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Chief Ashworth professionally, as does Sheriff Lopez, who has appointed me acting chief until Chief Ashworth is found. He’s a fine man and a good community leader. The sheriff and I were working with relief teams in Solvang when we heard about the misfortune in Lompoc. Sheriff Lopez, using his authority as the director of the Santa Barbara County Emergency Plan, also assigned a leader for the local volunteer Search and Rescue teams. Our priority will be to organize and accelerate the search for survivors, including Chief Ashworth and his fellow officers. This has been a gut-wrenching tragedy for Lompoc, and the community has our sympathy. Although these are trying times, I want to assure the citizens of Lompoc that the police department is committed to ensuring public safety and the protection of property. We also request that nonresidents do not attempt to visit the town until further notice. The only access is Highway 1, and unfortunately, our police control point has backed up traffic for nearly a mile. So please, if you do not reside in Lompoc, stay away and allow the residents to return to their homes.”

The reporter asked, “Are you suggesting that Chief Ashworth is alive?”

“I don’t know. No one knows. I hope and pray that he’s alive. I’ve personally found survivors in Solvang in situations that I would have thought impossible to endure, so we will search fervently”—Evarts made a sweeping gesture to encompass the devastation behind him—“for any and all survivors. Search and Rescue always works with urgency, assuming that victims are alive until proven otherwise.”

“As acting police chief, do you want any help from Vandenberg Air Force Base?”

Evarts almost grinned at the loaded question coming from a military reporter.

“Thank you for that question. The answer is yes. Volunteers for Search and Rescue would be appreciated. Our police liaison with SAR is Officer Gilroy.” Evarts gestured with an upward open palm at the officer standing beside him. “If someone on the base could be assigned to coordinate from that end, Officer Gilroy will coordinate from ours. Unfortunately, I need to get back to my duties. Thank you.”

While the reporter was trying to frame another question, Evarts strolled off camera. He joined up with O’Brian. Officer Gilroy tagged along.

As they walked, Evarts asked, “Officer Gilroy, who is charged with policing this area of flood damage?”

“No one is charged with that duty, sir. I just took it upon my lonesome.”

“Okay. As you heard, I gave you another assignment. Wait here until I can get some other officers assigned. No one is to enter this area. Don’t shoot anyone,” he smiled to show he wasn’t entirely serious, “but do your best to keep people out. There are remains in that wreckage, and I don’t want anyone combing through it. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, Mr. O’Brian and I are going to take a quick survey of the damage and get over to the police station.”

With that, Evarts and O’Brian entered yet another savaged residential neighborhood.

“You handled that well,” O’Brian said. “A little impolite, but you made your points. And I noticed only one white lie. We found only one survivor.”

Evarts harrumphed. “If you thought that was impolite, you should see me with the mainstream media.”

“Scars?”

Evarts nodded. “Copious and deep.”

“Thanks for helping me keep a low profile.”

“Not sure how long it will remain low, but if a civilian station picks up that feed, at least your face won’t be plastered all over.”

Evarts and O’Brian walked through the same level of devastation they had witnessed in Solvang. Homes along the riverfront were gone, along with their carefully groomed yards and property-line-defining fences. Their flashlights glinted off wet surfaces, and it was difficult to step around all the puddles. The bridge itself startled Evarts the most. He had pictured a jumble of concrete where the bridge had once stood. Instead, the road ended with a gaping hole in the highway and no remnants of the bridge in sight. How much water had come through here? Evarts had assumed that the surge would have dissipated by the time it reached this point. He shook his head. That was the same mistake the last chief had made.

They encountered no additional police, only Officer Gilroy guarding the flood path and three at the checkpoint. Lompoc had a force of about forty officers and administrators. Where were the police? And for that matter, where were the firefighters?

O’Brian must have read his thoughts. “Where the hell are the cops?”

“We’d better get to the station,” Evarts said.

Chapter 22

Bob Mandel was arrogant, bombastic, politically incorrect, and extremely popular. As a San Francisco talk-show host, he went against every assumed norm of his Bay Area audience. Many believed that he ran his show for national fans, but those people would be wrong. Mandel’s ratings in the Bay Area were off the charts. Some listened as converts, some to keep an eye on the opposition, and some just for the clown show.

Baldwin had explained that to put pressure on the governor’s people, they needed to make their recommendations public, to make inaction an unattractive decision. Before people could pressure the government to do something, they first had to know there was something that could be done. Once everyone in the vehicle had concurred, she cautioned that they shouldn’t be overt. Just a few bored technocrats on I-80 wanting to talk to Mandel about some out-of-the-box ideas that would possibly lessen damage, suffering, and death.

By the time they had a game plan in place, Vacaville was close, so they decided to wait until after they’d stopped to call the radio show. Due to a large and unruly crowd, refueling and a potty break took over an hour. After buying food and drinks, and filling the Land Cruiser’s tank, they pulled back onto the highway, destined for San Francisco.

They had called the Bob Mandel Show immediately upon getting on the road again. Now they waited for a decision from a call screener. In a moment, they heard her say that Bob would take

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