Donnell said, “We had copters in the area because of the Santa Anas. This is prime season for arsonists because, like you said, with the heat and wind they don’t have to work as hard. One of our men spotted the flames before it went out of control. Got to it right away, and look at the damage it did. Gone on longer, we would have had a real disaster.”

“Did your copter see the car fall off the mountain?”

“Nope. Just the fire. At the time, he didn’t really know the origin. It looked to him like a fireball—could have been the impact of explosion. But he couldn’t be sure what caused it. He tried to go down for a closer look, but it was too black.” He turned to Annie. “Ever been in the eye of a firestorm?”

“Never had the pleasure.”

“The door to hell, I call it. An uncontrolled fire creates its own windstorm. It sucks the oxygen from the air, turns it black and gritty. No visibility. You’re not just battling the heat and smoke, you’re battling searing winds that rip the flesh off the face.”

“Sounds like fun,” Annie said.

“It isn’t for the fainthearted.”

Decker said, “Do you think the car was bombed from the inside?”

“Nah,” Donnell said. “Frame’s smashed and toasted but intact. Bomb would have exploded it to smithereens. What we got was probably a simple case of arson. Someone dousing the car with gasoline and then pushing it over the cliff.”

No one spoke for a moment as they watched the car being pried open. A few minutes later, the machinery backed away from the scene.

“Looks like they got it open,” Donnell said. “You two can go in and—uh-oh! Here come the news people.”

Decker saw a TV van pull up. He jogged over to the group and asked who was in charge. A coiffed blonde in a tailored white suit and heels came out, a young kid daubing makeup on the blonde’s cheeks. The newscaster broke from her assistant, took out a notebook, and offered Decker a hand. “Alyssa Morland, feature reporter for Primetime News. Are you in charge?”

“Something like that,” Decker said. “Look, I’ll be happy to talk to you, but I’ve got one request. And that is, don’t report this until the eleven o’clock news.”

“What?”

“We’re doing a search here, for a baby, an infant—”

“I’m well aware of that. Why do you want us to hold off reporting? I’d think you’d welcome any knowledge the public might have of this case.”

“It brings on the hordes of lookie-looers.”

“Can’t the police keep them at bay? That’s their job.”

“We’d rather use the police officers to look for the baby. And if the crowd breaks through and mucks up the works…”