Deluge (The Best Thrillers Book 2) by James Best (top romance novels txt) 📗

The cascading water made it hard to hear, so she leaned closer to the patrolman. “Was there a river or wash here?” A wide depression of rushing water stretched as far as she could see in the downpour.

“There is now.” He pointed east, toward an undulating darkness on the horizon. “This is runoff from those hills. It may not look like it, but the tops of those hills are fifteen hundred feet higher than where we stand. The gradual slope just brought all the water in this direction. Imagine the runoff from the Sierras.” He shook his head. “This is gonna be bad.”

Ashley caught up and hovered close to hear.

“What could have been done to prevent this?” Baldwin asked.

“I just direct traffic,” the officer shrugged. “Ask my lieutenant.”

“The big guy?”

“Yeah.”

She tried to peer through the rain but couldn’t see far. Then, she thought of a question she should have thought to ask sooner.

“How many deaths or injuries?”

“Not sure about deaths, but probably less than ten. No injury count yet. According to witnesses, at least five cars washed away. Four on the highway when it disintegrated and another fool who tried to drive through it. We have teams searching down there,” he pointed, “but none of our people have called in.”

“That seems remiss,” Ashley interjected.

The patrolman’s easy demeanor vanished. “Sir, it’s been difficult to round up resources, and it’s been less than two hours since the incident. We should—”

“A cruiser can’t traverse that terrain,” Baldwin said. “What are the searchers driving?”

He nodded appreciation for the question. “Patrolmen are driving their own SUVs or, in a couple cases, utility task vehicles, UTVs. That’s why the search got delayed. They had to race home to get their own vehicles.”

“What about Search and Rescue?” she asked.

“SAR has been alerted, but Fresno County’s teams are to the east, close to the mountains. Busy as hell. Streams overflowing, bridges out, people stranded. Lieutenant says we’re gonna have to handle this one ourselves.”

She patted the patrolman on the shoulder and turned to go find the lieutenant. She noticed that she had automatically picked up her husband’s mannerism. He often patted his officers on the shoulder in stressful situations. It occurred to her that it was a nonverbal way of saying, keep it up, I’ve got your back.

Once again, Ashley fell behind. He could stay back there for all she cared. How could anyone be so irritating—and so self-unaware to boot? She had no problem with him in small doses, but being stuck with him for hours in a car might ignite her temper.

She found the lieutenant and told him she had a few questions. Looking perturbed, he motioned her toward one of the cruisers. As they approached, he warned her to not take off her rain gear. As she opened the door, she saw a wet seat. She bet he used the passenger side to communicate on his radio. That was okay. The interior seemed the epitome of comfort. She was no longer pelted relentlessly by rain, and despite the pitter-patter against the roof, it seemed quiet after the noise outdoors. The bench seat was pushed as far back as it would go, but when the lieutenant climbed in, he took up all the space between the wheel and the seat back. She heard the back door open, and Ashley scampered in.

“I don’t have much time,” the lieutenant said. “Please be brief.”

“What could have been done to prevent this incident?” she asked. “And what can we do to alleviate another incident?”

“We?”

“Figuratively speaking.”

“Okay, at this point, not much can be done to prevent this particular type of calamity. Better topo engineering might have helped, but it’s too late for that. Perhaps a—”

“Topo?” Ashley asked from the backseat. “What is that? I never heard the term.”

After an exasperated sigh, the lieutenant said, “Topographical. The lay of the land.”

“You are suggesting that they could have routed the highway differently?”

The lieutenant shifted his head and shoulders toward the back seat. “Possibly.”

Baldwin wished Ashley would shut up. She searched for a diplomatic way of telling him.

“The highway was elevated,” Ashley said. “That caused the runoff to erode the earthwork under the highway until it collapsed into the trench carved out by the water. We need civic engineers out here to do a postmortem. Did you call Caltrans?”

“Of course. Two hours ago, but we’ve heard nothing since.”

“We can fix that,” Ashley said. “I am wondering if a berm laid up against the roadbed would direct the water over the highway instead of burrowing under it.”

“Wouldn’t it be dangerous for a driver to plow through all that water?” Baldwin asked.

“Of course,” Ashley said. “You still shut down the highway, but people would not be drowned unexpectedly … and the highway might survive. I bet the angle of the berm will be important. Just a thought. To see if it makes any sense, we need engineers.”

Baldwin was fascinated. Just when she felt she had had enough of him, Ashley surprised her with some creative thinking.

“Good, Jon,” she said. “We’ll make a call as soon as we get back to the car. Lieutenant, two more quick questions, and we’ll be out of your hair. First, what do you need tonight or tomorrow morning? What can we try to get for you?”

“UTVs. I need my people to be able to get around in mud. It snares my cruisers like flies on bug tape. The detour is going to take you twenty-two miles north to a surface street that’s higher up. If I need to respond to an emergency, I can’t have my people driving fifty miles around a washout like this. Wastes time. UTVs are the most important thing. If I can get my people to where they’re needed, I can get the job done.”

“What about food, supplies, fuel … I don’t know, whatever?” she asked.

“People, trained people. Different counties control their own Search and Rescue teams, and Fresno’s are busy with problems to the east. If you really have pull in Sacramento, elevate the emergency