9:45 P.M.
THE ALARM BELL rang. Over the PA came the static-filled message: “Report of a ten-seventy-five, Box 453, Engine 33 and Truck 44, Battalion 14.” Other trucks needed would be announced in their own houses.
Sophie bounded out of the common room where she’d been watching a Yankees game with her group. She reached the bay, sent her shoes flying, stepped into the heavy turnout pants and rubber boots and adjusted the suspenders. Along with the other ten firefighters, she headed for the rigs. Murray was in the truck first, as always. Holding the computer printout of the run’s details, Mackenzie rode shotgun; Sophie piled into the back with Jules between her and Bilotti.
“Ready, probie?” she asked, but gave Julian’s arm a squeeze.
“Yes, ma’am.” It was only his third fire, and the other two were simple ones, in a kitchen and a car.
“Stick with me, Torres,” the cap told him as they pulled out of the bay onto West Third. “What did I tell you about fire?”
“Um, you can hear, see and smell it. It has a voice. I should listen for it.”
“Make sure you do that. You’re on the line now.”
Radio communication from dispatch blared out as Murray honked the horn and darted in and out of traffic. The streets were filled with cars and cabs. “Small hotel fire on Spring Street. Heavy flames showing from the front windows on the third floor. Three alarms—Squad 28 and Engine 30 Ladder 41 already on the scene.”
“I know that place.” Bilotti scowled. “Remember, Murray. Me and you were on light duty a couple of months ago and did some inspections in that area.”
“Right. They had a shitload of citations. We checked back a few weeks ago, some were done, others in the process.”
“Let’s hope more than not.” Mackenzie’s voice was tinged with anger. “Hell, I hate fires in a building that’s not up to code. Never know what’s gonna bite you in the ass.”
They came to a grinding halt at the scene. Generator lights had been set up, creating beacons of eerie light, and emergency vehicles were angled at different spots in the parking lot and on the street.
Exiting the rig, Mackenzie hustled to Incident Command, from where the battalion chief would direct the fire ground. The rest waited at the rig; their assignment would determine where to park. Sophie could see the first-in engine guys raising their ladder to the second floor. On the fourth floor, smoke the color of dirt curled out the broken windows. From the truck, a gritty smell assaulted them. As they watched, more glass shattered.
Mackenzie climbed back in and told Murray to park the rig. “Heavy smoke conditions and high heat. Companies inside report second-floor flames have burned through doorways and the wainscoting is on fire. The fire room is located at a dead-end corridor.” When the truck stopped, he finished, “Be prepared, they can hear screams from other rooms in the hallway.”
“Is the standpipe workin’?” Bilotti asked as they shuffled out of the truck.
“Yeah.”
At the southwest corner of the building, Murray hit the brakes but didn’t turn off the rig. “At least they got that fixed.”
“We’ll raise the platform to the fourth-floor rooms on this end.” Mackenzie had to shout over the noise of the truck, the water slapping inside and people at the windows calling for help. More sirens echoed in the distance.
Everyone sprang into action. While the other four operated the platform, Sophie and Bilotti dragged another ladder off the rig. Her eyes began to water as the two of them carried it to their designated location and propped it up to a second-story window where a man was yelling, “Help me. I’m stuck.”
Torres came running back. “Cap said for me to heel the ladder.”
“We’re goin’ up,” Bilotti barked to Jules as he put his face mask on. “Come on, Sophie baby. It’s showtime.”
10:01 P.M.
“HEY, TURN DOWN the music. “ Patrick held up the television remote and shouted the words to Liam, who was clearing some glasses from a table. The dinner crowd had left long ago, and there was a sizable but quiet group nursing drinks at the bar. C.J. and Aidan were among them, cuddled up at one end, whispering and laughing.
Liam switched off the music and crossed to the TV. He looked up to the screen, mounted high on a wall, and saw Rachel Scott on the camera, with trucks behind her. Fire trucks. “What’s she up to now?”
“Coverin’ some kind of emergency.” Pat turned up the sound.
“Rachel Scott reporting live from Spring Street where a fire has broken out in the Concord Hotel. It’s a four-alarm blaze, which means several companies were called in.”
Liam felt a few prickles of fear. “Spring Street’s only a mile or so away.”
Aidan took a swig his beer. “Why—oh, is Sophie working tonight?”
“Yeah. She’s on the next four days.”
Sinking onto the stool, blanking his mind, Liam watched the screen.
A firefighter walked by and Scott stopped him. “WNYC News. Can you give us any details, sir?”
“Step back, ma’am. You’re in the way.” When she opened her mouth to speak, the man, whose face was blackened with soot, barked, “Now!”
