Dave anch.o.r.ed his forearms on the table and uttered a heavy sigh. "Tell her what the sheriff's department said."

Ron shifted his attention, and for the first time - maybe the first time ever - he had genuine concern in his eyes. "They said we need to be very careful. Report any suspicious activity ... be aware of people wanting tours and then not following through. That sort of thing."

"Not following through?" Holly felt overwhelmed at the idea. "I've given tours to hundreds of people. We've sold only a handful of homes." She felt bewildered, and her nervous laugh conveyed the fact. "So everyone who comes up for a tour is a suspect?"

Ron maintained his concern. "They told me we can't be too careful. That's all I'm saying."

"They're afraid someone'll start a fire in the middle of the day? With the gates wide open?"

"That's why we wanted you in on this." Dave tapped his knuckles on the table, his voice tense. "This is very serious. Every person who makes it up that road must be greeted. We must get names and addresses. Phone numbers." He shot a questioning look at Ron. "Maybe even license plates and descriptions."

Ron jabbed his finger in the air, and his eyebrows lifted. "I like that." He looked at Holly. "You could do that, right? I mean, there's not that much traffic up here."

Holly didn't mind, certainly, but she had her doubts. "Most of the time that would work, but ... I have to say that on the weekend there are times when I can't get to everyone. Some people come up, drive around, and maybe get out of their cars for a few minutes. They leave before I can get to them."

Dave and Ron seemed to think about that for a minute. "That should be okay." Ron walked back to the table and sat down. "No one would start a fire when it's busy, when people are all around."

Holly tried to imagine an arsonist coming up the hill. They might avoid the crowded days, but they would hardly want to be the only visitor here, either. Catching a lone visitor would be easier than catching someone who slipped into a crowd. But before she could say so, Dave threw his hands up, his tension high. "Crowded or not, it doesn't matter. The point is we need license plates and descriptions. Some way of tracking the people who come up. I can't stand the thought of someone getting hurt in our development."

They talked about the idea of a guard station and decided it might be a good idea - at least when the gate was open. That way, every car up the hill would be accounted for.

"Paying a security guard to screen every visitor would cost considerably less than the damage a fire would cause." Dave seemed to settle down some. "I like the idea."

The conversation wrapped up, and Dave and Ron congratulated Holly on closing another deal that morning. "There'll be a bonus in your next paycheck," Ron told her. "You're really quite good at what you do, Holly."

Holly wished his compliment made her feel warm and special inside, but it didn't. The way he delivered his lines - even to her - made him sound like a college math professor declaring some sort of algebraic theory.

Ron and Dave left to check the progress on a home at the far right end of the street, across from the large model they'd just sold. After they were gone, Holly returned to her office. She was terrified at the thought of an arsonist. No matter how the note had gotten tacked to the back of the new house, a fire setter could do his work alone or with people all around. The idea was way too possible.

She sat back at her desk and positioned herself in front of the computer again. But what scared her more than a fire in the hills was the possibility of settling for a man she didn't love. A nice guy with a nice faith and a nice job who knew how to take her out on the town and show her a nice time. A guy who hadn't once dug deep enough to know her heart, and who seemed to handle dating like another to-do list. Settling for just okay, when once upon a high school romance she'd had a love that seemed to have slipped right from the pages of a storybook.

That scared her.

Holly stood and stretched. She needed fresh air, needed to clear her mind before she could focus on selling houses again. A quick look through the window told her the development was pretty quiet for now. Light work crews at either end of the street, but otherwise no one in sight. She stepped out the front door and breathed in deeply. The canyon had a sweet smell, mesquite mixed with wild gra.s.s and clear air. She sauntered down the walkway, out of the shadow of the house and into the sun. Her mind drifted to the situation with Ron. The right girl would fall over backwards trying to win the attention of a guy like Ron Jacobs.

But maybe that girl had never hiked along a deep blue lake in the Adirondacks beside a tall handsome boy who could see straight to the center of her soul. She was about to turn around and head back in the house when something caught her attention. She turned toward the movement in time to see a shiny, full-size black pickup truck spray gravel as it headed back down the hill.

She caught just a glimpse of the driver's profile before the truck disappeared behind a clump of brush, leaving only a cloud of dust to mark its place. There was something strangely familiar about the guy, but Holly wasn't sure why. She felt her stomach tighten. Maybe he'd been up here before, casing the development. She could get his license plate number. She took a few running steps toward the place where the truck had been before she stopped herself. It was too late for license plates. The guy was probably halfway down the hill. She needed to tell Ron and Dave. What if the driver was part of this whole fire threat thing? This was when a guard at the gate would've been perfect. She could've radioed him to stop the truck and ask the driver a bunch of questions.

