Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
Gibson had wanted to call Kay several times that afternoon.
There was something bothering him that told him that he should call, but every time that the feeling crossed his mind, they were called to yet another scene.
They'd been at one car accident. Another car call involving a child locked in a parked car. Thank God the day was cool even if the feelings were high. From there they'd been called to a home that was on fire.
Thanks to Pits' excellent driving skills, they'd made their way through late afternoon traffic and gotten to the home in less than three minutes.
The two-story home was on a good street, but the yard was over grown and the back yard looked to be packed with refuse and recycling.
Gibson directed his ladder crew to search the house. The rescue crew which was second to the scene took the top floor. Faust, the leader of the rescue crew gave him a look before they went in.
Gibson knew that look by heart.
Neither of them thought that there would be anyone alive in the structure to find, but they went in because the next-door neighbor said that only one of the two people who lived at the residence had left during the day.
Pits had made short work of the door even though it was a good strong door. His friend had a way with a sledgehammer and good strong shoulders.
It had only taken the rescue crew a minute flat to check the upstairs rooms and come down empty handed.
Rock called out to Gibson as he went by. "Clear, lieutenant."
"Thanks, Rock."
His men were still searching when Faust jumped down the last few steps. "The second floor is going up." He gestured toward the roof. "I couldn't even get up to the attic to vent the roof. There's a ton of shit upstairs. It's like fucking fuel to the blaze."
Leaning in to his radio, Gibson called for his crew to get out. It was only when he was heading for the front door that he looked over into a dark corner that was illuminated by the encroaching flames. "Basement!"
Gibson took a step toward the corner, but Faust grabbed the back of his bunker gear.
"You're not going down there!"
Gibson tried to shake him off. "The resident could be downstairs!"
He tried to take another step toward the doorway, but Faust forced him up against the wall.
"Look!"
Gibson reached up to throw Faust's hands off of his coat.
"I know you're a god damn hero, Braun, but I can't lose another friend right now, okay? I just fuckin' can't."
It wasn't Faust's words that broke through his fervor, it was the look in the other man's eyes. They burned through the mask he had over his face and Gibson could see the conviction and the grief in the other man's eyes.
Faust's best friend had died during the holiday season, not from a fire, but that really didn't matter.
A death of someone close to you could put a firefighter in a dark place, especially when they ran into the flames on a daily basis.
Still, Gibson might have argued if a large part of the ceiling hadn't fallen down in front of the door, debris on fire.
Chief Campanelli's voice broke in through their radios. "Hey, you two! Get out of there!"
Gibson pushed Faust ahead of him and as soon as they got down to the yard where the grass was stomped down under their feet, the ceiling above the entryway crashed to the ground with a rush of air that knocked them off of their feet.
Faust was the first one up.
"Jesus, Braun!" He held out his hand and lifted Gibson to his feet. "Don't ever fucking do that again!"
Gibson held onto Faust's hand when the other man tried to walk away. "Faust?"
His friend gave another tug on his hand to pull away.
"Isaac!"
Faust stopped short and Gibson looked him square in the eye. "I know. I know what you're feeling."
Faust opened his mouth to argue, but in the next moment his shoulders sagged and Gibson watched the flames of anger in his eyes sputter out and die.
"Your cousin."
Gibson nodded. "Yeah, Kev. I lost him, too. Different situations, but we both lost people close to us."
Faust folded his arms across his chest, walling himself away from Gibson, but that wasn't going to stop Gibson from saying his peace.
"Isaac, man, have you been to see the therapist at CCFD?"
Before Faust gave him a hard glare, Gibson already knew what the answer was.
"You know what happens if I see a department shrink."
"I know what happens if you don't. The white-shirts already know that he was your best friend. The police were involved, man."
"The police?" Faust leaned in, anger rolling off him like heat. "The police were the reason that he's dead!"
The chief walked up and put a hand on each of them. "Okay. I know you two are talking here, but why don't you step back and make it easier for the others.
Gibson nodded.
He watched as Chief Campanelli walked off to the side with his hand on Faust's shoulder.
