Treacherous Trail

When John grabs Henry in a hug, he is hesitant to let go. In the six months, he's been in L.A.; he's missed his son a lot. It's not as if the young man needs day to day guidance from him. At 20, he's a capable student and has largely abandoned most of his daredevil ways. Sarah called when Henry went bungee jumping and again when he went rock climbing, but at least their son used the appropriate safety equipment both times, which he would not have willingly done in his younger years.

"So what will it be for your trip to La-La Land beside the incredible view from Ben's guest house?" John asks on the way to the airport parking lot. "Sunset Boulevard? Grauman's Chinese Theatre? Disneyland? Beachcombing?"

Henry readjusts his backpack. "That all sounds great, Dad, but I was hoping we could just go hiking together like we did back home. That's when we could really talk to each other. I heard there are some good trails in the hills around L.A."

Grooves bracket the bridge of John's nose. I honestly don't know. I haven't had much time to find out. The other rookies and I pretty much stick to the beach below the house. But both of them have lived in L.A. all their lives. They'll probably know. And Ben might too, though hiking isn't exactly his style. I'll make some calls and find out what would be an excellent place to go together.

John surveys the base of the path into the woods where Jackson said he used to go camping with his father. He admitted that he hadn't been there in years but had some good memories of companionship with his dad without every word being about police work. John doesn't want to talk to Henry about police work either and doesn't plan to unless his son specifically asks. He's more interested in how things are going for the young man at school and making sure that if there's a girl, Henry will take precautions, even if she swears that she's on the pill or has an implant.

There has never been a moment when John regretted fathering Henry, and few that he'd married Sarah. He just wishes that it could have happened later so he could have pursued his plan to go to law school. Still, now is better than never and he's serving the law, if not in the way he'd pictured his life going when he was Henry's age.

The trail is steep, but after his training at the academy and the time he puts in running through the streets of L.A., John has no trouble keeping up with Henry. If anything, his son seems to be putting out some effort to keep pace with him. All those hours of aching muscles were good for something. The path is beginning to widen until it meets a roughly hewn road through the trees and brush, that Jackson hadn't mentioned. There are signs that a vehicle, a fairly large one has been through, something that as far as John knows is illegal in the area. But he supposes it could have been a ranger. Along with most of the cops in Southern California, they would be on the alert for any signs of a nascent wildfire.

"Do you smell something Dad?" Henry asks.

John is a little stuffed up from the pollen that hitches a ride on the Santa Ana winds but inhales as deeply as he can. "That's a chemical odor."

"What would chemicals be doing up here?" Henry wonders.

John shakes his head. "There shouldn't be any. Use of the area is restricted to hikers and campers only. If you have trash, you're supposed to carry it back down with you. That stench may be from some kind of illegal activity." He sniffs again. "Bishop and I stumbled into a meth cooking operation, but it didn't smell like what we're getting now. This is more like what painters I've hired mixed in with their spray paint to keep it from producing too rough a texture. They used respirators with it because it's toxic to breathe. It's flammable too.

"No way it should be in the middle of protected woodland. Someone must be dumping hazardous waste. I spoke to a guy on a hazmat team who told me that it's done all the time because the stuff is expensive to dispose of properly. People try to sneak it into dumpsters, put it down sewers or just leave it in a gully or a trench somewhere. It can get into the water table and cause all kinds of problems, or sometimes poison children who might be playing too close to it and breathe it or get it on their skin. We need to report this." He pulls his cell phone out of a pocket in his backpack. "No signal. We're too far from a tower. I'm sorry, Henry, but we really should get out of here so I can take care of this."

"No sweat, Dad. Toxic junk shouldn't be here. Let's get going."

John looks at his phone for the fifth time. "Still no signal. We'll need to get closer to the trailhead. A black flake drifts through the air, landing on John's phone. "Sonofa…! I saw this during the last fire. That's ash. It's burning behind us, and the wind will blow it this way!

Henry rubs his eyes. "The smoke is coming this way too."

John stares at the darkening sky. "The way the air is moving now, the flames could outrace us, Henry. We have to get out of here, as fast as we can. Breathing and making out the path becomes increasingly difficult as they hurry down the hill. As John tries to clear the way for Henry, branches thrust at him, but he barely feels the long scratch the wood makes on his face as he rushes to stay ahead of the ever-nearing blaze. The two Nolans finally reach the lot where John parked his car. It's already covered in a layer of ash. As bars finally appear on his phone, he coughs his way through his call to emergency dispatch, while he urges Henry into the relative safety of the car.

