Too late. Too late.” She was crying like her heart was broken, and all of a sudden Darryl realized it really was. This was serious. She was thinking the unthinkable.
He cleared his throat. “Sweetie, can we sit down? Please? Let’s sit down.” She let him take her hand and they sat down on the couch. He took her chin and tried to get her to look at him, but she wouldn’t. Now he was really alarmed.
“Well, you love her, right?” Tory cried.
“I-I-”
“Putting me through hell. For what? She doesn’t love you! Me and the kids, that’s who used to love you! Well, it’s over. You keep your secrets, all of them. I don’t even care what you’ve been doing.”
“What brought all this on?” Darryl asked, his alarm making it hard for him to hear, making his ears ring.
“Debbie says the kids are in danger from the man who hurt Britta. I’m not staying here, Darryl. And I found out you went to see her.”
“How?”
“Who cares how? You think I’m stupid old Tory, I’ll put up with anything! I’m leav-”
“Tory,” Darryl said as calmly as he could, “listen to me for just a second. You’re very upset and I-I understand. But you can’t just take off.”
“Watch me!”
“We have five kids!” The thought that he might lose his kids was new and so frightening he could barely say that.
“Four. I’m not keeping this one, Darryl.” Stunned, Darryl let go of her. His mouth fell open. She too seemed stunned by what she had said. Then an expression of the most awful sadness and hostility all mixed up came over her face.
“I’m going to have an abortion. I am.”
Darryl’s eyes filled up. He couldn’t say a word.
“I don’t want to, but what am I going to do with five kids? Society doesn’t support motherhood, not really.”
“No. Please, no, Tory. Please listen.”
“To your lies? You and your secrets. All you men. Something awful is going on around here.” She spun around and ran into the bedroom. Darryl stood there a second, panic knotting his gut, then he followed her in. She had pulled open the dresser drawers and was setting clothes on the bed.
“Tory-Tory-”
“Go away, Darryl.” She was crying again.
“We’ll go see the pastor tomorrow.”
“No.”
“I’ll do anything. I love you. I do. I’ll prove it. Please don’t leave.” He grabbed her and she tried to struggle free, but he wouldn’t let her. They fell onto the bed and thrashed around and she got one arm free and hit him in the face, hard. She fought so hard he had to let her go so he wouldn’t accidentally hurt her. She was yelling and screaming the whole time.
She rolled away and got up on one elbow, trying to catch her breath. Darryl felt something wet on his face and wiped under his nose and saw his hand covered with blood.
“I think you broke my nose,” he mumbled. She jumped up and came back in with a bunch of tissue and said, “Stuff it under there.” Then she went back into the bathroom and a minute later came back with some wet washcloths. He sat on the edge of the bed and she wiped the blood from his lip and mouth carefully. She had stopped crying, but her eyelashes were wet and her face was all flushed and he felt the most tender and sad feeling come over him. He had made her cry.
“Just a nosebleed,” she told him.
“You have a hard right.”
“You deserve that and more.”
“You’re right. I’m stupid. I don’t believe how stupid I am. But please don’t leave me. Please. Let’s go see the pastor tomorrow. Then if you have to go, all right. Tory, I can’t make it without you and the kids.”
“I don’t know,” Tory said. “I’m very mixed up. And afraid for the kids. And you’re no help at all. No support at all. Worst of all is that you don’t love me.”
“But I do. I do. I just forgot it for a while.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Darryl got down on his knees and buried his head in her lap. He broke down like a little kid.
And after a minute he felt her hands stroking his hair. It was like crashing a car and then, finding, thank God, you’re still alive.
T HE BOYZ GAVE NOTICE THE NEXT day.
“We’re leaving tomorrow, but we’ll pay the rent until the end of the month,” Dustin said on the phone. Nina, on the floor in Paul’s bedroom, files and books and papers spread around her in a semicircle, tried to wrap her mind around this new domestic disturbance.
“You sure will,” she answered. “Care to give me a reason?”
“This whole thing with Wish.”
“I don’t see how-”
“Wish’s mother. Mrs. Whitefeather. She’s here right now. Know what she’s doing?”
“What?”
“She’s scrubbing the bathroom. She’s putting my razor in the cabinet above the toilet where I’ll never find it.” Dustin must be on a cordless phone because he seemed to be watching Sandy’s movements. His voice, hushed, went on, “She’s sniffing the towels.”
“Put her on, would you?”
“It won’t change our minds. We’re leaving. Sorry, Nina.”
“So that’s it? There’s nothing I can do? Even make Sandy go stay somewhere else?”
“Something else will happen. Tus and I need quiet to study. If Wish gets out he’ll come back here and-no offense, but who knows what’ll happen next? We need quiet. Quiet, man.” Nina heard the sound of the toilet flushing. “There goes the roach that lived in the medicine cabinet,” Dustin said. “He was kind of a pet.”
Nina said, “Okay, Dustin. But I’ll still need you in court next week.”
“We’re still on. I owe Wish that.” Sandy came on the line.
Apparently Dustin hadn’t told her the news yet. When Nina told her she was about to become the sole tenant of the cottage, Sandy said, “I wasn’t going to say anything. But there were things in the freezer that would make your hair stand on end. So what now?”
“The rent’s paid for a couple of weeks. I’ll rent it out again when you leave.”
“It’ll be a lot better-looking around here by then. They’re nice boys, they just never heard of Ajax cleanser.”
Nina returned to her work. She was writing down points to cover during her cross-examination of the medical examiner when Bob knocked on the door.
“Mom? I’m going for a hike.”
“A hike? Where?”
“In the hills out back.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea. There are tarantulas and snakes and poison oak and-”
“I’ll watch out. Hitchcock hasn’t been for a good walk since he got hurt.”
Yes, but there’s a fugitive hiding somewhere out there who wants to take some children, Nina thought. “I’ll go out with you about four.”
“But I want to go now.”
“Go swimming at the condo pool. Okay?”
Bob’s eyes had fallen on a book that lay open in front of her. “What the heck is that?”
“Don’t look at those, honey.” Nina hastily closed the book.
“What happened to those people?”
“It’s a book by two medical examiners, both named Di Maio, called Forensic Pathology. It’s about trying to figure out how people have died.”
“You have to read stuff like that? Look at those cracked-up skulls? That one guy looked like a mummy. His skin was hanging in flaps!”
“I’m sorry you saw the pictures, honey. This book is a reference book for doctors and lawyers. Not for you to look at.”
“Remind me not to be a doctor or lawyer!”
“I’ve got to get back to work now, Bobby.”
“So when are we gonna have our big talk?”
“In the next couple of days.”
“Is Paul mad that I’m here? He’s staying away a lot, isn’t he?”
“Paul likes you just fine,” Nina said. “Don’t worry about a thing.”
“You always say that.”
“Bob, I-” I don’t have time to talk right now, I have a prelim tomorrow and I have to get to work, kiddo, she wanted to say. And managed not to say it. “So go have a swim and get some sunshine.”
He also hesitated. He was growing up and she couldn’t always read his mind anymore. “Okay. See you later.”
“I’ll be knocking off around four. We’ll take a hike and later we can eat at Robata and we’ll stop at the Thunderbird Bookstore.” And then she would work some more.
He closed the door and Nina opened her text again. The caption under the photo said, “Scalp burned away, exposing cranial vault.” Outside the window, it was summer.
At Ben Lomond, Ted and Megan stopped for more water and granola bars, twenty hard miles from where they had started cycling. Ted’s hair, when he removed his helmet, curled in tendrils above his brow and made him look like a Roman emperor. They sat on a bench in front of the general store, drinking water and sweating it out almost as fast as they took it in. The tourists drove along Highway 9, gawking like they were exotic or something.
“I never liked these mountains around Santa Cruz,” Megan said. “They’re too dark. Too thick. Too many murders too. I think the hippies who never grew up came here and some of them stagnated for a long time and then they got rotten.”
“They’re dying off now,” Ted said. “The music was pretty good, though.”
“Sex and drugs and rock. Do you think they had more sex than the current generation?”
“Oh, crap. Are you on the sex thing again?”
Megan looked at him, tall, hard, sucking down his water, wet hair, black spandex cycle shorts, hairy legs. “I’ve got a theory,” she said. “About the sex thing, as you call it.”
Ted groaned.
“I think it’s your bicycle seat. And all the time you spend on it. It injures your testes.”
Ted ate some of his granola bar. He said, “I thought that just made you infertile.”
“If it can do that, it must be cutting back on your testosterone production.”
“Stop it, Megan. You’re starting to really bug me.”
“It’s that, or have an open relationship,” Megan said. Ted groaned again.
“You never quit.”
“Because you won’t be straight with me. Yes, I am straightforward. I don’t make three hundred thousand dollars a year pussyfooting around. But remember, Ted, I am also nonjudgmental. I want to solve this problem of us not making love.”
“Maybe it is you,” Ted said. “Maybe you’re cutting my balls off talking about all the money you make.”
“You’re stronger than that.”
“Maybe I need a seventeen-year-old honey who blindly adores me.”
“I adore you. In my way. But I won’t let you keep secrets from me.”
“Megan, I-”
Megan waited.
Ted’s face contorted. “All right!” he said in a low, intense voice. “You asked for it! I don’t like to have to be the one who does it! I want you to do it to me!”
“Do what?”
“You know! I need you to-I’ve been feeling so guilty about some things I need to be-I don’t want you to go easy on me-”
Megan finally understood. She had been obtuse, very obtuse. “You mean, you want to be the passive one in-”
“Don’t say it! Don’t say it out loud!” Ted looked embarrassed now.
“Thank you,” Megan said. “That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?”
“Let’s go. Let’s get out of here. I need to ride.”
Megan put her lips close to his ear. She said, “After our hot tub tonight, I’m going to-are you listening?-tie you-to the bed-and-punish you severely.” His ears flamed. He filled out his shorts in a whole new way.
W ISH HAD THE FLU. HE SNUFFLED into a handkerchief beside her at the defendant’s table. He had a generic prisoner’s look about him with the shorn hair and the orange jumpsuit.
Behind him, in the audience section of the court that Nina thought of as the pews, Sandy sat in her purple coat, her purse in her lap. They had whispered a few things to each other. Then Wish had folded his hands in front of him on the table and gone mute.
Paul sat next to Nina at the defense table, reading the Monday morning paper. He had arrived home late the night before and had been sleeping when she headed for his office at 7:00 A.M.
In the second row she recognized two newspaper reporters, farther back Elizabeth Gold and Debbie Puglia, and, sitting together, two drifters who enjoyed going to court proceedings. She also saw David Cowan in the back row. Cowan looked anguished. His wife had had some sort of setback over the weekend and had barely pulled through.
The witnesses for both the prosecution and the defense came in one by one. For the prosecution, they were Davy Crockett and Gertrude Rittenhauer, the chief medical examiner for the county of Monterey, and also the county deputy sheriff who had located Wish at the condo, Deputy Grace. Crockett sat down at the prosecutor’s table on the right, looking spiffy in a blue suit.
For the defense, Nina had subpoenaed Dustin Quinn, dressed up in a sport coat and giving Wish the thumbs-up. Wish would testify too. The hell with received wisdom, this defendant would take the stand.
Jaime came in from the side door, arms full of books and papers. He said “Hi, Nina” in that low-key way he had, and started getting organized. At the same time, Judge Salas’s clerk, a blond woman of about fifty, had taken her chair and was writing on a form. To the side of the room, by the empty jury box, the bailiff leaned back in his chair in his tan uniform.
Wish was extremely nervous, and she thought again about this decision to have him testify. Yet how else could they explain what he was doing on the mountain? The burden of proof in a preliminary hearing was so minimal that if they left it with Jaime, Wish would certainly be bound over for some distant trial date.
But Wish had to be credible. He had to stop looking so guilty. “Sit up straight,” she whispered to him as Judge Salas appeared at the judge’s dais.
“The Superior Court of the County of Monterey, State of California, is in session, the Honorable José Salas presiding as magistrate.”
Judge Salas had shed his role of Superior Court judge for this proceeding and become a mere magistrate, for arcane legal reasons that Nina, in a discussion in bed on Friday night, had been unable to make Paul understand.
“It’s a legal fiction,” she had told him finally. “Don’t worry about it. A Superior Court judge can’t conduct a preliminary hearing, because the appeal from the prelim is to a Superior Court judge, and an appeal always has to be to a higher court. So they just change the name of the judge when he’s doing a prelim, to magistrate. So technically a lower court has conducted the prelim, and the law is satisfied.”
“What about the defendant? Is he satisfied? What about reality?”
“Reality? Vat is dis ting you call reality? This is law we’re talking about.”
“Okay, why should the appeal be to a higher court?” Paul said persistently. Sometimes they did this now, instead of making love, lay close to each other and talked softly, endlessly, about very unromantic things. Sometimes Nina enjoyed this pillow talk so much that she kept Paul awake long after his silences lengthened as he fell into drowsiness.
“Several underlying policy reasons. So the judge’s close colleagues on the bench aren’t passing judgment on him or her by reviewing the decision-”
“Okay.”
“And, obviously, an appeal by its very nature is a request for some higher authority to review a decision made by a lower court-it’s a matter of constitutional due process-”
“So how does calling a Superior Court judge a magistrate satisfy these policy reasons? His Superior Court colleagues still review his decision, and the defendant still doesn’t get a higher-court review.”
“That’s true. But it satisfies the letter of the law. That’s why it’s called a legal fiction.”
“And that’s why I don’t trust lawyers,” Paul had said. “Twist, twist, twist.” She lifted her head off his arm and looked at him. His eyes had closed and he gave no sign of realizing how he had casually pushed into her territory and butted into her thinking. Once again, he was openly challenging her assumptions about her own work. She flushed, annoyed and surprised. Then she thought about it. He was right, but you have to pick your fights. You can’t take on the whole system. Other lawyers will consider you naive for wasting your energy on a hopeless cause.
Then again, life was a hopeless cause. Which didn’t mean you stopped fighting.
Nina said, “You talked me into it. I shouldn’t take this for granted. It’s a denial of due process. I haven’t protested because it seems like it’s too big an injustice to take on. I guess I get inured.”
“Is that like getting inert? Like we are now?” They were indeed flat on their backs in the bed, talking at the ceiling.
“I guess, now that you bring this up, I’m going to have to object to having this matter heard by any Superior Court judge, no matter what name they give him. Judge Salas is going to hate me. Oh, well, he doesn’t like me right now anyway, so…” Her eyes closed and she slept.
“People v. Whitefeather. State your appearances,” Salas said in his absurdly young voice.
“Jaime Sandoval, Monterey County District Attorney’s Office, appearing for the people of the State of California. Detective David Crockett of the State of California Special Arson Investigation Unit is my designated investigating officer.” This meant Crockett could sit in on all the proceedings even though he was a witness.
“Nina Reilly, law office of Nina Reilly, appearing for the defendant, Willis Whitefeather, Your Honor. Paul van Wagoner is my investigator in this case. The defendant is present.”
“Any new motions this morning before we begin?” Don’t you dare, Judge Salas’s jaundiced eye told Nina.
However, she had decided otherwise. Sometimes you have to do it, for your own self-respect and because of your respect for the law, even if you’re going to lose and know it. Salas wouldn’t like her any more, but he could hardly like her any less, so there was no strategic ground to be lost. She stood up and said, “One new motion, Your Honor.”
“Paperwork?”
“Right here, Your Honor. Filed just before court this morning.”
Jaime looked hypocritically regretful, as an Olympic skater might look watching a competitor execute a triple axel, only to land hard on her ass. He had read her motion and knew what she was in for. Salas was skimming the papers.
“Proceed,” he said.
“The basis of this motion is that this court has no jurisdiction to conduct this preliminary hearing.” Nina launched into her motion, which essentially said that Salas should step down until some real lower court could hear the case, on grounds that the defendant would otherwise be denied his right to appeal to a higher court. “A conspicuous and egregious denial of due process, I would respectfully submit,” she finished.
Salas knew she was right. So did Jaime. So did every criminal lawyer in the state of California.
The judge flipped through her points and authorities, which relied heavily on the United States Constitution, looked at Jaime, and said “Is she for real?”
“She is,” Jaime said, nodding.
“Counsel, do you know how many preliminary hearings are conducted in this state each year?”
“No, Your Honor,” Nina said.
“Thousands. Tens of thousands. Do you presume to know better than all the county courts, all the legislators, all the lawyers who have never raised this in any preliminary hearing to my knowledge since the act permitting consolidation of lower and superior courts was passed?”
“I don’t presume to be anything other than a lowly defense lawyer, Your Honor.”
“Then why do you raise this in my court, at this time? Is it to persecute me?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Your motion is denied.”
“Very well, Your Honor. Thank you, Your Honor.”
“Feel free to appeal my ruling to the Superior Court,” Salas said, and gave Jaime a sideways glance. Jaime let out an obsequious chuckle.
With the Constitution out of the way, they moved along swiftly. Judge Salas asked about the witnesses and how long the hearing might last, and cast an incredulous look at Nina when told Wish would testify. The witnesses trooped out after being admonished to wait outside and not talk to one another.
Ten minutes later, all other legal detritus cleared away, Jaime called Deputy Clay Grace to the stand.
His complexion had, alas, not improved, but he was alert and responsive. Nina had no beef with him. She let Jaime get through the preliminaries efficiently.
“The Carmel Valley EMS advised they had a male subject who was DOA at Community Hospital. The subject had been found the day after the fire lying near some rocks about a quarter mile up from Hitchcock Canyon. Badly burned and no quick ID possible.”
“And what was your assignment with regard to this victim?”