She hurried inside, her heart racing ahead of her, and radioed Ron. After she explained what she'd seen and how the guy had seemed in a hurry to leave, Ron calmed her down.

"An ecoterrorist wouldn't drive a full-size truck Holly, my dear. Definitely not." The sound of loud hammering and men's voices made it hard to hear him. "Probably just someone curious about what's up here."

He had a point. She finished the conversation, turned off the radio, and stared out the window. What was it about the driver, the way he'd looked familiar? A few seconds pa.s.sed, and suddenly it hit her. Her heart thudded in response, and her breathing became fast and shallow. She slid her chair over to the computer and moved the mouse, bringing the screen back to life. The picture was still there, the deputy and his dog, the award. The image was the same as the one in her head, but it couldn't be him. Alex would have no idea where she worked, and certainly if they were going to send a deputy up to look around for anything suspicious, they'd send one in a marked car.

The resemblance was all in her head, and what did that say about her feelings for Ron? She could tell herself she needed time, or that her mother was right - real love took work. But her mind must've had other ideas. There could be only one reason why a quick glance at a perfect stranger in a truck she'd never seen before would remind her of Alex Brady: Her heart had never forgotten him.

SEVENTEEN.

Alex had to will himself to slow down, because if the rush of urgency in his veins had its way, he'd be flying a hundred miles an hour. He'd done what he set out to do today. He'd gone to the Oak Canyon Estates to check out for himself the danger and layout of the property.

What he'd found had shot terror straight through him.

He and Bo weren't there long, just enough time to drive to the end of the street and back down again. But that's all it took to tell him what a fire would do this high up in the hills. It wouldn't work its way down the street - it would explode through it. The wood-framed homes and construction materials would go up like so many fireworks, and the hillside would be instantly on fire. Alex didn't need fire training to understand that such an inferno would roar down the steep, sloping brush and become a firestorm in minutes.

"It'd be a fire like nothing LA's ever seen." He spoke the words out loud, and from the back Bo whined. "It's okay, Bo ... we won't let it happen. We'll get the bad guys."

At that, Bo released a single sharp bark - the way he was trained to do on command whenever Alex mentioned bad guys. It was one more thing that set Bo apart. He shared Alex's pa.s.sion for getting the job done. At the base of the hill, Alex made two quick rights into a housing tract literally carved into the mountain. The homes sat on lots barely larger than the footprints of the houses, with maybe ten feet between them. At this afternoon hour, the neighborhood had kids everywhere - riding bikes along the narrow street, playing basketball in the driveway of a house that backed up to the hillside, and walking with their parents along the neatly manicured sidewalks.

Alex took the road through the development, driving slowly enough that he could see a handful of cul-de-sacs that branched off on either side of the street. He was stunned at the danger the place posed. There were tons of homes bunched together on maybe six or seven acres, and there were only two ways out. Two exits for the entire neighborhood.

He pulled out of the development and realized his hands were shaking. Sure the homes had tile roofs, but roofing wouldn't stop a tidal wave of fire barreling down the hillside. Add winds to the formula, and a neighborhood like the one at the base of the mountain could be swallowed whole - taking dozens of lives with it. Hundreds, even. He rolled down all four windows so he could breathe. From the backseat, he heard Bo walk to the window and stick his face out - the way he loved to do.

The faces of Owl and the other two came to mind, and he felt the anger again, felt it driving him to do something. Anything but sit back and let Oak Canyon Estates become victim to the REA. At the next stoplight, he grabbed his iPhone, swiped his finger across the lock bar, and dialed Clay Michaels.

Clay picked up just before the call went to his voice mail. "What's up, Brady?" His voice was raised above the noise of what sounded like a restaurant.

"Something big's about to happen, Sarge. I had to call."

"Hold on." There was a pause, and the background noise dimmed some. "There. I can hear now. Say it again?"

"We're on the verge of something big ... I had to call. Somebody's gotta be on this."

Clay uttered a m.u.f.fled groan. "A wave, you mean? A big wave? Tell me you mean a wave, Brady, 'cause you're supposed to be on a beach, remember?"

"Sarge, I'm serious." Alex expected this, the reminder that he had a week left before he was even supposed to be thinking about police work. But he had to get the information to the department one way or another. He was using his Bluetooth, so he had both hands on the wheel as he talked. "I met with the leaders of the REA."

"What?" Clay raised his voice, and then quickly brought it back down again. "What do you mean? Like you put on a green T-shirt and pretended to hate trucks?"

