Disclaimer in Part 1.

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Chapter 4

Sunday, March 20, 2005

Two nights later, Charlie was sitting at the kitchen table, absentmindedly picking away at a plate of leftover lasagna while studying a geology book propped up on the fruit bowl. He thought he had a pretty good handle on the mechanics of mudflows, landslides, debris flows, and whatever other permutations there were of mud, dirt, and rocks moving rapidly downhill. He'd learned that the San Marento disaster should be considered a flow rather than a slide because of the amount of water involved, so all the news reports were technically getting it wrong. What the book didn't say, and what he really needed to know, was how easy it was for someone to deliberately cause a mudflow.

The back door swung open, and Alan stepped in, carrying a bag of groceries in each arm and a gallon of milk hanging from one hand. "Charlie, hi. I see you found the lasagna."

"Uh huh." He turned the page and put another forkful in his mouth. He'd been searching the Internet for examples of human-induced landslides, but all he'd come up with was lawsuits over irrigated orchards and over-watered golf courses contributing to the destruction of houses below. But no cases of sabotage like Brett Rangadar was being accused of. Maybe one of books on the pile next to him would have an example he could use. He would hate to have lugged them home for nothing.

"So how was your day?"

"Fine. Just the usual." He put down the fork and picked up his pen, jotting a few notes on the papers next to his plate.

"Same here." There was the sound of the fridge opening, and containers of food being slid around in an effort to find space for the groceries. "Is that your own work, or something for your brother?"

Charlie looked up, but Alan's attention was focused on rearranging the produce in the crisper. "It's, uh, something for Larry, actually."

"That gravitational theory again?"

"No, not that. I'm just looking into something for one of his students." He looked back at the page. There was a complicated diagram showing how to use pipes and pumps to de-water a hillside, removing water so the slope was less likely to become unstable. Nothing about adding water, but he made a note to find out if there had been dewatering equipment in place above Las Casitas.

"Oh." Alan's head emerged from the fridge. "You were working late last night."

Charlie shrugged one shoulder. "I got home after midnight, yeah."

"You missed your brother at dinner."

"I work late a lot, Dad." He shifted in his chair, looking closely at the diagram and wondering if these were the same kinds of pumps found in Brett's garage.

"Oh, I know that. I gave up waiting on you years ago." Alan closed the fridge and crossed the kitchen, taking an orange from the fruit bowl as he sat down next to Charlie.

"So, uh, what did Don have to say?" He took in another mouthful of lasagna, which unfortunately had started to go cold.

"Not much. There's not much that he can tell me about his work, you know, and since there isn't much to his life outside of work, it's usually me doing the talking."

"Mm," Charlie agreed.

"He did tell me some things about this case in San Marento, though. Hard to think someone could do something like that."

"Yeah, it is pretty hard to believe." He took a swallow of milk from the glass next to his plate.

"Don mentioned that you actually don't believe it. Is that what you're working on here?"

He fought the urge to cover his sheets of notes like he had when he was a kid and didn't want anyone to see that he was doing math problems instead of something "normal." "I'm trying to see if it's even possible to cause a landslide, which is something the FBI doesn't seem to have considered before arresting the poor guy."

Alan finished peeling the orange and began to section it. "Don also told me about the little discussion you had in your office the other day. You were pretty upset, he said."

Charlie stabbed at the last remaining bite of lasagna with his fork. "I just think he's being unreasonable. I don't think they've even considered the science behind the disaster, to see if the facts match up with the geology and the fluid mechanics. They're just looking for someone to blame."

"They're law enforcement, Charlie. Their job is to find the responsible parties."

"But no one's responsible in this case. It's a, what do you call it, an act of God. It's all circumstantial evidence, anyway, at least according to the papers."

"There might be more evidence than made it into the papers."

He looked up sharply. "What do you mean?"

Alan sighed and sat back in his chair. "Me and my big mouth. Look, your brother would kill me, but…he mentioned that it wasn't just the material at this student's house. The developer behind the Las Casitas project came forward and said that he'd gotten a threatening phone call a couple of weeks ago regarding those houses. Too close to the National Forest or something. The FBI played some tapes for him, like the audio version of a police lineup, and he identified their suspect as the person who made the phone call."

He shrugged. "The developer could be making that up."

"Now, come on, Charlie--"

"No, really, Dad. If it turns out that was a natural landslide, then it will be clear that they shouldn't have built the houses there. Maybe the developer could be shown to be negligent or something, or maybe it would damage his reputation if he has other projects in the area."

"Jim Penneman of PBR Partners? Yes, I would say he has other projects in the area. He owns half the remaining undeveloped land in Orange County, according to the Times."

"You see? He can't afford to have his reputation sullied, so he has to pin the blame on someone else instead." He stuffed the last bite of lasagna in his mouth and washed it down with the last of the milk.

Alan shook his head. "You know what I think is going on here?" Without waiting for an answer, he went on, "I think you're just trying to prove your brother wrong."

"No, I'm not!" Charlie hastily swallowed his food. "Dad, Brett didn't do anything wrong. He's expressed some extreme political views on his website, like supporting the two women who were arrested for the arson in Fontana last fall, and he's donated money to groups like the EAF. But that's all." He shrugged and toyed with his fork. "Besides, he kinds of reminds me of me."

"You've never expressed the desire to go around destroying other people's property, have you?" The older man punctuated his statement by popping a slice of orange in his mouth.

"No, but he's -- he gets pretty focused sometimes, from what Larry tells me. Actually, Larry's the one who thinks he's a lot like me. I think that's why I want to help him so badly." His voice grew softer. "I keep thinking what would happen if I were in his shoes. I'd want somebody who believes in me on my side."

Alan sighed. "Just don't go thinking that he is you, Charlie. He might not be innocent, after all. I don't want you getting too wrapped up in something that might not turn out the way you want it to."

Pushing his plate aside, he turned his attention back to the book. "I'll be fine, Dad. Don't worry about me."

"Don't tell a parent not to worry about their child." Alan rose from his chair and ruffled his son's hair. "At least you got yourself dinner."

Charlie absentmindedly nodded, already lost in the diagrams on the page. He scribbled another note on the papers, not even noticing as his father took away his empty glass and plate.

He still needed a way to get a hold of the geotechnical report, since Don obviously wasn't going to cooperate. "Hey, Dad? When someone has to file an environmental impact report for a development, that's public information, right? Anyone can ask to see it?"

"Sure. The reports are all on file at the city planning office, or sometimes at the library if it's a big enough project." Alan looked up from loading the dishwasher. "I might be headed up towards the Crescenta Valley tomorrow, if you need a ride somewhere."

Charlie glanced over at him. "I thought you didn't want me getting too wrapped up in this."

"I don't. That's why I want to spare you the ten-mile bike ride to San Marento."

The corner of his mouth turned up. "If you're headed that way, Dad, that would be great."

"Sure thing."

Charlie smiled as he returned to his studies. His father did know him pretty well. On the other hand, that assertion that he was only trying to prove Don wrong was just silly. Sometimes Dad could get pretty off base, even with his own sons.