“To determine who it was. We had what we considered to be significant information in this regard. The Carmel Valley police had been contacted by the defendant’s roommates the morning after the Robles Ridge fire and told that he was missing.”
“‘He’ meaning Willis Whitefeather, the defendant?”
“Correct.”
“What else did these roommates say in their report?” Deputy Grace was testifying as to hearsay, but Nina couldn’t object. In another sleight-of-hand, prosecutors had managed to get a law passed that allowed hearsay in preliminary hearings, as long as it came from a law-enforcement officer with five years of experience. She contented herself with rereading her copy of the handwritten report made by Dustin Quinn.
“They told the Carmel police that the defendant had gone up to Robles Ridge the night before-”
“The night of the fire?”
“Yes. Carrying a backpack with equipment, accompanied by another young man named Danny Cervantes. Based on that, we were working on the theory that the burn victim was either Willis Whitefeather or Danny Cervantes. Also that these two gentlemen had perpetrated the arson fire on the ridge.”
“What did you do next?”
“Well, we advised Mr. Whitefeather’s mother that we needed her assistance in viewing the body, but she couldn’t fly in right away. It took another day to get ahold of Mr. Cervantes’s uncle here and he was the one who made the final ID, but as of the day after the fire, we didn’t know which one of them might still be alive. Neither of them had local dentists and we would eventually have been looking for those records at Lake Tahoe, where both of them were originally from.”
“While you were waiting for a family member to make this ID, what, if any, other avenues of investigation did you pursue?”
“We started calling every hospital and clinic in Monterey County. The CVPD was continuing to search the fire area, so I was assisting by trying to determine if the other individual involved in the fire might have also been burned and needed medical help.”
“And did you locate anyone in this way?”
“No. I then made the assumption that the one who survived might have been able to flee the jurisdiction and I put out a request to surrounding counties up to Santa Clara County for information as to hospital and clinic admissions.”
“Object to the characterization implied by the use of the word flee, Your Honor. Lack of foundation,” Nina said.
Salas looked up, displeased. “You’ll have your chance to cross-examine. There’s no jury here, Counsel. I can separate the wheat from the chaff. Overruled.”
“And did this inquiry bear any fruit?”
“Almost right away. I got a call on Thursday evening from the Las Flores Medical Clinic in San Juan Bautista, about fifty miles from the fire site. The admissions clerk advised that Willis Whitefeather had checked in there on the morning after the fire and had just checked out. Apparently he had fled the county and was hiding there. I had her fax me the admissions form-”
Nina’s finger moved to her copy of that form, signed in Wish’s crabbed hand-
“And he had given an emergency name and number of his employer, Paul van Wagoner Investigations. I determined Mr. van Wagoner’s home address-”
Paul whispered, “Ask him how he did that!”
“Shhh!”
“-and my partner and I proceeded immediately to the address in Carmel Knolls, with a CVPD car for backup. I knocked at the door.
“The door was answered by this lady here, Ms. Reilly. She would not let us enter and she returned a minute later with Mr. van Wagoner. They were putting us off, and I became suspicious.”
“Then what happened?”
“I continued to ask if Mr. Whitefeather was in there and finally he came to the door. He was wearing a towel and I saw burns on his arms and legs. He said he would cooperate and had nothing to hide and agreed to come to the station to meet Detective Crockett. Ms. Reilly insisted on coming along and showed me a State Bar card and said she was his lawyer, so I said okay. Mr. Whitefeather was taken to the station with Ms. Reilly following in her vehicle.”
“What happened then?”
“Detective Crockett interviewed the defendant. Then I was called in to place the defendant in custody pursuant to Detective Crockett’s arrest. By then it was almost midnight. I then took the defendant to the jail facility, where he was booked.”
“Thank you. Nothing further.”
“Your witness,” Salas said.
“Good morning, Deputy Grace.” Nina spoke from her place at the table.
“Good morning.” The deputy crossed his legs, maybe to show she didn’t unnerve him at all.
“You were trying to determine the identity of this burn victim found on the ridge?”
“Correct.”
And you assumed it must be Mr. Whitefeather or Mr. Cervantes?”
“Correct.”
“What made you assume it had to be one or the other?”
“Because we had the report that the two of them went up the ridge that night.”
“And so you were also assuming no one else did?”
“Not necessarily. We just had this report on these two.”
“So it’s possible one or more other people were up there?”
“There’s no evidence of that.”
“But it’s possible?”
“Sure.”
“Now, you also assumed Mr. Whitefeather and Mr. Cervantes set the fires, is that correct?”
“That was our working theory. We had a witness report on a previous fire that two men were involved.”
“Did you consider that someone else might have set the fire, and these two young men were trying to catch him?”
“No. We didn’t have any evidence of a third party, as I have stated.”
“Other than a report from some other incident that there might be two men, what evidence do you have that these men set the fire on the ridge?”
“The witness report in the second fire reported that one of the suspects was dropped off on Siesta Court in Carmel Valley Village, which is where Mr. Cervantes lived, which in my mind linked him to at least the second fire. Mr. Cervantes died in the third fire. So he was present. He went with Mr. Whitefeather. I have read Detective Crockett’s report and I am aware that the defendant admitted he was there. Bottom line, it was late at night on a deserted mountain and an arson fire was in progress and the defendant was there. He exhibited burns consistent with flame burns, as if he’d been caught in a wildfire.”
“Any other evidence?”
“Detective Crockett’s interview-”
Jaime intervened. “Your Honor, since Detective Crockett is the next witness, it would be better for him to testify directly regarding additional evidence developed by the Arson Investigation Unit.”
“Counsel?” Salas said.
“Sounds fine to me,” Nina said. “Oh, by the way, Deputy, when you came to Mr. van Wagoner’s door, did you have an arrest warrant?”
“No, ma’am. We only wanted to question-”
“Was I obligated in some way to allow you inside the home?”
“Not legally, ma’am, no.”
“And did Mr. Whitefeather in any way attempt to resist or flee?”
“No, ma’am.”
“And was he in any way uncooperative?”
“No, ma’am. You were the one who was uncooperative. You advised him not to say anything.” Nina heard a ripple of laughter behind her.
“How did you get Mr. van Wagoner’s home address?”
“We have it on file.”
“Now, you said that you got a call from the Las Flores Clinic that Mr. Whitefeather had been hiding there?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You assumed he was fleeing police?”
“It was my working theory.”
“How do you know he was hiding?”
“Well, there were plenty of places to get medical treatment closer than fifty miles away.”
“Is the Las Flores Clinic a private clinic?”
“No, ma’am, it’s part of the San Benito County system.”
“Did Mr. Whitefeather use an assumed name?”
“No. He used his real name.”
“Did he use a fake emergency name and number?”
“No, since it led us to him.”
“Did he have genuine injuries?”
“It appeared he did.”
“Is there any indication he stayed unnecessarily long at the clinic?”
“Not that I know of.”
“And as soon as he was discharged, he returned to the county?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Is that the usual behavior of a fleeing felon?”
“Objection,” Jaime said. “Calls for a conclusion. Calls for an opinion. Speculation.”
“He can speculate all he wants about why the defendant was on the mountain and why he chose this clinic, but he can’t speculate about the behavior of a fleeing felon?” Nina said.
“I get the point,” Judge Salas said. “Objection overruled. Let’s move it along.”
“Your answer?” Nina said to Deputy Grace.
“No, it’s not what I would expect from a fleeing felon.” Grace was still relaxed. He had told the truth without any fuss, and Nina respected that.
“Thank you, Deputy.”
“No redirect,” Jaime said, and Deputy Grace stepped down.
They took a short recess. Paul was fuming. “On file,” he said. “I guard my home address like El Al guards its ticket counter. No way could they get my address.”
“So that’s why we don’t have many visitors,” Nina said.
“Why didn’t you follow up some more on how he got my address?”
“Because it has nothing to do with this hearing, and it would add a confusing bit to the transcript, and because you can call him and ask him.”
“They’re keeping a file on me, Nina.”
“They’re keeping a file on everybody,” Nina said. “I’m going back in and get ready for Crockett.”
“G OOD AFTERNOON, DETECTIVE CROCKETT.”
“Good afternoon.” Jaime had already taken Davy Crockett through the story of Wish’s arrest and interview at the station. Methodically, he had then obtained an outline of the series of arson fires that had occurred, the Cat Lady’s statement about two men, Wish’s burns, and had even attempted to bring in Wish’s juvenile record for setting a fire. Nina had objected, of course, but Judge Salas had absorbed it even as he sustained her objection.
Now it was her turn. The object of all this was to show that Wish’s actions and statements were consistent with innocence, and that Coyote had also been on the mountain.
“Now, Mr. Whitefeather told you at the interview that Danny was only trying to stop the fires?”
“That’s about all he said, yes. You advised him to remain silent but he did say that, in addition to admitting he was on the ridge that Tuesday night.”
“All right. Now. There was a reward for information leading to the arrest and conviction of the arsonist in the previous two fires, am I correct?”
“I believe so. It was put up jointly by two corporations that suffered property damages due to the arsons.”
“And the amount of this award was?”
“A hundred thousand dollars, I believe.” Judge Salas stroked his chin.
“You had received numerous tips from the public about who the arsonist could be?”
“Yes.”
“Ruth Frost asked for that reward, did she not, after she signed her statement?”
“Doesn’t mean she wasn’t telling the truth.”
“Right. So there was great public interest in this reward? It had been well-publicized?”
“Yes.”
“Would a photograph of a man, accompanied by a sworn statement that the photograph was taken at the time and place of an arson fire, be evidence that the man was an arsonist?” The question was clumsy, but Crockett understood and Jaime made no objection.
“Possibly. It might be a firefighter, or an innocent bystander.”
“Right. But your office would follow up to determine if this person was an innocent party or not if presented with such a photograph?”
“Sure we would.”
“Now, you have testified that the murder weapon was found to be a camera.”
“Dr. Rittenhauer will go into that further in her testimony, I believe.”
“But that’s your understanding?”
“Yes.”
“And you have identified the camera as belonging to the defendant?”
“Yes.”
“Speaking as a highly trained and experienced arson investigator, why do you think the defendant brought the camera up the mountain with him? You think he did that, right?”
“He was up there and so was his camera. There are several possible reasons for bringing it up there. The first one I would think of is, he wanted a souvenir. It was an ego trip. Can I make a comment about why the fires might have been set?”
“Go right ahead.” She had been hoping Crockett would go into his lecture mode. Let Salas hear about all the many reasons others might have set the fires.
“Juveniles set most of the fires, probably fifty percent of the fires in this country. They love the colors, the excitement, the destruction.
“Adults don’t get that same kick. Maybe they want to do something grandiose, something that will make them famous. We call that a vanity motive.
“Then there are the revenge arsons. Love stories gone bad. Feuding relatives. These people aren’t worrying about being caught. They’re too busy being drama kings and queens.
“Of course, there are always the insurance fires. The list goes on. Lately, we’ve seen an increase in arson that is used to commit homicide or to cover up a homicide.
“Now, we don’t know exactly why these fires were set. But in any of these scenarios except the last, the arsonist might have wanted a photo to remember it by.”
“Isn’t it true that the last scenario is actually what you believe at this time was the motivation for the third fire? To cover up a homicide?”
“We can’t be sure-”
“You’ve testified that Mr. Cervantes’s death was no accident, that the camera was the murder weapon. Mr. Whitefeather is charged with premeditated murder in one of the counts of the complaint. Which of the scenarios you have mentioned is the most likely scenario explaining the third fire, based on your experience and training?”
“For the third fire, it seems that at least one purpose was to commit a murder,” Crockett said, because he had to, or else the premeditated murder count would have to be dismissed.
“And, as you’ve just said, it is actually not at all likely that a suspect would bring a camera to record that?”
“You never know.”
“But it’s unlikely?”
Crockett pursed his lips and said reluctantly, “Pretty unlikely. They might take a souvenir, but usually some physical item, not a photo.”
“So the first reason for bringing the camera up the ridge, an ego trip, doesn’t work in this case. What other reason might there be to bring a camera up a hill, assuming that a hundred-thousand-dollar reward has been offered?”
“Presumably to try to get the reward by documenting the arsonist.”
“Ah,” Nina said.
“Pretty stupid way to go about it, though. And it doesn’t make sense in light of the other facts.”
“Why don’t you remind us of those facts again.”
With exaggerated patience, Crockett said, “Fact: The defendant went up the ridge with Mr. Cervantes. Fact: Mr. Cervantes was linked with the previous arson. Fact: There is no evidence anyone else was on the mountain that night.”
“Let’s look again at that third fact.” Judge Salas looked at the clock on the wall, stifled a yawn.
Nina took the photos recovered from Wish’s memory card from an envelope on her table. The memory card looked like a tiny disk and held digital memories of photos, taking the place of the roll of film of yore. She showed them to Jaime as a courtesy. He already had his set, and nodded, not particularly perturbed.
“You’ve seen these photos, haven’t you, Detective Crockett?”
Crockett looked through each of them and said, “Yes, your investigator gave me the same set.”
“He explained that these were developed from the memory card taken from the camera of Mr. Whitefeather?”
“He didn’t know where that memory card came from.”
“He told you I found it in clothing worn by Mr. Whitefeather during the fire, didn’t he?”
“Maybe you ought to testify, Counsel. I know nothing about where these photographs come from.”
“You have attempted to match the memory card to the camera, haven’t you?”
“Haven’t had time due to the prelim taking place so quickly.” It’s all your fault, his eyes said. He wasn’t happy about being rushed into the prelim, and now she was paying a price.
“What do the photos show?”
“Some people running around in some woods.”
“Recognize any of the people?”
Jaime got up and said, “Your Honor, this has gone far enough. This witness has testified that he can’t authenticate or identify the photographs. I object on grounds of lack of relevance and competence. The pictures could have been taken anytime, anyplace. Let’s not waste any more time.”
Nina said, “Offer of proof, Your Honor. Mr. Whitefeather will testify that he took these photographs during the Robles Ridge fire. He will identify the two other men pictured.”
“I look forward to that, I really do,” Jaime said. “It’ll be the first time in my legal career that a defendant has taken the stand in a prelim involving such serious felonies. I can’t wait. But, until he does, I object to questioning this witness further on this subject.”
Salas took his time. Finally he said, “This witness isn’t competent to testify about these photographs. You haven’t laid any groundwork. You have to assume too many facts not in evidence. I will sustain this objection.”
Salas was right, but she had had to try. The photos had at least reared their ugly heads. She took the set of photos back to the table and took a breath. Onward.
“All right. Back to your contention that there is no evidence of any third party being present during the third fire. My investigator, Mr. van Wagoner, also came to your office and signed a statement regarding a child-endangerment case in the Arroyo Seco area about a week after the third fire, is that correct?”
“Ye-es.” Crockett, puzzled, looked to Jaime for help, and Jaime shrugged his shoulders.
“The suspect in that case was a man named Robert Johnson, also known as Coyote?”
“Yes.”
Two could play at the hearsay game. Nina could make Crockett testify about Paul’s statement and keep Paul off the stand.
“You recorded the interview and later provided a copy of the statement to Mr. Sandoval here?”
“Yes.”
“And in the interview with you did Mr. van Wagoner tell you about anything he saw at Robert Johnson’s, uh, home?”
Crockett looked surprised. “A couple of conchos. Silver medallions. He also reported kerosene and weapons on the premises. We took all these items into custody pursuant to a search warrant executed that same day.”
Turning to the judge, Nina said, “Your Honor, I have previously requested that Mr. Sandoval bring to court today the conchos under discussion and I would now request to have them given to the witness for examination.”
Jaime said, “I have them right here.” Two small chased silver medallions lay in the evidence bag Jaime passed to Nina.
“Let’s see,” Judge Salas said. She gave it to the clerk and the clerk passed it to the judge. He turned the bag to and fro and held it up to the light, then passed it back.
Now Crockett had the bag, and pulled on a pair of latex gloves and emptied the conchos onto the witness stand.
“Seen those before, Detective?”
“Yes, I have marked the bag. These are the conchos Mr. van Wagoner reported.”
“Have you attempted to match the conchos to any other conchos in police custody?”
“Yes. Our evidence technician did find a match. The conchos matched conchos on the belt worn on the body of Mr. Cervantes.”
“Was Mr. Cervantes’s belt missing any conchos?”
“Two. I can save some time here and state that our evidence tech examined the conchos and belt with a microscope and reported that the conchos were from the belt of the decedent. There were marks showing they had been torn off. It says here that he found one print of an index finger on one concho matching records on file for Robert Johnson.”
“Yes. I have that report. And what conclusion did you draw from this?”
“No real conclusion. The belt had been in the possession of both men, or Johnson found the conchos after a bar fight in Cachagua. They may have known each other.” Crockett was reading the technician’s report as he spoke. A deep frown came over his forehead. He had had a lot of work to do, and little time, and he had missed something. He was realizing that now.
Time to ram it home. Nina found herself turning and looking at Paul as she said, “Your evidence technician found traces of soot on the two conchos from Mr. Johnson’s home, isn’t that correct, Detective?” Paul winked. Nina tried not to smile.
“Appears he did.” Crockett was still reading. “It does mention that.”
“Soot? The product of a fire?”
“A wood fire.”
“So now we have conchos torn off from Mr. Cervantes’s belt, with Mr. Johnson’s prints on them, which have been in or near a fire. That’s what we have, am I right?”
Salas was tapping his lip again, interested at last.
“That’s what we appear to have,” Crockett answered.
“What inference do you, based on your experience and training, draw from these facts, Detective?”
“You might infer that he got these conchos during or after the fire.”
