Code of Honor

by Kathryn Shay

  She said, “No car?”

  He shook his head. “Your arm’s red.”

  She glanced down. Tiny marks were visible below the sleeve of her T-shirt. “Damn.”

  “Any man who treats a woman that way is an ass.”

  “Where does he get off?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Thanks for helping me out.”

  “I thought you were gonna deck him. Not that you’re not gorgeous, Whitmore, but I think he’s doin’ it to get Jake’s goat.”

  She stiffened. “What do you mean?”

  “Are you kidding? Jake’s Sir Galahad. If he thinks Danny’s pushing you, he’ll go after him. Danny’s out to embarrass Jake.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s always been that way. Danny could never measure up to Jake—not in the fire department, not in high school. He blames Jake for all his problems when, really, he made Jake’s life hell. Nobody’s glad to see him back.”

  Chelsea smiled at him. “You’re a nice guy, you know that, Santori?”

  Joey chugged his beer. “Yeah, don’t tell anybody.” His eyes landed on Francey, and they lost their mirth.

  Following his gaze, she asked, “Does it still hurt?”

  “It’ll always hurt,” he said, and walked away.

  Chelsea leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. An ominous feeling stole over her. She shivered with it. God, she hoped nothing worse happened today.

  JAKE HAD FELT IT building all night, like a storm brewing over the lake. Maybe it was because he’d once known Danny so well. Maybe because he’d been the victim of Danny’s anger and bitterness before. Maybe because he’d watched Danny all evening get progressively more stoned and more obnoxious. Regardless, it hurt to know what his friend had become.

  So he wasn’t surprised when he saw Danny heading toward where he stood on the edge of the lower deck with the five members of his group, along with Ben, Reed and Dylan.

  One of the new academy trainers walked by as Danny approached. “How’d ya think it went this morning, Jake?”

  Jake stiffened. “Ah, good. You?”

  “Too tough for me. You probably aced it, though.”

  “Aced what?” Joey asked when Mike moved on. Danny stood in the background, listening.

  Jake traded looks with Ben. Ben shrugged.

  “I, uh, took the captaincy exam this morning.”

  Joey asked sharply, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

  “If you make the grade, you can’t be captain at Quint Twelve because Ed Knight already is,” Mick observed. “You can only have one captain per station house.”

  “Ed Knight might be retiring this year. He just told me.” Ben was trying to smooth ruffled feathers.

  “You shoulda told us, Jake.” Mick looked upset.

  “I’m sorry, Mick. I just—”

  “So, how’d you do?” Peter cut in. He seemed genuinely interested.

  “Jakey boy probably got a hundred. He’s perfect, don’t you know that?” This came from Danny.

  Diaz tried to joke. “Nah, we know his flaws.”

  “Do you?”

  “Lay off, DeLuca,” Joey said.

  But Danny moved closer. He was unsteady on his feet, and his cigarette was within half an inch of burning Jake’s arm. Jake didn’t step away, however; he just stared at his old buddy. Guilt for his part in bringing Danny to this bumbling, drunken state flooded him. The sense of disappointment for what Danny had become was great.

  “What’s a matter, Jakey? They never seen your bad side?”

  Ben said, “Danny, now isn’t the time for this.”

  “No? Why not?”

  Ben reached for his arm. “For one thing, your son is about ten feet behind you.”

  Pivoting, Danny scowled. Derek stood behind him with Jessica. “So what?” He faced Jake again. “Derek thinks you walk on water like the rest of them. It’ll be good for him to hear the truth.”

  Reed stepped forward. “Danny, why don’t we take a walk.”

  “Why don’t you take a hike? And take that female shrink with you, away from my kid.”

  “Delaney’s helping Derek. But let’s go talk about it. She can come with us.”

  “No, I got something to say.”

  Ben opened his mouth to speak, but Jake intervened. He had to face this. Swallowing the hurt Danny’s bitterness incited, Jake said, “All right, let’s go inside. You can say whatever you want there.”

