Chapter Twelve
Finn
When we dragged ourselves back to the fire hall after the latest call, I could barely see straight. My eyes were gritty, my limbs ached, and my gut still roiled.
Miriam parked the truck as Giancarlo, Albert, Krish, Toby, and Dulcie sorted their gear.
I stood toe-to-toe with Marlon—engaging him in an epic glarefest.
“I didn’t fuck up.” Marlon stuck his chin out.
Dulcie cleared her throat. Whether calling bullshit on Marlon’s assertion or warning me to tread carefully, I couldn’t tell. I certainly hoped that was an I call bullshit rather than trying to dissuade me from my mission.
“You did fuck up. Giancarlo could’ve died—”
“He’s right fucking there.” Marlon flailed a hand as he gestured to Giancarlo who was, in fact, right there.
If only by the skin of his teeth.
I poked my finger in Marlon’s chest. “You said everyone was clear. You said we were all good.” We’d been retreating.
I’d counted and was certain we were missing someone.
Things had been so damn chaotic at the house fire.
But the neighbor swore the family was inside.
And their car was in the driveway, so that assertion was logical.
We’d cleared the house even as we tried to fight the fire.
No one. We hadn’t found anyone.
And we’d retreated.
I’d thought we were down a person, but Marlon assured me we had everyone.
Until I realized we didn’t have everyone. We were missing Giancarlo.
Heedless of the risk, I’d barreled back inside. I located Giancarlo in a back room. He’d been…confused. Instead of trying to sort things out, once I realized he hadn’t found anyone, I’d grabbed his hand and dragged him out the back door.
We made our way around to the front to find the family standing there. They’d been out at the movies—in their other car.
No harm. No foul.
Except for Marlon saying we’d been clear when we weren’t.
“You’re a fuckup, Marlon. You could’ve gotten Giancarlo killed.”
“Well, he’s not dead. Everyone’s fine. Hell, you even had the paramedics check him out.”
“Logically. You thought I wouldn’t?” I was incredulous.
No question something had gone wrong back there.
I wanted my friend checked out thoroughly.
Hell, if I’d found Marlon confused, I’d have wanted him examined.
Not just because we needed everyone to be on their game at all times—but because I actually gave a shit about people.
Unlike Marlon.
I tried to tell myself I was being unkind. But his cavalier attitude was going to get someone killed one day. I was certain of that.
Miriam rounded the truck. “You guys need to get out of your gear. We might get another call, and you won’t be ready.”
She was right, of course. But I couldn’t back down on this. This was too fucking important. “Just give us a minute.”
“No.” She shook her head. “You can hash it out once everyone’s gear is ready to go. I don’t want things to be disorganized if another call comes in. Hell, it’s a night ending in day. Anything can happen.”
As always, she wasn’t wrong. She was also one of the smartest women I knew—and my life was full of smart women.
“What’s going on?” Chief McInerny’s voice rang through the fire hall.
Well fuck. This isn’t going to end well.
“He’s giving me a hard time for something I didn’t do.” Marlon pointed his finger in my direction. At least he had the smarts not to fucking touch me.
“A hard time you deserve.” I turned to face the chief. Marlon’s dad, of course. “Marlon said the entire crew was clear of the structure. Giancarlo was inside. Your son’s incompetence could’ve gotten Giancarlo killed.” Way to be blunt. You could’ve eased into it…
“That’s a hell of an accusation you’re leveling. You’re probably wrong.” The chief glared. At me, naturally.
“We’re all a little frazzled. Close call. Tough fire.” Miriam placed her hand on my arm, but she addressed the chief. “We need to get sorted before the next call out.”
“Of course.” He glared at me. “Thin ice. Be very careful about leveling accusations without proof. Marlon might’ve misunderstood. He obviously thought Giancarlo was clear. He would never endanger anyone.” With that, Chief strode away.
His mere presence in this fire hall is a danger to everyone—including himself.
My gut twisted. Not just at the near-miss tonight—although that was bad enough.
No, I was panicked about the next time. About what happened when someone was injured, or even killed, on Marlon’s shift.
I was absolutely certain that was going to happen.
I couldn’t be on every scene every shift.
Marlon and I weren’t always working together.