“Come on, Detective, how could he have gotten them after the fire? The belt was in police custody, wasn’t it?”
Crockett gave in. “Could have gotten them during a fire.”
“Could have torn them off Mr. Cervantes’s belt during a struggle during a fire?”
“Objection, calls for speculation.” Jaime had finally woken up.
“Overruled.”
“That would be consistent with the report from our evidence tech.”
Nina paused. Paul was nodding, Salas was tapping, Jaime was scratching his head. She felt focused and in control.
She moved closer to Crockett and said, “That links Mr. Johnson to the time and place of the third fire, doesn’t it?”
“It’s interesting. It’s very interesting. It could.”
“Now, let’s back up to our previous discussion, about ego trips in arsonists. Detective Crockett, in your experience, do murderers ever take souvenirs from their victims?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you think Mr. Johnson might tear off a couple of conchos from Mr. Cervantes’s belt during the fire?”
“During a struggle. Or trying to save him, maybe. Or-”
“Or for a souvenir?”
“Maybe.”
“But he was there?”
“I can’t say for sure.”
“You can’t say for sure? Did you find any evidence of kerosene when you searched Mr. Johnson’s place?”
“Yes. Three empty gallon cans with kerosene residue.”
“You’re a well-experienced arson investigator, Mr. Crockett. Please give us the benefit of your expertise. What if anything would you conclude from the facts we’ve just gone through, that Mr. Johnson was in possession of several empty kerosene cans, that kerosene was used in the Robles Ridge fire, that Mr. Johnson was an associate of a victim of that fire, that Mr. Johnson had in his possession items matching those worn by the victim, with his fingerprints on them, and with soot on them from a fire? What do you make of those facts?”
“Objection,” Jaime said. “Not a proper hypothetical. Lack of foundation. Misstates the facts set forth in the testimony.”
Nina argued, “He’s an expert, and I have a right to ask for his opinion.”
“I’ll draw the appropriate conclusions of fact and law in this proceeding,” Salas said. “The facts are as stated. It is my function to interpret them.”
“Detective Crockett is here to assist you in that regard, Your Honor,” Nina insisted. She didn’t want to, but she would have to get in Salas’s face.
“Overruled.”
“I ask that the court reconsider in light of the established body of law on the subject of expert testimony-I ask that the ruling on the objection at least be deferred and I be allowed to brief this point.”
“Overruled.”
“I’ll file a writ.”
“To one of my Superior Court colleagues. Good luck.”
“I’ll object to use of one of your colleagues too,” Nina said. “I’ll take it right out of this county to a real appellate court.”
“I don’t like your attitude, Counsel. I think you disrespect this Court.” Salas was blinking hard, angry and trying not to show it.
“For the record, I do not disrespect the Court,” Nina said. She left it to Salas to decide if she disrespected him.
Night fell upon the central coast. Debbie had made a lasagna and put out some red wine, thinking they could have a little talk about some big things on her mind.
But about ten, after their TV shows were over, just when she turned off the TV and said “Sam, I need to talk to you,” he got a phone call. He might have been expecting it, because he jumped for the phone.
“Yeah?” he said. Debbie didn’t go into the kitchen. She sat right on the couch and listened.
“Yeah. Okay. On my way.” He hung up and looked at her. What’s he feeling, she thought, and then, it’s regret, that’s what it is. He’s sorry about something.
“What’s to talk about? Are the kids okay?” he asked her.
“They’re fine. Jenny called today from L.A. and she had just talked to Jared. He’s fine too. That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“It’ll have to wait.” He went into the bedroom and came out with his shoes on. “George is up at Kasey’s and not feeling too good. He doesn’t want to alarm Jolene so I’m going to go up there.”
“We should call an ambulance.”
“He says it’s not that bad. He’s resting out front. I’ll just run up and check on him.”
You do that, Debbie thought. She heard the car start up.
In the bedroom, she pulled out the bedstand drawer and she’d known it somehow, but it was still a shock-the Smith & Wesson he kept there was gone. So he had to bring his gun to help poor old George, that clinched it.
“Jolene?”
“Hi.” Jolene was washing dishes, judging by the noises on the phone.
“Where’s George?”
“He had to go out and get something.”
“What?”
“Whadda you mean, what? Razor blades or something.”
“He make any calls first?”
“A couple. From the bedroom. I couldn’t hear. What’s up?”
“I’m calling Tory, then I’ll call you back.” She dialed the Eubankses’ number.
“Where’s Darryl?”
“He’s taking David over to Mid-Valley to get some cough syrup. Poor David has the flu, I guess, and he’s such a mess he asked Darryl to drive.”
“How long ago did they leave?”
“Why, I can see the car pulling out of David’s driveway right now.”
“Stay by the phone.”
Debbie grabbed her purse and ran out to the pickup. The men drove by as she shut the door and pulled herself down in the seat. Then she revved ’er up and headed up Esquiline, their taillights faint in front of her.
With so little traffic, it was easy. She was kicking herself for not bringing Jolene along, but there hadn’t even been time to think, and Jolene had the little girls. Darryl and David pulled into the Kasey’s parking lot and she saw her pistol-packin’ husband had beat them to it, and there was George’s old sedan too.
She was very upset. She was mad, mad at everything, mad at being patronized and blown off and kept in the dark by Sam. But she drove right on by like they did in the cop shows, then parked over by the travel agency. She sneaked back over to the convenience store. They were leaning against the wall away from the road and the streetlight: George, Darryl, David, Ted, and her Sam.
She didn’t round the corner. She heard them talking and she rested behind a flower bush not fifteen feet from them, trying not to breathe. She pushed her hair back behind her ears and cupped a hand behind the left one and listened harder than she had ever listened to anything in her life.
Finally, after about ten minutes, they broke up. Debbie heard cars start up and leave the lot.
She was alone, sitting in the flower bed hugging her knees like a little girl. She let out a moan that could be heard from here to San Francisco.
E ARLY THE NEXT MORNING, DAVID SAT close to Britta’s head in the hospital room, his head in his hands.
The flowers people had brought the week before drooped in their cheap vases. The neighbors came, and the women Britta worked with at the travel agency. That was it. Britta had no friends in the Valley. The people had come out of duty and the flowers were duty flowers.
He had taken her away from her whole life in New York, the flying, the laughter, all the things she needed, and made her a prisoner of the luxury he offered.
She had retaliated. He had known they couldn’t go on living in the Valley, that he had made a mistake.
He had married her quickly and taken her to a place where he would be comfortable. As time went on, she never flagged, but her brashness turned to recklessness and her gaiety took on a bitter edge. It happened gradually and he tried not to notice. He was enjoying wallowing in his depression, feeling sorry for himself, the way he had gotten what he wanted since childhood.
But now, in this sterile room with its wilted flowers, he had to notice that hardly anyone cared besides him that she was hurt. It made the fact that he had set in motion the attack on her all the more dreadful.
She hardly seemed to breathe. Her head was wrapped in bandages and under those bandages was the frightful wound that had been inflicted on her. Probably a baseball bat, the doctor said. Her pretty face was drawn and white.
He hadn’t called her parents in Reykjavik. He would, soon. He just couldn’t stand to talk to them, the guilt in him was so sharp and acrid.
“… David…”
Was he dreaming?
Another small noise from the bed. He lifted his head and saw that her eyes were open.
“Britta, Britta, my darling…”
She was trying to whisper something. He put his ear close to her mouth and heard her say “So I’m alive?”
“Yes, you’re going to be fine, you’ve had a terrible… a terrible…” he jabbered.
“My God. Alive.” Her chest heaved. She was trying to laugh. “… I remember everything…”
“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry, I…”
“… David?”
He began stroking her forehead, trying to calm her. She still gazed at him with such open eyes, as if she had never seen him before.
“… Take… me away.”
“Oh, yes. Where shall we go?”
“I… don’t know. My wonderful… idiot…” Her eyes fluttered and closed. For a moment he thought she was dead.
But she had only gone to sleep. She will live, he thought in wonder, and he ran out into the hall, calling for the nurse passing by.
Debbie was pouring out margaritas for the four of them, her hand shaking so it made the crushed ice rattle in the frosted pitcher. The sun beat down right through the canvas umbrella onto Jolene’s frosted hair and worried expression. Tory had moved under the eave of the house for the shade.
“Sit down, now,” Megan said. She pulled out a chair with padded blue patio cushions and Debbie sank into it. Under her makeup her face was distraught.
“You said it was important,” Megan reminded her.
“Oh, yeah, it’s important.”
“Well?”
“Don’t push her, Megan,” Tory said. “You always push too hard. It’s something awful bad, isn’t it, Debs?”
“Yes,” Debbie said, and tears began to flow.
“We’re gonna help, whatever it is,” Jolene said. “Is George involved in this trouble?”
Debbie nodded tearfully.
“Is Ted part of this?” Megan said sharply, taking her cue from Jolene.
Another nod. Megan sat back in consternation. Debbie took crushed ice out of her glass and rubbed it into her forehead. “So’s Sam. And David.” She took Tory’s hand. “So’s Darryl.”
“Well, lay it down for us,” Jolene said in her practical way.
“They met last night. At Kasey’s parking lot. Around the side, away from the Valley Road. They gave you all some excuse like Sam gave me.”
“They met? Why didn’t they just get together at one of our houses?” Tory said.
“Just wait. I followed them. I wanted to know what they were doing.”
Jolene said, “Why, you sly thing.” She was holding her glass tightly.
“And I heard-”
“Uh huh, uh huh-”
“Listen.” So she told them what she’d heard from the bushes.
“… in,” somebody said. Maybe David.
“We turn him in, we’re turning ourselves in.”
“I don’t care, Sam. He almost killed my wife. I can’t let him get away with that.” That was David for sure.
“He’s taking us on one by one,” Sam said. “You guys have that figured out yet? Ted, who you think that fire on Robles Ridge was aimed at?”
“Megan and me?” Ted said. “Our house site? Really? He could have burned down half of Southbank Road!”
“He told me forty-eight hours to pay up or he’s gonna do something worse,” Sam said.
“Well, I’m not paying a thing.” David again.
“That’s fine, you turn us all in. Then when Britta gets out of the hospital, who’s going to take care of her?” George said. “I got my family, you got Britta: Darryl, he’s got four little ones. Think about that before you go running off-” David made a strangled noise.
“If we pay him off, will he go away?” Darryl had started talking now.
“If we’d paid him way back after the second fire we wouldn’t be in this fix,” George said.
“We all agreed,” Sam said. “He had no right. All he was supposed to do was set a little brushfire, scorch up the model home a little-he could have hurt somebody burnin’ down the café. That was right in the heart of town! We couldn’t pay him after that!”
“We can’t pay him now either,” David said. “It’s just piling another crime on all of us.”
“But he’ll go away if we do,” Darryl said.
“He’s only hanging around out there waiting to collect. He doesn’t want to be here, he’s hot. We’re keeping him here,” Ted said.
“We have another problem,” Darryl said. “Tory asked me why I withdrew the first twelve-fifty.” The other men groaned. “She knows something.”
George said, “So that’s what Jolene’s been up to! I thought the kids were playing with my desk. It’s her. I’ll be damned.”
“Look. We have to pay him,” Sam said. “You should have heard him on the phone. He’s not reasonable. He said forty-eight hours and that’s it.”
“But, Jolene-”
“Be quiet a second, George. I want to ask David here a question. Now, David. You could pay out the twenty thousand balance we still owe him right now, end all this, save us all. It’s the simplest way, right?”
“That’s good. That’s good,” Darryl said.
David said in a tight voice, “He hurts my wife like that and I’m supposed to pay for all of you? No. No.”
“David, listen-”
“Hey, don’t go-”
“David!”
Debbie heard a car door slam and the car peeled out of the lot.
There was a long silence. Then Darryl said in a disbelieving voice, “He had my car keys. That was my car he drove off in.”
“Great. Now we’re totally in the crapper,” Ted said.
“Ted-”
“Don’t look at me, man, Megan knows all our finances and most of it’s her money and she’d figure it out in ten seconds.”
Darryl said, “Sam, what are we gonna do?” He sounded desperate.
“Keep your shirt on, Darryl, I’ll think of something. I’ll call him and tell him we need more time to get the money together.”
“He’ll do something else to us.”
“I said, I’ll take care of it. Now listen, all of you. The women can’t know about this. Don’t say anything or we’re all going to prison. Darryl, you hear me? Huh? Darryl?”
“What’d you bring that gun for anyway, Sam?”
Sam said, “I don’t know. I just feel like killing somebody.” Debbie had forgotten about the gun. She held on to a branch and closed her eyes and said a little prayer.
“Don’t scare him, you jerk,” Ted said. “I have to get home.”
“I’ll call you. Stay cool,” Sam said.
Megan said, “Is that everything, Debbie? All you can remember?” Maybe she spoke too sharply, because Debbie put the pitcher down and propped herself against the table and started blubbering again.
“Now, honey,” Jolene told her, “stitch yourself back together, because we need your help. Not a one of us can afford to have a nervous breakdown right now.”
“I’ll start,” Megan said. “They’re a bunch of selfish little boys. I checked our books. Twelve hundred fifty dollars withdrawn by Ted two months ago.”
Jolene said, “Mmm-hmm. George did the same. Tory?”
“Yes. He told me it was for something else.”
“Debbie?”
“Yeah.” A big tear fell into Debbie’s salt-rimmed glass. Her mascara was streaked all the way down to her lips.
“I think we can figure that David paid too. Serve ’em right to go to jail,” Jolene said. She looked around the table. “I know, I know. Now, George, he’ll die in jail. He’s sick.”
“I don’t know where to start. All the harm they’ve caused,” Tory said. “I decided to have the baby after all, and now this. Who’s going to buy the food for five kids?”
“None of us wants to turn them in, but what else can we do? There’s a man killing people left and right out there, it’s all their fault, and-”
“We could urge them to turn themselves in,” Tory said.
“I am not able to raise this with Sam, not alone,” Debbie said, still sniffling. “He won’t listen.”
“We could all meet with all of them-” Tory was still trying.
“They’ve already made up their minds what they want to do,” Megan said. “But they’re going to fart around until somebody else gets hurt. I could just pay the money.”
“After how he hurt Britta? How he-he sneaked up on poor Ruthie-”
The women were silent. Debbie poured them all another round.
“No way,” Tory said, and they all nodded.
“But-the kids? What about them?” Tory said. “What if-”
Jolene looked at her watch and said, “The girls get off that bus at two-thirty, and I’m going to be right there to meet them. So we better make a decision.”
“He gave the men until tomorrow,” Debbie said fearfully. “I think.”
“And then you know what he threatened to do. Take the children. I’m sure as hell not taking any chances. Now I have two more minutes, girls. Callie’s got her soccer practice after this and I’ll be right there on the field. Here’s what I think. I’m as mad at the men as anybody. But I’m not calling the police. I won’t do it to George.”
“We can’t trust the men to handle this,” Tory said.
“Call me,” Jolene said. She patted her hair and picked up her purse. “I’m so damn mad I can’t think.”
When Jolene had gone, the women kicked back for a couple of minutes. Finally, Megan said, “We need a lawyer. To advise us.”
She was thinking about the business she had built up, the clients, what would happen if Green River got a judgment against her and Ted’s community assets. She was feeling humiliated about the night before. Ted had wanted to be punished-if she had it to do all over again, she’d have punished him for real when she tied him to the bed, she’d have beat the shit out of him.
She had never felt so wounded. “My boon companion,” she said, choking up, and put her hand over her eyes.
“Not you too, Megan, we need you to stay strong,” Tory said. “I think you have a good idea. If we could get somebody right away. Because our children are in danger.”
“How about the lawyer who’s defending Danny’s friend?” Debbie said. “She’s a criminal lawyer. I liked her.”
“But-wouldn’t she have a conflict of interest? She already has a client-”
“Maybe not,” Megan said. “She could consult with us confidentially, and if she can’t help us, she’d at least have to keep her mouth shut about the consultation.”
Tory said, “I vote we call her.”
“Me too,” Debbie said. “She’s probably in court right now.”
“We’ll leave an urgent message,” Megan said. “Now, meantime, if any of us talks to the men, it’ll all blow up even worse. Capisce, Debbie?”
“I’ll just watch TV and go to bed. I can do it.”
“I’ll pretend I’m sick. I am sick. Sick of Darryl not growing up,” Tory said. “Do you want me to talk to Jolene?”
“Yeah. I’ll call the lawyer,” Megan said.
The medical examiner, Dr. Rittenhauer, took the stand after lunch on the second day of the prelim. She was young, with a pleasant face and a practical haircut, and a recent medical degree from Columbia. She gave Wish a curious look and then turned to her papers. A very well-prepared lady, Nina thought. Nina hadn’t found much wrong with the autopsy report either, but she did have a couple of subjects she couldn’t wait to explore.
After the preliminaries, Jaime asked, “Did you perform the autopsy on the decedent later identified as Daniel Cervantes?”
“I did.” Nina pulled out her copy of the autopsy report, and Dr. Rittenhauer kept a hand on her own copy.
“Please summarize the autopsy findings for the court.”
“Certainly. The most conspicuous feature presenting externally was massive flame burns over about eighty percent of the skin. The burns penetrated very deeply into underlying musculature and internal organs in places. As I noted, this made it impossible at first to determine ethnicity, weight, nourishment, or age. We were able to tell that the body was that of a male over six feet in height. Almost all the clothing was burned away. However, we had an immediate break. As we turned over the body I noted that the posterior side had not been burned.”
“Go on.”
