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“Tom, a pleasant surprise. A social visit, I hope.”

Evarts waved them over to a round table he used for almost every meeting in his office.

“You wish,” Tom Lopez answered. “Any coffee around?”

“On its way. What’s the problem?”

“Have you been contacted by the Emergency Operations Center?”

“No.” Evarts immediately felt wary.

“The governor wants to ramp up the alert level from three to two and has directed his staff to sound out local politicians and first responders. He’s already declared Region III a disaster area due to the Oroville Dam. I fear this is a prelude to declaring the entire state a disaster area to get access to federal funds. The acting director asked for my up-to-date manpower contingency plan.” He shook his head. “They probably want to commandeer a good portion of my force.”

“Haven’t heard a peep, but I already have five patrolmen on loan to the CHP. They’re helping with a washed-out section of I-5.”

“This is bigger … way bigger. If this next storm hits us hard, and people with loads of initials behind their names think it will, then the governor will declare a statewide emergency and invoke all the powers in the Emergency Plan.”

His assistant came in carrying coffees. He told Evarts that the director of the Emergency Operations Center was on the line. Damn.

When he hung up, Evarts said, “Same thing. You heard me ask about additional declarations from the governor, but he insists the situation is fluid.” He looked outside at the continuing drizzle. “My wife’s in Sacramento. She says it’s raining cats and dogs.”

“Yeah, that’s my info. The coastal ranges trigger the clouds to unleash everything they’ve got,” Lopez said.

“Why are you here?” Evarts asked.

“Lake Cachuma Dam,” Lopez said. “The Gibraltar Reservoir is full to the brim, and they’re letting the overflow run into Lake Cachuma. We’ve dumped billions of gallons. For a while, it helped the groundwater basins, but now the earth is saturated.” He gave Evarts a meaningful look. “Solvang and Buellton lie in the flood path.”

“I checked the status yesterday. The website says Cachuma’s at twenty percent of capacity.”

“Old news. Now, it’s at thirty-eight percent and growing by the hour. The Army Corps of Engineers has ordered it kept low because the dam needs maintenance on the earthworks. It’s not trustworthy.”

“What can I do?” Evarts asked.

“Be ready and willing to respond if I need help. Cachuma lies outside your city limits, but your assistance would be right neighborly.” Lopez smiled as he invoked a country drawl.

Evarts became wary. “I see. You want me to prioritize my county over the rest of the state.”

Lopez leaned back in his chair. “I do.”

“You want me to make … adjustments to my manpower contingency plan before sending it on up to the state.”

“I do.”

“Have you talked to the Solvang police and Buellton sheriff station?”

“Of course.”

Evarts got up from the table and paced his office. He stopped and looked down at the still-seated sheriff of Santa Barbara County.

“A new plan won’t match my last submittal. There’ll be questions.”

“Lots,” Lopez said. “And if you take a few days to answer each round, this damn rain may have passed.”

Evarts nodded. “I want to say yes, but I need to run this by the mayor.”

“Call her.”

“You’re an impatient SOB, Tom,” Evarts said lightly.

“I am.”

He made the call. Lopez heard only his side of the conversation, but Walsh’s final decision would disappoint him.

“She’s just been contacted by a county supervisor asking for the same favor.” Evarts sat silent a moment, giving Lopez a hard look. “A well-timed, multifront assault. You must be worried.”

“We are. The EOC has dictatorial powers. By the time we suffer a serious problem, they’ll have already commandeered our resources, and then we’ll be up the Santa Ynez River without a paddle.” He tried his own version of the hard-cop look. “Greg, we need to take precautions.”

“My boss agrees … but not totally. We’ll jigger the manpower contingency plan and stall on our responses, but we’ll continually evaluate the situation as it develops. No promises to the county. No commitments. If the governor declares a statewide emergency, we cooperate with the EOC … to the fullest extent possible … even to the detriment of local issues.”

“You can’t be serious. You’d send your men off to help strangers and allow your own people to suffer? Damn it, you took an oath to protect this city. For god’s sake, Greg, we need to stick together.”

Evarts told himself to react calmly and not aggravate Lopez’s anger. “How many meetings like this do you suppose are occurring across the state? If everyone abandons their EOC obligations, people will die. We do need to stick together, but in a far larger community. Besides, it’s the law.”

Lopez flew out of his chair, put two balled fists on the round table, and leaned in toward Evarts. “You fool. Don’t you know what’s going to happen? The namby-pambies up north will panic and requisition everything we’ve got. Everything! Even if they don’t need it. Despite all our pleading, they won’t send it back. They’ll keep it as long as it serves their purpose, and their purpose is not saving lives, but avoiding bad press. They’d rather let our men and emergency equipment sit idle than return it. Who runs the EOC? Politicians. Worse, staff. Inept drones who have never run a thing in their lives. They’re deathly afraid of personal criticism, and they won’t do what’s best for the people of this state.”

He collapsed into his chair. “Greg, if the Lake Cachuma Dam breaks, I’m going to need your help. You owe me more than you owe those bureaucrats.”

“Tom, I’ll hold off as long as I can. If Cachuma or Gibraltar look shaky, I’ll convince the mayor not to go whole hog. But if this drizzle is all we face, I’m not going to renege on my obligations to the state.”

“Damn it. Then we’re in for a world of hurt.”

“Why do you say that? What do you know?”

Lopez sighed. “It’s going to drizzle along the coast, but

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