And as good as I was at keeping my ear to the ground, I still chafed at not having been let near the tire fire on Friday.
Miriam had called me. She hadn’t been able to articulate why things had felt off—but they had been.
Yet nothing had come from those concerns. The fire inspector determined a faulty electrical panel had started the blaze. A plumber working the day before had shut off the water to the sprinkler, and no one had noticed.
Way too convenient. Or just shitty timing. Perhaps something more nefarious. But she didn’t have proof. And supposition wasn’t going to get us anywhere. Plus, to what end? The tire shop had been a profitable business. By estimates, rebuilding would take months.
By the time I finished my ruminations, Marlon was long gone and Miriam was organizing her gear. Firehouse Three covered us during the blaze, but we needed to be ready for the next call. Because it would come. Rare was a night we had a single call.
My thinking was borne out as we got two overdose calls—both young men.
We revived one, but the other was already dead when we arrived.
Which was super shitty. Apparently there’d been another young man found in a local park earlier in the day.
Dead as well. Drugs were killing off our young people, and all we could do was watch.
Interventions weren’t helping. Treatment programs weren’t working.
Government at all levels claimed to want to solve the problem—yet none of them had a winning strategy.
I struggled into my front door the morning after that shift with barely an ounce of energy. I wanted to sleep, preferably for a month, but two days would do.
Instead, I took a shower, downed a coffee, and headed to Hearts and Paws.
I nearly fell asleep in the cat enclosure.
A particularly tubby orange tabby curled up on my lap.
Her purrs nearly lulled me into unconsciousness so, after I left, I made my way to Timmies for another extra-large coffee and a chicken wrap.
Having consumed that, I drove up to the high school.
When I had Wednesdays off, I helped coach a basketball rec league for interested teenagers.
Mrs. Gustafson coached both the boys’ and girls’ teams for Mission City Collegiate.
And she was freaking amazing. Had taught me a thing or two, back in the day.
The co-ed games I ran were for fun—for kids who’d never make the school team.
When I arrived, though, I immediately knew something was wrong. The group was huddled in the corner of the gym—not tossing balls like they normally would be. No one was practicing shots or dribbling. No one even noticed my arrival.
As I approached, and my shoes squeaked on the floor, Tenyce turned my way. “Did you hear about David?”
I shook my head.
Tears brimmed in her eyes. “He died. They say he OD’d.”
I stood still—trying to take in that news.
David was on the verge of making the school team.
Likely next season. He worked harder than anyone here and showed the most potential.
He was shorter than most of the kids, though.
I kept praying for a growth spurt to give him the height he needed to compete.
Leroy glared. “He didn’t do drugs. So he couldn’t have OD’d. That coroner has it all wrong.”
“When did he die?” Because I needed to orient myself.
“Yesterday morning. In the park.” Rue wiped her eyes. “But it doesn’t make sense.”
Drugs rarely did. Addiction took many forms, and not all users showed signs of abusing.
“You folks want to talk?” I gestured toward the bleachers.
To find Ulysses standing next to them.
“Wait here.” I gestured to the kids to stay where they were, and then I strode over to the guy who haunted my every waking moment as well as all my erotic dreams.
So not the time.
“What are you doing here? Do you have permission to be in the school?” I had a pass that allowed me to come and go, but not every community member did. The doors weren’t guarded—or even locked—but adults and students from other schools weren’t allowed to just show up and enter school grounds.
He shrugged. “I was here to talk to some kids about their friend’s death.”
“Does Mr. Clayton know you’re here?”
“The principal?”
I nodded.
“No. I didn’t realize—”
“Bullshit you didn’t. You know very well you can’t go skulking around schools uninvited or questioning minors about traumatic events without permission.”
He shrugged. “Did you know the kid?”
I arched an eyebrow. I should just report him. Teach him a lesson about trespassing. Show him that I follow the rules and breaking them isn’t a good idea. All very good ideas.
None of which I actually did. Instead, despite my upset at David’s death, I offered him a wicked smile. “You know the price. Do you like sushi? I know this great little place.”
Two hours later, after letting the kids talk about their grief and encouraging them to go home and touch base with their parents or the school counselors, I met the intrepid reporter for dinner.