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often, Lopez because it was part of his jurisdiction and Evarts because the thirty-minute drive offered an interesting culinary respite. On light days, he sometimes drove to Solvang for lunch.

When their food arrived, Evarts asked, “What’s the situation now?”

“As we drive up, keep an eye on the Santa Ynez River,” Lopez said. “It’s normally dry, but now it’s flowing almost to the banks. Water’s being released from Gibraltar and also rolling down the surrounding hillsides into the reservoir, so the county’s been releasing Cachuma’s water out to sea as fast as it can.”

Evarts looked at the customers in the café. “Business seems good … no one’s nervous.”

“No official alert has been issued,” Prentice said. “Besides, three quarters of these people came from out of town. Hell, they don’t even know there’s a dam hereabouts.”

“What about locals?”

Prentice shrugged. “Faith in authority. They believe we’ll protect them. They also don’t want us to scare away tourists. That’s their livelihood.”

“Okay, tell me why I’m here if no one’s concerned.”

“I didn’t say people weren’t concerned,” Prentice said around a mouthful. He swallowed before continuing. “Just not the people in this room. The water district’s worried sick they’ll get overwhelmed trying to match the outflow with the inflow. If it gets away from them … who knows? We’ve raised the alert level for the police and fire departments. No vacations, no days off. If an evacuation becomes necessary, there’s only one road out of here. One. Prudence says we should start a controlled exodus, but the council wants me to restrain the level of alarm. Don’t make waves, they say.” He tossed his fork down alongside his plate. “Bottom line … they want their sales tax rake-off from tourist spending.” He picked up his fork, chewed another mouthful, and then added, “Should I go on?”

“No, I got the picture,” Evarts said. “What’s the latest prognosis on the dam?”

“Steady as she goes. The engineers act confident.” Prentice tapped his fork on the table. “I hope it’s not wishful thinking.”

“Tell me the worst-case scenario,” Evarts said.

“Total dam disintegration,” Lopez answered for Prentice. “It’s earthen, so if it starts, it’s Humpty Dumpty time. It’ll all wash away. Over two hundred million gallons of water will spill into the Santa Ynez River. All in a big hurry. It’ll destroy everything in its path.”

“This restaurant?” Evarts asked.

“No,” Prentice answered hesitantly. “The commercial district sits away and a bit above the river, but half a mile south, homes could be endangered, plus a trailer park on Fjord Drive could get washed away.”

“Schools?” Evarts asked.

“One,” Prentice said. “Combination elementary and middle. And the River Golf Course at Alisal is popular. Lots of tourists golf.”

“In the rain?” Evarts asked.

Prentice shrugged. “The clubhouse bar and restaurant remain open. If golfers can’t golf, many still play the nineteenth hole.”

Evarts didn’t like the implications of what he had just heard. “With only one road out, what’s your plan?”

“Depends on how much warning we get. If we have time, we’ll direct an orderly evacuation. Plan B is to herd people into Hans Christian Andersen Park … the northern end preferably.”

“High ground?” Evarts asked.

“No, just an upslope. The park’s long and narrow, stretching away from the river. The northern reaches should be safe, and there’s plenty of open ground to accommodate people.”

“Who knows about this plan?” Lopez asked.

Prentice appeared surprised by the question. “The three of us.”

“What?” Lopez and Evarts said together.

“I drove around this morning looking for the best place to direct people in case of an emergency. If they can’t get out Route 246 or run for the hills north of town, the park provides the only alternative. We have an emergency plan, but no one has looked at it since my predecessor wrote it years ago. The council never asked to see it, nor did they ever ask for an update. I scanned it last night. It’s useless. The population has grown four times since it was written, and back then there was no development along the riverbank. Solvang isn’t large. I drove the whole town and the outskirts. There’s no better gathering place than the park. It’s big and a dozen or so feet above the river. Tents on the tennis courts can function as headquarters and a first-aid station.”

Lopez didn’t look pleased. “You have these tents? Medical supplies? Water? Food? Cots?”

“No. That’s why I needed you two up here. And before you ask, I’m told that the Red Cross has their hands full inland.”

Prentice looked embarrassed. As he should, Evarts thought. He had been police chief for nearly two decades. If the only available plan had been put together by his predecessor, it was woefully out-of-date. Prentice had no cause to blame the council for not requesting an update. It was his job. Santa Barbara updated theirs every other year. And Prentice had had most of the day to stockpile supplies. What had he been doing? Waiting for them to arrive? On the way up, Evarts had thought this trip might be a wild goose chase. Now he sincerely hoped so.

Lopez traded a look with Evarts. “I think we’d better get out there and look at this dam,” he said. “Let’s take your Raptor. I want to see how that hunk of metal rides.”

As soon as they got into the truck, Lopez recommended actions Prentice should take.  Prentice nodded, happy that someone was giving him direction. During the six-mile drive, Prentice called his office and issued commands to his sergeant as if they had originated with him. In case of emergency, a roadblock should be erected at the off-ramp from US 101 to stop all incoming traffic. The police department and firehouse should direct an evacuation along Route 246, using both inbound and outbound lanes. People should be staged for evacuation at Hans Christian Andersen Park. Prentice then demanded an inventory of first-aid supplies at the police station, firehouse, urgent care facilities, and hospital. He wanted a patrolman to find a truck, drive to Costco in Santa Barbara, buy twenty cases of water,

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