  “Wanna do it here. In front of everybody. I want them all to know.” He indicated their little circle, and also Francey, Alex and Beth, who’d gathered around.

  “Know what?”

  “What kind of man you are.”

  “He’s a decent man,” someone said.

  “Back off, DeLuca,” somebody else said.

  Jake was poleaxed by the vindictiveness on Danny’s face.

  “Y’all better listen to me,” Danny said. “You could be next.”

  No one spoke.

  “Do they know, Jakey, that you’ll turn on them to cover your own ass?”

  Jake stood silent.

  “Does she know—” he angled his head to Chelsea “—not to get too close to you? That you’ll pick on every little thing she does and make your faults hers?”

  Jake remained stoic. He wouldn’t defend himself. He wouldn’t stoop to Danny’s level.

  Again, nobody spoke. Until Derek broke away from Delaney—Jake hadn’t seen her come up to the boy—and elbowed his way to his father. “Don’t, Dad.”

  Danny’s eyes were glazed as they landed on Derek. “He took you away, too.” Derek’s gaze snapped to Jake.

  “You took my job, my friends and even my son. Wouldn’t be surprised if you were screwin’ my wife.” He threw a leering glance at Chelsea. “After you get through with her, that is.”

  Ben Cordaro stepped forward and put a hand on Danny’s shoulder. “I’ve heard enough of this tripe. You’re insulting my daughter’s friends and ruining her party. Let’s go, DeLuca.”

  Danny shrugged him off. “You’re stickin’ up for him. You always did.”

  Ben said, “He’s always deserved it.”

  Reed came up on the other side of Danny. “Let’s go.”

  Danny’s gaze swung from Reed to Ben and back again. No doubt realizing he could never win a physical contest against the two, especially in his state, he said casually, “Sure, why not? I’m gonna blow this pop stand, anyway.” He faced Derek. “You comin’, son?”

  Tears streamed down Derek’s face. He stared at his father as if he didn’t recognize him. Then he shook his head.

  Danny deflated before their eyes. His shoulders sank, and he docilely let Reed and Ben lead him around the house.

  Tension quivered in the air. Jake watched Derek, then stepped toward him. After a second Derek flung himself into Jake’s arms. Jake’s eyes stung for the boy Derek was, for the boy Danny used to be. Staring over Derek’s shoulder, Jake saw a young Danny catching the football that Jake had passed him and scoring the winning touchdown…. Danny smiling as the best man in his wedding…Danny holding his hand the first time Jake had been badly burned. He closed his eyes to block out the current images of Danny—drunk and abusive. He clasped Derek to him. “Shh, son, it’s all right. It’s all right.”

  But he knew in his heart it wasn’t. Would it ever be?

  HIS BREATHING ESCALATED, and the darkness nipped at his heels as he paced. His strong side came out more now, ruled him, even in the daytime. He’d waited a week, like flames waiting to burst through in flashover. There would be no mistakes after this long. But it had to be tested.

  Ever since the softball picnic he’d watched for signs. They didn’t seem to treat each other differently. Maybe they were more comfortable with each other, but all of them felt at ease with Whitmore now.

  He thought about spying on them, but it went against his grain. Instead, he’d test it, just as he’d test
ed the guys after DeLuca’s spiel….

  He’s crazy, one of them said.

  Jake’s too smart for that, another put in.

  Whitmore’s not that kind of broad, somebody else said.

  But they were uptight; the other accusation—that Jake wasn’t a good leader, that he’d turned on one of his men once, that he’d made bad decisions—struck a chord.

  So he’d kill two birds with one stone—see if the lieutenant favored Whitmore; it would show if he was, after all, a good leader and put one more nail in her coffin.

  Jake would have to deal with what he had in mind.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  FIRE RIPPED THROUGH several stores in a small strip mall in downtown Rockford. It reminded him of how, when he was a kid, he used to line up dry twigs, light them and watch them torch each other. The roof on one of the first buildings to ignite had been ventilated but was spongy now, so no one was allowed on it. Clouds of thick gray smoke billowed from several storefronts as the fire intensified; firefighters were barred from the inside.

