by Nora Snowdon
“You too.”
CHAPTER 2
The animated chatter felt familiar as she entered the 3rd Precinct. The guys getting off their fourteen-hour shifts sounded wired, tired, and giddy. She took a couple of deep breaths, exhaling slowly. Okay let’s do it. She stepped into the common room and the conversation stilled.
“Hey guys.” The captain broke the silence and all eyes turned to him. “This is Lucinda Dawson.”
Lu was surprised all over again how good-looking the man was. She had the odd sensation of worrying about drooling and having a dry mouth at the same time. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such a visceral response to a man. Not that it made any difference. She certainly wouldn’t date someone she worked with ever again.
“She’s joining us from Springfield. Introduce yourselves. Make her feel welcome.”
After a flurry of names, Lu found she could only remember the obvious ones: Red sported an unruly mop of orange curls—if he’d been female she would’ve wondered if a dye job had gone wrong; and Marcus—who just looked like a Marcus with his barrel-chested, boxer-looking build. And Ace was there as well.
“Actually, I prefer Lu.” She smiled as brightly as possible that early in the morning. “I guess the main question is, where’s the coffee?”
Ace pointed to a large pot in the corner. “It’s not Starbucks, though.”
“As long as it’s strong and caffeinated, I’m happy.” Lu headed for the coffee.
“So, the internet is still on the fritz,” Red informed them. “Someone will have to call about that. We need more light bulbs and something died in the fridge.”
“I can look into the computer problem,” Lu offered quickly. She’d learned to volunteer for the easy jobs to avoid the yucky ones. And God only knew what the fridge was like.
“We have the phone number by the computer. I don’t know why the darn thing keeps flipping out of service,” a chubby guy piped in.
“What happened with the two-thirty call, Red?” Ace sounded impatient.
“That was a good one.” Red had a garrulous laugh. “The man’s drunk and stumbles home. He goes to sneak in through the back door, notices a bunch of smoke pouring out of the basement and calls 911. We get there in time to see the wife tearing a strip off the loser. Turns out she was doing laundry and it was just steam from the damn dryer.”
“So,” a shorter guy—maybe Gord …?—chimed in. “After we turn up, half the neighborhood is out watching the show. He’s not gonna be getting any lovin’ anytime soon.”
“The wife didn’t call to cancel?” Lu asked.
“Nah. She’d been in the sauce too. Who does laundry at two thirty in the morning?” Stubby laughed.
“I’m meeting Harv and the guys at Denny’s for breakfast.” Chubby, of course, Lu thought with a secret smile. “Anyone else? Red?”
“Can’t. The wife wants me home to watch the kid while she does some stupid class. It’s something she saw on one of those daytime talk shows, almost makes me wish she’d go back to watching the frigging soaps.”
The room seemed to increase in size as soon as Red left. Lu wondered how tall he actually was. Some of the other men ambled out after him.
“I’ll get your key.” Ace walked back to the desk. “And the list of passwords for the computer. We used to have it by the keyboard, but after we got hacked, we started keeping it in the drawer.”
“Thanks, Ace.” It would be good to have the computer to work on. Ten hours with a bunch of strangers made for an awfully long work shift.
“So why’d you leave Springfield for here?” Marcus sounded genuinely perplexed.
“You guys had an opening and I needed to get out of the cat rescue biz.” Lu hoped it wouldn’t be a day filled with twenty questions.
“We still have to do the occasional cat duty, you know?” Marcus grinned.
“No way. Seriously?”
“Sure. Old Mrs. Port’s precious Siamese regularly gets stuck. I think Mrs. P. puts it in the tree just for the attention.”
“That lady is a whacko, but well connected,” Ace concurred. “As the only hall in Springfield, you must’ve seen some action?”
“Yeah, we got our share of Christmas tree and couch fires,” Lu admitted.
Ace handed her a well-worn piece of paper, then wandered to the kitchen area. “Hope the night crew didn’t finish off Margie’s banana loaf. Aw man. I knew I should’ve taken a chunk home last night.”
