“Start from the beginning. Don’t leave a single thing out. I want to hear it from each of you. Nobody speaks until the other is done. No arguing, no rebuttal. Stick to the sequence of events. Schmidt, you first.”
“We arrived on scene, 41 was already in command, he sent the probies to the roof. The roof collapsed around seven minutes later. The temperature spiked and nobody could go in.”
“Si—” Owens opens her mouth but slams it shut again.
Captain glares at her, and her gaze drops to the floor.
My heart is pounding in my damn chest.
If Cap is buying thi?—
“Sanderson, what happened?”
Sandy stands taller, chin up. “We arrived on scene, we bailed from 53, liaised with 41, Schmidt was ordered to send two up to the roof and he sent the two probies, sir. The roof collapsed around seven minutes later. Barratt was keeping an eye on the thermals but wouldn’t send officers in, sir. Despite our best efforts.” He glances at Owens, and her jaw feathers.
“Owens. Report.” Cap steps in front of her.
“Sir.” Her nostrils flare and she swallows. “We arrived on scene and bailed. We worked with 41, who ordered Schmidt to send two from 53 onto the roof for ventilation. He sent Tennison and Davies, sir.” Her voice cracks. “They worked the standard pattern, poking and venting. I heard the building shift, if that makes sense. I yelled to Schmidt saying as much and he waved at me, turning back to Barratt. Tennison was on the radio, updating us about Davies, but we were not allowed to move in. Then.” She sets her shoulders back. “The roof fell in, sir. And that was the last contact we have from either Davies or Tennison.”
“Owens, Sanderson, you’re dismissed.”
“Yes sir,” they chant and walk from his office.
“This year has been one shit show after another. I guess, partly, I have myself to blame,” Cap says, running a hand over his head. “What I don’t understand is why neither of you has the capacity to make good choices in hard situations.”
“Oh, come on, sir, how was I supposed to know the roof was going to fall in?” Schmidt whines.
He’s literally a fifty-year-old man whining like he got busted for some schoolyard crime like pulling fucking pigtails, not a decision he made with no thought or assessment of the scene that ended with a firefighter losing his life.
“Enough!” Cap roars. “You broke protocol, sending two probies to a situation that was high risk. You showed no critical response to a life-and-death situation. Multiple complaints havepoured in over the last six months from civilians and other stations alike. And the icing on the damn cake is this file that appeared on my desk this morning.”
Both Schmidt and I drop our gaze to the manilla folder in the center of Cap’s desk.
“Three—not one, three lawsuits for misconduct, sexual harassment and...” he tosses the folder at Schmiddy, who barely grips it before it falls to the floor. “Twelve reports of breach of protocol by other departments, mainly the NYPD over the last three years.”
If hatred was a color, it would be crimson. It creeps all over Schmiddy’s face as he white knuckles the file.
“Effective immediately, you’re fired. You better pray no department ever employs you again, or those allegations will be the least of your worries.”
“Oh, fuck that.” He points at me, tossing the file to the chair in front of him. “Hammond is screwing the probie andIget fired. You’ve got some nerve, you old hack.”
Cap’s gaze swings to me as his jaw sets.
His face makes stone look like sponge cake, and my body tenses. A reaction that comes in the form of protectiveness for London, not fear of reprimand. At this point, after today, my priorities have shifted. Permanently.
“Hammond?”
“Yes sir.”
“Tell me you’re not jeopardizing your captaincy for a turn in the sheets with an officer who is just a probie, twelve years younger than you.”
My molars grind down so hard, I swear I hear one pop.
A tangle in the sheets.
Just a probie.
If I ever hated Schmidt before, it held nothing to the absolute loathing I hold for him now.
