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CHAPTER 20

T RINA

Something bad is going to happen. I’ve been waiting for it since I woke up this morning and headed to work. Despite it being unusually sedate for a Monday at the Fire Station, I can’t shake the heaviness in my chest. It’s already twelve-thirty p.m. and we’ve had no fire or emergency medical calls. Definitely not a normal day. That only adds to the eerie feeling I have about today.

I know this is a manifestation of anxiety coming from this foreboding apprehension I sometimes experience. I remind myself that I’m not always right when I get this feeling. But about seventy-five percent of the time, it’s warranted.

I suspect it’s some weird sixth sense my psyche developed to protect me from a mother who could fly off the handle at any time. Translation: When things seem too good to be true, something bad is likely just around the corner.

So, when the alarm signaling a fire screams out at the station and the dispatcher alerts us that there’s a kitchen fire at one of the local nursing homes, my blood stills.

Our crew rushes to the garage and Gio and Thompson take one ambulance. I’ve assigned Anderson and Ian to the second. Tony drives the engine with me and the remaining three of our fellow A shift firefighters as passengers.

“Maybe it’ll be another false alarm,” Jeffries says from the back. “Seems like we get called out to these facilities every few months and it’s usually just a pan fire.”

Jeffries has only been a firefighter for two years, and the casualness in his voice tells me this is a teachable moment. Since I’m his captain, it’s my job to take that on.

“Until it isn’t,” I say. “I know you all know this, but we go into every situation expecting the worst, then we’re prepared and not taken by surprise. So, everyone clear your minds and go over your role in your heads. Okay?”

“Yes, Captain,” a few of the guys reply.

Three minutes later, we pull up to the scene and ominous, thick black smoke billows out from the right side of the building.

“Shit. How’d you know this would be a bad one, Cap?” Jeffries asks.

“I didn’t. But I’m not surprised, and that’s key.”

Once Tony puts the engine in park, we all jump out and begin preparing to fight this fire like the well-oiled machine we are. A middle-aged woman with a large binder in her arms and a flushed face, her head swiveling and her eyes darting around, jogs over to us and I meet her halfway.

After she tells me she’s the nursing home administrator and I introduce myself, she gives me details of the fire—it started in the kitchen after meal service when the cook went to take a quick call. She didn’t realize she’d left a kitchen towel covering an open vat of cooking oil and the edge of it was touching a hot burner and caught fire.

The facility staff have already moved all residents in that wing to the area of the building furthest from the fire. The frazzled, now sweaty administrator tells me they’ve shut all doors and fire doors and placed wet towels at the base of the main doors to the other units to help limit smoke from entering.

“Some of our kitchen staff told me that Antoinette, our cook, was so upset and blaming herself that she ran into the kitchen to fight the fire and hasn’t come out. The other staff tried to stop her but couldn’t.”

“How long ago did she go in?” I ask. This is already a critical situation, but now it’s much worse.

“Maybe five minutes,” the administrator answers. “We’ve accounted for all other staff, visitors, and patients.”

“I’ll need a map of the building,” I tell her, knowing we need to get in as soon as possible to find the cook.

She hands me a laminated emergency map of the facility. I look at it for a few seconds, memorizing the location of the kitchen the best I can, then I hand the map to Jeffries.

My crew has all gathered around me now. “Okay, guys. Here’s what we’re going to do. It sounds like there is at least one victim in the room where the fire is, and she is likely critically injured—or worse. Anderson and Ian, I want you to be prepared to treat her when we get her out. Gio and Thompson, you stay out here in case there’s more than one victim who needs treated. Jeffries and Phil, I want you two to take this building map and do a quick run through to make sure fire doors are all closed and then check that there are no patients or staff remaining on the south side of the building where the fire is. Once that’s?—”

“I told you we’ve accounted for everyone,” the administrator says sharply. I spare her a quick glance and then get back to assigning my crew.

“Once that’s done, come out here and review the list from the administrator to make sure it matches with whatever you find. Ma’am,”—I turn to the lady and focus my attention on her—“I need you to call your charge nurses on the wings where patients are and have them do a quick triage assessment to see if any of the residents have injuries or any trouble breathing. Please have that info prepared when these two come back out to talk to you.” I gesture to Jeffries and Phil. “Everyone clear so far?”

I get several affirmative answers, then continue. “Tony and Frankie, I want you to go in and assess the fire and search for the injured employee. Then?—”

“Oh shit,” Jeffries says in a high-pitched voice as he points to the roof—where flames are now breaking through.

Damnit. This just went from pretty bad to downright horrible.

“Change of plans. Tony, I want you on the ladder with the hose on those flames. I’m going in with Frankie.” I watch as their eyes widen and I know they don’t like the idea, but it’s my call. “Gio, you’re in charge of the scene while I’m inside. Call dispatch and ask them to send another engine and ambulance from Station One or Two. Hopefully, we’ll be back out soon, but we’re gonna need their help to get this fire out. Frankie, let’s go.”