Scott retreated and the screen switched to a pan of the fire scene. Flames billowed from windows and thick black smoke hung menacingly in the air; the microphone picked up screams coming from the building.
C.J. said, “Listen to those poor people.”
The camera zoomed in on firefighters laying ladders, climbing them. Scott’s voice-over came on. “At this point, the FDNY is mounting exterior and interior attacks.”
“Where would Sophie be?” Pat asked.
Liam had listened to the spiel about who did what only a few weeks ago when Mike’s class went to the firehouse. “She could be up in the platform, on another ladder or inside looking for victims. The engine guys put out the fires. The truck crew opens the doors, does search and rescue. Outside, they’d be getting victims down with the ladders.”
In a gesture meant to comfort, Aidan placed his hand on Liam’s shoulder. “There’s a lot of them outside. Maybe she’s there. Seems like that’d be safer.”
Saying nothing, Liam swallowed hard. They all knew there was nothing safe about any of what they were witnessing on live TV.
10:30 P.M.
FLAMES LAPPED at the roof of the building. The eaves were smoking and starting to light up. From below, Sophie took a sip of water in between gulps of air. She’d brought four people down the ladder, and somebody else was spelling her.
Mackenzie approached them. “Good news. Engine 30 made their way to the room over the fire. They knocked it down as well as the extension fire on the roof.”
As she watched, Sophie could see Squad 28 play their hose out the window and wet the eaves. Mackenzie listened to his radio. “Smoke conditions on the sixth floor are tenable. They’re cooling down the hallways and approaching the guest rooms. Get ready to go up again,” he said to Sophie. “We raised another ladder for the third-floor survivors that the inside crews find.”
If there were any. Sophie knew there’d be casualties. It was just a question of how many, she thought as she strode to the ladder.
“Go.” Mackenzie motioned with his hand. “Victims found in the interior and are being brought to the windows.” Weary though she was, adrenaline shot through Sophie as she replaced her helmet and climbed the rungs. A firefighter from another company was at the opening where a window used to be and cocked his head at her. He was holding on to a big man with a lot of flab, who was semi-unconscious. “Shit,” the firefighter spat out when he saw Sophie. It took her a minute to recognize Lance Callahan, one of the assholes who’d transferred when she came on board.
“Son of a bitch, Callahan. Just give him to me.”
“Whatever you say.”
It took Callahan and another guy to get the man through the window; with effort they managed to ease him out onto the ladder and into Sophie’s grasp. Sophie pressed the victim’s back against the rungs, jammed her hands under his armpits and grabbed the side rails; her knee slid under his groin. She grunted as she took the first step down, slowly, keeping her balance and maintaining her grip. With the man’s considerable bulk, her breathing became more labored. Then he started to rouse, move. “Stay calm, sir,” she told him. “Just a few more steps.”
Unfortunately, the victim became agitated. “What the...” He looked around frantically then bucked forward.
Sophie gripped the rails tighter. “Stop moving! We’re almost at the bottom.”
A boom sounded from the other side of the building and shook the ladder. “What the fuck, I’m gonna die,” he gasped.
“No, we’re outside, we’re almost—”
The sentence broke off as the man brought arms the size of tree limbs up and broke her hold. They both fell the last ten feet to the ground.
10:45 P.M.
LIAM DIDN’T TOUCH the beer in front of him. His eyes were focused intently on Rachel Scott’s face. “I’m happy to report that the blaze is now under control. We have with us Battalion Chief Dugan, in charge of public relations for the FDNY Manhattan. Chief, can you tell us the extent of the casualties?”
Somber and scowling, the chief did not look happy to be interviewed. “Not at the moment.”
She edged the microphone in closer. “Were there casualties?”
“Yes.”
“Patrons of the hotel? Or firefighters?”
He hesitated.
“Chief, were any of America’s Bravest hurt? Or worse?”
“We had some injuries, all right? Knocking down a fully involved fire and rescuing that many people takes its toll. Some firefighters from the various companies are on their way to the hospital.”
“Are there any fatalities among the crews?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
Pat looked heavenward. “Thank the good Lord. I hope Sophie’s okay.”
“Me, too.” Liam’s voice came out as a croak when he commented.
The silence in the bar was broken only by street noise and the drone of Scott on screen. Pat’s cell phone shrilled out, startling Liam. His brother clicked on. “Hey. Yeah, we saw it on the news.” He waited. “What? Oh, shit. Just a second, a ghrá.” Pat handed Liam the phone. “It’s Brie.”
“Are the boys okay?”
“Mikey’s not,” she said. “He watched the newscast on a TV in the spare room where he and Cleary were supposed to be sleeping. He’s upset. He wants to know if Sophie’s okay.”