“The body, when I first saw it, was on its left side with the arms drawn up in a pugilistic attitude, common in burn victims. However, Monterey County sheriffs reported that when found on the mountain, the decedent lay on his back in that position. There had been a fire that had passed over him, but it didn’t burn the body so severely that it could get to the back. Therefore, when we turned it over, we saw clothing and skin. I was then able to identify the decedent as a young male, probably Hispanic, no particular identifying marks on the skin. He wore the remains of an army camouflage jacket, a white T-shirt, and jeans. Also the remains of a pair of steel-shanked boots were still on the feet. Around the waist, under the jacket, we found the remains of a black leather belt with silver conchos attached.”
“What kind of condition was this belt in?”
“In the back, good condition. There were six conchos still attached in back. In the front, the belt was burned but was still in one piece. There were four conchos, and two more were missing. CVPD did not locate those in the vicinity.”
Salas, Nina, and Jaime all scribbled a note.
“What else could you determine from the exterior of the body?”
“The hair in front had burned away. However, in back there remained hair on the scalp that was long and black. No scars, tattoos, moles in back. In front, impossible to determine. You have the autopsy photos, correct?”
“Yes, thank you, they are in evidence by stipulation. What did you do after this initial evaluation?”
“We attempted to take fingerprints, without success. We also took photos for identification. I then began a detailed examination of the body. Charring from direct contact with flames was extensive in front. We are talking about fourth-degree burns, which are incinerating injuries extending deeper than the skin. In general, however, the skin was burned away in front, with muscle exposed and ruptured. Unburned skin had a seared and leathery consistency. There was a partial skeletonization of the face due to soft tissue being burned away. Portions of the outer table of the skull had fallen away in the right frontal region.”
“And the clothing had been destroyed in front?”
“The camouflage jacket was made of cotton, which transmits more thermal energy than polyester, and provided almost no protection. The undershorts were of polyester, which protected the genitalia to some extent.”
“Which is how you knew immediately it was a male.” Paul was grimacing.
“Yes. Our dental consultant came in at that point and prepared a dental chart and took X rays of the remaining teeth to attempt to identify the body. When he was finished, I began examining the skull area. I observed some heat fractures on the skull.”
“What else, if anything, did you observe with regard to the skull?” Jaime said.
“I observed a severe linear skull fracture in the parietal area, obviously an impact injury. The fracture was several inches long and the skull had been slightly deformed by the impact of the object. I took photographs and called Detective Crockett to see if any objects near the body had been collected that might have been impact objects. Detective Crockett brought over a Canon camera with the remains of a long strap, a surprisingly heavy camera. I tried fitting it in various ways and found that the base fit the injury. At first I was puzzled because even though it was heavy I wondered how hitting the skull with a camera in your hand could cause such a severe injury. Then I tried swinging the camera by a portion of the strap. This added considerable impact velocity.”
“And what, if anything, did you conclude regarding-”
“Before I could come to any conclusions I completed the autopsy, including weighing and examining the internal organs. I was interested in the possibility of carbon-monoxide poisoning, what is sometimes referred to as smoke-inhalation injury, but the skin in back didn’t exhibit the cherry-red coloration I would expect and the subsequent lab tests confirmed there was very little CO in the blood. I also checked very carefully for soot around the nostril and in the trachea. There were only traces.”
Dr. Rittenhauer sat back. Her face said, There you have it.
Jaime said, “Those were your major findings?”
“Yes. I can go into much more detail if you have particular questions.”
“I think we have enough of a factual basis. I would now like to ask you some of the conclusions you may have come to pursuant to the autopsy.”
“Very well.”
“Could you identify the body?”
“Not as a result of the autopsy. I was informed that a report had been made of a missing person and for the first two days was working on the assumption that the victim might be Mr. Whitefeather. Apparently the shoes were a match to Doc Martens Mr. Whitefeather was known to wear. However, the next day, I believe it was, the uncle of the victim came in. He was able to make the identification based on the remains of the camouflage jacket, the concho belt, the long hair, the general build and height, the color of skin in back, and other factors.”
“And that identification was?”
“That the victim’s name was Daniel Cervantes.”
“All right. Could you determine whether the victim was alive at the time of the fire?”
“That’s difficult. It’s hard to tell if burning occurred before or after. There was no inflammatory reaction, which might tend toward an assumption that the burns took place after death. I would expect soot and perhaps some evidence of internal burns to be found around the breathing passages if the person was breathing at the time of the burn and for the CO level to be higher. I therefore concluded that the burns occurred postmortem.”
“What, in your opinion, was the immediate cause of death?”
“A skull fracture caused by blunt-force trauma.”
“Nothing further. Thank you, Doctor.”
The Court took its afternoon recess. “You had a call from Megan Ballard,” Sandy told Nina from the office. “She says it’s very urgent. She wants a consultation.”
“What about?”
“She won’t go into it.”
“I’ll give her a call after court. Call her back and let her know.”
“Okay. I checked the hospital. Britta Cowan is conscious.”
Nina put her hand over the receiver. “Paul, Britta’s awake. Can you try to go and see her?”
“You don’t need me this afternoon?”
“I’ll bring you up to date tonight at dinner.”
“Okay. I’ll go over there right now.”
“Sandy, call David Cowan and see if Britta has said anything to him about who struck her.”
“Will do.”
“Anything else happening?”
“A couple of German tourists got into a fight at the Hog’s Breath. They knocked over a couple of tables. The cops came.”
“Stay with it.”
“I’ll be here.”
Nina returned to court without Paul, already missing his comforting presence.
“Your witness,” Judge Salas said. Dr. Rittenhauer had already taken her seat.
“Doctor, isn’t it true that no fingerprints were found on the camera?” Crockett had told her that in the beginning, so Nina felt she could make a point here.
“Not immediately,” Dr. Rittenhauer answered. “However, I just heard from Detective Crockett this morning. There was in fact one fingerprint found. Fortunately, the camera was found partly under the body, where a portion of the lens was protected from the flames.”
Nina turned to Jaime, who stood up and said, “I just heard about it myself. I had no intent of surprising Counsel with this new information. As we all know, one of the problems inherent in holding the prelim so quickly is-” While he went on excusing himself Nina was performing a lightning-fast calculation. She saw clearly that Jaime had let her walk into this trap. He could have told her right up to five seconds ago. No problem for him-if she hadn’t raised it on the cross-exam, he’d have slipped it in on the redirect. Therefore it was harmful to her case.
Therefore, the print was Wish’s.
“I will withdraw the question at this time, as the district attorney has apparently not shared new discovery with me,” she said.
But Salas wanted to know about the print. He said, “If you refuse to waive time, these things happen. Not everything can be finalized in ten days.” To Jaime he said, “You only received this information this afternoon? You have not withheld this information?”
“Absolutely not, Your Honor.”
“I am here as an examining magistrate to make a determination, and I wish to know this information. Counsel, any objection?”
“Most definitely, Your Honor. There is no question pending. It is a breach of the discovery rules-”
“There is good cause for the breach. The prosecutor didn’t know about it either. Are we searching for the truth here, or not?”
Nina didn’t have time to explain how she was not necessarily there to search for the truth, she was there to defend Wish. “Objection overruled,” Salas said. Huh?
“I withdraw the question,” she said again stubbornly.
Salas gave her a look and said to Dr. Rittenhauer, “Has this fingerprint been identified by a certified fingerprint technician?”
“Yes-”
Nina said, “Objection. Hearsay. Dr. Rittenhauer is not a law-enforcement officer with five years of experience and therefore cannot testify as to hearsay.”
“Overruled. What identification has been made?”
“The print on the camera matches that of the defendant, Willis Whitefeather.” Wish gestured to Nina and she sat down, burning with rage.
“It’s my camera, so of course it’ll have my prints,” he whispered. “But listen-”
“Just a second,” Nina said, and rose again, and said, “To your knowledge, has Mr. Whitefeather ever denied he brought the camera up the mountain?” Jaime would hammer on the fact that there was no other person’s print on the camera. That was the problem.
“No,” said Dr. Rittenhauer. She was so admirable, so impartial and calm, so machinelike, she could be so helpful if Nina could just figure out a way to use her-Wish was pulling her jacket sleeve.
“One moment,” she said to the judge, and he looked pointedly at the clock, then nodded his head. “What?” she whispered to Wish.
“What she said about the boots, it isn’t right.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Something. I forget. It’s all happening so fast.”
“Well, let me know if you think of it.” She said to the witness, “Thank you. Nothing further at this time.” If she needed Rittenhauer, she could call her in rebuttal later.
“The witness is excused.”
“The prosecution rests,” Jaime said. The air seemed to go out of him and Nina thought, He’s as tired as I am.
“It’s four o’clock,” Judge Salas said. “I am going to adjourn until tomorrow-that is, if you still intend to put your client on the stand?”
Nina nodded. “As our first witness.”
“Court is adjourned until 10:00 A.M. tomorrow.” He rapped once, hard, with his gavel.
“All rise,” the bailiff said as Salas went on to the next case.
Wish was still shaking his head. Nina said, “Are you ready for tomorrow?”
“After all the time you spent getting me ready, I feel pretty good about it.”
“You remember the sequence? How you’ll tell the story, then authenticate the photos I showed you?”
“I remember.”
“We’ll show them their third party,” Nina said. “It might be enough.”
“I can’t wait to get out of here. Then somebody’s going to pay. It’s not enough to get free, Nina. I have to find him. It’s horrible what he did to Danny. I’m going to have bad dreams tonight.”
“Hi, Megan.”
From her voice, Megan had lost her happy face. “Thank you so much for calling. I would like to make an appointment to see you as soon as possible.”
“I’m in the middle of a-”
“I know that. But this will interest you. Perhaps even help you with your current case. The problem is, you have to assure me the consultation will stay strictly confidential even if you decide not to represent us.”
“What’s it about, Megan?”
“About the fires. Please, we really need your help. Debbie and Tory and Jolene and I. We are worried about the children.”
“Megan, I’m beat,” Nina said. “I’m washing dishes after a good supper and I need to talk to my son and then go to bed. I’m worried too. I suggest you call Detective Crockett and try to get some help out there.”
“That won’t work.”
Nina said, “I’m sorry. If you were my client, I might try to meet you tonight. But you’re not and for the sake of the client I have, I need to get some sleep tonight.”
“We’ll come to you.”
“Tomorrow,” Nina said. “At the lunch break. Twelve noon at the law library at the courthouse. I’ll find us a conference room.”
“All right.”
“Meantime, I’m saying it again. If you have new information involving a threat to the children, please call the police.”
“We’re guarding them,” Megan said. “That’s all I can say right now.”
“Good night, then.”
Paul came in. “News from the hospital?” he asked, referring to Britta, who still hadn’t made any statement.
“No. Something else. It’s handled. What time is it?”
“Nine.”
“What’s Bob up to?”
“Passed out on the couch. Jet lag.”
“Let’s get him into bed and go to bed too.”
“Sounds like a plan.” He had moved in on her and begun kissing her. She led Bob into the study and said good night, then went into the bedroom. Paul had just taken his pants off.
“Am I mistaken, or are those polyester boxers you’re wearing?”
“Silk is so flammable,” Paul said. So Nina pulled off her jeans.
“What happened to the little cotton things?” he said. “Are you wearing polyester too? ‘ ’Ave you seen Polyester Pam,’ ” he sang, and reached for her underpants.
“In a minute.” She managed to wiggle free and headed for the bathroom, and heard Paul exclaim ere she dove out of sight, “Well, I’ll be darned. They do protect the genitalia.”
“C ALL WILLIS WHITEFEATHER.” WISH WAS ESCORTED to the stand.
Nina’s turn to speak first had come. She had a five-page outline of questions to guide Wish gently through his story. The object was to let Salas see and believe him. Of course, if Wish was bound over for trial, Jaime would have months to go over every stutter in the transcript, the better to hang Wish with at trial. Inconsistent statements would naturally occur in the two proceedings, and Wish would look like a liar.
But Salas couldn’t be left with a print on a camera and a picture of Danny’s charred skull. They couldn’t win the prelim without exposing the interior of Wish’s own skull. Nina inhaled, exhaled, picked up her outline.
They started at ten-fifteen. By eleven-thirty they had gotten through the whole story of Wish’s move to the Monterey Peninsula, his studies, his work for Paul, his interest in criminal cases, his history with Danny, his visit from Danny at Aunt Helen’s house, and the subsequent events on Robles Ridge. The court reporter ran her machine, which turned each word to stone. Nina kept Wish on a short rein, never letting him say more than a couple of sentences.
Jaime sat back and enjoyed the show. He made not a single objection. The more Wish said, the longer the rope. The transcript could be gone over, at leisure, for months between prelim and trial, and every detail of Wish’s background checked. Any exaggeration of his accomplishments, any denigration of his failures, could be thrown back at him to attack his credibility.
But Nina needed Wish to tell the judge about himself, based on a gut-level judgment: that Salas would find points of commonality with Wish that might develop into sympathy and understanding. Salas didn’t like her much, but for all his possible bias she felt that his intentions with regard to his responsibility were serious.
The judge paid attention and took notes. She had surprised him by making the hearing real, not just a pro forma exercise. Part of her calculation had involved the fact that he was new on the bench and still capable of being surprised. He also was not as detached as he would become; he still took some things personally, she had noticed. If she could involve him in Wish’s story, show him someone telling the truth-
And now he was involved, listening intently. Wish was explaining why he had driven all the way to San Juan Bautista for medical treatment.
“All I could think about was getting away. I decided not to go home because he might follow me there, so I headed the other way, toward Salinas. Then I thought he was behind me and I got on 101 and kept driving, but I think I was getting faint or delirious or something. I had been feeling very blurry, but now I started feeling a lot of pain all over. I realized I had to go to a hospital. I was at the turnoff for San Juan Bautista so I went there and stopped at the gas station to ask where the hospital was.”
“And you subsequently checked in at the Las Flores Clinic?”
“They admitted me overnight and kept me there the next day. They were worried about infection on my leg and thought I had a concussion. Turned out I did have a concussion.”
Nina showed him photos marked in evidence showing Wish’s injuries, which Paul had taken just before his shower on the night of his arrest, and he authenticated these. Now Salas had in-your-face evidence that Wish also had an impact injury.
It’s coming together, she thought with gathering excitement, and she brought out the photographs taken by Wish’s Canon. She passed a set out to Jaime, then handed a marked set to the clerk. Up they went to the judge.
“Now, Mr. Whitefeather. You testified that in the course of the fire you took photographs at the moment you believed you saw the arsonist running down the trail?”
“Yes.” Wish sat forward in the witness stand, fanning out the photos. “Then I popped out the memory card and stuck it in my pocket, and then I popped in another memory card before I started running and dropped the camera.”
“Are these the twelve photos you took numbered in the sequence in which you took them?” Don’t dither, she prayed, don’t say I think so or that’s what Paul said. She had given Wish the set as soon as she had prints and Wish had told her he could identify the shots.
She needn’t have worried. “Yes,” Wish said positively.
“Nine of these have no people in them?”
“Correct.” Nina paused to let the judge and prosecutor confirm this for themselves, and to see the flames, the forest, the night.
“I direct your attention to Photographs Number One, Three, and Four. Would you pull those out, please.”
“Okay.”
“Are all three of these photographs of the same person?”
“No. There are two people here. One person in Number One, and then two shots of another person in Numbers Three and Four.”
She had done it, provided hard evidence that someone else was on the mountain. Jaime was still looking from one photograph to the other. Salas was nodding. A lot of hard work was paying off.
“May I approach the witness?” Nina asked Salas. He nodded, and she went up to Wish at the witness stand and took the first photo, Number One, Danny holding his hand up to shield his face, saying something.
“This first photo? Do you recognize the man?”
“Yes.”
“Who is it?”
“A man named Robert Johnson,” Wish said. Nina shook her head and tried again.
“Look again, please. Tell us who this man is.”
“It’s Coyote. Robert Johnson.”
“B-but that’s Danny Cervantes, isn’t it?”
Wish looked hard at the photo.
“No, that’s Coyote.”
“Well, let’s take a look at Numbers Three and Four,” Nina said, to give Wish a chance to get his head straight. He had been doing so well! “Those are photos of the same person, you said. Do you recognize that person?”
“Yes. It’s Danny Cervantes.”
“Don’t you have it backward?”
Jaime was up. “I must object. She’s cross-examining her own witness at this point. He’s made the identifications.” Nina rolled her eyes at Wish, trying to get him to wake up from whatever dream he was in. But Wish just looked back at her, wide-eyed.
“What’s the problem?” Salas asked her.
“Well, it was my understanding-it’s clear that-let me just confirm this identification, Your Honor.”
“Go ahead. It’s important. Objection overruled.”
“Let’s go back to Photo Number One. What is that person wearing?”
“Dark shirt and pants. Doc Martens.”
“And who is that person? Look carefully, Wish.”
“That’s Robert Johnson.”
“But-look at Numbers Three and Four. Please notice what that man is wearing on his feet.”
“Jeans and a white T-shirt. He must have taken off the jacket, it was so hot. And black Nikes. Nikes! That’s Danny. That’s it! I knew something was wrong about the shoes the doctor was talking about! Remember yesterday, Nina? She said Danny had Doc Martens on his feet! Now, how could that be! How? How?”
“Take it easy, sir,” Salas told Wish, who had half gotten up.
“One moment, please,” Nina said, and walked back to the counsel table where Paul was waiting. “Help!” she whispered.
“You got me,” Paul said. “Maybe Wish is all mixed up. Go back and try again.”
She stood up straight again and said, “Mr. Whitefeather, did you specifically notice the shoes Mr. Cervantes was wearing when he came to your home to ask you to go to the ridge that night?”