He didn't try to follow them.
The Chief was close to Isaac. Closer than anyone else who worked in the firehouse.
Faust had signed up to join the Fire Department on the very day he turned eighteen and the Chief had been more than a mentor to Isaac, he'd been a kind of foster father. If anyone could get through to Isaac and get him to seek help, it would be Aldo Campanelli.
Or his daughter, Vitalia.
She'd known Isaac for the same number of years as her father, but they had a different connection.
And while Isaac definitely loved Vitalia, Gibson could see that his friend didn't see that Vitalia loved him back, just not in the same way as he did.
"Excuse me? Yoo hoo!"
Gibson turned around and saw a woman waiting on the sidewalk. She was waving at him and trying to get by Mats who was trying to get her to keep back from the hoses.
He walked up to talk to the older woman and when she walked towards him, Gibson could see Mats' visible relief.
"Ma'am? Is there something you need to say?"
"Yes, sir. Are you in charge?"
Gibson looked over at the chief who was in deep conversation with Isaac at the edge of the property.
He looked back at her and nodded. "I'm a lieutenant with the CCFD, ma'am."
She seemed relieved by his words. "Good. I think there's something wrong."
He looked back at the house and saw the roof buckling in and the frame of the house gave a loud belly-aching groan.
Gibson looked back at the woman. "Yes, ma'am. I'm afraid that we're not going to be able to save the house."
"No no," she waved a hand dismissively at the house. "I'm sure that it's going to burn to the ground."
"Okay. Then what are you talking about, ma'am?"
She crooked her finger for him to move closer and even though he thought it was a strange request, he leaned closer. "I think he did it on purpose."
"Burning the house?"
She nodded, a very serious bob of her head. "Both of them went to work this morning and then the son came back a little while ago. And when he left it was less than an hour when I smelled the fire."
"Oh. So you think the fire was intentionally set."
"I'm sure of it. The boy is trouble. He's always giving his father fits."
"What's his name, ma'am?"
"Him? The boy?"
He nodded. "Yes. If we know his name I can give it to the police so they can investigate."
The older woman frowned, her eyes narrowing as she thought.
"Did they move in recently?" Gibson wondered a loud. That might explain her confusion.
She shook her head. "No. No. The family has been here as long as I can remember but for the last decade or so it's just the man and his son and his son," she shook her head, her lips pressed in a thin line, "is a real problem. He makes his father so... tense. I never see his father smile anymore."
Gibson reached into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. "What's the name of the family, ma'am?"
The older woman frowned and shook her head. "Oh dear..." she tapped her index finger against her lips and hummed under her breath. "It's my memory..." She sighed, "things keep slipping out of my head." She brightened a moment later, snapping her fingers. "I remember his name!"
Gibson held up the pad of paper and had his pen poised to write it down. "Yes?"
"Charles! His first name is Charles."
She seemed so happy that Gibson almost didn't reply back, but he knew he needed more information.
"Charles? Is that the father or the son?"
The older woman stared at him, her brows raising slowly up above her eyes. "Well, both."
Both.
Okay.
"Ma'am?" Gibson gave her a smile. "We need to put out the fire and we're going to be moving the hoses around. It might be safer if you went back in your house."
She nodded, but her expression seemed a little softer, her eyes drifting off to another thought. "Oh, okay."
Gibson offered her his arm. "I'll walk you home, ma'am."
She brightened up a little as she gazed up at him. "Oh, thank you, young man." She beamed up at him. "You're such a gentleman."
He nodded and smiled at her, seeing how upset she'd been moments earlier.
He walked her up to her door and she stepped inside, stopping just past her doorway.
She turned back around and looked him right in the eye. The woman looking at him was definitely more present and Gibson wondered if she was okay living on her own. He made a mental note to check back with her in a day or two.
"I know," her voice drifted off as her gaze lowered toward the floor, "I know I'm not the sharpest person you've ever met and my memory isn't the best anymore, but I know there's something wrong with that family."
"Ma'am?"
