Hotshots Read online

  “I could disappear.” He smiled. “I’m good at that.”

  “Disappearing won’t restore the balance. When there is trouble I go back to the reservation. You could come with me. Talk to the elders.”

  The wind was picking up and rustling Jake’s cornstalks. “I would never have deliberately endangered you or Mike or Nancy and Eric Barker,” he said.

  “It’s all right, Jackie. We know fire. We weren’t in danger.”

  “Does anybody know you’re here?”

  “Only the lawyer.”

  “Did you tell her you knew what I had done?”

  “I didn’t tell anybody. I will never tell anybody.” She spoke with a ferocity that convinced me.

  “Thanks.” He touched her arm. “Let me think and decide what to do.”

  “All right,” she said.

  “Can you stay?”

  “No. I have to get back to Hanna.”

  “I’ll go into town and call you when I am ready. You want to take some tomatoes back with you?”

  “Okay.”

  Jake went into the garden and came back with an armful of ripe tomatoes. Nothing tastes as good as a tomato fresh from the garden, but neither of them took a bite. Ramona put hers in the truck, got in the driver’s seat, and headed back down the road. Jake kept one. He stood still, tossing it from one hand to the other and staring after Ramona. When her truck could no longer be heard tearing up the road, he caught the tomato in his right hand and squeezed it until all the juice, seeds, and pulp ran out. Then he went back in his cabin.

  Lightning flashed near Thunder Mountain and I wondered what he’d do next. Being in a fire can damage a person badly. So can seeing your friends die, and so can killing someone. Jake was responsible for one house torched and Tom Hogue’s death. He’d known the Forest Service was on the mountain. A good case could be made for premeditation. He might decide to get himself a lawyer, cop a plea, and exonerate Ramona. He might load up his truck, hit the road, and disappear. He might think Ramona was the only one who stood between him and jail. I’d believed her when she said she wouldn’t turn him in. It could makes things very difficult for her, except that I had Jake’s confession on tape. It was in her and my clients’ best interests to get my tape to Sheila McGraw. I put it in my backpack and headed for my car.

  24

  THE THICK, DAMP air settled like a weight upon my shoulders and head. My backpack felt heavier going out than it had coming in, although the contents remained the same. Drops of rain spattered the leaves and pinged the ground. At the moment it was a gentle rain. The Navajos speak of a he-rain and a she-rain. This one felt like a she. I figured I had about a mile to go before I reached the stream that would lead me to my Nissan. I made my way through the woods, mostly aspen, listening to the sound of my footsteps and the sound of the rain until the whooshing, rustling sounds were interrupted by the roar of a vehicle racing down the “Keep Out” road. A door slammed. I hoped it wasn’t Ramona coming back. Jake Sorrell had been relatively calm on the outside, but inwardly he had to be a guilt-ridden, desperate man. I stopped and listened, wanting to go forward, wondering if I should go back. After a few minutes the door slammed again and a vehicle sped back down the road.

  I continued hiking, one foot in front of the other. An aspen forest isn’t as dense as some others. The slender trunks are a silvery color and in the rain the spaces between the trees fill up with shadows and ghosts. I was listening for the smooth sound of the rushing water that would guide me out of the woods when I heard the sharp sound of a twig snap behind me. I spun around, and saw nothing but tree trunks and leaves. I started walking again, but more lightly this time, doing as little as possible to rustle the leaves. I went a few yards further and heard another snap, only this one was louder and closer, a bigger branch, a heavier foot. Even the most dangerous animal you might encounter in the woods—a bear—is only dangerous if you come upon one unexpectedly. Bears don’t stalk people. The only animal likely to be stalking me was another human. I thought about taking my thirty-eight out of my pack, but a gun is useless if you can’t see what’s coming, and I didn’t want to give in to paranoia. There was a possibility that Ramona was out there and too much harm can be done by a paranoid with a gun. I called out, “Who’s there?” But only the rain answered.