"For a few minutes, yes." Alex wasn't worried about getting in trouble. He hadn't represented himself as a deputy, and he hadn't done anything illegal. "Remember I told you about Owl, how I was talking to him?"

"Brady, you're crazy. Deputies don't infiltrate into terrorist gangs on their off-hours. n.o.body does that, and if they do they - "

"Wait! This is important." Alex had never taken a sharp tone with Clay, but in this moment he came close. His breathing came faster than before. "They didn't know I was a deputy. We met at a park off Kanan Road. I taped the whole thing. Had a recorder in my pocket and got it all."

"You what?" This time Clay shouted the question. "What if they'd found it on you? They could've killed you, Brady." He was seething. "Besides, that won't be admissible, you know that."

"I'm aware of that." Respect returned to Alex's voice. "I'm not trying to build a case; I'm trying to stop a tragedy before it happens."

Clay was quiet at that, as if maybe, finally, Alex's words. .h.i.t their mark. "Okay ... what'd you learn?"

"A lot. They're gonna hit the Oak Canyon Estates." Alex worked to regain control of his emotions. He was halfway down Las Virgenes Road now - headed for Malibu. He had his surfboard in the back, because he really did plan to hit the waves tonight. The trip to the Oak Canyon Estates had been on the way, and he just couldn't resist checking out the development.

"They said that?"

"In so many words." Alex reached back and patted Bo, but he kept his eyes on the curves of the canyon. "Check it out. Please. See if anyone from the development has called the department. My guess is the REA is making threats. That's sort of their calling card."

"So you're sure."

"Absolutely. I just drove up to the development. Sarge, it's terrible. The houses sit right in a clearing surrounded by sky-high brush. And at the base of the hill are a hundred homes. I mean, if the winds are right, we could lose the whole neighborhood and half the people living there."

This time Clay was quiet for several seconds. "You know what I thought when I saw your name on Caller ID?" He sounded suddenly tired. "I thought, 'Well look at that. Alex Brady is taking time out of a stroll with his mother through Central Park to call me on my birthday.' "

Alex remembered the restaurant sounds. "It's your birthday?"

"It is."

"Oh." Alex put both hands on the steering wheel again. Traffic was light in the canyon, but he liked full control for the last curves. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks." He sighed. "We've gone over this before. Fire danger is high all around LA this season, and everything you're hearing could be nothing more than false tips."

"It doesn't feel that way."

"Okay. So ... you want me to check for complaints from the developer, and then what? Tell Lost Hills to send out a patrol every hour to keep an eye on the place?"

"Something like that." Alex didn't smile. There was nothing lighthearted about the situation.

"I'll tell you what, Brady. I'll check into it if you work on one thing." The background noise was getting loud once more.

"What's that?"

"Your suntan." He had to talk above the sounds around him. "No more detective work on your off time, Brady. You could get yourself killed. You get that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, then. I'll let you know if I hear anything."

When he'd clicked his phone off, Alex's overwhelming alarm eased some. Clay was good for his word. If he said he'd check into the situation, he would. And if he found that calls had been made from the developer expressing concern about arson, combined with Alex's tip, then they could justify sending a deputy up every hour. Whatever it took to protect the homes and the hills and the residents.

And the firefighters who would be forced to deal with the conflagration when it happened.

He reached Pacific Coast Highway and turned right this time. Malibu was too crowded this time of the day, so he headed north to Zuma Beach and parked facing the farthest part of the beach from the entrance. He surveyed the empty stretch of sand and the waves rolling in. It was just after three o'clock, the perfect time to surf. He helped Bo out and attached a chain to his collar. Bo was completely reliable without a chain, but if anyone walked by, a German shepherd of his stature could be very intimidating. The chain helped.

Alex peeled off his T-shirt and grabbed his surfboard. It was in the high nineties, even at the beach, so he grabbed a gallon jug of water and a bag with Bo's bowl and a towel. Clay didn't have to worry. He was already tan from spending the last two afternoons here. The beach was helping pa.s.s the time, but he was going to go crazy waiting another week before he could get into his uniform.

Bo loved the water, just not over his head. So after Alex set his things down close to the sh.o.r.e, he walked his dog to the ocean's edge and unhooked him. Bo frolicked along the foamy surf a few yards, and then padded back to Alex. His eyes were raised as if to say, "Come play with me."

Laughter flexed the muscles along Alex's bare stomach. "You wanna play, is that it, boy?"

Bo barked once. The way he held his mouth made it look like he was almost smiling.

There were no people in sight, so Alex balled up the chain and tossed it onto the damp sand. Then he took off after Bo, toward the shallow water. Every few steps he splashed the dog, and Bo would turn around and chase him. The game ended when Alex spotted a bikini-clad girl coming their way. He lowered himself and held his arms out to his dog. "C'mere, Bo."