  He smiled to himself as he hefted the hose behind Jake. This was it. An exterior attack was perfect. He’d lucked out, which just went to show that his plan had been right. Judicious. Blessed. No one could get hurt if they weren’t goin’ into the building.

  As he and Jake reached the side of one of the shops, he could see several aerials dumping water on the hungry flames that shot from windows and out the roof. The fire was a monster, needing to be appeased. Jake said, “Everybody’s here,” as he positioned the hose and lifted it. Whitmore would charge the hose, giving them water, back at the Midi, where she would also monitor the pressure. For a while. His conscience pricked him. His Jekyll side felt bad, but Hyde told him this was necessary.

  “That’s why we were called, Jakey baby,” he said, rebounding as the pressure hit the nozzle and the hose pumped out gallons of water. “It’s not our district.” The blaze was so big and out of control, the battalion chief had asked for additional stations to come in and help.

  Jake maneuvered the large, two-inch hand line in silence. It only took about five minutes for the water to recede. Jake shook the hose. “What the hell?” He turned. “You feel that?”

  “Yeah.”

  Then the water stopped.

  Battalion Chief Talbot came up behind them “What’s going on, Jake?”

  “We’re out of water.”

  “What?”

  “The water stopped.” He could see the puzzlement on Jake’s face. “I don’t understand it.”

  “That’s a hell of a deal.” Talbot was irked. “Check the truck; see if you can fix it. We need all the water we can get.”

  Following Jake, his heartbeat escalated. This was it. Jake took long, angry strides toward his rig. When they reached the Midi, Jake went up to Whitmore. She had her head down, studying the gauges. “Whitmore? What’s going on?”

  Chelsea turned. Even in the darkness, broken only by generator lamps, he could see her face was pale. “I don’t know. The gauges say we’re out of water.”

  “That can’t be. We can’t have used more than two hundred gallons.” He edged in front of her and checked the gauges. Then he turned. “It’s empty. How is that possible, Whitmore?”

  Her lips thinned and her eyes got as big as the moon above them. “I don’t know.”

  “When you came in tonight, did you check the water level?”

  “Yes, sir, I did.”

  “And?”

  “It was filled. The truck wasn’t used in a fire today, and the full gauge registered.”

  For long moments Jake stared at her. She stared back. Then he said, “I’ll go see where Talbot wants us now.”

  Chelsea looked after him, then glanced at the gauges again. Shook her head. And walked off.

  He sank back against the rig.

  Whew. It was over. This was too public to let go. Jake couldn’t possibly ignore it. All her other mistakes would start to add up, and there’d be action taken.

  Would it be enough? He sure hoped so.

  For her own good, he wanted her out of the RFD.

  “I’D LIKE to see you in my office, Whitmore.” Jake’s voice was husky from fatigue and smoke inhalation. His linebacker shoulders were stiff with tension.

  Her shoulders ached as if she’d carried a barbell on them all night. “Yes, sir.”

  Mick, Joey, Peter and Don stood behind her, openly listening. Peter stepped forward, as if to say something, but Jake turned his back, his message clear. This was between the lieutenant and one of his crew.

  Jake trudged ahead of her; Chelsea kept her eyes averted, refusing to look at his safe solid back and those strong shoulders she thought she could lean on.

  Stop it, she told herself. This doesn’t change things.

  Ever the gentleman, Jake opened the glass door to the watch office and held it for her to enter. It closed with a hiss in the still, silent firehouse. Chelsea could see the guys pass the office and traipse back to the kitchen.

  “Sit.”

  She did, then he took a chair across from her. “What happened, Chelsea?” he asked simply.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m asking this in an official capacity. Did you check the water tank in the Midi when you came on duty?” His voice was toneless, but Chelsea could see the muscle leaping in his jaw. This wasn’t easy for him. She respected the officer in front of her for carrying out a difficult task; simultaneously, her heart went out to the man she loved. God, what irony.