As Frankie and I put on our masks, we check that our voice amplifiers are working, and we head toward the door. I hear Gio already on the radio calling for backup. “Captain Flynn has gone into the building and assigned me to run point while she’s inside. She requested I make this call.”

I trust Gio to push the dispatcher if she gives him shit, and Frankie and I are racing the clock to find the victim, so we keep moving. When we enter the building, Jeffries and Phil right behind us, we head south to make our way to the kitchen area, and they head north to begin their assignment.

A few minutes later, we make it through a thick haze of smoke and approach the kitchen doors. When we get into the kitchen, we yell, “Fire department. Call out. Fire department. Call out.” We get no response. Knowing from the administrator that the stove is on the east wall, we make our way in that direction, thinking the cook likely tried to get there if she was hoping to stop the fire. Fortunately, there’s a large stainless-steel island in the middle of the room that we can use to guide us around the room.

Flames are thick and whipping up into the open roof above the stove. Water drips from the ceiling into the room, so I know that means Tony has the hose up and is fighting the flames. We can no longer see our feet, so Frankie and I drop to a firefighter crawl as we continue our search for the victim.

A few feet after we come around the other side of the island, my forearm comes into contact with what feels like a head. When I move my hand a bit, I confirm it’s a person, so we’ve found the cook. I alert Frankie. After searching directly around her for other potential victims, and finding none, I crawl to the woman’s feet, intending to use an ankle pull to get her out of the room. Just as I grab her ankles, an ear-splitting crack roars through the space and I look up just in time to see a large piece of ceiling beam strike Frankie’s shoulder, narrowly missing his head.

“Fuck!” Frankie calls out in pain. “Captain, I think my shoulder’s dislocated.”

“Just grab her hand or something so I don’t lose you,” I yell back. “Are you okay with moving otherwise? If so, you count us down and I’ll start moving her out on your three,” I yell. Deafening noises of the raging fire surround us, including the creaking of more weakening ceiling beams just waiting to cave in.

His voiced laced with pain, he calls back to me, “One, two, three!”

With my hands around the victim’s ankles, I drag her out of the kitchen. Once we get to the doors of the room, Frankie darts past me and uses his unaffected arm to push the doors open so I can pull who I assume is Antoinette through it. When we’re about ten feet into the hallway, there’s some smoke, but it’s definitely much lighter than it was in the kitchen. Still, I don’t think our victim is breathing and I need to get her out of the building quickly so we can start resuscitation attempts. With his injured shoulder, Frankie can’t help. I move rapidly and lift the woman into a firefighter’s carry, allowing Frankie to take the lead in guiding us out of the building.

Once we break through the doors of the facility to the outside, Ian and Anderson race toward us with their stretcher and move her to their cot, relieving me of the woman’s weight. After a quick assessment, they attempt to resuscitate her. A back-up medical squad from Station Two is on scene now and their two medics assist Ian and Anderson.

I rip off my face mask. “Gio, Thompson, come help Frankie!” Within seconds, the guys are on him and he’s getting medical attention. I survey the surrounding scene, checking that all my crew is accounted for.

Jeffries and Phil are out and talking to the administrator of the building while Tony is on our engine with a hose on the fire, being assisted by another engine from Station Two. I make my way over to get a status report and assume operations.

Two and a half hours later, we’re done at the scene and just arriving back at the station. Gio and Thompson reported back after dropping Frankie off at the ER, confirming that he had a dislocated shoulder and will be out until further notice. The hospital successfully resuscitated our fire victim, but she is going to the Burn Intensive Care Unit and is nowhere near out of the woods yet. She’s sustained severe enough burns and smoke inhalation related lung injuries that her road to recovery is uncertain and long.

Fortunately, Finn Bannon agreed to come in and work the rest of Frankie’s shift, so we aren’t down a person. Once he arrives, the guys cover for Tony, and then me, so that we can grab quick showers, since we were the most exposed to soot and smoke.

Done and dressed in a fresh uniform, I sit at my desk, and it sinks in how bone tired I am. I’m also buried under a mound of mandatory paperwork regarding the fire. All I want to do is lower my head to the desk and close my eyes for a bit. I sigh and push that thought out of my mind. Hopefully, I’ll finish in time to sit with the guys and enjoy dinner, but about a half hour into my work, Thompson knocks on my door.

“Captain? There’s someone here to see you. I didn’t let him in because of our rules, but he asked to speak with the firefighter in charge for the day. Said his name was Joe but wouldn’t give me more info.”

I close my eyes for a few seconds and take a deep breath. So much for getting my paperwork done before dinner. “Thanks, Thompson. I’ll be down in just a few minutes.”

Three minutes later, I’ve completed the form I was working on and stand, stretching like a cat to ease the deep ache in my back. I make my way downstairs. My body is so sore that every step feels painful, like I did five hundred squats yesterday or something equally tortuous. When I approach the door leading to the front of our building, I see a man standing on the sidewalk. I take a second to place his face, but then I realize this is Joe Alero, from the construction company. He’s looking across the street, toeing the ground with his hands in his pockets.