“I’ll call her.” He stifled his own emotion. “I’ll be back in touch when...” If? “... I get her.”
11:30 P.M.
IN THE EMERGENCY room of Memorial Hospital, Sophie watched the TV as she waited for her turn to see the doctor. The footage of the fire dominated the airwaves tonight.
“Soph, you okay?” Cooper asked when he came out of the treatment area. He’d had some smoke inhalation and had to have his lungs checked out after the most seriously hurt were seen.
“I’m pissed as hell.”
He dropped down across from her. “How’s the shoulder?”
“Hurts like a bitch. Fuck, if that guy had just held on.”
Cooper’s brown eyes were sympathetic. “Happens to all of us.”
“Yeah, well, all of you won’t be accused of being too weak to hold on to the person you rescued. Goddamn it, the women in the department don’t need this.”
Cooper just grunted.
“None of us could have stopped what happened, Tyler.” This from Mackenzie, who was with them but unharmed. Their truck had been taken out of service for the rest of the shift. The probie was fast asleep on a chair.
“Yeah, sure, Cap. But that’s not what my fan club’s gonna say.”
Murray, who’d been treated for a burn and now had a bandaged wrist, sank back into this chair. “Fuck them.”
“They accuse me of doing that, too. With all you jokers.” She snorted. “As if.”
Even Bilotti chuckled; he’d come a long way, but the women infiltrating his department—his term—wasn’t his favorite topic.
Glancing at the screen, Sophie said, “Tehan’s going to talk.”
Rachel Scott was interviewing Mike Tehan, the structure expert at the scene. How the hell did she still look so good? Her hair was nicely mussed by the wind, and her cheeks flushed prettily. She didn’t even seem tired.
“We’re waiting for news on the cause of the fire. While we do, we asked Inspector Tehan from the city’s arson unit to tell us some of the problems with older buildings such as these. Inspector?”
“The issue here is threefold. First, in older hotels, the fire protection isn’t always up to par. Codes were different when they were built and the city’s had a problem getting all of them updated.”
“You mean the city’s been negligent?”
“No. I mean, we inspect, give them a grace period to get up to speed, then inspect again.”
“Why don’t you just close them down?”
“The law says they get a grace period.”
“What needs to get up to speed in buildings like the Concord Hotel?”
“Some might not have sprinkler systems. Some just water in public areas. Guest rooms might not be equipped with self-closing doors.”
“Can you tell our viewers what the last thing has to do with safety?”
Looking frustrated, Tehan nodded. “Fire needs oxygen to grow. If the blaze starts in a room, and the door is open, it spreads fast. That’s why people even in private homes should keep their bedroom doors closed at night.”
“I see.”
“Yeah, sure you do, sweetheart,” Cooper grumbled. “You got no clue what carelessness causes.”
“What’s the scuttlebutt on the origin, Cap?” Murray asked.
“Room two-seventy-eight.”
“Smoking in bed?”
“Likely.”
“Fuck.”
“Fuck.”
Murray and Cooper mouthed the obscenity simultaneously.
Sophie’s phone vibrated. Frowning, she drew it from her belt. And didn’t recognize the number. She was about to answer it when an attendant called from the ER door, “Sophie Tyler?”
Sophie stood. Whoever it was would have to wait.
12:30 A.M.
“LIAM, THIS is Sophie.” She sounded exhausted. “Sorry I missed your call. When I got your message, I phoned Brie first so she could tell the boys I was fine.”
Liam sighed with relief. Way too much relief. He had to clear his throat before he could say, “That’s okay. Then they know you’re all right?”
“Yes, your sister-in-law told them right away. I’m sorry this upset Mikey. I know he’s fragile.”
“He is. But you’re safe? Not hurt?”
“I got a wrenched shoulder. I just had it checked out. It’s sore as hell. I probably won’t be able to work my next shift at the pub or the firehouse.”
“No worries there. We just wanted to make sure you were safe. Otherwise I wouldn’t have bothered you.”
A hesitation, then she said, “I like that you bothered me.”
“You do? Well, okay.”
“Listen, tell the guys I’ll stop in tomorrow and show you all how I am.”
“Sure, good. See you then.”
There was a hollow feeling in his stomach when Liam disconnected. “She’s safe,” he told Pat, Aidan and C.J. who’d been waiting with Liam for her call. “She was there and hurt her shoulder. She’ll be out of commission for a few days.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Pat put in.
“Bad enough.” He thought about Mikey’s reaction, his son’s fragility and Liam’s own responsibility in this situation. And hoped he’d left the tags on the new clothes he bought yesterday. In a burst of clarity, he knew he wouldn’t be wearing them on a date with Firefighter Tyler.