  I continued walking, heard the sound of rushing water pick up, and stopped hearing the sound of snapping twigs. Either the stream was drowning out the sound of the stalker or the stalker had been the product of an imagination in overdrive. I followed the stream to the reflecting pool. The rain fell into the pool in steady drops, water blending into water. The clouds had put out the light show and the rock was a flat, dull gray.

  I walked along the bank to the spot where I’d crossed before, hitched up my pack, and stepped onto the stones and into the open. If anyone was going to attack me this seemed like the optimum moment, but no one did. It wasn’t much further to my yellow Nissan. I crossed the road, took my keys from my pocket, inserted the key into the lock. Concentrating too hard on what might have been behind me, I’d forgotten to consider what lay ahead. The bushes adjacent to the car rustled and a woman burst out. The rain had turned her gray-blond hair into Medusa curls and it swirled wildly around her head. It was Ellie O’Connor, the woman from Forest Sentinels, and she held a tire iron in her hand. Hers, I figured; there was no sign that my car had been broken into.

  The thirty-eight in my backpack could do considerably more damage than her tire iron, but her weapon had the advantage of being in her hand. As I struggled to twist out of my backpack, she smashed the top of the Nissan with her tire iron and the sound of metal hitting metal reverberated through the woods. “When you get out of that backpack, drop it on the ground,” she said.

  I did as I was told.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked me.

  “How did you know I was here?” I asked, although I figured I already knew.

  “Randall, the guy who works for me, said you’d come to the office looking for directions to Jake’s. When I heard that, I drove on up. Jake said he hadn’t seen you, but I took a look down this road and found your car.”

  Why do you care who visits Jake? would have been my next question, but I hadn’t answered hers yet. “I’m a lawyer from Albuquerque. I’m representing Eric and Nancy Barker, whose daughter was killed in the South Canyon fire.”

  “Jake told me that. It doesn’t explain why you’re here.” She began slapping the tire iron against the palm of her hand.

  My own hand was itching to be inside my pack. “Ramona Franklin saved my life in the East Canyon fire. She came up here to talk to Jake. If she was in danger I wanted to be here for her.”

  “Why would talking to Jake put her in danger?”

  We were enmeshed in dripping, weeping sounds. Water soothes rough spots, but the answer to that question was a hard truth no matter how you chose to look at it. It’s one thing to shout let it burn; it’s another to actually strike the match. Ellie must have wondered whether Jake had started the fire. She’d reached the moment when she’d have to find out.

  “He’s your friend, right?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then you should ask him.”

  She stared at my blue backpack lying on the ground as if wishing she had X-ray vision. “What’s in the pack?”

  “A listening device, a gun.”

  “Push it over here with your foot.”

  I followed orders. She cradled the tire iron in the crook of her arm, opened the pack, took out the gun, emptied the bullets onto the ground, opened the listening device, and took out the tape. “You recorded Jake’s conversation with Ramona?”

  “Yes. My clients are suspects in the fire. That tape could keep them and Ramona out of jail.”

  “But what will it do for Forest Sentinels?”

  “It will eliminate any suspicion that Forest Sentinels started the fire.”

  “Jake’s a member of Forest Sentinels. If he was involved
we’ll always be suspect. This tape could ruin us.”

  Jake had said Forest Sentinels wasn’t involved. Whether that would be good enough for her or not I didn’t know. Forest Sentinels was her baby and her wolf. She had the tape in her hand and she had the power to destroy it. As a witness to Ramona and Jake’s conversation I was useless without the tape. I had too many vested interests to be believable. But she didn’t know that and she might not believe me if I told her. Several people had known I was coming here. She was the only one who’d known I’d arrived. Her fingers tightened around the tire iron. She stared at the tape with angry eyes, and I had to wonder just how much Forest Sentinels meant to her. “There’s a tape deck in my car, why don’t you play it?”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” she said.

