Chapter 11 Jordan
ELEVEN
JORDAN
Thanks for all the tips, crime fam. Keep ’em coming!
—@deathtripdylan
Jordan stumbled out of the MCP into unfolding chaos.
A swirling wind fanned sparks and cinders from the trees like the bellows of a blacksmith’s forge.
The TV crews were throwing gear into their vans and climbing inside while a straggler tried to capture it all using her phone’s camera.
Everyone else was running for their cars, but access to the road was blocked by an unoccupied vehicle for which nobody seemed to have the keys.
A deputy’s vehicle and an S&R truck were jockeying at each other, each one trying to be the first one to get through the narrow space that remained.
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 team now,” 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.”