“Did you get a look around yesterday, or would you like an official tour?” the captain asked.
“A tour might help me get started faster.” Lu watched, fascinated, as he poured himself another cup of coffee. Every movement he made was precise, with no wasted energy. His physical containment added another dimension to his innately perfect looks. He was like a Ken doll in action – without the plastic hair, of course.
“Kitchen.” He pointed in the next doorway. “Through here we have the gym. Equipment’s good and you’re encouraged to keep in shape.”
Lu looked at the machinery; the elliptical, treadmills and bikes looked new while the rowing machine had seen better days. The weights were lined up neatly on a rack.
“Lockers and cubbies, you’ve already seen. Message board.” He stopped to emphasize his next point. “Always check it any time you enter or leave the station. Not getting the memo doesn’t cut it as an excuse.” He took the stairs two steps at a time and she allowed herself to ogle his perfect butt. “Up here are the beds. I get my own room—perk of being captain, but I expect everyone else to try and get along. Pole. Bathroom. The computer room.” He paused again to explain. “We used to have it in the common room, but there were too many noise complaints between TV watchers versus the computer. That’s it. Questions?”
“Nope. Thanks.” Lu could tell from his closed expression that questions were not actually welcome. She’d figure out things as she went along as usual.
After locking up her backpack, Lu went to look at the computer. It was relatively new and loaded. She lost track of time and place until she heard a dry cough behind her.
“What the heck are ya doing there?” One of the guys—damn, was it Bill or Bob?—shuffled uncomfortably behind her.
“I’m running some standard security programs to search for hidden viruses. They’re pretty common on these multi-user computers.”
“We got a firewall.”
“Yeah, I noticed. It can be cracked easily if you know what you’re doing.” Lu refocused on the screen. Not that she needed to; it would keep scanning until it got to the info she wanted, but she didn’t want to deal with whatshisname.
“Whatcha looking for?”
“Reports of unusual activity. I probably won’t figure this out for a while. Want me to call you when it’s done?”
“Uh, yeah sure.” The man still hovered. “You know, we usually call the PC helpline and they tell us to plug and unplug things until it eventually starts working again.”
“I used to work as a tech assistant. Don’t worry. Your baby’s in safe hands.” She smiled at him.
“If you want to call the company—”
“The number’s on the side of the computer, yeah. And I may end up calling them, but it’s always good to check that your PC hasn’t been compromised first.” She watched him closely as she added, “Certain types of sites can cause a lot of damage.”
“I’m sure you won’t find anything like that.” He backed out of the room. “I’ll leave you to it.”
So that was it. Lu smiled to herself. He’s nervous about me finding out where he’s been surfing. Hopefully it wasn’t anything really bad she’d have to report. Whistleblowers didn’t tend to last long in any job.
It felt good digging in the bowels of a computer. Lu was almost annoyed when the alarm tones shook her out of her own little playground. She raced for the pole determined not to be the last one on the truck. As the newbie, that would be too embarrassing.
She beat Ace by mere seconds, but that was good e
nough. As they headed out she listened to the details on the P.A.: male, senior, suspected cardiac arrest. It was probably good to get a few test runs in before she had to rush into a burning building with her new coworkers.
With sirens blaring, they pulled up to a small bungalow on a quiet street. A woman waved frantically from the doorway then darted back inside like one of those little round birds flitting nervously in the lilac bushes. Lu followed the guys up to the house wondering who amongst them was the top medical person. They paused at the doorway waiting for her to enter. Figured she would be the one to deal with the obviously fragile wife.
“Ma’am.” Lu smiled encouragingly. “Where’s the patient?”
“He’s in here. He came back from his walk and then he started—” The woman pointed to an older man who looked decidedly gray. She pressed her hand to her mouth.
“Can you tell me his name, any medicines he’s taking, and any current or past medical conditions?” While recording the wife’s responses, Lu overheard Ace questioning the man who at least was conscious and lucid. She watched as Bill and Ace’s tests confirmed it was a stroke.
“Do you have some coffee, ma’am?” Lu asked.
