Jordan saw the red glow and felt the heat on his face before he heard the roar. A wall of fire was a hundred yards away and closing in fast. There was no time to wonder how it had gotten so close so quickly.
“Evacuate your teamnow,” he told Wen.
“Got it,” she said. “We know a little something about fire in LA, too, you know.”
Fortunately, she jogged away. They’d settle the jurisdictional bullshit later.
Beto was already directing traffic. Jordan joined him, barking orders and waving his arms to make sure no one panicked and crashed a departmental vehicle. He wished his team would be more levelheaded, but who could be calm when faced with the prospect of getting cooked to death?
“Where should we regroup?” Jordan shouted.
His chief deputy thought for a moment before he answered. “Parking lot of the Seventh Day Adventist church. Should be safe, and it won’t be in use.”
Jordan gave the instruction over his radio, then started shouting it into open car windows for good measure.
The rising dust was almost as bad as the billowing smoke, but after only a few minutes, he had managed to direct an orderly evacuation. Jordan watched the MCP lumber safely toward the road just ahead of the fire.
Then the radio suddenly spiked in volume. Several voices went back and forth excitedly, static blending with the crackling of grass and wood. He grabbed the mic.
“Everybody, quiet if you’re not the one making a report,” he ordered. “Now, give me the information again.”
Narvaez’s voice: “We found an orange jumpsuit. Definitely Campbell’s. But we think she changed her clothes.”
“Unless she’s really going back to nature,” muttered Beto.
“OK, good work,” Jordan told Narvaez. “Go get her.”
“Well, about that. The K9 team followed her to a trailhead but lost the scent.”
“Trailhead where?”
“Thornberry Mountain.”
“Where can she go from there?”
A pause. Then: “Lots of places. We think she got in someone’s car.”
TWELVE
CARA
This is Troy Silverman, your future sheriff. Me and my team were just part of a boots on the ground operation in the hunt for missing convicted murderer Cara Campbell. I can tell you firsthand this whole thing is a disaster. Jordan Burke’s bozos have bungled this from minute one. And they nearly got me killed in the process. Watch this space for a livestream update.
—Silverman for Sheriff Facebook page
Cara leaned back on the utilitarian bench seat as Devin and Sanjay’s Jeep moved swiftly along the narrow mountain road.
Her immediate relief at leaving the search dogs and fireman behind was tempered by her lack of a master plan. Where was she going to go? What was she going to do when her rescuers’ phones got service and alerts from their news apps started pinging? All she could think to do was keep the back doors unlocked so she could jump out from either side the second they figured out she wasn’t Karoline Bell from the South Bay but CaraCampbell from Beverly Hills. The fall would probably kill her, and that would be that. But what else was new?
Devin reached for the dashboard stereo and pressed the radio button.
Shit.
“Driver’s choice,” he said, choosing the preset for the Sirius Grateful Dead channel.
Sanjay rolled his eyes as the wheezy harmonies ofSugar Magnoliafilled the cab.
“My hus—ex-husband really likes the Dead,” Cara sputtered.
