Fire Born (Firehouse 343) (13 page)

Martie stood. “Hey, Chris?” she called out.

He stopped and turned to her again.
“Yeah?”

She picked up her recorder and switched it off as she spoke. “Can you give me the address of the
Breckon
Apartments? I’ve finished the interviews
here
and I’d like to get to the scene to do my survey.”

Chris started back out into the lounge. “
Airborne, grab your gear and go with
.”

Raising an eyebrow, she said, “I have been in my fair share of burned out buildings before, Lieutenant. I know how to handle myself—I think I can manage on my own.”

She’d addressed him by rank to remind him that while they may have agreed there was something between them, she was here to do a job.

“You’re not going by yourself. It’s too dangerous,” Chris replied firmly. “I don’t think I need to remind you that a man is dead because of that building.”

A couple of the men from his crew cleared their throats. Martie felt her spine stiffen defensively, and she fought to keep the irritation out of her voice as she said, “No, Lt. Paytah, you don’t need to remind me. Nor should I need to remind you that Calvin Maynard is the reason I am here.”

S
he grabbed her purse, stuffing the recorder into
it and heading for the door. Martie
heard Chris ordering Logan to go with her again, and she had half a mind to just take off and find the place on her own—it couldn’t be that hard. But as she was yanking the door of
her car open, she made herself pause and take a calming breath. Certainly Chris knew she didn’t need a baby sitter. He was just concerned for her safety in a building that was at risk of structural collapse. In such a place, it was best to have a partner along in case of trouble.

“Lt.
Liotta
?”

Martie turned to find Logan standing at the front end of the
Sorento
, his helmet in one hand and his turnout coat slung over the other arm. Wordlessly, she gestured to the passenger side,
then
climbed in behind the wheel.

***

Simon Temple had watched the boys from
A-Shift
leave
, no doubt
feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline cour
sing through his veins—t
hey all felt the thrill whenever heading out to a scene. Then
Chris noticed him watching his exchange with Martie, had felt the younger man’s gaze on him as he ordered Logan to go with her a second time. He stayed standing at the end of the short hall that led to the office
while the other man grabbed his helmet and bunker jacket, watching him
hurry to catch up
, before turning back toward the office. Simon followed wordlessly.

Reckless
woman
, he mused darkly. Why did she have to go and argue with him in front of his men? Didn’t she know
he was just trying to look out for her? She’d worked the job herself—she had to know that going alone into a building weakened by fire—especially one as old as the
Breckon
Apartments—was foolhardy.

Chris sat down at
the desk that still felt like it was Calvin’s and gestured for Simon to sit as well. “Have a seat,” he
said gruffly.

Simon sat in the single visitor’s chair. “So, um, what can I do for you, Lieutenant?”

O
pen
ing
a folder lying on the desk in front of him,
Chris
looked down at the paperwork inside, and then looked up at him. “I’m going to tell you something that I have
n’t told anyone else yet,” he
began. “And the only reason for it is because I’ve got a lot to do and not really a lot of time to do it in.”

“Okay…
” Simon replied.

“The rest of the boys will hear
soon enough. Though I think it
s bullshit to do it before he’s even in the ground, Cal’s replacement as captain of Firehouse 343 has been chosen. That replacem
ent would be me,” Chris
went on.

Simon blinked.
He appeared to be contemplating whether or not to say something—
“Congratulatio
ns” was not a sentiment he wanted to hear right now.

Choos
ing the better part of valor, Simon
remained silent, saying nothing at all.

Chris looked down at the papers in front of him again. “Says here that you’re i
nterested in a transfer
,” he said, telling Simon that
what
he
was looking at was his personnel file.

“I am, sir,” Simon
replied.

A
derisive
snort was the initial
reply. “Well, there’s
gonna
be two
positions open
on B, what with Cal gone and me transferring. Actually, four—I plan on takin
g Football and Airborne with me,
”
Chris said. Both
mens
’ files had been in the pile of folders, so he knew what their answers would be when he officially asked them.

Simon blinked
.
“I’m cool with working
B-Shift
,” he said after a moment.

“What about
A-Shift
out of the 343?”

His visitor’s
eyes widened.
“Seriously?”

Chris nodded. “Yes. You’ve got one of the cleanest records in the whole unit, Simon—except for that little scuffle you had with Airborne a while back.”

He watched
Simon
’s
neck flush
, and knew
h
e’d
probably
rather not think about that fight.
He’d been the aggressor, but the taller Logan had a longer reach, and had easily defeated him.

Moving on
, he thought.
“Getting
a new firehouse up and running with any efficiency is not likely to be easy on any of us going in
,” Chris warned.

“Probably not,” Simon conceded with a grin. “But
it’ll be worth any lost sleep to be in the first unit to work out of that house
.”

He had to laugh at that
. “Keep up that opt
imism. You’re
gonna
need it,” Chris
said, and then stood.

Simon stood as well, and held his hand out. “Thanks, LT—
er
, Captain. I
appreciate you giving me the sh
ot.”

