Stilwell signaled Lampley and Ramirez to move in and cuff Allen. Lampley hesitated as though they might be making a mistake, but Ramirez didn’t. She moved toward Allen, who put one hand up to try to hold her off.
“What the fuck is this, Stilwell?” he yelled.
“You have been indicted by the Los Angeles County grand jury on charges of conspiracy to commit murder and obstruction of justice,” Stilwell said calmly. “If you attempt to resist, you will be taken to the ground. Put your hands behind your back and surrender peaceably.”
Embarrassed by his hesitation, Lampley now moved toward Allen, passing Ramirez, and grabbed the mayor by an arm in an attempt to turn him around for cuffing. Allen shook him off and raised a hand to point at Stilwell.
“This is you,” he said. “You trumped up this whole thing.”
“Cuff him,” Stilwell ordered. “Now.”
Lampley forcibly took hold of Allen’s arm again and spun him around and into the back of the chair he had been sitting in. He snapped a cuff over one of Allen’s wrists and went for the other arm.
“You’re hurting me!” Allen yelped.
“You’re resisting,” Stilwell threw back at him.
With Ramirez helping, Allen’s other arm was pulled back and cuffed.
“Put him in the chair,” Stilwell said.
He looked at the two men who had been in the meeting. Their eyes were wide, and the color was draining from their faces.
“You two, out,” he ordered. “Now.”
One man headed straight to the door; the other grabbed the easel and awkwardly followed without folding its legs. Stilwell tracked them and saw the gatekeepers standing in the doorway, blocking the exit.
“And you two, back out,” he ordered. “Now.”
The younger gatekeeper spun around and went to her desk. The other held her ground.
“Mayor, who should I call?” she asked.
Stilwell moved toward her to push her out of the room. She saw him coming and started leaving the room while Allen yelled after her: “Dotty, call Derek Haas. Tell him to get me someone. I need a lawyer that will blow these fucks out of the water.”
“On it,” Dotty said.
“You’ve made a big mistake, Stilwell,” Allen said. “I don’t know what you think you have, but you’re the one going down. You’re finished.”
Stilwell ignored his words.
“Mr. Mayor, we’ve got a helicopter waiting for you,” he said. “You’ll be booked on the charges under the indictment at the county jail.”
He then looked at Lampley and Ramirez.
“Take him out to the carts.”
The deputies took one arm each and started walking Allen toward the doors. As they passed Stilwell, Allen looked at him, his eyes sharp with hate.
“You’re done,” he said. “You hear me? You’re done!”
With the deputies on either side, Allen was walked through the building, the halls now lined with city workers who’d somehow already gotten word about an arrest in the mayor’s office. They saw a lot of open mouths and heard whispering as they passed. Allen kept his head down and acknowledged none of them. When they exited the building, Lionel McKey was there waiting with his phone up and ready to video the perp walk. He fired questions at Allen, but the mayor ignored these until he was firmly belted in the passenger seat of Lampley’s cart. He then looked directly at the camera and spoke.
“I am innocent of these charges,” he said. “I am the victim of a corrupt investigation by a corrupt law enforcement officer and I will prove my innocence when I have my day in court.”
Stilwell slapped his palm twice on the top of the cart and looked at Lampley.
“Take him to the chopper,” he said. “Ramirez, you follow. Don’t stop for anything, and hold the takeoff until I get there with our other custody.”
“Copy that,” Lampley said.
“You got it,” said Ramirez.
The two carts drove off, leaving Stilwell standing next to McKey.
“Thanks for the text,” McKey said.
“You owe me one,” Stilwell said.
“What are the charges against him?”
“They’ll be putting out a press release as soon as he’s booked.”
“You can’t tell me?”
“Conspiracy to commit murder.”
“Holy shit! Are you talking about the woman in the water?”
“No. Henry Gaston.”
Stilwell walked over to the John Deere. McKey followed him.
“I don’t understand,” he said.
Stilwell got behind the wheel.
“That’s why I told you to wait for the press release. You’ve got video and photos. The press release will give you the words to go with them.”
“Come on, Stilwell. You can’t do this to me.”
“I just did.”
Stilwell turned the key and put the cart in drive. He turned the wheel and pinned the accelerator. The cart took off, leaving McKey in its wake. The reporter called out after it:
“Who’s the other custody?”
Stilwell didn’t answer. He kept driving.
Epilogue
Tash had not told him exactly where she was going, but Stilwell knew that her favorite spot to camp on the island was Long Point Beach. It was what was called primitive camping, with no water or sanitation stations, but that was what kept it isolated and why she liked it. There was a trail up and over the ridge to Button Shell Beach, where those conveniences were available. But Long Point remained pristine. It sat below a sheer rock face that changed colors in the morning sunlight and provided shade in the afternoons.
Stilwell took the substation’s Zodiac out of the harbor and halfway to Two Harbors before cutting in toward Long Point. From a hundred yards out, he saw Tash’s blue-and-green Firefly tent behind the chaparral that lined the rocky beach. There were no other boats or tents in sight.
The sun had turned the cathedral of rock that rose above her spot a grayish purple. Stilwell ran the Zodiac in, killed the engine, and pulled up the prop as the boat moved over the surfgrass onto the stony beach. He watched for sharp coral that might rip the inflatable’s skin, then jumped off the nose and pulled it safely up past the tide line.
Tash wasn’t in the tent, and the kayak leaning up against the rock wall behind it was dry. Her fishing pole was in place in the kayak’s clamps, and her wet suit was drying on a low branch of a nearby manzanita. He figured she had fished in the morning and then hiked the trail over to Button Shell to get a shower or to visit with friends who ran the youth camp where she had spent many summers while growing up. He checked the supplies she’d stowed in the tent and found the cooler holding a nice-size calico bass on top of the Yeti ice packs.
Stilwell went back to the Zodiac and grabbed the two folding chairs he had brought with him and the waterproof backpack with his own supplies. When he returned to the tent, he saw Tash coming down out of the trailhead. He put everything down and stood ready for whatever greeting she offered.
He felt his heart lift when he saw her eyes light up under the wide brim of the old boonie hat she wore.
“You came,” she said.
“I told you I would,” he said.
“How long can you stay?”
“As long as you can.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I mean, if you’re willing to share some of that calico you caught.”
“You might have to catch your own.” She gave him a teasing smile.
“I can try,” he said.
She crossed the campsite and they came together in an embrace that Stilwell had been waiting a long time for. Tash leaned her forehead against his chest like she always did, and he put his nose down into her hair.
“Is it safe?” she asked.
“Yes, it’s safe,” he said.
“And it’s over?”
“It’s all over.”