“I sure did,” Wish said. “He wore black Nikes. I remember up on the ridge he got mad at me because his shoes were so much quieter than my boots.”
“But you’ve heard the testimony that Mr. Cervantes was wearing Doc Martens when he was found?”
“Yeah. And I think I know where they came from. That’s what Coyote was wearing. You can see, here, in Number One. Black Doc Martens.”
“But that can’t be,” Nina said.
“But it is!”
“I’m not following, Counsel,” Judge Salas said. Jaime was shaking his head, baffled. Nina was not following either.
Coyote wore Doc Martens. Therefore the body was Coyote. But the body wore a white T-shirt, jeans, Danny’s concho belt… therefore the body was Danny…
Wish said, “Can I say something?”
Salas spread his hands. “Can you shed some light on this?”
“Those boots take a long time to unlace.”
“So?”
“So the feet in the boots were Coyote’s feet. That’s for sure.”
“Ah-ha,” Salas said, tapping his pencil on his dais. “So-”
Wish was pounding his fist into the palm of his other hand, blinking as he tried to figure it out. Jaime’s eyes were shut as if in prayer. Paul was staring fixedly at his shoes.
But it was Nina who got it clearly into her noggin first. “So the feet in the Nikes are still running around somewhere, Your Honor,” Nina said. “Which would mean that Danny Cervantes is alive.”
“Wow,” Wish said. “I can’t believe it. That is so-that is so-maybe it isn’t.”
“Wish,” Nina said, “is it your testimony that the man in Photos Number Three and Four, who is wearing shoes that are obviously not Doc Martens boots, is Danny Cervantes?”
“Absolutely.”
“Thank you. I have nothing further. Your Honor, I move for a dismissal of all murder and manslaughter charges in the complaint, on grounds that there is no probable cause to believe that the defendant committed any crime against Daniel Cervantes.”
“We’re all pretty excited,” Salas said. “But I’m not so excited that I won’t let Mr. Sandoval cross-examine. It is now the lunch hour. We will resume at one-thirty. Jaime, why don’t you and this lady talk to each other.”
Jaime and Davy Crockett came up as soon as they were adjourned and Jaime said, “I can’t figure out if this is some scam you guys are trying to pull or if we ID’d the wrong man.” Paul stood next to her.
“Did you do the DNA test yet? Or the dental records comparison?” she asked Crockett.
“We haven’t had time. We relied on the uncle,” Crockett told her. “I’ll call the uncle. I’ll talk to Dr. Rittenhauer some more.”
“I have to go,” Nina said.
“See you after lunch.” The prosecutor and his investigator left quickly, and Nina repeated to Paul, “‘Those boots take a long time to unlace.’ Is it really possible? You know, sometimes you think you have this huge surprise in a case, but then it whiffs.”
“The foot bone’s connected to the leg bone. The medical examiner said it still was. And the leather boots were practically welded to the burned feet. And the photos don’t lie. Coyote’s wearing the boots. Wish ought to know. Didn’t you have him explain who was who in each picture?”
“No. I gave him the pictures and told him he’d be authenticating them and that we were going to show that both Coyote and Danny were at the fire. I didn’t go through each one with him. I blew that.”
“So the man in Arroyo Seco-the man who chained Nate-”
“Was Danny!” Nina clasped her hands together and said, “Nate wasn’t as incoherent as he sounded, Paul. We should have given him more credit, questioned him more closely. I remember-he said his brother was gone or something.”
“We missed some bets,” Paul said, “but I forgive us.”
“Maybe Coyote and Danny exchanged shoes during the fire.”
“You lost me there. Why-”
“It doesn’t make any sense. The body was wearing Danny’s clothes.”
“Maybe Coyote and Danny exchanged clothes during the fire. That’s more likely than switching shoes, because-”
“-the boots take a long time to unlace,” Nina said again. Nina smiled, spread her hands, and said, “Wish has such a way with words. He loves his boots too.”
“What now?”
Nina looked at her watch. The Siesta Court people would be waiting in the law library. “There’s so much I still don’t understand, Paul. Maybe Danny’s dead.”
“Then who killed Ruth Frost and Brian Donnelly? Who attacked Britta Cowan?”
“Right. It has to be Danny. But why bring Wish up to the ridge that night? What was Danny’s relationship to Coyote?”
“You go to your meeting,” Paul said. “I’m going to help Crockett, whether or not he wants my help. Try to get something to eat at some point so you don’t keel over in court.”
The Siesta Court deputation waited in the law library: Debbie Puglia, Megan Ballard, Jolene Hill, and Tory Eubanks. Nina shook hands and led them into one of the drab conference rooms nearby. They sat down around the table quietly. Jolene opened her bag and took out sandwiches and Snapples.
Nina took a moment to adjust to these women, who seemed so different from her impressions at the party and the talks on Debbie’s deck. Extracted from their family lives by whatever grave business had brought them here, dressed in business clothes, they had taken on the look of serious adults. Megan, in her suit coat and slacks, seemed to be the leader of the moment. The block party-had it only been ten days or so ago? It seemed to have been years ago.
“I’m very sorry,” Nina said. “I have to tell you that I don’t have very much time right now.”
“We understand,” Megan said. “But this is so important we had to see you. This is a consultation that is protected by the attorney-client privilege?”
“Yes. Even if I don’t represent you, this initial consultation is protected.”
“What is your fee for this consultation?”
Nina said, “I don’t charge initially.”
“What if we give you information about a crime that has been committed?”
Nina thought about her answer. “That’s a complicated subject. What I can do is this. I won’t take notes. If in our discussion there comes a moment when I feel we’re getting into an area where it’s my duty as an officer of the court to break the privilege, I will immediately stop you from speaking and tell you. But understand that I’m a criminal lawyer. If my client has committed a crime, I can defend him or her and the conversations are privileged.”
“I don’t know about this, Megan,” Tory said.
“We’re out of time, Tory,” Debbie told her. “We have to talk to somebody.”
“I know.”
Jolene said, “I suggest we get down to it. Okay, everybody?” They all nodded.
Megan said, “Debbie overheard the men talking night before last. Our husbands conspired to start a fire on the Green River land. George, Darryl, Sam, and Ted. They hired a man to do the job and they each put in twelve hundred fifty dollars as a down payment. David Cowan paid the same amount too.”
“A total of six thousand two hundred fifty dollars,” Nina said. “The amount in Coyote’s bank account. A down payment.”
“This man-Coyote-did the job, but he went farther than he was supposed to and burned down the model home completely. The men got scared. Then, Coyote decided on his own to burn down the new café in the Village. The men got even more scared and mad, and they decided not to pay the rest of the money.”
She stopped and waited for Nina to react. Puzzle pieces were falling into place in her mind. “Go on,” Nina said. “So the six thousand two hundred fifty dollars was just a down payment.”
“Yes. They were each supposed to put in another four thousand dollars apiece after the job was done. But they told him no, that’s all you’re getting.
“So, what we think happened then is, he started taking revenge on the men, one by one. First he went after Ted. He set the fire on the ridge because that’s where our construction site is. He almost burned it but the wind changed and the fire came down the mountain instead.”
Nina nodded slowly. “I think he had another purpose also the night of that fire. Anyway, go ahead.”
“Then he hurt Britta, to get David.”
“He’s cruel and vicious,” Debbie said. “We think he killed Ruthie in her car because she might identify him.”
“Yes,” Nina said. “Yes, I think you’re right, Debbie.”
“We don’t know why he would kill the artist.”
“I do. His cover was blown and he needed money. It was a robbery-murder.” Debbie started to ask more questions, but Nina said, “Let’s hear the rest of what you need to tell me.”
“He told the men he’d take the children if they don’t pay. This was night before last. He gave them forty-eight hours. The men couldn’t agree what to do. Debbie heard them talking about all this. Finally Sam said he’d call and say they needed more time, but that they would pay the money. Is that right, Debbie?”
Debbie said, “David wanted to go to the police, but the rest of them wouldn’t do it.”
“Then what?”
“Then we met and decided we needed to talk to a lawyer as soon as we could.”
“What did you think I could do for you?” Nina said.
“Tell us what to do,” Megan said. “These are our families we’re talking about. The men are in jeopardy of going to jail or maybe getting killed. Our kids aren’t safe until Coyote is found.”
“Where are your children now?”
Jolene said, “George picked up the girls at noon at the bus stop. They had an early day today. Britta’s kids are at a day-care center in Carmel. Debbie’s kids are in Los Angeles. Tory’s kids are-where are they, Tory?”
“My sister’s place on El Hemmorro. I told her not to let them out of the house.”
“That’s not good enough,” Nina said. “He’s too dangerous. That’s not enough protection. You can’t just watch the children and pray for somebody else to resolve this. Do you understand that?”
Jolene sighed. “I think we all know that. But if we call the police, our husbands are involved in all these terrible things. They’ll be put in prison. We need them, but, more importantly, we-well, we love them.”
“You could talk to them.”
“Not one-on-one,” Debbie said.
“I agree,” Nina said. “It would be better for them to come forth as a group. Why can’t you talk to them as a group?”
This got responses from everyone. “They’ll just say to butt out,” Jolene said.
“They’ll be so humiliated that we know, they might do anything,” Megan said.
“They’ll refuse to go to the police and get us to agree not to go either. Then we’ll all be conspirators,” Debbie said.
Tory asked, “Would you do that for them, Nina? Talk them into surrendering and helping to catch Coyote?”
“Do you think they would hire me to handle their surrender? I’m not at all sure I could represent all of them together in any other way, but I could represent them for that purpose,” Nina said. “I could smooth the way for them. I would consider it part of my representation of Wish Whitefeather, because it would be a way of resolving his case.”
“Can you keep them out of jail?”
“I don’t know. It would help if they started cooperating fully right now.”
“What about just paying the money ourselves?” Megan said. “We did talk about that.”
“The men are going to be arrested soon anyway,” Nina said. “Detective Crockett will figure out the money trail. And there has been a change in the case you don’t know about yet. The police have been hunting the wrong man.”
“What do you mean?” Jolene felt in her pocket and said, “Excuse me. It’s George.” She pulled out her cell phone and went into the corner.
“Let’s not worry about that right now,” Nina said. “It’s still not certain. Anyway, here is what I can do. I can meet with the men. If they choose, I can arrange the circumstances of their surrender and represent them in the questioning process. I have to say that their interests as individuals are not precisely the same and I doubt I can represent them as a group any further than that.”
“Can’t we hire you to represent them without them knowing?” Debbie said.
“No.”
“I’m so afraid.”
Megan said, “We’ll handle it, honey. Now then. We’ll have the men on the deck at six tonight. Can you make it, Nina?”
“Court usually adjourns by five at the latest,” Nina said. “I think I can.”
Jolene came back to the table and leaned on it, her face drained of color. “Callie didn’t get off the bus.”
“Oh, no! No!” they all cried.
“April told a crazy story. She said-she said Danny took Callie for a ride in a Jeep and didn’t bring her back. George told her Danny’s dead-there’s no such thing as a ghost-”
“He’s not dead,” Nina said bluntly. “He killed Coyote and assumed Coyote’s identity. He stole a Jeep from the artist in Cachagua.”
“Oh, my baby,” Jolene moaned, and Debbie rushed around the table to hold her.
“It’s Danny?” Tory cried. “But he’s our neighbor! How could he!”
“It’s Danny.” As Nina said this, watching their stricken faces, she thought, How can they be anything but Furies, the way they have been betrayed? But instead they were still trying to save the situation, and in time, Nina knew, they would absorb some of the guilt. It is an ancient role of Woman.
“But the kids all know him. They like him. They wouldn’t go with a stranger, but-”
Megan said, “What shall we do, Nina?” She looked Nina right in the eye and Nina thought, It’s all on me, is it? She didn’t want to take on this crushing responsibility.
Then she thought, Well, if not me, who?
“Megan, help Debbie and Tory get home right away. Collect all the children and keep them at your house, Debbie. Don’t let them leave the deck. Tell them Danny is dangerous and to watch out for him. Debbie, call your kids in L.A. and tell them what’s going on. Jolene, you come with me. I’m taking you over to the police station right now and we’re going to make a report about Callie. All of you. Do not tell anyone about the conspiracy until after the men have their opportunity to obtain legal representation tonight.”
They all got up. Debbie was crying. Before she left with Debbie and Tory, Megan took Nina’s hand and said, “Thank you. At least it’s clear. We couldn’t see straight. I don’t know why. But you made it clear.”
“It’s your families. It’s hard to see straight.”
“You won’t let us down?”
“Have the men at Debbie’s house at six. Come on, Jolene.”
“W HAT ARE YOU DOING?” NINA FOUND Sandy at Wish’s desk in Paul’s office, only a pool of light from his desk lamp lighting the room. “It’s late. Go home.”
“You’re here,” she said.
Nina dumped the contents of her briefcase on the small table in her corner. No longer skimpy with a pad and paper, it now stored a library of paper. “I have to think.”
“Maybe you should be sleeping. You’ve been a busy bee. I get your calls all afternoon. You call from court, but the judge still won’t dismiss the case-”
“Jaime got a three-day continuance. I couldn’t get Wish out quite yet. Jaime told me afterward that if the judge had dismissed he would have kept Wish in custody as a material witness until he gets this straightened out anyway. I’m sorry.”
“-you call from Crockett’s office-”
“Another child was kidnapped this afternoon. Mikey Eubanks.”
“-and then you went out to the Valley?”
“I had a meeting I couldn’t miss. And then, yes, back to Crockett for the past few hours. That was the hardest job I ever had, Sandy, persuading Crockett and Jaime Sandoval to let my new clients be released on their own recognizance.”
“How about we start over?”
Nina went over to Paul’s chair and stretched out in it while she explained it all to Sandy.
Mikey Eubanks had left his aunt’s house at twelve forty-five, while Nina was still talking to the women at the courthouse. He had run down the hill to his house to pick up a video game.
That was the last anyone had seen of him. No ransom note.
The meeting with the men of Siesta Court took place at four instead of six. It was chaos at first. Darryl Eubanks was practically beating his head against the wall. George Hill, Callie’s grandfather, wept throughout.
They agreed to turn themselves in. Nina put them all in her Bronco and drove them to the police station, where they made limited statements, were booked, and then declined to talk further upon advice of counsel. After her lengthy palaver with Jaime, they all went into Judge Salas’s court at nine o’clock. He came in specially and heard them out.
“He would definitely have jailed them, but Jaime said he thought they’d be more use outside,” Nina said. “I owe Jaime.”
“Where’s Paul?” Sandy had taken all this in with unblinking aplomb.
“In Carmel Valley. Talking with Ben Cervantes. Trying to find Danny before he-”
“He was the one who was trying to kill Wish, wasn’t he?”
“I suppose,” Nina said. She went to the bar refrigerator and pulled out some cold bottled water, which she used to chase the three ibuprofen she swallowed.
“You should go home, Sandy.”
“I have some calls to make,” Sandy said pointedly.
“Then don’t mind me,” Nina said, putting her hands behind her head and her feet on Paul’s desk. If Sandy needed privacy, she could go home and make her calls. She picked up a folder, leaned back in her chair, and read, quickly becoming absorbed in the paperwork. She reviewed the autopsy of the body found on Robles Ridge, examined the discovery materials Jaime’s office had provided, looked over her notes on Elizabeth’s tapes, tasks she had done before, and would do again until something startling leapt off these dry pages.
Sandy made a number of phone calls, punching with vigor, but talking in such a low voice, she made a soothing background hum. In the night, the busy street outside quieted, the crickets that hid in the picturesque Carmel alleyways awakened and sang. Nina yawned and flipped through her papers. She yawned again.
“Wake up!” Sandy had her by the shoulders and was shaking her.
Nina opened her eyes, sighing. “I fell asleep.”
“Uh huh.”
“Guess you were right.” She started stuffing her papers back inside her case. “Guess I should get home and get some rest. Maybe all the answers will come to me in a dream.”
“You need to call Paul.”
Nina looked at her watch. “Wow. Two o’clock. Sandy, he’s sound asleep.”
“He’ll want to hear this. I just spoke to Danny’s mother. I think she knows where he is.”
“Fantastic work, Sandy! We have to notify the police right away,” Nina said. “Back to my favorite people for the third time today.”
“Not yet.”
“Sandy, he’s taken two children!”
“They won’t be able to do anything unless we go up there and talk to her and find out where he is. She won’t say anything more on the phone. She didn’t even say she knew where he was,” Sandy admitted. “I just know she does.”
“How?”
She did not like the question, but she answered anyway. “I used to know her pretty well years ago, when Danny and Wish were friends. And I’m a mother.” Sandy folded her arms, and Nina knew the look meant, no justifications, no proofs, just unadulterated belief. “You understand that.”
Strangely, she did. “Did you talk to Danny’s father?”
“No. He’s working, and I remember Danny being closer to his mother.”
“What’s she like?”
“Weak. That’s how I know he went there. He depends on her when things get tough. She always loved him, but she’s kind of a hopeless character. She never really knew how to handle him.”
What a mess, Nina thought. Sons and mothers. “She wouldn’t help him hide, under the circumstances.”
“She isn’t convinced he took any kids. She doesn’t want to believe he would hurt anyone.”
“Did she say she saw him?” Nina asked.
“No.”
But Sandy knew she had, and by extension, so did Nina. She called Paul and woke him up. He packed up a bag for himself and one for her, and met her half an hour later outside on the street, wipers going because the fog had grown so thick.
Sandy roared up in Wish’s brown van.
“You’re coming, Sandy?”