I open the door and walk outside. “Hi, Mr. Alero. I’m told you wanted to speak with the shift captain in charge today. That’s me.”

“Trina, what a pleasant surprise that it’s you on duty today. And please, call me Joe.”

I force myself to give him a polite smile. “Okay, Joe. What can I do for you?”

He frowns, his brow furrowed, and he focuses his narrowed gaze on me. Joe holds the stare for several uncomfortable seconds before he smiles, reaches into his pocket, and pulls something out. “Oh, um, so I’m in town giving a quote on a huge residential project and thought I’d drop off more of my business cards. Maybe someone could share them with the other fire stations in town to post as well. The police station, too.”

He extends the stack of cards to me, and I accept them from him.

“Sure, I can do that. I’ll make sure they get spread around. Have a safe drive home.”

I turn to walk away but stop, slowly turning around when he continues talking.

“I heard there was a big fire today. Were you there?”

“Yes, there was, and yes, I was there. As you can see, I’m okay. Though I’m buried under a mound of paperwork from it that I really need to get back to.”

My phone dings, alerting me to a text message. Not meaning to be rude, I instinctively look down to read it.

Unknown: I’m tiring of waiting for you to appreciate my efforts. Perhaps you want a bolder approach? A take charge type of man. Maybe I need to stop being such a gentleman and show you what happens if you fuck around. How do you think it makes me feel to see you with other men? It’s disrespectful. I’m getting fucking sick of it and if it doesn’t change, you’ll soon find out what happens when I’m pissed. You’re mine and only mine. Don’t forget that.

I get lost for several long seconds staring at the words. This is by far the most aggressive text I’ve received from whoever this man is. I think I got so used to getting them I’ve become complacent about how serious this could be.

“Trina? Are you okay?” Joe’s gentle voice, filled with concern, pulls me out of my stupor. I glance up at him, then my eyes dart around the surrounding area, searching for anything or anyone out of place… watching.

Admittedly, I’m shaken by the text, but I pull it together long enough to answer. “Yeah, sorry. Just a text from someone. Nothing important. I’ll definitely share your cards, but I really have to get back to work.”

His eyes narrow on me for a moment and I sense he doesn’t believe that I’m all right. After a few seconds, he plasters on a smile and says goodbye. Before he’s too far away, I rush back into the security of the locked station and up to my office to distract myself with paperwork.

I send Gio a quick text, since he’s assigned dinner for tonight.

Me: Hey, I’m just gonna order us pizza for dinner if that’s okay. I think everyone could use the rest and avoiding dishes, etc.

Gio: Hell yeah. Any evening I don’t have to cook is good. Thanks, Cap.

Me: Okay. I’ll order in about a half hour. Text me if there are any special requests. Except tell Ian I don’t care how hard he worked today, we’re not trying anchovies again.

Gio: Hah. Will do.

Everything in me wants to call Ben. Yes, the fire was emotionally and physically draining, but it’s the fear in me the text from my stalker caused that has me barely holding off my anxiety. I need a dose of the calm I only ever feel in Ben’s presence anymore.

I remind myself that I’m safe. I’m in a locked building and my entire crew is here with me. It’s okay. I’m okay.

I won’t call him yet. He’ll find out about the text soon enough. I need to calm down before I talk to him. I set an alarm on my phone for thirty minutes and dive back into my mound of work. About twenty minutes later, my phone dings again, alerting me to another text, and I nearly jump out of my chair.

Jesus, now I’m skittish? God, I hate this bastard for making me feel like this.

When I glance down and see it’s Ben, I feel bad. In my stress over the stalker’s latest message, I forgot to text him I’m okay. I know he hears the calls that go out through dispatch. I’m not used to having to check in with someone after a day like today, so between that and the paperwork, I forgot.

Unless she finds out about fires like this one and asks, I don’t tell Emily about these types of days at work. She certainly doesn’t need to be worrying about me right now as she works through her grief over losing her husband and I wouldn’t bother updating my parents. Fitz is the only other person to consider, but he gets me. I don’t usually want to talk about these days and he’s the same. He’s my emergency contact anyway—and I’m his—so if something terrible happened, he’d know about it.

I look down at the phone.

Ben: Hey, just checking in to make sure you’re okay. I heard on the radio about the fire.

Trina: I’m okay, tired and a little sore. Just about to order pizza for dinner.Sorry I didn’t text to say I was fine. I meant to.

Ben: Just glad you’re okay. Let me take care of dinner for you all. I’ll get pizza and salads and bring some beverages. Plus, French dressing. ’Cause that’s another thing I know you like. ;)

I smile at my phone and my shoulders feel lighter, my stress a little less, just from texting with him.

Trina: If you’re sure you don’t mind, that’d be great.

Ben: Okay, consider it done.

Trina: I’m seeing some perks of this secret husband thing. I could get used to this.

Ben: That’s the idea…

Ben: Minus the secret part. But baby steps… See you in about an hour.