  I thought I knew why. We were still in the murky area of my word against Jake’s. She could dismiss my word, but once she heard the tape her conscience might force her to act.

  We were so deep in our thoughts neither one of us heard Jake until his boot heel hit the road. A black cowboy hat shielded his face. The rain was falling harder now. It pelted the brim of his hat and drummed on the roof of the car. To me it had the sound of a he-rain. Jake carried a thirty-thirty and his face wore a bitter smile.

  “You taped my conversation with Ramona?” he asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “What did you intend to do with it?”

  “Turn it over to the arson investigators.”

  “And you, Ellie? What are you going to do with it?”

  “Destroy it,” she said.

  “You don’t want to hear what’s on it?”

  “No, I don’t.” Her eyes were wide and fierce.

  “So that leaves you, me, and Ramona who know, but your word won’t mean much in court,” he said to me. He was right about that. “Ramona promised she wouldn’t tell and I believed her.”

  So had I.

  “And Ellie, you’re going to do whatever it takes to protect Forest Sentinels, aren’t you? Even if it means shielding me.”

  “It’s my life, Jake. You know that.”

  “So that leaves me.” Jake held up the rifle and stared as if he could see his reflection in the shiny black barrel. “And what are you gonna do, Jackie?” he said. “Blow town and leave some good people high and dry. Is that what you’re gonna do?” He snapped the lever, cocked the hammer, and pointed the rifle at Ellie.

  “Put the gun down, please,” she said.

  “Drop the tire iron. Hand over the tape.”

  She did as she’d been ordered, extending the tape in the palm of her hand. But he left it lying there and turned the rifle toward me. “And you, Ms. Attorney? What do you think I oughta do?”

  “Get a good lawyer. Plea-bargain. Cut yourself a deal.”

  “But any deal I cut’s gonna mean jail time, isn’t it?”

  “Probably.”

  “You’ve seen where and how I live. Would you want to go to jail after living like this at the edge of the wilderness?”

  I wouldn’t want to go to jail after living in an apartment with a view of the Dumpster in the parking lot, but my answer was “If you don’t do the time, someone else could be doing it for you. Ramona, maybe, or the Barkers. Is that what you want?”

  “No,” he said slowly. “That’s not what Jackie would want.”

  He aimed the rifle at Ellie. “Give her back the tape,” he ordered.

  “Are you crazy, Jake?”

  “Give her the tape.”

  “What about Forest Sentinels?”

  “Forest Sentinels will survive. The tape says I acted alone.”

  “We’ve been too outspoken. Nobody will believe that.”

  “They’ll believe it because the lawyer here’s gonna make sure everybody believes it, aren’t you?”

  “I’ll do my best,” I said.

  Ellie handed me the tape. I took the keys from my pocket, opened the car door, tossed the tape in, and stuck the keys back in my pocket.

  Jake’s eyes had been those of a wounded and trapped animal, but he turned the gun toward himself, stared into the black hole of the barrel, and saw the way out.

  “Don’t, Jake, please. There’s another solution,” Ellie pleaded.

  “I’ve done too much hard time in my life. I don’t want to do any more.”

  “You’ll get out eventually,” Ellie said. “You’ll be able to start another life.”

  He placed his finger on the trigger and stared even deeper into the barrel while the rain pelted us with its hard, driving power.

  “That’s not what Ramona and the people who care about you would want,” I said. “Think of them.”

  He looked up with dark fire in his eyes. “I hurt when it rains. I hurt when it doesn’t. I hurt every minute of every day. That was my crew, my buddies on Lone Ridge and Thunder Mountain. I couldn’t save them then. I want to be with them now.” He looked beyond us as if seeing ghosts in the mist that whispered, “Come.” “This is for them.”

  “Don’t!” Ellie screamed.

  But Jake Sorrell put the barrel under his chin, pulled the trigger, and blew his head off.

  25

  A LONG DRIVE back to Albuquerque was followed by a long night listening to branches scratching at my skylight. The Kid slept beside me, though, and that helped.

