Firebreak (Josie Gray Mysteries #4)(2)
Josie walked to the window and examined the banks of the river. “It’s a good four feet below normal. The water’s maybe fifteen to twenty feet across in that area. If the fire gets too close a strong gust will carry it over.” She paused, scanning both sides of the Rio for several miles north of the smoke. “There aren’t many trees along the Mexican side of the river, but the salt cedar’s thick on our side.”
“It’ll catch, as dry as it is.”
“You have somebody connecting with Mexican authorities?” she asked.
“Dispatcher already called the fire officials. Will you be up there through the night?”
“Marta Cruz just came on duty and is headed this way. She’ll be stationed here through midnight. I’ll come out then if things still look bad.” Josie turned toward the north, in the direction of the fire that had already consumed thousands of acres. “What’s the status of the Harrison Ridge fire?”
“Unstable. The heat’s causing unpredictable wind conditions. It’s probably fifty miles northeast of Artemis and headed south. That open grassland around the mudflats worries me.”
“You’ll keep me posted?”
“Will do. Be safe.”
*
Josie walked slowly around the perimeter of the observation room, scanning the two sister cities on either side of the Rio Grande and the vast unpopulated Chihuahuan Desert that spread out before her. With populations that hovered around twenty-five hundred people, both Artemis and Piedra Labrada faced many of the same difficulties as other border towns across the Southwest: unemployment, scarce resources, underfunded state mandates, understaffed local fire and police departments. What both cities shared was a hardscrabble spirit and determination that came from making a good life in such isolated, unforgiving conditions.
Josie faced the northern expanse and leaned against the ledge: no houses or signs of human habitation for miles. She imagined herself working as a fire spotter at one of the remaining national park lookouts, spending several months stationed in a tower not much bigger than the one she was currently standing in, with a five-mile hike from the outpost to the tower and a donkey to ferry in supplies—isolation at its finest.
Josie heard Marta Cruz’s PD boots clomping up the zigzag wooden steps below her, and then watched her appear on the outside deck that wrapped the tower.
She pushed open the door and entered, her expression betraying her fear. “Hi, Josie. How’s it going?” she asked.
“I called in smoke in Piedra Labrada. If it crosses the river we’ve got major problems. We could have fire approaching from both the north and the south. For now, it’s a watch-and-wait.”
“Someone alerted Mexico?”
Josie nodded. “Doug’s working with spotters in Piedra.”
Marta pulled her water bottle off her gun belt and drank. She had a sturdy presence, short and squat, and a resolve like no one else Josie knew. Marta’s high-school-age daughter gave her fits, but Marta never gave up hope, never gave up her demands for respect and reliance on the rules. Josie admired her, as both a single mother and a police officer. She approached both with the same commitment and determination.
Josie pointed toward the west window and they both looked out, searching for the gray smoke Josie had seen just a few minutes before. Marta drew in a sharp breath and pointed; slow spirals reached straight up into the charcoal sky, now calmed by a break in the gusty wind.
“The spotter in Piedra Labrada is headed that way. Keep an eye on it. Anything new, call it in to Doug.” Josie glanced at her watch. “There’s a crew of smoke jumpers flying into Marfa, scheduled to arrive at four. They’re flying in for training exercises in Big Bend.”
“I hope they’ll give us a hand. Are you going to the airport?” Marta asked.
“An old friend of mine from high school is on the crew. That’s where I’m headed.”
Marta smiled. “Small world.”
Josie nodded. “It’ll be good to see him again. Then I’ll be at the briefing at the firehouse at six. I’ll fill you in.”
TWO
Josie leaned against the concrete barrier facing the airstrip, smiling as Pete Beckett caught her up on life since leaving rural Indiana after high school to discover the world. Pete was now a grown-up version of the rebel she’d once spent every weekend with: he, Josie, and two other kids had crammed into the front seat of his Ford F-250 with a rusted-out floorboard and a four-wheel drive that took them through more cornfields and creek beds than she could count.
He was taller than she remembered, more bulked up around the shoulders, wearing a white button-down shirt tucked into faded Levi’s. Pete had the leathery-textured skin of a man who worked under the desert sun. Deep wrinkles framed his eyes, and silky brown hair hung over his collar in the back, giving him the same offhand measure of cool that Josie had always loved. When she escaped from home at the age of twenty, she had lost touch with the three friends who had saved her from the chaotic world her mom had created after her father’s death. It had been fifteen years since she’d talked to Pete, and she realized how much she’d missed him.
“I couldn’t take college and a forty-year desk job,” he said. “I painted water towers for a year, moved from town to town, but I couldn’t shake that need for a rush.”