As John labors to clear his lungs, Henry places a hand on his arm. "Dad, I can drive." Despite John's half-hearted protestations, Henry lets the GPS guide him to the nearest hospital.

John regards the crowded emergency room. "There are people here who really need help. We should go back to the house. I may have to go to work. In emergencies like wildfires, we can all be called in at any time."

Henry shakes his head in a way that reminds John of himself at a younger age. "Dad, stay, as a favor to me. I could use a little oxygen and something to get the grit out of my eyes, myself."

John presses his lips together, the bitterness of ash on his tongue. "All right, but I'm going to call my T.O., just to stay in the loop."

Pictures of flaming forest flash on screens in the waiting room. The sound is off, but the video is captioned, crediting early reporting of the conflagration to giving firefighters a better chance of getting it under control.

"Dad, you did that," Henry insists.

John presses his face into his arm as another coughing fit hits him. The gash on his cheek is beginning to sting, but he does his best to ignore it. "It could have been anyone. We couldn't have been the only ones in the woods this morning."

A nurse calls John's name before he can say anything else.

After five stitches in his father's cheek, Henry again takes the wheel, and John doesn't give him much of an argument. He feels like crap, but if he gets called into the precinct, he still intends to go. He's not giving Grey any excuses to blame the oldest Rookie's age for slowing him down. Thankfully, the call doesn't come. John and Henry pick up some Chinese on the way back to the guest house but decide to save it until they've both had a chance to shower off the soot and ash from the fire. John's not that hungry anyway. A few hours of sleep would feel great, but he doesn't want to waste whatever time he may have with his son.

At roll call, John takes his seat next to Lucy, who starts to reach over to touch the angry red line on his cheek before pulling her hand back. "I'm OK," he whispers.

Sergeant Wade Grey takes his place at the front of the room. "We have a hero in our midst."

John glances behind him, wondering who is about to receive praise from the gruff watch commander. John turns back as Grey calls his name. "Officer Nolan, the L.A.P.D. has been informed by the office of the County Fire Chief that it was a warning from a member of our department that allowed them to minimize the damage from the Wisdom Tree Fire. Apparently, that member was you. After we're finished here, Captain Andersen would like to see you. Don't get too excited. She's not giving you a medal."

"Of course not," John mutters to himself. "Yes, Sir."

Zoe Andersen smiles as John appears in her doorway. "Come in Officer Nolan." She points to a visitor John doesn't recognize. "This is inspector Hoolihan. He's investigating what happened at Wisdom Tree."

Hoolihan extends his hand for John to shake. "Officer Nolan, it's not often that we have a witness from law enforcement so close to the origin of a blaze of the type from which you escaped - if looking slightly the worse for wear."

"I'm fine, Sir. What kind of information do you need from me?"

"In your report, you mentioned a chemical odor that you associated with a solvent used with spray paint. Is that correct?"

"Yes, Sir."

"You have a good nose, Nolan. Our team found toluene and similar compounds at the origin point of the fire. How good are your eyes?"

"Sir?'

"What did you see up there, Officer Nolan?" Andersen inserts.

"There was a road of sorts that shouldn't have been there and signs of a sizable vehicle having used it recently."

Hoolihan nods. "That fits with what we found. There's some evidence that someone was using the area as an illegal dumping ground and started the fire to cover their tracks."

"Are you going to be able to find them, Inspector?" Nolan queries.

"We'll be working with the environmental agencies, but given what you've told us, we can zero in on the right period in the video surveillance in the area. We should be able to track them down. They'll have a lot to answer for. Good work, Officer Nolan."

"Thank you, Sir. My son, Henry, who's visiting me in L.A., detected the um -toluene - too."

"Tell him he has our thanks as well. You'll excuse me, Captain Andersen, I have a lot of work ahead."

"Of course, Inspector." Zoe turns to John. "Officer Nolan, stay a moment."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"You did do good work Officer Nolan. Are you sure you're all right?"

"Just a little tired Ma'am."

"And your son?"

John can't help smiling. "Fine, Ma'am. The resiliency of youth."

Zoe smiles back. "Don't let Grey hear you say that, but I'm going to make sure he doesn't extend your shift today. Get some rest, and you and Henry have a good night."

"Yes, Ma'am. Thank you, Ma'am."

"Thank you, Officer Nolan. You're making the department - and me - look good."

"John shrugs as he leaves Andersen's office. At least he should have one day Grey won't be on his back, and maybe he and Henry can watch a couple of Rupert's movies together tonight. That is worth a gash on his cheek and a little smoke in his lungs."

"Hey Boot," Bishop calls. "Move it!"

"Yes, Ma'am." His day is back to normal.