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Chapter 4

Crisis planning for pets is easy to do ahead of time, because their food is often nonperishable. You’ll need food, water, and any medications. Bring necessary leashes, crates, and comfort toys. Include documentation such as registration, vaccinations, and a photograph of you and your pet together in case you become separated. If your pet is microchipped, verify that your emergency contact information is up-to-date. If you have “Pets Inside” stickers on your doors or windows, remove them when you evacuate with your animals.

From the Notebook of Maggie McDonald

Simplicity Itself Organizing Services

Sunday, August 6, Afternoon

Though the sun wouldn’t set until close to eight, you wouldn’t have known it from looking at the sky. Plumes of smoke had thrown a dismal pall over the neighborhood. It matched our mood.

But Tess had no time to notice atmospheric conditions. She approached her house slowly. I followed behind, as though she was performing a complicated gymnastics routine and I was in charge of her safety. I had her back, that was for sure, but I couldn’t fathom the reserves of strength she’d need to march inside and tell her only child that his father was dead.

We walked through the side gate as usual, but Tess stopped before rounding the corner at the back of the house. “Would you wait here for a moment?” she asked, with her back toward me. “Give me a moment to find Teddy and take him somewhere quiet. Then you can come in and tell everyone else. You and Paolo.”

“If you’re sure—”

“I don’t know if I’ll be certain of anything ever again.”

I gave Tess the moment she asked for and then walked into a kitchen that was silent save for the breathing of three large dogs, three enormous men, and two teenaged boys. I’d anticipated the cacophony and confusion inherent when such a group gets together. The near silence shocked me. They turned, pulling their attention away from the hallway that led to Teddy’s bedroom, where I assumed Tess was delivering the achingly dreadful news.

Max strode forward to hug me, and we expanded our embrace immediately to include Brian and David. Their faces reflected the pain they felt for their friend, but their grief was for more than that. They’d lost the security that children feel when they believe no harm will ever befall their father. Anything that had happened to Teddy’s dad could happen to theirs. Belle used her nose as a wedge to ease her way into the center of our huddle.

“He didn’t suffer.” I voiced the only comforting crumb of information to be found in the situation.

“What happened?”

“How did it happen?”

“What was he doing up there?”

“Why was he alone?”

“Who found him?”

“Where was he?”

Everyone fired questions so quickly that I wasn’t sure who was asking what nor where I should begin. I sank into a chair at the kitchen table. Belle thrust her head into my lap under my hands, insisting that I comfort myself and her by rubbing her ears. “Can everyone take a moment to sit down?” I said.

I looked at our friends Stephen and Jason, both of whom were experienced first responders with the skills and compassion required to deliver bad news to grieving families and friends. Paolo hung back, exhausted from driving in traffic, looking after both Tess and me, and making sure all the official requirements had been observed. He wasn’t a multitasker. Though he kept a cool head in the direst of circumstances, emotional situations drained him. Whether or not the late afternoon activities would have typically been wearisome for him, Paolo was spent. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, but experience told me he would remember every word of the conversation. “Correct me if I get any of this wrong, Paolo,” I told him. He nodded once, opened his eyes, and closed them again. It was like communicating with a cat.

Stephen had turned on the teakettle and grabbed Tess’s cobalt-blue mugs from a nearby cupboard. David sat on my right, but Brian moved to help Stephen.

Jason sat at the other end of the table, flanked by Stephen’s mastiff, Munchkin, and Tess and Teddy’s Mozart. Max sat on my left and took my hand, which was met by a heavy sigh from Belle.

“So it was Patrick?” Jason asked. “No question?”

“None.”

“Who found him? When?” Stephen asked.

I parroted the information Paolo had provided during our drive from the medical examiner’s office. “A man named Kon Sokolov, the night ranger in the county park. He found...” My throat tightened, and Stephen passed me a glass of water. I took a sip and continued. “The ranger found Patrick at about five this morning. Kon had been keeping an eye on the fire. After the wind shifted, he went up on the ridge trail to look for hot spots. The Cal Fire team was busy elsewhere, but I guess all rangers have some fire-control training.”

Before I could elaborate, Teddy burst from the back of the house, rubbing his eyes and scowling. “It’s not my dad. It can’t be. He would never go running alone.” He glanced at Brian and David for confirmation. They were all on the cross-country team and had been training together throughout the summer, often accompanied by Patrick.

“He’s right, Mom,” David said. “Patrick told us over and over not to run alone, especially in the hills, where anything could happen.” He shuddered. “He had all these gross stories about rattlesnakes and mountain lions and dislocated knees and broken ankles.”

“And even if it was my dad, there’s no way he fell. He claimed he was half mountain goat. You guys know that. Dad was always on my case, telling me to pick up my feet and scan the trail for obstacles. He stayed focused on the path ahead. Said watching your footing was a sure way to overbalance and stumble, especially on the steep downhill parts of the trails.”

Tess came into the kitchen, wiping her face with a washcloth. She’d changed from her dominatrix-tough black suit and heels into sweatpants and a faded Stanford T-shirt that I suspected had belonged to Patrick. She sat between Teddy and Jason while the dogs rearranged themselves to be closer to their people.

“Teddy’s not sure that the body you identified was Patrick’s,” Jason said, bringing Tess up-to-date.

Tess brushed her hair back from her forehead.

“It can’t be.” Teddy’s voice had a pleading tone.

“Aw, sweetheart...” Tess’s face was etched with her own pain and her aching need to soothe her son’s agony. “I agree. It can’t be. It makes no sense.” Her voice broke. “Your dad should be walking through that door right now saying how sorry he is to have given anyone such a terrible scare. The only good thing is that he didn’t suffer.”

The phrase was losing its comfort value, at least for me. Tess spoke slowly and precisely, much like someone who’d had a little too much to drink and was being careful not to slur her words.

Teddy leaned forward with his hands flat on the table. “That’s another thing. I mean, I’m glad this guy, whoever he is, didn’t die in agony. But what was he doing on the hillside below the path with a fire coming up the ridge? Dad would have known that was a dangerous place to be. Any idiot would have known that. If he’d gone down there deliberately, he could have climbed out, right? So, something must have happened. Has the coroner checked for other injuries or did he just look at the guy and say, ‘Oh, crispy critter. Died of wildfire burns.’”

I winced at the insensitivity and harshness of Teddy’s words. David and Brian appeared shocked, then seemed to be battling the kind of hysterical laughter that often emerges in the face of death. I signaled to them to head outside, where they had less chance of offending or distracting anyone while they got their emotions under control.

Tess shook her head and bit her lip. “You’re right, Teddy. He did have additional injuries. A skull fracture, the medical examiner said. Consistent with a fall and a collision with a rock.”

“But if he fell, why did he fall? Let’s say this guy truly is Dad. It’s not, but look at what happened. Dad must have been attacked to have fallen and been unable to climb back up. Someone else might have fallen and hit their head, but Dad—he always won the chicken fights in the pool because no one could knock him off balance.”

I felt a palpable shift in the emotional tenor of the group. Moments ago, I’d felt pity for Teddy and his denial of his father’s mortality, let alone his actual death. But the boy’s arguments were convincing. I was still certain that the dead man found on the ridge was Patrick, but my vision of what could have happened up there had suddenly shifted. This was no accident. Patrick had been murdered.