CHAPTER 36

At the California state line there was a Marin County sheriff’s cruiser waiting, a plain white Ford Crown Victoria with a green stripe down the side. Detective Fuller stepped out and came to the Nevada cruiser where I was being held.

He leaned in the window and said, “You thought you could get away with it, didn’t you?”

I did not reply. He motioned to the officer that sat next to me and he slid out, reaching back to pull me out of the car.

“Did you think you could get away with it?” he asked again.

I did not reply. There was no point. Somehow Fuller had marshaled all of his forces, found me, and now I was at his mercy. He had broadcast the description of Winslow’s car and it had been my downfall. I had seen egrets at the side of the highway on the Central Valley, struck by cars. Their bodies lay, a white blot beside the road, and I knew that I would, too, become one of those white, lifeless bodies.

I was put in the back seat of the cruiser. Fuller sat in the front passenger seat and a young deputy was the driver. Once inside, Fuller leaned over and spoke to me through the wire grid that separated the front seats from the back.

“I’ve got you dead to rights. I’ve got the desk clerk at the Tomales Bay Lodge who tells me that David Lansdale came to the lodge and asked for your address. And I have you registered at the lodge the day Winslow went into the ocean. I have Winslow telling me how you forced him at gunpoint to go into the water. I have the receptionist in Sacramento who remembers you posing as a contractor, asking about blowing something up. And her boss says he talked to you on your phone. And there’s a missing detective who was driving that car you were driving. I will find that gun of yours and I will match it to the slug we took out of the Landsdale kid’s head and you will end up on death row.”

But he didn’t have my Glock gun. It was in the hand of an old man surrounded by sheep, away from that campground and there was very little chance that anyone would ever find it.

“How did you find me?” I asked.

“His agency traced him by GPS. And when his car left the campground and your car stayed there, they put out an alert to find his car. That’s when Winslow called me. You traveled south and that was all they needed. My guess is that you left another body behind. Which we’ll find. You’re under arrest for the murder of David Lansdale and for the murders of Pamela Winslow and Arthur Ferris. I’ll add the other stuff as I go along. You have the right to remain silent. If you do speak, anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you can’t afford one, an attorney will be provided. Do you understand those rights?”

I nodded.

“Say yes or no,” he said.

“Yes.”

He turned to face the road ahead. “Let’s go,” he said to the driver and we set out over Donner Pass. Fuller didn’t speak to me again during the trip. It was evening when we got to the Marin County jail. I was booked into the jail, my belt and shoe laces were taken along with my wallet and watch. I was given a one-piece orange jail suit to wear and put in a cell. YOUR FUCKED, the note had said. There was no doubt about that.