Chapter 28
MILES
The captain slams the door shut, rattling the windows and blinds as he pulls the cords to flick them closed. Owens, Sandy, Schmidt, and I stand on the other side of Cap’s desk.
After getting checked out for smoke inhalation and whatever else could have gone wrong for her, the medics let London come home with us. She’s currently upstairs with the department shrink. She shouldn’t need one in the first place.
She’s gone through enough for a probie.
“Start from the beginning. Don’t leave a single thing out. I want to hear it from each of you. Nobody speaks until the other is done. No arguing, no rebuttal. Stick to the sequence of events. Schmidt, you first.”
“We arrived on scene, 41 was already in command, he sent the probies to the roof. The roof collapsed around seven minutes later. The temperature spiked and nobody could go in.”
“Si—” Owens opens her mouth but slams it shut again.
Captain glares at her, and her gaze drops to the floor.
My heart is pounding in my damn chest.
If Cap is buying thi—
“Sanderson, what happened?”
Sandy stands taller, chin up. “We arrived on scene, we bailed from 53, liaised with 41, Schmidt was ordered to send two up to the roof and he sent the two probies, sir. The roof collapsed around seven minutes later. Barratt was keeping an eye on the thermals but wouldn’t send officers in, sir.
Despite our best efforts.” He glances at Owens, and her jaw feathers.
“Owens. Report.” Cap steps in front of her.
“Sir.” Her nostrils flare and she swallows.
“We arrived on scene and bailed. We worked with 41, who ordered Schmidt to send two from 53 onto the roof for ventilation. He sent Tennison and Davies, sir.” Her voice cracks.
“They worked the standard pattern, poking and venting. I heard the building shift, if that makes sense. I yelled to Schmidt saying as much and he waved at me, turning back to Barratt. Tennison was on the radio, updating us about Davies, but we were not allowed to move in. Then.” She sets her shoulders back.
“The roof fell in, sir. And that was the last contact we have from either Davies or Tennison.”
“Owens, Sanderson, you’re dismissed.”
“Yes sir,” they chant and walk from his office.
“This year has been one shit show after another. I guess, partly, I have myself to blame,” Cap says, running a hand over his head. “What I don’t understand is why neither of you has the capacity to make good choices in hard situations.”
“Oh, come on, sir, how was I supposed to know the roof was going to fall in?” Schmidt whines.
He’s literally a fifty-year-old man whining like he got busted for some schoolyard crime like pulling fucking pigtails, not a decision he made with no thought or assessment of the scene that ended with a firefighter losing his life.
“Enough!” Cap roars. “You broke protocol, sending two probies to a situation that was high risk. You showed no critical response to a life-and-death situation. Multiple complaints have poured in over the last six months from civilians and other stations alike. And the icing on the damn cake is this file that appeared on my desk this morning.”
Both Schmidt and I drop our gaze to the manilla folder in the center of Cap’s desk.
“Three—not one, three lawsuits for misconduct, sexual harassment and . . .” he tosses the folder at Schmiddy, who barely grips it before it falls to the floor. “Twelve reports of breach of protocol by other departments, mainly the NYPD over the last three years.”
If hatred was a color, it would be crimson. It creeps all over Schmiddy’s face as he white knuckles the file.
“Effective immediately, you’re fired. You better pray no department ever employs you again, or those allegations will be the least of your worries.”
“Oh, fuck that.” He points at me, tossing the file to the chair in front of him. “Hammond is screwing the probie and I get fired. You’ve got some nerve, you old hack.”
Cap’s gaze swings to me as his jaw sets.
His face makes stone look like sponge cake, and my body tenses. A reaction that comes in the form of protectiveness for London, not fear of reprimand. At this point, after today, my priorities have shifted. Permanently.
“Hammond?”
“Yes sir.”
“Tell me you’re not jeopardizing your captaincy for a turn in the sheets with an officer who is just a probie, twelve years younger than you.”
My molars grind down so hard, I swear I hear one pop.
A tangle in the sheets.
Just a probie.
If I ever hated Schmidt before, it held nothing to the absolute loathing I hold for him now.
“London and I—”
Cap holds up a hand. “That’s all I need to know.”
Fuck.
Fucking hell.
“Sir.” I step forward. “This is no reflection on London. If someone takes the fall for this, make it me. I pursued her. Not the other way around.”
Cap studies my face for a beat before returning his focus to Schmidt. “Out. And I want your belongings out of this damn station by the end of shift.”
Schmidt grabs up the file, like he can destroy the evidence if he takes off with it. He slams the door on his way out. Cap drops into his chair with a heavy sigh. “We will need to contact Officer Davies’s family. He will have a formal funeral on the department’s expense.”
He leans back in the chair.
I wait for the blow I know is coming. I’ve worked with this man for over a decade. He’s not done. He’s simply processing.
I brace myself.
“I don’t want you anywhere near Tennison. Swap with Howard on 43 for the remainder of her probation. If you so much as talk to her in passing in the hallway, I will demote you to janitor. Do you understand?”
I swallow hard. “Yes sir.”
“Get out of my office, Miles.”
I’m out the door and taking the stairs in twos a heartbeat later, heading for my quarters. I pull up short of London’s door when I hear her speaking to the shrink. Her words tumble out between sobs.
My forehead meets the wall by her door.
A man has never felt so helpless, so damn useless in his entire life.
Our first set of days off since the Third Avenue fire, London sits on my sofa, repeating herself.
“I think it’s best if we take a break.”
She said that already.
So many times, staring at the wall opposite, her bag in her hands, the strap twisted in her fingers.
“London,” I start. “I’ll stay out of your space.
Cap isn’t going to fire you over this. It was my fault, and I told him that.
Something like what happened on Third Avenue won’t happen again.
Schmidt’s out. Howard is your new CO.” I try to catch her gaze and fail.
“This is my fault, not yours, beautiful.”
“No, it was mine,” she grinds out. Standing, she walks for the door. Hesitating, she places the spare key I gave her for visiting Petal on the front table. She looks like she’s out of it. I reach for her, moving closer as worry claws at my insides, and she bats me away and slips out the door.
Wait, is she talking about the fire?
Or us?
Most likely both. My pleas for her to stop blaming herself are falling on deaf ears. Space is what she needs.
So space is what I’ll give her.
Even tomorrow. At Davies’s funeral.
My gut gnaws at my spine over the thought. It’s not a day I ever wanted to arrive. And I feel all levels of guilt over the fact I thank my lucky stars it wasn’t London.
It wasn’t London.
I’ve had to remind myself of that fact over and over.
Petal nudges my leg, and I squat down and rub her head. “You’re okay, girl. I wish I could say the same for your mama.”
Mama.
I dove headfirst into this. I knew I would; that’s why I held off for so long. Petal pulls away, trotting back to her bed. All my girls are walking away from me today. I sink to my seat and shove my head in my hands.
I briefly consider running after London and begging her to let me in.
But that’s not what she wants. That’s what I want.
I want to protect her from all this. I wanted to protect her from this, but I wasn’t there.
Fuck.
I wasn’t fucking there.
Now, I’ll be nowhere near her every single time she runs into a burning building. Every time she puts herself in danger.
And I’m not okay with that.