She wore her voluminous purple coat and clutched a small suitcase. “Yep. She’ll talk to me.”
Paul steered Nina’s Bronco onto Highway 101 and started the long haul over Pacheco Pass, through the central valley, and up the mountains. Nina and Sandy slept.
He had left a message for Bob on the kitchen counter saying that he should call his grandpa and stay with him for a few days. No doubt the boy would find it when he was looking for cereal in the morning. Good that Nina’s son was old enough to be left alone for a short time, bad that he lived in the study.
This late at night, the truckers ruled the highways. At the interstate heading to Sacramento, Paul got into the slipstream of a big semi doing seventy and let himself relax and think about what all this meant for him and Nina.
He had worked so hard and for so long to have Nina here with him, and here she was, entangled as always in problems, far removed from the peaceable kingdom he imagined for them both. He glanced at her, snoring lightly on the seat beside him, brown hair balled up under her neck, cheeks flushed. He wanted life to be easy for her, but it never would be.
He couldn’t accept that he couldn’t protect her. He thought of her on a sunny summer day, back in those days of the Bucket, sixteen or so, hanging with the local hoodlums, skimpy or nonexistent swimsuit, maybe a little grass blowing in the wind.
If he’d met her then, before the baby, the broken heart, the law school, the years of grinding work, and they had gotten married-what would she be like? What would they be like? Maybe he would still be a cop. And she… an artist, a teacher maybe.
He let himself daydream another existence, because this one was so full of problems.
Because it was so late at night, they made the six-hour trip in five hours, the Bronco flying up the long slog through the foothills as lightly as a flag in the breeze. The mountains, usually a daunting prospect, offered clear sailing, twinkling stars, and a polished moon to light the way. They arrived just a little after seven-thirty on Thursday morning.
Located at the end of the highway from Truckee, stopped cold by the big lake, the road split at King’s Beach to circle Tahoe in both directions, the eastern branch taking the Nevada side to the casinos of North Lake Tahoe, and the western branch moving along the California side of the lake past Emerald Bay until it reached the South Lake Tahoe casinos.
At the junction, a shadowy blue in the early-morning light, Paul turned right, then right again into the first gas station. Nina and Sandy stirred, murmured, found their shoes, and coughed a few times, complaining about the dry mountain air. After several minutes, while Paul pumped gas into the Bronco, they emerged, fresh-skinned, hair brushed into place. They drove a little farther along to the supermarket, where Nina told him to stop.
While they bought hydrogenated treats for breakfast, water bottles, and coffee in large containers, Paul moved into the passenger’s seat, looked away into the mirror, and realized he had forgotten his razor. But instead of running in to buy another to make himself presentable, he put his head back and closed his eyes.
When he woke up, they were parked in front of a crudely built log cabin with a weedy flagstone pathway leading to a door with a single step up. No porch or overhang softened the furious winter’s passion or this morning’s mountain sun. Sandy got out, motioning them to remain behind.
“You drove?” he asked Nina. They were parked on a slight rise on the northern part of the little town.
“You got a solid ten minutes’ sleep. That plus what you got before I woke you up ought to keep us going for the day. Sandy’s inside with Danny’s mother. Want some coffee?” She handed him a cup, which he eagerly slurped. After drinking half the cup, he ate a sticky roll without examining the ingredients.
Nina rolled the windows down. “See the white pines?” she said, her voice nostalgic. “The scent of Tahoe. Oh, Paul. I’ve missed Tahoe.”
As they watched the cabin, a yellow porch light came on.
“You think she’ll tell Sandy where he is?”
At that moment, Sandy appeared in the doorway and beckoned them inside.
“So you came.” An unusually tall woman, made taller by the lowness of the ceilings, Connie Cervantes stepped back into the gloom of her cabin and allowed them to enter. “I was hoping you wouldn’t.”
“They had to,” Sandy answered. “This is Nina. And this is Paul.” They all shook hands.
Across from the front door on the opposite wall Nina saw a stone fireplace with an efficient insert for holding the heat in winter, and wood in the wood box even now, because June at Tahoe still meant cool nights. Over a mile high in the Sierras, people around the lake could find themselves in the midst of a snowstorm any month of the year. Sandy went straight to a table and chairs under the single window in the room; they all sat down and looked through it at the rocky yard with its low stone wall. A couple of blue jays squabbled in the pine tree by Connie’s gate.
“Snow’s all melted,” Sandy said.
“For the next three months anyway.” Sunken-eyed and older than she had first appeared, Connie wore blue jeans and a sweatshirt. Black hair now going gray flowed down her back. She hadn’t looked again at Nina and Paul; her expression wasn’t exactly hostile, but she was struggling with some inner turmoil, which preoccupied her so totally that she had little interest in her visitors, and Nina felt sure she never would have talked with them at all if she hadn’t known Sandy. Nina folded her hands and listened while Paul rocked a little in his chair and kept his eyes down.
Sandy said in her matter-of-fact voice, “Where’s Gary?”
“Staying with his sister in San Diego for a while.” Danny’s parents had been married for thirty years, Nina knew, but Sandy hadn’t mentioned a separation.
Sandy and Connie seemed to be continuing some old conversation. Sandy said, “You remember my husband, Joseph? Well, he went and broke his foot. He was cutting down some limbs behind the house and tripped over a rock. He’s home in Markleeville right now.”
“Left all this trouble for you to clean up.”
“Now that’s not fair. He’d help if he could.”
“He ran out on you before.”
“He came back. What about Gary? Is he coming back?” Sandy asked.
“Let me know when you find out,” Connie said.
“Oh, so that’s how it is.”
“I’m workin’ at least. In the cashier cage at the CalNeva. Right up the road at Crystal Bay. Gary has the car, but the bus goes right there.”
“Good money?”
“Enough to keep this place going. When you comin’ back to Tahoe?”
“Pretty soon. I’ll see you at the powwow in August.” Connie got up and went into the other room, returning wearing a shawl over her sweatshirt. The little room was cold and dreary, and Nina wanted to gather the information and leave, but forced herself to stay patient. She imagined the older woman returning from her job day after day, sitting at this table, looking out, as the snow came and the heat of summer and then the snow again.
“So you’re chasing my son,” Connie said to Sandy as she sat back down. “You didn’t say anything to the police, like you promised?”
“Nobody knows but these two,” Sandy answered, waving a hand at Paul and Nina. “They just want to stop him.”
“He loves kids. You’re crazy if you think he’d hurt a kid.”
“Maybe,” Sandy said.
“He kidnapped two kids? You’re sure about that?” She paused, then went on, “I guess you wouldn’t drive all the way up here if you weren’t sure.”
“If we find him and there aren’t any kids, that’ll be great. But see, the kids are gone and it looks like Danny.”
Connie closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers and said, “I thought something was wrong when he got here. He likes it here a lot when Gary’s not around, and he would normally stay a few days if he came up. But he was in a big hurry. He didn’t look right, and he didn’t talk right. I thought maybe he was on drugs, but now I think he was just very scared.”
“He let everyone think he was dead,” Sandy said. “How did he explain that?”
“It wasn’t a big plot. I asked him, and he said nobody really cared one way or another. I told him I did, and he just said, ‘Well, you.’ ” She swallowed and put one bony hand over the other, as if to hold it still.
“I hate to say it,” Sandy told her, “you know I hate to say it. But if we don’t find him right away somebody really could die.”
Connie frowned deeply. In the back room Nina heard a clock ticking. Apparently Sandy had spared Connie the details of all that Danny might have done.
“Tell us what happened when he came,” Sandy persisted.
Connie, who seemed to be still deciding whether to steer them toward Danny or not, said, “That time when they’re nineteen, twenty… it’s the hardest time for a boy. Figure out what you’re gonna work at, figure out who you’re gonna marry. They don’t realize they’ve got time, they can go slow, the weight of all of it crashes down and they feel like they can’t do it, growing up is too hard. Danny tried. He went to Ben’s and tried to work, tried to do it right.”
“He did,” Sandy said, nodding.
“He was always lonely. We moved so much. Two months here, six months there… Danny never had a chance to stay put and have real friends, except that year or so we spent in Markleeville, living near you and Wish, Sandy. The happiest times Danny had growing up were with Wish,” she said. “You know, Danny was a little older… he felt like a leader with Wish.”
“Led him straight into trouble,” Sandy said, “that time they set the tree on fire.”
Nina bit her lip. So Danny had been with Wish during that first prank involving the stump of a tree. She should have known!
Connie did not look offended at the comment, taking it as Sandy offered it, as fact, not as criticism. She played with the fringe of her shawl and said, “Normal life never seemed exciting enough. He started playing with explosives and fire, always getting up to something he shouldn’t. I tried to keep better track, to stay through one entire school year in the same area, but there’s a time with kids, a right time, and I had missed it being busy, working all the time, trying to keep us in food. He wouldn’t talk to me anymore.
“Ben found that job for him at the car-repair shop in Carmel Valley. He was good at that. He loved cars. I really thought things were looking hopeful for him finally.”
“I hear he was good at it,” Sandy said. Her calm kept them all calm, especially Connie.
“Then the business got sold. But Wish had come to town by then, and Ben says he was happy to have a buddy again. But then Ben says Wish decided to part ways with Danny.”
“He did. I won’t say he didn’t.”
“Another time things that could have gone good went bad,” Connie said half-angrily. “Danny made me promise not to tell anybody he came here, and now look at me, I’m breaking my promise to him. His whole life is one broken promise.”
“Stop. Stop it. You took the best care of him you could. You’re still taking care of him by helping us get ahold of him. That’s being a good mother. You know it.”
“He’ll hate me.”
“Don’t-”
“It’s all right. He will hate me, because he’s got a soul-sickness, but that’s how it has to be. You know, we had a funeral for him. Flowers and speeches. Twenty-one years old, and we thought he was dead. We laid him in the ground. I suffered through my boy’s death. I can’t quite believe he’s still alive. But seein’ as how he is, I want your word that you won’t bring in the police if I tell you what I know.”
“I can’t swear that, he’s so far gone,” Sandy said. “But tell me anyway.”
After a long silence, Connie said, “He needed money.”
“How much did you give him?”
“Everything I had. Three hundred dollars.”
“What was he driving?”
She thought. “I thought he came in his car. It was overcast, and he must not have parked right out front.”
“You didn’t see any children with him?”
“I guarantee when you find him, you won’t find any kids with him. Not unless they wanted to go along,” she added, in a testament to her own uncertainty.
“Did he take anything besides money?”
“He keeps a lot in that closet.” Connie pointed to a painted cupboard. “He grabbed a few things.”
Paul got up quietly. “Mind?” he asked as he opened the door to the cupboard. Clothes and bed linens were wadded and stuffed into every shelf. Paul searched for a few minutes while the women watched. He emerged with a lantern and a ball of netting. “Camping gear,” he said.
Connie examined the closet. “A couple of sleeping bags are gone. And a pup tent he used when he was a boy. Lamp fuel.”
“Kerosene?” Nina asked.
Connie nodded.
“How much?”
“Half a gallon.”
“Mrs. Cervantes,” Paul said, “where is he?”
She didn’t resist the entreaty in his voice any longer, but pulled out a creased map and showed them Danny’s favorite camping spot. “I think maybe in the mountains above Incline Village, an area near Rose Knob. He loves it there, and we have some old family friends with a cabin they loaned us a few times in that area, so it’s familiar.”
Paul got the address for the cabin.
“You think that’s where he’s gone?” Nina said.
“He wouldn’t stay in the cabin. He never liked being inside when he could be outside. Also, he talked like he was going camping. Took wood from the stack behind the house for campfires. I really don’t know. I’m guessing where he might be. He also likes to camp above Cave Rock, and over by Spooner Lake.” She showed them two other spots. “Go ahead,” she said, “track him down like an animal.” Now Nina could hear the anger coming up in her, the anger at herself and Danny and her husband and Sandy for pressing her.
“Are you coming with us?” Sandy asked, standing stolidly in front of her. Nina hadn’t thought of that possibility.
“No.”
“It might help.”
“Oh, I know I should. Just leave me alone. Go get him if you have to. I still can’t figure out if he’s really alive, if I really saw him.” Nina and Paul exchanged worried glances.
“Okay, then.” Sandy opened her bag, pulled out a box of doughnuts, and set them in front of Connie. “Chocolate-covered,” she said. “Remember how we used to eat them back when the boys were little? Those were good times, and none of us are going to forget them. Nina, why don’t you and Paul wait in the car.”
Nina took Paul’s hand and led him outside, Paul grabbing the map as they passed the table. Lying back against the seat as Paul started the motor, she closed her eyes and thought that Bob would be passing through this dangerous transition to adulthood in a few years. She hadn’t cared about Danny Cervantes as a person until this moment, the slow-burning match who had found only dried-up tinder in his search for a life, and had become a conflagration. Now she hoped that somehow he could be saved. But Callie and Mikey came first.
In a few minutes Sandy came out to the car and opened the door. When they were moving again, she said, “Danny took a bottle of pills from the medicine cabinet before he left. Thirty pills. Ambien.”
“It’s a very powerful sleeping aid,” Nina said. “My God! We have to find him.”
“He let her think he was dead. He was already a ghost, all the ties with this world cut. I don’t think he can come back. She knows that.”
B ACK IN THE CAR, THEY REGROUPED. “Do we call the sheriff’s office now?” Nina asked. “Shouldn’t we tell them where we think Danny Cervantes might be? What’s he going to do with those pills?”
“We still don’t know he’s there, Nina,” Paul said. “I wish we had more to report. Give Crockett a buzz. See what he says.” He knew what he wanted to do: Go to Rose Knob Mountain. He knew it well. He had hiked that section of the Tahoe Rim Trail traversing the summit the day the trail opened a year ago. But he was willing to let Crockett make the decisions.
She called Crockett, who sounded very anxious at the news, especially when she told him about the pills. “He’s frustrated, Paul. He wants us to keep in close touch,” Nina said, closing her phone. “He’s going to talk with the local police and get back to us.”
They drove for a few minutes more before Nina’s phone rang. She talked briefly, then hung up. “They don’t feel they can do anything with Connie’s information yet. They are sending someone out to talk to her right away. Apparently, Crockett is also pursuing a credible report that Danny’s hiding out with the kids south of Cachagua in the mountains near Big Sur.”
Paul took a deep breath. “Damn. Those kids… do you think Danny’s mother told us the truth?”
“I do.”
“Drop me at the TART stop in King’s Beach,” Sandy told Paul as he swung back toward the road that ringed the lake.
“Say what?” Paul stole a glance into the back seat at Sandy, who was looking out the window, hands tight on her bag. He refrained from making a wise-ass addition to the question, terrified he would laugh and alienate her forever.
“Tahoe Area Rapid Transit,” Nina explained. “The bus goes around the lake to South Lake Tahoe.”
“You don’t want to help us decide what to do?” Paul asked.
“I know what you’ll do, and I’m not dressed for hiking. You brought what you need to go up the mountain and try to find him, I assume,” Sandy said.
“Yes, we have what we need in the back of the truck.”
“Well, then.”
“Shouldn’t we call Joseph to come and get you?”
“I already did from Connie’s. He’ll have somebody pick me up at the bus station. Don’t waste any more time worrying about me. I know how to get home. You have mobile phones, both of you?”
“Yes.”
“Charged?”
Nina checked her phone, then Paul’s. “Yes.”
“Don’t forget them for a change.”
“Okay, Sandy.”
She had a few more instructions and edicts for them, which they listened to all the way down to the bus stop. When she got out, she held a hand up. “He’s a kidnapper and a murderer,” she said. “Paul, take your gun.”
He patted his shoulder holster. “Check.”
“And remember,” she said, “he’s still Wish’s friend. I used my friends to find him and now we’re trusting you with his life.”
“Here we are,” Paul said, stopping.
“Thanks, Sandy,” Nina said.
“For what?”
“For coming to the party.”
“We beat Crockett,” Sandy said. “Now you do the rest.”
Nina watched Sandy grow small in the rearview mirror as they drove back around the lake toward Incline Village. “How do you think she really feels about Danny?”
“She remembers him when he was innocent. Probably wiped away a few tears for him once. Now, could you check the map? Do I turn onto Mount Rose Highway or not?”
Directed by Nina, Paul made a left up the highway that eventually led over a nine-thousand-foot pass to the high Nevada desert and Reno. After a short distance, they turned left again and wound through some high-altitude residential streets set in landscapes that looked like they had been transported from the Alps. The asphalt dead-ended in patches of sprouting mule ears, white lupines, and penstemon getting ready to bloom. “Park here,” Nina said, pointing. “This is it. The end of Jennifer Lane.”
On the left, a few large houses crawled over the edge of a downhill slope. “That’s his friend’s cabin,” Paul said, consulting a number he had written down. “Let’s go look.”
The smallest home on the block, it was very quaint, a gingerbread model, with filigreed blue shutters and painted flower boxes, obviously empty, given the pulled drapes and windblown pine needles all over the entry deck. They knocked. They rang the bell. They waited. When there was no answer, they tried again.
“An old door-to-door solicitor trick,” Paul said. “You assume only a friend would have the nerve to ring twice.”
Still no one came. Paul reached above the door to feel for a key but came away empty-handed. He proceeded to wander the front deck, turning over pots, fingering things around the edges of the deck.
“Got it,” he said, fiddling with what looked like a rock.
“You make me so nervous,” Nina said.
“Worried the neighbors are watching?” He turned around with a big smile, waving the key. “Now they think we’re visiting friends.”
“Forget the neighbors. I’m worried about breaking and entering.”