The two shook hands. “You’re welcome, Simon.
And since I’m certain of Football and Logan’s answers, it means I’ve only twenty-one more slots to fill.”

***

They’d started
together mostly in silence, save for her passenger giving her quiet directions to the location.
Martie began to feel uncomforta
ble, until Logan broke the ice with
, “Can I ask what
is probably a dumb question
?”

With a slight frown, she replied, “Sure.”

“Are you any relation to Ray
Liotta
, the actor?”

Martie relaxed and chuckled.
“As a matter of fact, yes.
His grandfather is my grandfather’s uncle. I actually met him once, at a family reunion some years back.”

Logan looked over at her. “You ever see any of his movies?”

“I’ve seen some of his earlier work, when he was more popular in Hollywood. My
favorite is
No Escape
. Made sure to get that one on DVD,” she replied.

“I like that one too, but I liked him better in
Goodfellas
and
Field of Dreams
.” Logan then cleared his throat. “Listen, Lieutenant—”

“You can call me Martie, if you like,” she offered.

“Okay, Martie.
I’m Airborne—or Logan, if you prefer.
I know that you don’t know me and whatever’s between you and Chris is none of my business, but
from what little I’ve observed of the two of you together, I can see that he really likes you.”

Martie was unable to stop the smile that came to her lips. “I like him too.”

“Which is great—too many women have come and gone in our lives because they can’t handle what we do,” Logan said, an undercurrent of bitterness in his tone.

“I was on the job myself for six years after I graduated from college, Airborne,” Martie said. “I know how hard this life is on relationships.”

Her passenger turned to face her again. “Well then, I’m sure you can understand that Chris was just looking out for you. I can tell you from seeing it personally during our walk-through that the
Breckon
Apartments are a fucking wreck. They’ll probably end up having to tear the building down. I’m sure his sending me along has nothing to do with not trusting you—I’m not here to look over your shoulder. Chris just doesn’t want to take any chances.”

With a sigh, she afforded Logan a sidelong glance and replied, “I know. Once I got over that initial raising of my independent hackles, I got it. Calvin’s death hit him pretty hard, and he just wants to be sure I’m safe. I’m sure he’d do it for any of you, and I know that there is safety in numbers. But I really could have handled this on my own. I’ve been to hazardous scenes solo before.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Logan acknowledged. “But
—and please forgive the sexism—not only are you a woman, but a woman he’s interested in. So now Chris’s inner caveman has been awakened and he’s going to be overbearing and overprotective.”

Martie laughed.
“Lovely…s
omething to look forward to.”

Logan laughed as well, and Martie was glad the tension between them had dissipated. A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of the
Breckon
Apartments. She looked up at the aged brick façade as she got out of the car, noting that it was streaked with soot and water marks. The front door was crisscrossed with yellow “Do Not Enter” tape, courtesy of the Gracechurch Police.
Logan donned his helmet and jacket as she went around the back of the car, retrieving her own—which she always kept on hand for just such an occasion as this—from
the cargo area. But while he wore the black of a non-commissioned firefighter, her helmet was the fire engine red worn by the Bureau of Fire Safety’s arson investigators.

“
Lookin
’ good,” Logan said with a grin when she joined him on the sidewalk.

Martie handed him one of the two
Mag-Tac
flashlights she kept with her equipment. “Let’s get this show on the road before Captain Caveman sends the rest of your platoon after us.”

Logan laughed as he followed her up to the door, where Martie tore down the crime scene tape on one side. They entered what she supposed passed for a lobby
and switched the flashlights on
,
the powerful LED beams a stark
contrast to the gloomy interior. She paused
and lifted the digital camera hanging from
a strap around her neck,
and after snapping a few pictures of the hallway they headed for apartment 1A. Each apartment on the floor was much the same: smoky, water-damaged,
soot
-blackened. Martie couldn’t even hazard a guess as to what, if anything, the residents might be able to salvage, and she fought the sadness that always seemed to creep up on her whenever she came face-to-face with the devastation fire wrought on people’s lives.

On their way up to the second floor, Logan was quick to point out the
hole in a tread near the landing that Football’s foot had gone through, and they each carefully avoided it. Once again, they did a thorough walk-through of the apartments, Martie stopping now and again to take pictures or dictate a note into her digital recorder. In apartment 2C, she found the first thing that seemed out of place.

“Well, well, well… What have we here?” she mused aloud,
snapping a couple of pictures before moving the side table out of the way and kneeling closer.

“What is it?” Logan asked.

“Take a good look, Airborne, and tell me what you see,” Martie countered, directing his attention to the 2-foot-wide black mark in front of her. She watched as he studied the scorched carpet and plaster with a frown on his face, and then smiled when realization dawned in his brown eyes.

He said nothing at first, just started brushing away debris on the floor. Martie moved out of his way, and when she realized what he was
doing, she started helping. W
ithin minutes, they had a path cleared that bisected the living room.

“This is a burn pattern,” Logan said at last, then pointed to the spot she’d first taken note of. “And that is the flashpoint.”