  “Yes, I did. The tank was full.”

  “How do you account for its running out of water prematurely?”

  “I can’t.”

  “No malfunction?” Then he added, “Like your air tank.”

  She swallowed hard. “You said you believed me about that.”

  “I did. It’s why I let it go. It was also only one thing, and I don’t jump to conclusions.”

  He didn’t mention the stove.

  “What about now? Do you still believe me about the air pack?” This she hadn’t expected. If he didn’t believe her about that…

  “It doesn’t matter what I believe. What matters is that an entire operation could have been jeopardized by the loss of water. It wasn’t, because so many rigs were there and we mounted an exterior attack. But if we’d been at a house fire, inside, and you made this mistake—”

  “I know the danger of losing water, Jake.” Her voice was cool; she straightened. “And I didn’t make a mistake.”

  “Then how do you account for running out of water?”

  “I can’t.”

  He stared at her, his face blank. But his gray eyes rivaled the gloomiest of February mornings in Rockford. “I’m putting a memorandum in your file. Of reprimand.”

  Swallowing hard, she cinched her hands together in an effort not to react. “I see.”

  “For the record, I also put two commendations in there after the foam blanket incident and the fire at the old man’s house.”

  She nodded.

  “I do that regularly for Santori, Huff, Diaz and Murphy.”

  Again, she got the message. He was treating her like he’d treat the guys. “I understand.”

  His officer persona slipped. “Do you?” he asked raggedly.

  “Of course.” She stood. “Am I dismissed?”

  He stared at her for a moment. “Yes.”

  A loud knock on the glass made them both jump. Her relief waved to her. She gave him a weak greeting. Without another word she turned, opened the door and left.

  JAKE SAT where he was as she disappeared into the locker room. He took a deep breath and tried to blank his mind. Instead, the ghosts came, specters from his past that were never far away.

  You turned on me, buddy. I’ll never forgive you for that. Danny’s old taunt was accompanied by his newest. Do they know, Jakey, that you’ll turn on them to cover your own ass? Does she know not to get too close to you? That you’ll pick on every little thing she does and make you
r faults hers?

  Don’t think about it, he told himself. Just do it.

  He turned to the computer. The memorandum took only five minutes to type. Five minutes to destroy months of trust building. No, he wouldn’t think about it. He couldn’t confuse the roles. Not again.

  As he printed the indictment, the office door opened and his men entered. They came in silently, took seats or leaned against the wall and closed the door. Were they vigilantes today or the cavalry coming over the hill?

  “What’d you do?” Peter asked.

  “I questioned Firefighter Whitmore and am putting this—” he held up the memo he’d just finished “—in her file.”

  Peter nodded.

  “We don’t have no say in it this time?” Mick asked. “’Cause if we do, I think you should drop it.”

  “He can’t drop it,” Joey said. “Not after the stove and the air pack.”

  “You don’t want him to?” Mick’s tone was accusing.

  Joey scowled. “I don’t know what I want.”

  Diaz said nothing, Jake noted. His face was sad.

  “None of this matters. As your lieutenant, I’ve made the decision. It’s done.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Jake saw Chelsea exit the locker room, her bag looped over her shoulder. She hadn’t showered. She’d removed her dress shirt and wore only the RFD T-shirt and pants. Her hair bounced around her shoulders like a golden halo as she walked. Coming even with them, she looked up.

  Damn. He could imagine the tableau they created, gathered in the office without her. She scanned the men, her face showing confusion first, then the hurt that betrayal causes. Jake knew the look intimately. This was the second time in his life he felt like Judas. She watched them only a moment, then turned and headed out of the bay.

  The room was uncomfortably silent. Firefighters from the day shift began to filter in. O’Roarke threw open the door. “Scarlatta and Santori, you’re sprung.”

  The men nodded. Joey stood and, without saying anything more, left. So did Diaz.