She looked up at him and he saw the hesitation in her eyes. She was waiting for him to say something to hurt her.
That didn't sit well with him.
"I hear you."
She brightened up at that.
"I'll call my friend in the Police Department. He'll look into it."
She smiled at him and the look in her eyes was like she was another woman entirely. "Thank you."
"Stay safe, ma'am."
"Thankyou, lieutenant."
Kay was dragging her feet after work. Going back home when Gibson was still working was... difficult.
Before she'd gotten to know him, she'd leave work and rush home intending to do all kinds of projects to make her home complete, but then she'd end up curling up on her sofa, ordering in and falling asleep before she had to get up and do it all over again, giving every bit of her energy to the job.
Now, knowing that Gibson was working through the night, she fiddled around at work after her hours, getting to know some of her co-workers more than she had before.
And when she'd tired herself out, she'd head home and order in before falling asleep on the couch or in her room surrounded by the evidence that Gibson lived in her space, especially the things that they'd worked on together around the house.
Walls were painted.
Locks had been replaced.
They’d spent most of the time in the bathroom- Well, he had. Retiling so they could have a good sized shower that was more efficient when their schedules crossed. Kay didn’t have a problem with a tiny shower, but add Gibson in the mix and they’d needed more room.
She’d even ordered a new water heater that he’d installed so they didn't have to dash in and out of the shower before the hot water ran out and changed to an icy fall of rain.
It was more of a home in just its features, but when he wasn’t there it was even more lonely than it had felt before. He’d brought that house to life.
Gibson did that.
He made her feel alive, too.
So she found reasons to stay away.
As she slid into the seat of her new-to-her car, she had to decide what to do about dinner.
She had some left overs from the last meal that Gibson had made, but she needed a distraction.
Picking up her phone she brought up the GrubHub app.
Before she could scroll through the offerings listed, her phone rang.
The number was familiar and it was in her favorites, popping up on the screen a moment later.
SMOKEY'S BBQ
Frowning a little, she answered the call and lifted up the phone to her ear. "Hello?"
"D-doctor Kay?"
"Chuck? Are you okay?"
"I'm... I'm fine. It's my dad."
"Your dad? What's wrong?"
"He's not feeling well, but he won't listen to me. He's going to keep working tonight and I think he should go to the hospital."
"I agree," she cupped her hand around the phone and listened closely to the call. She could hear someone speaking in the background but she couldn't hear the words exactly. "You should call 911 and have them send EMTS."
"Yeah, I told my dad I was going to do that, but he's so mad at me. I think he'd listen to you if you told him."
"Okay. Okay. Why don't you put him on the phone?"
"Please, Doctor Kay. Please come here. If he knows that I called you he's going to be really angry!"
He was whispering into the phone, his voice harsh and raspy.
He sounded upset and she felt bad for the younger man.
She knew from his dad that they'd had issues in the last few years, but she didn't know if his dad would be angry that Chuck had called her to come visit.
"Chuck? I'm going to come and say I'm just there to order something for dinner. While I'm there I can talk to him and see what's going on. Would that be okay with you?'"
"Yes." She swore she could hear him laughing on the other side of the call.
It didn't make much sense, but Charles had said that Chuck sometimes laughed at things he shouldn't.
She didn't know if Chuck had been diagnosed with pseudobulbar affect, but it sounded like he might benefit from an evaluation.
But first things first, Kay had to get to Smokey’s and see how she could help Charles.
She hoped it wasn't his heart.
The poor man worked himself to the bone trying to support himself and his son, Chuck. Charles worked more than a normal week.
It had just so happened to be a day when she'd decided to go in and order food face to face, the poor man had collapsed on the floor of the kitchen.
Kay had always been thankful that she'd been there at the right time and helped him. She was used to patients being wheeled in the door.
Finding one prone on the floor wasn't usual for her.
That day she'd been able to save Mister Franklin and earned herself a perpetual discount on her food at Smokey's BBQ.
Kay could only hope that she wasn't going to be needed to save Charles' life again.