“Put your hands up and turn around!” he bellowed. “Face away from me!”
Her whole body flinched. She turned her head toward the water, away from the glare of his headlamp.
“I said, put your hands up! Turn your whole body around and then move slowly toward the shore.”
She raised her arms halfway, a sagging scarecrow. Then she lost her balance and stumbled, finding herself thigh-deep before she regained her footing. Her hands were open and empty. She appeared to be unarmed.
Jordan was about thirty yards away. Careful of his footing, he began closing the distance. He didn’t know why she wasn’t complying, but he needed to get her to shore before she fell and was swept away.
At twenty yards, he saw Campbell more clearly. Her orange jumpsuit was too large, making her look small and vulnerable. Her blond hair was stringy, and her face was scratched and smudged. Outwardly, she resembled a hundred other sad sacks who’d made bad choices, gotten in over their heads, and found themselves at the ends of their badly frayed ropes. By the time he arrested them, he often sensed they were grateful to be caught by someone who was going to finally take control of their disordered lives.
And yet.
Standing in the swollen stream, struggling to stay upright against the pushing current, Cara Campbell didn’t look beaten. Something about her body language made him think she was still hoping to change the outcome of this encounter.
Even though he had racked his shotgun mostly to get her attention, and even though she was not holding a weapon, he continued to aim at center mass.
Ten yards away, he stopped.
“Cara Campbell, I’m Sheriff Jordan Burke of Madera County,” he barked in his command voice. “I’m here to bring you back into custody. I need you to get those hands high in the air and get out of the water right now.”
She raised her hands a few inches more, to shoulder level. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe the reason she had been so slow to comply was that she was in shock and confused.
But she still wouldn’t look at him. Her face was angled down toward the creek. Which could have been because she was avoiding his headlamp’s glare. Or...
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
“Can you understand what I’m saying?”
Her nod was so small he almost missed it.
Why wouldn’t she look at him?
Then he knew. She was watching the water and calculating her chances. Even though the current was strong enough to break her against logs and boulders, she was still thinking about trying to get away.
“Listen to me,” he said, softening his voice. “I need you to get out of the water. The current is much higher than usual and it’s very dangerous. If you go in, you won’t survive.”
Cara Campbell didn’t comply.
But she did finally look at him.
NINETEEN
CARA
Looking for some class 5 whitewater rafting in Cali this summer. Suggestions for the gnarliest spots?
—@watersports4ever
Cara’s mind swirled faster than the eddies circling her legs.Don’t want to die. Can’t go back to prison. Hate water.
“If you go in, you won’t survive,” Sheriff Burke said.
She had been so focused on not slipping and falling in the darkness, she had completely missed his approach. She couldn’t tell what he looked like, not when she was blinded by his flashlight beam.
“Two people have died this year in water just like this,” he warned her. “You’ll be tossed around like a rag doll, bashed against rock after rock.”