  Sheila McGraw called in the morning. “Looks like you got our man,” she said.

  “Not in the way I would have chosen,” I replied.

  “If he was guilty he was looking at a long sentence. Given the circumstances we could have made a good case for premeditation. Sorrell bore a major grudge against the Forest Service. He must have been aware that Forest Service personnel were on Thunder Mountain. The helicopter flew right over his cabin. Henry Ortega found some local women who’d seen a truck like Sorrel’s in the drainage shortly before the fire started. If I’d killed an innocent person and was about to be found out, I might have blown my own head off. There was no suicide note that we were able to find.”

  “In a way there was.”

  “Yeah?”

  “He spoke to Ramona before he died and I made a tape of their conversation.”

  “You planning on turning it over?”

  “I am,” I said, reaching for a Ricola.

  “What made you go up there, anyway?” Sheila asked.

  “It appeared to me that Ramona was covering for Jake. She told me she was going to his house to talk to him. I figured she might try to convince him to turn himself in. Who knows what his reaction would have been? She wasn’t doing anything to protect herself, so I tried to do it for her.”

  “You could have given us a call.”

  I could have, but I’d done it my way, the Hamel way.

  The question I had to keep asking myself was whether the outcome would have been any better if I had called Sheila with my information instead of passing it on to Ramona and going up to Colorado myself. Jake Sorrell might be rotting in jail instead of lying in the ground. He probably would have tried to exonerate Ramona if they’d caught him, but would anybody have believed him? He might also have killed himself without exonerating Ramona. And then where would she be? Those were questions I could go on asking forever but never be able to answer.

  “If you’re right and your tape absolves Ramona of any involvement in the East Canyon fire I’ll be happy to be done with this incident,” Sheila said. “It’s been a sorry episode in the history of the Forest Service.”

  She was right about that. “Will Ramona get her job back?” I asked.

  “That’ll depend on what the OSHA investigation turns up. There’s still the lookout issue. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  ******

  The East Canyon arson investigation was closed. Forest Sentinels was absolved of any involvement. No criminal charges were filed against Ramona, Mike Marshall, or the Barkers, although Ramona remained on suspension from the Forest Service. Both Ramona and Mik
e went back to school. The Barkers had made their own private arrangement and they wanted to continue with the negligence suit. I advised them to wait, however, until the OSHA report was completed. Sheila McGraw never did call me about it, but in March the report was finished and a copy was delivered to the Barkers. Eric brought it by for me to read and we made an appointment to get together and discuss their options.

  I took it home and curled up on the sofa to read it while the Kid worked late at the shop. The last night I could remember him spending at his house was the night before I went back to Colorado. You could say he was living in my place, but with an option. He hadn’t given up his rental house yet. The empty room remained empty.

  The OSHA report determined that management made willful and serious violations on the South Canyon fire. Training had been inadequate concerning the dangers of fighting a Gambel oak fire even though that information had been made available to the Forest Service. There should have been aerial surveillance. The Forest Service’s weather information should have been communicated to the firefighters. The report made recommendations for improving working conditions for both the supervisors and the firefighters, but no criminal charges were filed. Whatever action was taken against management was an internal matter.

  I read the section on aerial surveillance carefully. The interagency report had implied negligence on the part of the lookout, but the OSHA report exonerated Ramona. It concluded that the blowup would not have been visible from Ramona’s post on the ridge. The report was in many ways a victory for the dead firefighters and their families. It was definitely a victory for Ramona.

  I called her as soon as I got to work in the morning. “Have you seen the OSHA report?” I asked.

  “I heard about it,” she replied with the sound of a smile in her voice.

  “It must be very gratifying to you.”

  “It feels good,” she said. “The best part is I get my job back. I’ve been reinstated.”

  “That’s wonderful” was one response. Mine was “Do you still want to go back on the line after all that’s happened?” It was dirty, dangerous work.