“I just put some on.” She looked surprised at the question.
“Okay, get a hot cup of coffee, put a good slosh of hard alcohol into it, and we’ll see if we can get your husband to take a bit.”
The woman hurried to the kitchen. From her quick departure, she appeared glad of the mission. Lu looked over at Captain Reynolds who was watching Bill like a hawk. Maybe I’m not the only new kid on the team? Lu empathized with Reynolds’ frustration. Bill seemed to take inordinately long doing even the simplest things. Reynolds pulled Bill aside and Ace took over.
After the woman returned with the coffee, Lu squeezed in beside Ace and held the mug to the man’s lips. “Here, just take a quick sip of this.”
The man did then promptly sputtered some back. “That’s good. Just a couple more sips,” Lu told him.
“What the heck are you doing, Dawson?” Reynolds asked quietly, grabbing the mug away from her.
“It’s a stroke, right? So you give him hot coffee and booze to increase blood flow to the brain.” She checked, but the wife didn’t seem to notice their exchange being otherwise distracted by a small collie trying to barge into the room.
Ambulance sirens wailed up in front, the doors slammed and two sets of heavy footsteps ran toward them. The room disintegrated into bedlam as the paramedics further filled the small space, barking orders and taking charge. While they were loading the patient onto the stretcher, the paramedic at the guy’s head sniffed suspiciously. “This man been drinking?”
“No,” Lu answered. “We just gave him some alcohol to get his blood to the brain.”
“Great, so that limits what drugs we can give him.”
“According to new medical data the best thing you can give him is alcohol, so unless you’re worried about mixing his drinks, I don’t think it’s a problem.” She smiled sweetly at the paramedic. “But now that you’re here, maybe we should get our butts in gear and get this gentleman to the hospital.”
Lu turned to the man’s wife. “We’ll leave you in these paramedics’ capable hands. I’m sure your husband will be fine.” She clomped out of the room. She heard the rest of her team follow, relieved they hadn’t felt the need to apologize for her actions.
Who’d have thought Springfield would be more current on medical procedures than the big city? Then again, she’d had to present her former boss with reams of medical research before he’d accepted the practice.
Returning to the hall Reynolds let her have it. “What do you think you were you doing back there, Dawson? Have you even read the P&P manual? There are a set number of medical responses laid out in the manual and alcohol is not any of them. We’ll leave those kinds of remedies to the naturopaths and witch doctors. Our choices for a patient suffering a stroke or heart attack are nitroglycerin, if not previously administered, or oxygen if required.”
“Sorry sir, but it’s been proven that—”
“I’m not finished. You were also disparaging of the attending paramedics. That is unacceptable, Dawson. You never make a fellow rescue worker look bad in the client’s eyes. We have to work with these men and women on a continuous basis. There will be a note on your record and this will not be repeated.”
“Yes, sir, but—”
“What if the man has some other problem crop up and the widow blames us for nontraditional medical procedure?”
“Is it better to cover our asses or give the man the best treatment to decrease brain damage following his stroke?”
“You’re not a doctor, Dawson.” His eyes flashed dangerously. “I will not have a rogue player on my team.”
Oh shit, she’d gone too far. Lu backtracked quickly. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.” God, was she going to get fired on her first day? Could she even go back to retail?
Captain Reynolds must’ve caught the panic on her face because his tone softened minimally. “You’d better be, because I won’t have this conversation again.” He glared out the window.
Lu let out a long slow breath. Here she was worried she’d lose her job because of her fire-starting problem; at this rate she was more likely to get canned for insubordination.
“Hey, Captain,” Ace hollered from the back. “We need some groceries.”
The captain let out an exasperated groan. “Okay, pull into the Piggly Wiggly, but make it quick. This isn’t a social call.”
Lu followed the guys into the store. It wasn’t long before she realized what the captain had meant. Within seconds Ace was chatting up the chubby cashier with the poufy bouffant and green eye shadow. At a warning glance from Reynolds, Ace ducked away to grab a few items.
