Chapter Two
Phones were such deceivingly innocuous objects. They just sat there, dormant most the time, unassuming in their everydayness. But the thing about phones was they also had the ability to change everything. You could get good news through the phone. Life altering bad news. And you could have a conversation with a stranger which totally throws your world upside down.
Charlotte contemplated her previous misjudgment of the offending object as her gaze darted between the large digital clock on the wall and the black block of plastic and wires taunting her from the desk. Never before had she hated the seconds ticking by on the clock so much. Something people didn’t realize about working in news was you figure out real quick exactly how much you can get done in sixty seconds.
Charlotte had once witnessed a director get up, run to the bathroom, get coffee with the works, sit back down and mark his scripts, all in a sixty second commercial break, and never missing a cue during the show. Wardrobe changes, camera turns, entire crews came and went in those precious few moments.
If all that could happen in sixty seconds, it didn’t surprise Charlotte one bit that in the roughly twelve thousand seconds since she talked to Trey on the phone, she had managed to completely freak herself out. She freaked out about a great many things.
Speaking in front of a room of people, eating in front of strangers, being judged by other people for things she wasn’t even aware of; they all wreaked havoc on her psyche. But she had never freaked out over a guy before. Not in this capacity. Not because she both couldn’t wait but also never wanted to talk to him again. School girl crushes hadn’t been a part of her childhood. She left mooning over boys to the girls who didn’t second guess every word that came out of their mouths for fear of being judged.
However, she couldn’t avoid making rounds calls. The time had come. She had to. It actually said it in her job description. Charlotte’s heart jumped and drummed in her chest as she watched those stupid big red numbers count up to 3:00:00 a.m. on the dot. Her hand shook as she reached out to grip the cool plastic. This was stupid. She was stupid. She made the same phone calls every night.
Blowing out a huge breath, Charlotte shook her free hand, flexing her fingers to release some of the tension. The first six of her calls turned up a shots fired call, a missing woman from a nursing home, and a break in that could be part of a string that had been plaguing the city lately. That could be a story for the next day. Finger hovering over the buttons, Charlotte tried to calm her pounding heart and churning stomach before gathering her strength and dialing the number for zone seven.
“Zone seven, this is Stacey. How can I help you?” Charlotte recognized the woman’s voice as a dispatcher she had talked to on several occasions before.
Disappoint dropped like a rock into Charlotte’s stomach. Trey hadn’t stayed to talk to her again, like he said he would. She knew it was ridiculous to be so disappointed over not being able to talk to a stranger. Especially when under normal circumstance she would avoid talking to strangers at all costs. But still, it sat there weighing her down.
“Hi. It’s Charlotte Orlov from—”
“WQUZ. Yes, hi. We just had a call for a dumpster fire that might be spreading, so I can’t talk right now.” The dispatcher talked quickly, obviously wanting to get off the phone.
“Of course. Can I have the location of the fire in case it turns into something?” She tried her best to put on her fake professional voice. That voice got her through many occasions in the newsroom when she had to pretend to be a take charge, take no shit person. The act exhausted her, but she found slipping into that character helped her focus on the job at hand.
Stacey gave her the address, and immediately, she recognized it as being in the same general area as several other small trash and seemingly random fires that she’d been keeping track of over the past few months. “Stacey, any chance this is related to the other trash fires in the area?”
“I honestly don’t know. I have to get back to work.” Before Charlotte could say anything in response, Stacey hung up, and the scanners crackled to life once again, fire engines being called out to the address she had just been given.
Charlotte shoved the unreasonable sadness she felt at not talking to Trey again to the back of her mind, concentrating completely on the action taking place over the scanners. From the sounds of it, the fire had started in a dumpster which stood against an apartment building, and it jumped to the building. First responders were organizing the evacuation of the apartments while more crews attacked the fire in the back of the building.
In a moment, Charlotte made the decision to pull the trigger and send a photographer to the scene. More than likely, they would put the fire out before it caused any major damage. But she had a feeling this fire would end up being connected to the suspected fire bug who had been setting smaller fires around the area for months.
And if it was the same person, that meant they were increasing their confidence. Starting bigger fires with more damage potential. If police and fire investigators didn’t figure out who the arsonist was soon, things could potentially get a lot worse, fast.
Charlotte picked up the phone, punching in the code to do a broadcast over the building’s PA system. “Ryan to the newsroom. Ryan, please come to the newsroom.”
As she waited for the photographer to make his way to her desk from the edit bays, she began texting all the relevant information to his phone, so he could leave as soon as possible.
“What’s up Charlotte?” Ryan’s tired voice echoed across the empty newsroom. He still wasn’t used to the overnight hours having only been filling in for Cory for a few weeks.
“We have a two-alarm fire in the southern section of the city. I just texted the address to your phone. Fire started in a dumpster and looks like it is spreading to an apartment building.” Charlotte sucked in a breath, steeling her nerves and slipping further into the professional role she played while giving orders to photographers. “I have a feeling it might be connected to these smaller fires. I need you to go get footage at this fire. Ask around about the other fires if you can, but keep it quiet. I’m pretty sure we’re the only station that knows about the fire bug.”
“Got it. On my way.” Ryan turned toward the back room where all the photogs kept their equipment.
Before he made it two steps, Charlotte stopped him. “Call me once you get there to let me know if I need to send a reporter for the morning show.”
He gave her a thumbs up and continued without missing a step.
The moment Ryan pushed through the door separating the newsroom from the equipment room, Charlotte slumped back into her chair, taking deep breaths and willing her heart to stop racing. The one thing she absolutely hated about her job was the moment she had to tell a photographer to go some place. It had never been a desire of hers to oversee others, but it came with the territory, and her little trick of playing a role had served her well in the past.
Still, each time she got finished handing out someone’s marching orders, a rush of adrenaline would sweep through her, and her body’s fight or flight instincts would kick in. Thankfully, working nights, it wasn’t something she had to deal with often. Several times, she’d turned down positions on the day crew because she didn’t want the added pressure of managing half a dozen reporters and photographers in the field at any moment. Even though the switch would mean an increase in pay. At the moment, her career satisfied her, and she saw no need to change anything.
The breathing exercises helped her nerves to calm, and she returned to listening for updates on the scanner. Other than an occasional request for more manpower in a certain position at the fire, things seemed to have settled down. They had gotten to that point in an event when crews were busy working on the fire, and dispatchers were no longer involved. Charlotte would just have to wait until Ryan called to check in to see if the fire would be a story or not.
***
The door to her apartment squeaked open as Charlotte trudged in two hours later than she normally liked to get home. The dayside assignment editor and her son had been hit by the flu, so Charlotte covered until someone else could be called in. If she were lucky, she’d get maybe five hours of sleep before she had to wake up and start the whole day again.