“We’re not breaking anything. Besides, a friend of a friend said we could check it out for a possible rental, remember?”
“I’ll remember,” she said, “and I’ll wait here.”
Paul disappeared through the front door. “Have a seat there. Do your best to look innocent. I’ll just be a second.” He was true to his word, returning quickly. He placed the key back into the fake rock and put it back where he had found it. They walked back to the car.
“What did you find?”
“Kitchen raided for pots and pans. Bread crumbs and peanut-butter-and-jelly stains on the counter. Couldn’t tell what all was taken, but the place on the whole was incredibly neat, so it was obvious that someone in a hurry tromped through.”
“He was there with the kids,” Nina said.
“Has to be him. Crumbs so fresh the ants hadn’t even noticed yet.”
“Anything else?”
“Just this.” He pulled a wadded-up map out of his pocket that had pinholes in each corner. “Found it stuck to the wall in the living room. Favorite trails of the Gerdes family, marked in various colors. There’s blue for easy hiking trails, red for steep ones, and yellow for four-wheel drives…”
“Crockett told me he dumped the Jeep in Sacramento and stole an SUV. Less conspicuous.”
“Yeah, he would once he had the kids. Nina, would you try to hike kids up that ridge?”
They looked up a steep hillside on the left, moist, loose gravel dotted with thick brush, and looked down to their right into an almost-vertical gully that led up to the ten-thousand-foot peaks of Rose Knob and its neighbor mountains on the ridge. “A waterfall!” Nina pointed. “It’s really rugged here.”
So where would Danny go from here, with two presumably reluctant children and camping gear in tow?
Paul put a finger to the topo map. “There’s the nearest jeep trail, back to the highway, and then no more than two miles before you turn back this way. I’m guessing, but I think he’ll want to stay around here, on familiar ground, but he can’t hike far with gear and those kids, he really can’t. Your car’s four-wheel drive. Let’s get going.”
The day before, just about noon in Carmel Valley, Danny had had no trouble luring Callie into the black Jeep. He knew just where she’d be waiting for her bus home at the school-he used to drive her there for Jolene now and then-and she climbed right in when he said Jolene had sent him.
He cruised with her right down Carmel Valley Road, every nerve on edge, and turned down Esquiline to see if he could find one of Darryl’s kids. And he saw Mikey, his good little buddy, throwing stones off Rosie’s Bridge.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” Mikey said. The kid’s hair was so short it made his ears stick out at right angles. His mouth was hanging open in puzzlement and curiosity about the big open vehicle Danny was driving, but he didn’t seem all shocked that the ghost of Siesta Court was back haunting him. He just instantly figured out, hey, it was all some bullshit adult mistake. Danny liked that.
“I got lucky at Vegas. Bought me this Jeep. Wanna drive it?”
No problem. They went back and got on the Los Laureles Grade toward Salinas, Mikey driving like a little champ, just barely hitting the pedals. Danny had let him tool around some nights in his own old car back in the days before it all went wrong. When Danny finally kicked Mikey out of the driver’s seat, Callie begged to drive.
He let her sit in his lap and spin the Jeep around an empty parking lot in North Salinas a few times, then took over. “We gotta get started. We want to make Tahoe today.”
“I can’t go to Tahoe,” Mikey said. “My parents will worry.”
“That’s a long way,” Callie said, “isn’t it?”
“Oh, not so far. Don’t worry. Your parents know all about this. They’re meeting us up there. Yeah, the whole neighborhood’s clearing out because of the fires, taking a Fourth of July holiday. We’re gonna have a big party. I had extra room for the trip so they sent me to pick up you guys, that’s all.”
“What about clothes?” Callie asked. “What about summer school?”
“Well, this fire thing scared ’em, and they all needed a break. I heard-yeah, Callie, your grandma said she called your teacher, didn’t your teacher tell you?”
“No. I guess she forgot.”
“You ever been to Tahoe?”
Mikey said, “It’s cool. Maybe we can swim in the lake.”
“That’s it. There are little lakes high up in the mountains. A place called Ginny Lake like a blue jewel-right, like a jewel…”
They were loving the adventure, and all the good sense in the world went bye-bye temporarily. He played the radio stations they liked, and for a while, they pretended to shoot out the window with cocked fingers aimed at enemies all around. He knew they stood out and the Jeep was a gas hog, so as soon as he could, he switched it for an old Ford Explorer at a rest stop while the kids and the owners were in the bathroom. Luckily, the kids came out first and off they drove. The SUV had leather bucket seats, bottled water, all the conveniences.
Danny felt like laughing, though the money front was pretty dire. He’d killed Donnelly over seventy-five bucks in Donnelly’s wallet. He’d been sure Donnelly would have a lot of cash somewhere at his place, but before he could find out anything Donnelly came at him and-and-
And Donnelly lost. Dumb speed freak, he only weighed about a hundred fifty, what made him think he could take Danny?
“We need something that’ll take the bumps up in Tahoe,” he said. “My friend switched with me for a few days. You ever fished before?” Neither one had fished, and they were both eager to try it. So they accepted what he said the way kids sometimes did, whatever, shrugs, after a few more easy lies.
In Dixon, they stopped for shakes and burgers at the Carl’s Jr. They fought over what channel to listen to on the radio, but after a while, the carbs and fat did their dirty work, putting both the kids out for the rest of the count. By the time they woke up, it was morning. He had already stopped at his mom’s for his fishing gear, some sleeping bags, and traveling money, and they were at the Gerdes cabin, hungry again.
“Best way to catch fish in most of the lakes up here is with Power Bait,” Danny said. “Orange. For some reason, that works.” Maybe the fish up here were deprived of the bright colors fish in warmer waters saw every day. They saw the orange bait as something unique and maybe especially tasty, like candy.
They were sitting by what was really nothing more than a dammed-up part of a stream, but it was big enough to excite Mikey, and Danny needed something to get the kids off his back until he could dope them both up good for the night. He was running on adrenaline, scared, thinking how the whole state would be alarmed by now, thinking about the turning lights on the tops of the sheriffs’ cars. But the kids couldn’t see his fright.
Having them around comforted him. He had always liked stories about mountain men, off in the woods surviving on the land, but always knew he couldn’t stay out for long because he couldn’t stand being alone. Sitting on the damp new ground cover, looking at the mule ears pushing up from the ground the snow had finally left, he could rest for a second. Mikey swished his little pole through the water and Callie wandered around, and Danny wished like hell that none of it had happened.
He should have thought up a better cover story. Like, a kidnapper was after them and their parents wanted them to hide out with Danny for a few days, that would have been so much better. But he never seemed to have time to plan right. He’d get the germ of an idea about how to handle something and the next thing he knew, it blew up into something awful.
They had spent the morning hours finding and setting up a camp. He liked this location, with the tents butted up against the rocky caverns that kept hibernating bears cozy in winter. He got on his dead phone twice and pretended to check in with George and Darryl. “Yeah, we gotta stick it out tonight all by ourselves, something came up,” he had told them.
He’d give old George a real call pretty soon, when it was convenient. Good old George, called him a loser, then begged him to do his dirty work, then stiffed him.
“But we don’t have anything orange,” Mikey was saying, peering into the small fishing kit.
“We got worms, though.” Danny brought out the night crawlers he had picked up in town, and showed Mikey how to thread one up the shank of a hook, leaving some dangling over. “Use a number six hook for this bait, and blow ’em up with a worm blower.” He showed the kids how. “Another trick is using sugar cubes on a bigger hook,” he said. “That’s the method in clear lakes like Emigrant and Margaret. You fix ’em on the line with rubber bands. You got to cast real carefully, but when they melt in the water, the rubber band comes loose and the worm looks real natural. Or you can always try grasshoppers.”
“I’m hungry,” Callie said.
“That’s why we’re catching fish, Callie. To eat. This is Outdoor Camp,” Danny said.
“I’m cold.” She hugged her little sweater tight.
“You can’t be cold. It’s eighty degrees!”
“I am.”
“Well, sit down here in the sun. That’ll warm you up.”
“No.”
“Then go back there in the tent and get your bag to wrap up in,” Danny said, working to keep the meanness he felt out of his voice. “Go on.”
“No.”
“Fine.” He ignored her and worked on getting Mikey set up. After a few minutes, she went back to the tent. She came back wrapped up in an old sweater of his mother’s he had brought along.
You would expect that the one who would be hard would be Mikey. Although he was little, he was nearly thirteen and seemed on the ball, but he bought Danny’s every story. Callie was something else. She doubted every word, and wouldn’t let up, wanting to call Jolene. He let her drive the big black Explorer a few feet up the jeep trail, but even that just scared her. She cried when they came to a big rock and he made her go over it anyway. She had to learn, didn’t she? Fear was no protection. You had to do what you had to do.
He felt sure this time, he would get action. They had food, bait, and plenty of fuel. All the Siesta Court Bunch had to do was pay him what they owed him and he would go to Arizona or Montana and get lost. If it took the kids to get their attention, okay.
He didn’t want to think about what would happen if he didn’t get his twenty thousand. He had been stupid, giving the whole down payment to Coyote. But Coyote knew the ridge mountains, Coyote could get the kerosene in a way that wouldn’t point at Danny, and Coyote was company, like the Lone Ranger and Tonto.
Coyote turned dangerous with his loose lips, though. The whole thing would have been much more fun with Wish. But he had known early on that Wish wouldn’t follow him anywhere anymore.
A chill settled over the stream and around them. Callie went a little way away to pick wildflowers. “Remember what I told you about the bears. Stay in sight,” he reminded her. Working bait on a hook, with Mikey happy beside him, butt firmly embedded in the loose dirt, Nikes kicked off, Danny couldn’t help thinking about when he first arrived in Carmel Valley to live with his tío Ben. Why, he had been happy, it was incredible to think that now. He had loved the parties, hanging with the guys on the deck, shooting the shit, even taking his turn with Britta, a kind of initiation rite.
You did everything right, you tried to be a friend to people, someone they could call on for help. In return, you got cheated and put down. Those chiselers on Siesta Court had reeled him in with their grand plans, acting like his good buddies, not a single one with the balls to see the thing through except him!
And then they turned on him. Stiffed him. Whined, Oh, we never asked you to set those other fires! We never meant you to kill anyone!
Well, they had put toes over the line when they had hired him to burn across the river and decided to break the law. They went from being respectable to being criminal, and there was no way to go back ever again. You couldn’t wipe the slate clean once you took that first little step over.
Not that they understood that at first. Those developers made these guys feel little, and they didn’t like the feeling so they broke the law and felt like big shots all of a sudden. There was plenty of celebrating about that!
But when things got tough, and one crime led to another, then everything was Danny’s fault, right? They had wives, kids, jobs. No need to pay what they owed! No, they were just bastards and hypocrites.
His dad used to say people were no damn good. Danny never believed it when he was a dumb kid. Well, he didn’t have enough experience with friendship then to understand how right his dad was.
That was before Wish turned up in Carmel. For a few weeks Danny was happy. They did everything together.
This thought made him clear his throat and spit. Wish turned against him like everybody did and tried to leave him flat in the dust, more alone than ever.
Wish was always bragging about his classes, how hard they were, or his great job working with a detective. He could never understand that Danny’s life was different, and headed somewhere different. School was not for him. A long, slow drudge life working at the auto shop wasn’t going to cut it either.
And then suddenly, one day, no auto-repair shop job.
While he was still looking for a job, he would see ads in the paper sometimes and would think, That job’s perfect for me. Well, this job was perfect.
Set a fire.
He knew something about that. He liked the work.
Tell that to smug Wishy-washy, who didn’t want to talk to him anymore. Or don’t tell it, a smart decision after all. Danny had wanted to call him a few times and let him know he had it in the bag. He had worked things out. Great things were in store, etc. But something made him hesitate, maybe a sense of self-preservation. Wish wouldn’t approve. Danny knew that. He didn’t like thinking he cared about Wish’s approval, but he did think about how good he would feel showing up with a new car and a pretty girl beside him someday at that run-down old house Wish lived in in Pacific Grove.
“Go get another job, Danny,” Wish had said, after the repair shop closed. Same old conversation a hundred times until one day Danny looked into the eyes of his old friend and former admirer and saw-
Disgust. Yeah, disrespect and contempt for everything he was. Old Wish couldn’t hide his feelings from Danny.
That was when Danny got the idea that Wish could die in his place up on Robles Ridge. He would lure Coyote up there the same day, two birds, one can of kerosene.
Okay, a couple cans.
Wish looked enough like him to pass for a few days so he could stay off the scope until he made the men pay his money, and Wish was handy, and Wish wasn’t a friend, not anymore. He had entered the world of Danny’s enemies.
What did Wish know, with his cushy existence, that mother of his always there to back him up instead of dying slowly in a rotting cabin with her wasted husband? In real life, Danny didn’t waste his time pointing unloaded fingers at his enemies. When old friends turn on you, that’s such a big hurt, you do stupid things.
In real life, when George and the rest announced after he set the second fire all by himself, Hey, you’ve gone too far, blah blah blah, and said they wouldn’t pay him, he put on the pressure, real pressure.
When he heard Wish survived the fire, he got anxious and confused. He had set things up right and it should have worked. The police, finding the two bodies, would be satisfied that they had their two arsonists. He thought back to that day, convincing Wish to go when he didn’t want to go, getting that drunk, Coyote, up there so he could shut his big mouth at the same time.
He should never have hired Coyote to help him on those first two fires in the first place. He’d given him the whole down payment so he could keep it clean and keep all the rest. Then, up there on the ridge that day, the fire went the wrong direction when the wind came up. He took too long whacking Coyote and changing clothes with him and then he couldn’t get the Doc Martens off Coyote’s feet. How he’d managed to get the pants on him over those boots he’d never know. And he’d really hated sacrificing his concho belt.
By the time he got back to Wish, the fire was so intense he had a few bad moments thinking he might not make it out himself. So he hadn’t hit hard enough with that rock, or been thorough enough, checking to see Wish was dead or near enough. He flashed to grabbing Wish for just a second from behind, the terror that Wish might somehow turn around and look him in the eyes.
Still, all he needed was his money now, and he’d go find some big mountains far away, and it wouldn’t matter that a few things went wrong.
One thing for sure, he’d keep on with the fires.
Fire was the most intense, rushing gusher of relief. Fire filled the emptiness inside him, and he felt fulfilled, caught up in his destiny, active, happening. Productive, destructive, unbelievably powerful.
Born to burn, Danny thought to himself, but he felt hollow and terrified and thought again, now they’re all after me. And there was this surprise that kept pushing up from inside, this dismay, that he had killed Coyote and Donnelly and that woman; if he thought a lot about it he’d hate himself. Later for that, he’d get crazy at some motel out in the desert when he was safe and cry and shout it out and find a way to live with himself.
Next to him, Mikey thought he caught something and in his excitement, tangled the line on a log. They spent a long time disengaging the line and getting him set up again. Danny took the opportunity to mentally talk himself down.
“I don’t think there are any fish in this stream,” Mikey complained.
“Well, we won’t know if we don’t give it time, will we?” Danny asked, proud of how patient he acted with these two pains in the ass.
They moved downstream and Mikey started fishing again. Now Danny was jumping out of his skin with boredom. He hated waiting, but waiting was what was called for right now, and his patience would be rewarded, he was sure of that. He would sneak out later that night and make some calls… get things arranged, finish with the kids, and be on his way to the Big Sky Country. Lots of Natives there. He’d go to powwows and get with the People: he was half Washoe, he would be accepted.
Callie chose that moment to return, both grubby little hands holding bouquets. “Smell this,” she said, shoving some yellow flowers under Mikey’s nose.
“Coconut,” Mikey said, eyes closed. “Tropical.”
“They look like some primroses Grandma planted,” Callie said. “They aren’t open yet. Maybe they open at night like jasmine?”
“I’m hungry,” Mikey observed.
“You didn’t catch any fish?” asked Callie.
“No problem,” Danny said, reeling his line in. “We’ve got other food.”
“I thought you said you knew how to fish,” Callie said.
“The fish just don’t know how to get caught,” Danny said, and Mikey laughed, but Callie just stared steadily at him, and he could see she had a little of her no-nonsense grandma in there, which scared him into giving her a big smile.
Callie, sticking the flowers one by one into an empty Gatorade bottle full of stream water, kept up an incessant, nervous chat that had everybody edgy while Danny and Mikey put the fishing tackle away.
“What’s for lunch?” Mikey asked.
“You can’t be hungry. We just ate. You had two sandwiches.”
“I am. I have to eat now. What have you got for us?”
“Hey, I’m the scout leader here.” Danny grabbed the fishing pole from him and picked up the tackle box. He walked back toward the tent, feeling anger popping like boils all over his body. Damn kids. Who was the boss here anyway? Well, he guessed they would find out soon enough who called the shots.
The kids trailed behind him. When he could speak, he said, as calmly as he could manage, “We’ve got canned Vienna sausage, bread, mustard, Chips Ahoys. A real feast.”
Callie looked interested. “What’s a Vienna sausage?”
“Camp food,” Danny said. “I promise, you’re gonna love it.”
“Do we have to stay here all night?” she asked.
“Yeah, but it’ll go fast.”
“I’m not used to sleeping without my blanky.”
“You’re too old for a blanky,” said Mikey disapprovingly.
“I know, but Grandma says whatever gets you through the night,” Callie said.
“If you’ll just shut up for one second,” Danny promised, “I’ve got a plan for after lunch, an activity we’re going to do together. Then, a little later on, when it gets dark, we’re gonna have some real fun.” He jumped up and put his Nikes on.
“I’m gonna teach you how to build a fire.”