Reynolds paid for the groceries and herded them back to the truck. Outside he turned to Ace. “Why don’t you just ask the woman out?”
“What?” Ace feigned innocence, but at Reynolds’ snort, he smiled sheepishly. “I can’t help it if the woman likes me.”
“Yeah. So get off the pot, Ace,” Bill chimed in. “If she already likes you, ya don’t have to keep dragging the rest of us in with you. Or are you hoping we’ll get a call while we’re here and she’ll see you running off to save the day?”
“I’m waiting for the right time, so back off.”
By the time they pulled into the station, Lu was sick of hearing about Laurel-Anne. The Piggly Wiggly episode seemed to be a regular installment in the ongoing fire hall soap opera. But at least no one was bugging her and there was no more discussion about medical procedures.
As Marcus backed the truck into the bay, Reynolds suddenly tensed up. While he didn’t express his feelings verbally, Reynolds was extremely chatty in his body language. Lu glanced around to see what had annoyed him. A tall man in jeans and a t-shit lounged on the cement stoop, soaking up the early spring sun. He stood as the truck passed him, his face breaking into a genuine smile. Lu stared at him, unable to look away. The stranger was attractive, but more than that, he exuded charisma.
“Hey, it’s Morgan,” Ace called out. With a quick glance at Reynolds, Ace stifled his grin.
Marcus seemed happy to see the man as well. Morgan followed the truck into the bay, then greeted the guys as they jumped off the runner.
“What do you need, Byron?” Reynolds’ smile was cold.
“I have a couple of questions about that fire on Harding Street. I got the report but there’s a discrepancy.”
“Fine.” Reynolds started toward his office. He stopped when he realized Byron wasn’t following him.
“Hey, how’s your nephew?” Ace asked. “Tell him I said, ‘Hi.’”
“Sure. Come for dinner on Sunday. Annie’d be thrilled to see you.” Morgan seemed to finally notice Lu. “I’m sorry, Byron Morgan.”
“Lu Dawson, new kid.” Lu shook his hand, feeling slightly uncomfortable as the intense blue eyes focused on her. The emotion changed to embarr
assment when she forgot to release his hand.
“Byron?” Reynolds asked impatiently.
“Yup.” Morgan smiled and then loped off to follow Reynolds.
They unloaded the groceries before Lu once again commandeered the computer, ignoring Bill’s worried glance. Now she really didn’t want to find anything bad about Bill. She felt a little safer in the job knowing Reynolds already had one lame duck in the hall.
CHAPTER 3
The tones blared so loudly that Lu was halfway to the pole before she’d even woken up. Night shifts were the worst. It was difficult to sleep with a room full of snoring men, and the few times she did, the alarm had gone off. She threw on her turnout gear, boots, and helmet and jumped onto the truck. Her body automatically followed the drill.
Meanwhile the speakers opened and dispatch droned out the details: a house fire on Baker Street; visible flames; reported by neighbor. Not good. If the flames were visible, the fire had obviously seated before the report came in. At least tonight she was on with the guys she considered the “A” team. Everyone had been through similar training, but in life and death situations, you wanted to be with people you could trust implicitly. Ace was a joker and not in the best shape, but he reacted well under pressure and could think on his feet. Marcus had the brawn and took orders instantly. And Red had the brains and the brawn. Captain Reynolds was cool headed and always in control.
Ace hoisted himself up on the truck as Reynolds commanded Marcus to “light it up.” It would be full lights and siren on this one.
Lu wished she had a mint; her mouth was dry and gummy. Fear added to night mouth was not a good feeling. The streets changed rapidly from the business district, to apartment buildings, to separate bungalows and then to the square, modern mansions with three-car garages.
Ominous clouds of smoke billowed up to obscure the starlit night as they neared the target. Her stomach clenched in anxiety. The guys were silent for a change. Were they experiencing the same sense of dread? They’d discussed the adrenaline rushes associated with fighting fires many times, but it was taboo to express fear. They all knew fire fighters who’d lost their nerve, and didn’t want to join their ranks.