Immediately, he wagged his tail and walked right into Alex's arms. Alex hugged him and gave him a hearty pat on his back. "Good boy, Bo." He stood. "Heel."

Bo fell into place at Alex's side, and they walked up the beach to the chain. Once it was on, Alex dropped to the sand and leaned back against his hands.

"Hi."

The sound of her voice caught him off guard. He turned and shaded his eyes to find her standing a few feet away. "Hi." He tried to use his tone to tell her he didn't want company.

"What's your dog's name?"

Alex felt the muscles in his jaw tense. "Bo."

"He's beautiful." She walked around in front of him and reached toward his dog. "Does he bite?"

If she only knew. "He's fine."

She was probably in her early twenties, a bleached blonde with a pale blue string bikini that matched her eyes. "I love German shepherds."

He didn't say anything. Other than a subtle admiration, Alex felt no thrill from her presence.

"I live down the beach a ways. Just seemed like a good day for a walk."

Alex squinted at her. "I guess."

She patted Bo a little more. "You want company?"

He smiled at her as politely as he could. The condition of his frozen heart wasn't her fault. "Honestly?"

"Sure." She tilted her head, her eyes catching the sunlight.

"My board's up there on the beach. I sort of wanted a few hours alone in the water."

Something in his voice must've hit its mark, because she straightened and took a step back. "Okay, then." Her smile told him she considered the move his loss. She shrugged one shoulder. "See you around."

"Yeah." He put one arm around Bo's back and felt his smile fall flat. "See ya." He watched her go, and for the few seconds it took the next set of waves to crash to the beach, she wasn't some stranger hitting on him, she was Holly, walking away. Leaving him for the last time, without looking back.

He stared at the distant horizon at the far end of the ocean. Wherever she was, he hoped she'd finally figured out how to make a break with the past. His mom insisted she was still in Los Angeles, working in real estate. But Alex doubted that. She had probably moved back to the East Coast by now, met some great guy who could love her wholeheartedly, the way she deserved to be loved. He'd certainly given her no reason to wait around for him in LA.

Alex looked down the beach again. When the blonde girl was far enough away, he walked up to the crest of sand, chained Bo to his bag, and poured him a bowl of water. The waves looked strong, bigger than before. He grabbed his surfboard, slipped off the shorts he wore over his swim trunks, and ran down the sand to the water. He could already feel the waves beneath him, and as he stretched onto his board and paddled out, he thought again of the REA. How could they believe setting a fire to anything would further their cause?

He moved past the first line of breakers to the place where the waves were three and four feet high and waited. Driving by the Oak Canyon Estates had been a good idea. Now he understood even more the urgency of the pending disaster. The firestorm would be like nothing this area had ever seen. He angled his board out to sea. A wave was forming, rising up out of the water and coming toward him. Alex paddled hard, positioning his board in just the right spot as the wave began to curl.

The thrust of power never got old. He kept himself tight, compact until he was sure of the ride. Then slowly he straightened his knees and gave himself to the wave. The wind and ocean spray blew against his face as he flew along, tucked into the curl of water as he raced toward sh.o.r.e. In those few seconds, he experienced the same thing he felt when he ran hills at Pierce College. Relief from his driving pa.s.sion for ridding the city of crime.

He surfed for nearly two hours, attacking the waves until he felt a relief he wasn't sure he understood. He ran his board back to the place where Bo was sleeping on the sand, grabbed his towel, and rubbed it over his arms and legs and through his hair. He and Bo were back in his Dodge heading out of the parking lot and south on Pacific Coast Highway when he thought of the REA again.

Never mind what Clay said. It wasn't against policy or illegal for him to keep an eye on the REA's headquarters. In fact, that's exactly where he would go tonight, after dark. He would drive up and watch, maybe place a call to Owl and tell him about some bogus tip the REA might like having. Then he'd ask about the Oak Canyon Estates, whether he could help or be a lookout. Something. He would work the guy, have a conversation, develop that crucial trust he'd need if he were to keep getting information.

Alex couldn't think of a better way to spend the night. If he couldn't wear a uniform, he could at least keep an eye on the bad guys. If there was danger in that, then so be it. His connection to the REA gave him a window to the group's activities. Because of what he'd learned, he could see the tragedy before it played out, the houses at the base of the hill in the path of the potential fire, the children who lived in the neighborhood. The death and destruction that could so easily lie ahead. He could imagine the firefighters rushing to the scene, running into the fire while everyone else ran out.