P AUL SHIFTED THE BRONCO INTO FOUR- wheel drive and turned left at the jeep road.
“There’s a gate,” Nina said.
“That’s why I have an assistant.”
She got out, wrestled the gate out of the way, and got back in. They bumped slowly along the mogul-strewn dirt road for a few minutes. Going around the first wide bend, they saw an amazing vista of Lake Tahoe swept with wind like a heavenly vision, as insubstantial as an enormous blue cloud below them. “How far do we go? We don’t want him to hear any engine noise.”
“Not far,” Paul said. “He would get far enough from the highway so that the kids couldn’t easily find their way back, but the road isn’t that long.”
They rode a little farther, until, at a spot offering one of the few level borders beside the road, Paul pulled off the road. He drove the Bronco over small logs and up a slight incline, then down into a gully. He got out and opened the trunk. Nina followed him.
“You insist on coming along?” Paul asked.
Nina didn’t bother to answer.
“In that case, we leave the Bronco behind, instead of having one person drive it out. If he comes back up this road, we don’t want him to see there are any other people around. Don’t want to scare him. People like Danny are full of fear. You know that? Full of bravado, not bravery.”
“But…” Nina said, puzzled, “he sets fires. That’s dangerous. If he’s so scared…”
“Scared he’ll get caught. Scared he’ll get hurt. Scared he won’t be respected. We’re going to do nothing that will set him off. Your pack,” Paul said, handing it to her.
She put it on her back.
“Hope we don’t have to go too far,” he said, handing her a jacket, which she tied around her waist. They sat on the bumper lacing their hiking boots. “Prisons are full of Dannys. Some of these guys are terrified of heights. Some are scared of water. Some won’t go on airplanes. They’re superstitious and they’re skittish. That’s why we don’t want to get near him. We scare him, he reacts. Problem is, we can’t predict how.” He finished, stood up, and adjusted the pack on his back.
“We have got to find him,” Nina said. “Paul, we have to be so careful. Those kids…”
“Right. So we sneak. We’ve got to be very quiet, and we have to travel pretty slowly because we’re going to be listening. And he is too. If he’s here, which is a long shot.”
Nina nodded.
They locked up the car and hiked back to the road. The road narrowed and switched back and forth. Before every curve, they held back until they were certain they weren’t going to run into any nasty surprise around the bend. Progress was very, very slow, because they wanted to travel in silence, and afternoon faded into dusk.
Callie would not allow them to toss the trash or even bury it. “We have to hike it out. I saw this show at school.”
The kids had eaten very little. They weren’t really hungry. They just needed their routines.
“Go ahead and bag it,” Danny said, feeling magnanimous. He went into the tent and came out again with a tiny recorder. Mikey, who had been looking unfriendly ever since refusing a second cookie, got curious and came over to see what he had. “That’s old,” he judged. “I had one of those years and years ago.”
“It’ll do the job,” Danny said. “Now, here’s what we’re gonna do. Instead of writing letters, we’re going to talk to them.”
“To Grandma?” asked Callie skeptically.
“Yep.”
Mikey looked even less sure. “What do I say?”
“Say, hey, Mom, Dad, I’m here, all’s cool. That kind of thing.”
“I thought they’re coming tomorrow,” Mikey asked. “Why can’t I talk to my dad?”
“This stupid phone is almost out of juice is why. Just say you can’t wait,” Danny said. “Tell ’em about fishing. Tell ’em you miss them. I’ll play your messages real fast so we get it all in.”
“I do miss them,” Callie said stoutly.
“Well, then say so.”
“Why didn’t you charge it on the car charger?” Mikey said suddenly.
“My friend’s charger won’t fit my phone.” He glared at Mikey.
Callie was first to take hold of the microphone. “Grandma,” she said formally, “it’s awful pretty up here in the mountains today and camping’s great but I miss you.”
“That’s exactly right,” said Danny, taking the microphone from her and putting it into Mikey’s face.
“Mom, Dad,” said Mikey, “I almost caught a fish! I never knew camping could be so fun. Hurry and come.”
“Great,” said Danny. “They’re going to love hearing from you.”
“How will they hear it?” asked Callie. “Aren’t we too far away?”
“They’ll hear it,” said Danny. “We’re up high and the reception is better than at home. That’s a promise.” He switched off the microphone. “You guys like marshmallows?”
Turned out, they did.
“I’m going to show you how to make a fire that can’t be beat,” Danny said. He took some dry wood from the pile he had borrowed from his mother. He showed them how to stack the branches like a pyramid, how to get the fire really hot. They roasted a few marshmallows to perfection, toasty brown.
Danny got up and found three cups. “I’ve got a pot full of water here, and a couple packets of hot chocolate. Who wants some?”
They practically jumped over each other, wanting some.
While the water heated, he prepared the mixture.
“I want this side of the tent,” Mikey said to Callie, who looked nervous, watching the night creep along the landscape.
“You can’t see the lake anymore,” she said, her voice small. “Are the bears going to come out?”
“I’m going to lock every crumb into the truck,” Danny said. “They won’t be able to smell it.” That was a lie, but Danny had enough worries without adding on bears.
“I get this side!” Mikey put his sleeping bag in place to cement the deal.
The afternoon breeze had gone for the day. Watching the small fire flick in the wind, Danny waited for the darkness. When the water in the pot got hot enough, he poured the liquid into the prepared cups.
“I can’t drink this,” Callie pronounced, making a face. “It’s way too hot.”
Mikey gulped the chocolate. “How come things taste so good when you are outside!”
Danny blew over Callie’s cup. “I can make it right,” he said. “Cool it down just the way you like it.”
For the first time that day, the little girl looked happy. “Okay,” she said.
“We need a story, though,” she said when Danny tried to get them into their bags.
“Sure, I’ll tell you a story. You finished up all your hot chocolate? There was the time I was down in Antigua and went out ocean fishing. You can catch fish there that are so big they can pull you right out of the boat!” He had never been to the Caribbean, but he had talked to a guy who had. He talked on, embellishing what he’d heard, making himself the hero, fabricating a lot of lore about marlin fishing he didn’t really know. Actually, as a way of passing the time, storytelling was something he enjoyed.
Both children fell asleep. Danny piled wood on the fire, thinking about his little buddies. If only it were real and they were just on a camping trip. He didn’t want to hurt them. He’d played with them and had some fun with them and they’d never called him a loser. They weren’t like sneaky Nate with his weird talk.
He looked into the dark forest, wondering if he was being hunted. He would never go to jail. The kids could go out in a blaze of glory with him and never grow up, always be happy and fishing and roasting marshmallows.
“It’s dark,” Paul said. He took his pack off and sat down on a fallen log.
“Yes.” Nina joined him. They had crawled up and back on the jeep trail several times, foraying beyond wherever they thought a car might break through the trees and brush to a hiding place. They took water bottles out, and drank.
“Just remember, if a bear chases you and follows you up the tree to eat you, it’s a black bear. If it knocks the tree down and eats you, it’s a brown bear,” Paul said.
“There aren’t any grizzlies up here,” she said, “only black bears that like berries a lot. They’re big bluffers, and would much rather eat your garbage than you.”
“You know they can get to six hundred pounds?”
“Are you trying to scare me or comfort me? Anyway, until you mentioned them, I wasn’t worrying about bears.”
“I know.”
They wolfed protein bars. “The question is, should we head down to Spooner Lake, even though it’s dark?” Paul asked.
“I’ve been thinking. I just could swear I saw something in Connie’s eyes,” Nina said. “Just there at the end. Remember when she was talking about how Danny thought nobody cared if he lived or died and she said she did?”
“I remember.”
“She said, ‘Go ahead, track him down.’ I think she wants us to find him,” Nina said. “All that other information was to convince herself she wasn’t giving him away.” She got up, stiff-legged, and put her pack on her back. “I think she knows he’s here.”
“I think he couldn’t have brought these kids so far up,” Paul said. “We should try Spooner Lake.”
“No, Paul, he’s here!”
In the moonless night, she could just make out his shrug. “Up we go,” he said.
Danny closed the flaps down on the kids’ tent and tied it shut. Considering the number of pills he had ground up in their chocolate, they wouldn’t bother him until noon.
He felt like a ghost, cold, lifeless.
He went over to the pitiful fire and began tossing wood on it, all the rest of the wood he had taken from his mother, and made his own personal bonfire. After he got it burning big enough, and had drunk his fill of it with his eyes, he found the tape recorder. He pulled out a cell phone and dialed up Jolene and George.
George answered.
“I got someone here wants to talk to her grandma,” Danny said, enjoying the cry he heard on the other end. The phone clattered, and Jolene spoke next. “Danny? Where is she, Danny?”
He played the tape. Jolene started crying right after hearing the word grandma, so it didn’t matter that Callie didn’t talk much.
“Now put George back on the phone,” he said. Damn the woman. She couldn’t hear him through the wailing. He repeated himself, louder this time, and she let go of the phone.
“It’s me,” George said.
Danny put his face closer to the fire. “I got such a big fire going, George. Wish you could be here to experience it with me. But you don’t like hanging with losers, do you?”
“I’m sorry I said that, son. Now you-”
“Callie’s okay. She wants to go home, but that’s up to you.”
“Don’t hurt her,” George said. “We’ve talked. We’ll pay you the full amount. Twenty thousand. Just bring the kids back safe. Or leave them somewhere so we can come get them.”
“I’m going to need more money.”
Silence from George.
“I asked for the twenty. But you all thought, he set the fire, how’s he gonna collect? You forced me into all this mess.”
“It was just-you kept on setting fires-”
“So?”
“I-I won’t argue with you. I’m just waiting to hear how much.”
“An extra fifty grand.”
A pause, then George said, “Okay. On top of the twenty.”
“Get it,” Danny said. “Cash, unmarked, nothing over a fifty. I’ll call you in the morning about where all to leave the money and where to find the kids. This whole thing could be over by one o’clock tomorrow. It’s up to you.”
“Son, tell us where you are.”
“I’m not your son.” Danny punched End and looked around, paranoid again. The wind was rising, so the licks of fire flared out and blew sideways.
“It’s just possible,” Paul said, pushing a branch back for Nina, “that he’s dumb enough to build a fire.” They stumbled through brush that in the daytime would have been daunting, but at night was nearly impossible. Wind had blown in intermittent bursts for the past hour, so the pines shook and whipped above them, and dry leaves rained down. They reached the top of a rise, but had to march around for quite a while before they could see any distance through the thick black forest.
“No fires,” Paul said, disappointed.
“Keep looking,” Nina said. She did not let herself think about what the children might be feeling in the darkness of this night, because she knew knowledge of their fear would paralyze her.
She took Paul’s arm and pointed upward. She reckoned they had climbed to over nine thousand feet and still hadn’t hit treeline. “There!” she whispered.
He peered. “I can make out rocks… white…”
“Smoke,” Nina said. “It’s a pretty big fire. And the wind is coming up again.”
He watched for a long minute. “Controlled, Nina. At the moment. Let’s go.”
They began traversing along a steep slope to the left, toward a wooded gully where two hills came together, keeping well below the white plume. They were bushwhacking and it was hard to be quiet as they made their way across the talus slope. When they finally edged into the gully they found a swift meltwater stream and a gentle slope leading up.
They were on a huge ridge of mountains that flanked Lake Tahoe, looking down at the flat forests of Incline along the shore and out upon endless, distant, shining water. They moved even more cautiously now, until they judged they were within earshot. Then they slowed to a crawl.
“What do we do if it’s them?” she whispered in Paul’s ear.
“The minute we see them,” Paul said, “we get the cops up here. We are not going to mess with this guy, Nina.” She nodded.
The gully flattened into a saddle cleft by the spring. They slowed even more as they approached what appeared to be a campsite, bordered at the back by huge boulders of fallen rock. They heard a voice-Danny Cervantes.
“I never liked you either, Darryl,” Danny was saying into a mobile phone. He looked like John Walker Lindh fresh out of Afghanistan, hair out of its customary ponytail, clothes dirty and disheveled, lit by flames that played over his skin like dancing demons. They had to move in close to hear him say, “Oh, they’re sleeping good tonight, Darryl. I drugged them. You know I’m no doctor, though, I had to guess how much would keep them out of my hair for the rest of the night.” He then spent a few minutes assuring an apparently frantic Darryl that he was “ninety-nine percent sure” they were still alive before shutting the phone.
To their surprise, after hanging up, Danny left the campsite, heading directly around a nearby bend.
“Where’d he go?” Nina whispered.
“My guess is, he wants a bigger fire.”
Nina ran over to the campsite and tried to open the tent flaps, but they were tied shut. “Callie!” she hissed. “Mikey, are you there?”
Paul was by her side. He helped her fumble with the tent ties, and they both called to the kids.
“Rip them off!” Nina said, tearing at them. She was trying to locate her penknife, when they heard a sound in the woods.
Within two seconds, Paul had hold of her, had run her out of the camp area and back into the dark forest.
He looked back toward the clearing. They could hear Danny now, but they couldn’t see him. Taking her by the arm, Paul walked her quietly farther from the campsite, although they could still see it, and could hear Danny, who was apparently gathering more dead wood, judging by the sticks and branches that flew roughly toward the fire.
Paul called Crockett. He ran down the situation and their location as well as he could, then shut his phone. “He patched me through to the local police. It will take them a while, Nina. It’s a good thirty minutes up from Incline Village if they go slow along the back road, and there’s no other easy way in. They don’t want to scare him off, or scare him into doing anything to the kids. They’ll have to go slow, like we did.”
Nina made a call to the poison center and was told exactly what she thought they would tell her about the Ambien-get the kids to throw up and get them to a hospital. Now.
“I’m going back there.”
A log as thick as a lamppost flew into the camp.
“Nina.” Paul took her in his arms. “Listen to me. You’ll put everyone in danger.”
“They may be dying! I’m not afraid of him.”
“Be patient, Nina. We’ll watch over them until the police arrive.”
“You don’t understand!” she said. “You…”
“Don’t have kids?”
She could feel his eyes on her, beams from his soul shooting through the dark.
“You think I’m making the wrong decision because I can’t appreciate how serious the situation is? You think I don’t care because I don’t have kids of my own?” His voice had leveled to flatness.
Heart pounding, breath coming in bursts, Nina shook her head. “No, of course not. Paul, I’m sorry…”
They waited for some time. Nina leaned against Paul and took comfort from him. She checked her watch frequently.
No sound came from the campsite.
Then they heard a crash as Danny broke through some bushes by the tent, bottle of whiskey in one hand, and a can of kerosene in the other. He had obviously already made headway on the bottle, because he was humming.
Nina and Paul crouched down. Paul had his gun out, Nina noted, and felt relieved at the sight. At least no more overt harm could come to the kids while they were watching.
“This is good,” Paul said in her ear. “Maybe he’ll pass out.”
But as the minutes ticked by, Danny got drunker, and seemed not at all inclined to doze off. At one point he stumbled directly toward them, stopping at the first line of bushes, and let loose a gurgling flow of vomit. After that, he seemed livelier than ever, collecting more wood to keep the bonfire going, keeping it big, and keeping it under control. Nina thought a forest fire was not in his plan for the evening, and was thankful.
The sheriff’s officers did not come, and did not come.
Danny’s happy song turned into muttered cursing. His face, scratched and lined by firelight, drooped as his mood shifted. He peed into bushes. He drank some more.
He picked up the can of kerosene. At first, he contented himself with splashing a few drops toward the fire. It blazed up. Once he made a small fire next to it, and stomped it out.
“He could kill himself doing that,” Paul whispered, his face grim. “That can could explode in his hand. Damn, he’s so close to the tent.”
She heard indecision in his voice. She, too, couldn’t decide whether to rush him now-the dangerous can of fuel he was wandering around with could burn the tent-but a moment later, Danny, apparently overcome by his foul mood, made a move they could not ignore. He had been gesturing wildly, and now slopped the kerosene in a long stream that stretched all the way to the tent.
And it caught. A spark, something, set the whole stream of fuel alight.
Paul ran out into the clearing, gun in hand. Danny screamed as the fire hit his hand and dropped the can, saw Paul, and grabbed a burning limb. He brandished it at Paul, who moved around him in a circle pattern, looking for a way in.
The tent was in flames. Running past the fire, Nina grabbed a burning torch and ran behind Danny and then lunged at his back and bedeviled him with the flame.
Danny screamed again and turned to face her. She threw the fiery limb at him. Paul tackled him from behind, but he kicked out and had a second to stand up. He should have run into the forest where he might have escaped.
But he ran toward the tent and disappeared inside.
And Nina knew then that he had come to the end of his line and decided to burn with the children. Paul was up but he couldn’t get inside the low doorway, it was a sheet of flames. She was pulling at the lines, trying to pull the tent anchors away. The anchors popped up and she could pick up the whole side of the tent-
Danny pushed her hard from inside the tent. It felt as though the tent fought her. She fell and her shirt caught fire. Tearing it off, she ran back to the canvas-covered form in the tent and picked up her leg in the hiking boot and gave Danny the hardest kick she could.
The whole tent fell down. Now it was only burning sheets of canvas with two children and a murderer lying trapped inside.
For a moment she and Paul just stood there and looked at each other, horror in their eyes.
Then Danny began crawling out of the collapsed tent, dazed and burning, and Paul tackled him.
The forest around them came alive. Police in uniform, firefighters burst into the campsite. Three cops rushed Paul and Danny, and at almost the same moment a crew of firefighters came running in and used handheld extinguishers to spread foam on the fire.
And Nina ran through the burning half-circle of fire to the one side of the tent that wasn’t already engulfed, ripped through the fabric with her knife, and found the children.