The press conference started nearly fifteen minutes after four as Gearhart was late getting in from the mountains. Hannah wondered if the delay was intentional. Gearhart was a skilled politician. He may have wanted to create the impression that only the responsibility of calming the public could tear him from the field. Chairperson Andrea Danza, a young Santa Barbara native, took the podium to introduce Sheriff Gearhart. Chairperson Danza claimed to have problems with Gearhart as well, though she only confessed those off-the-record, woman-to-woman. She, too, was a skilled politician.
In usual Gearhart fashion, it wasn't so much a conference as a recitation; the sheriff said he wouldn't take questions until the end when, of course, he would be in a hurry to return to the scene.
Gearhart began by saying that the sinkhole on the road itself had been cleared out. There was a map of the Santa Ynez Mountains behind Gearhart and he called on Dr. Thorpe to explain how there was a series of fissures that wound through the mountain, possibly connecting to the cavern where Jim Grand had found the radio. Though she and a deputy had made a cursory examination of the fissure Stan Greene had entered, they had found no trace of the engineer other than the backpack. The sheriff said that both backpacks had been removed from the site and were being studied by the crime lab for "the three Fs" -fibers, fingerprints, fluids-as well as any other "remnants." He indicated that while Greene's backpack appeared to be intact, there were gashes on Bill Roche's backpack that were also being analyzed. He didn't want to speculate about what had caused them, though he said that nothing was being ruled out.
Gearhart then revealed that "the team" had also found a flashlight, apparently belonging to Bill Roche. It was discovered in a cavern beneath the cave where the radio had been found. The sheriff speculated that it had been washed down with the radio and said that nothing else had been located.
Overall, Gearhart said, the search-and-rescue effort now consisted of twenty-four deputies covering the ravine, the roadway, and the surrounding mountains-a total of twenty square miles. He also indicated that helicopters would be watching the surrounding area for fresh sinkholes or persons such as hikers or campers who might have seen or encountered the engineers. When Dr. Thorpe returned to the site, she would lead a better-equipped unit into the Painted Cave fissures to make a more complete exploration.
Regarding possible explanations as to where the men had gone, Gearhart still believed they'd be found in the area, possibly in the fissures. He acknowledged that a great deal of blood had been reported at the site and that it was lost in the second-phase collapse of the road. That was one reason he thought Roche may have ended up in the sinkhole. Looking directly at Hannah, he said that speculation regarding "criminal activity" was "irresponsible and premature." He said that he had declared the site a crime scene primarily as a precaution to prevent the accidental obliteration of clues.
Gearhart sat and Chairperson Danza returned to the podium.
"Thank you, Sheriff Gearhart." Danza looked out at the press corps and smiled. "We'll take a few questions before Sheriff Gearhart and Dr. Thorpe return to the field-"
Hannah raised her hand and rose. "Sheriff, I understand that you've checked the Honor Farm and other penal institutions for possible escapees, and have also looked into the backgrounds of the two engineers."
"That's correct."
"Can you tell us anything about those?"
"In all the places we've checked, the prisoners are accounted for," Gearhart said. "We've expanded our investigation into surrounding counties. Those results will be available through Sergeant Levy later in the day."
"And the engineers?" Hannah pressed.
Danza pointed to Carl Lessin.
The Caltrans information officer rose. Hannah had talked to him before on the land-sale fiasco. The smug young man was in his middle twenties and clearly delighted to be sitting there with the big boys.
"Psychological profiles are private and privileged," he said.
"I understand." Hannah persisted. "But if there's a potential risk to the people of this count-"
"There is no discernible risk," said Lessin, "and as Sheriff Gearhart indicated we do not intend to speculate."
A few reporters asked about the sinkholes-how they were created and whether the roads in other areas of the mountains were safe. Dr. Thorpe explained the process concisely and "Joe Caltrans" added that his department had dispatched emergency teams to other sections of mountains to "ascertain the stability of the tertiary road system."
Indicating that Sheriff Gearhart and Dr. Thorpe were needed back in the field, Chairperson Danza ended the press conference. She said that reporters would be contacted via phone or E-mail if there were new developments.
Gearhart left then, promptly and directly, by a side door. The TV reporters went over to Chairperson Danza to discuss going up to the Painted Cave sinkhole and taking videos. Hannah didn't understand what satisfaction any journalist could get being a gatherer instead of an investigator.
The Coastal Freeway was located in a two-story house down the block from the main post office on the corner of Anacapa and Canon Perdido streets. Hannah left the auditorium, got into her Blazer, and was sitting in her office less than five minutes later, reviewing her notes from the press conference. She was going to E-mail questions to everyone who had been present.
"Who knows," she muttered. "Someone might slip and answer one."
Hannah didn't think the sheriff knew more than he was telling. But she didn't believe the answer was as simple as two men being trapped in a sinkhole. And she didn't think the sheriff believed that either. There was blood on the road-a lot of it, according to the emergency team. If both men had gone under, where did the blood come from? If only Greene was buried and the blood belonged to Roche, where was he? Seriously wounded men did not travel far.
Hannah resented not being able to ask those questions. And she disliked the vanity or politics or whatever it was that prevented Gearhart from ever saying, "I don't know."
After submitting the questions, Hannah checked her E-mail. There were the usual jokes she didn't have time to read from people she barely knew, cover letters with attached press releases from local businesses, and updates from family members that went to siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. She didn't have time for any of that now. Hannah's personal E-mail address was on the newspaper masthead and she'd been hoping for responses to her article on the missing engineers. Perhaps from someone who might have seen or heard something, maybe even a ransom demand.
There was nothing.
After talking briefly with Karen Orlando about other assignments, Hannah decided to visit the engineer's wives. They'd declined to talk to her on the phone, but they might feel differently in person. Before leaving, Hannah instructed Karen to phone her with any RT-radio traffic-that had to do with sinkholes old or new or a missing anything. She also grabbed what was left of Karen's tuna fish sandwich and took it with her.
The drizzle had stopped and the gray skies were a shade lighter than they'd been since morning. The rain left behind damp and darkened roads, an unseasonable chill, and a sense of calm that was somehow more ominous than reassuring.
Chapter Sixteen
On the way home Jim Grand decided to stop by the Hutash offices on Del Playa Drive to visit Joseph Tumamait. Maybe the paintings would intrigue him, maybe not Maybe he would talk, maybe he wouldn't. It was going to be tough, but it was long, long overdue.
The robust, thorny eighty-two-year-old Tumamait was a leading anthropologist, an expert on Chumash culture and one of Grand's mentors. Born in nearby Camarillo, the scientist was a UCSB graduate who had worked with Margaret Mead at the American Museum of Natural History in New York before returning to the west in 1965. Mead's involvement with the mental and spiritual health of primitive peoples had fascinated Tumamait, who passed his love of primitive psychology on to one of his own students, James Grand.