Page 7 of Inferno

Julio blew out a breath. “I wasn’t on shift when it happened, but I heard about it after. Still, Arson is keeping all this under a tight lid. Is that a good idea?”

“I know.” Greyson nodded. “Secrets don’t do anyone any good, especially considering everything that happened with your predecessor.”

The captain before Julio had been stripped of his rank and fired for having an affair with a female under his command, and for harassing other female firefighters. He’d also taken a harsher approach with rookies, especially the females.

“The higher the quality of our firefighters,” Julio said, “the better the whole department is. But that doesn’t mean we degrade them until they meet the standard.” He leaned forward on the chair and put his elbows on his knees. “It also doesn’t mean we get integrity through transparency by keeping secrets from the public.”

“You want a panic in the city?” Greyson paused. “What happened years ago was a mess. Hard to believe the impact is still being felt, but it was a different department back then. We are who we are now.”

“We need to trust people. Tell them the truth.”

Greyson stared at him. “Commander Herrington advised me to state clearly that if the media obtains any information about these fires, or the person who might be setting them, and the leak is traced back to a firefighter, that person will be fired.”

Julio pressed his lips together.

“So how are we going to get the word out without anyone tracing it back to us?”

He blinked. “Um…Chief?”

“We can’t keep people in the dark.” Greyson leaned forward. “You know that, and I know that. But we need to play this smart. Feed someone enough information the media connects the dots and it can’t be traced back to us.”

“I’ll take another look at the files. See what I can think of.”

“Good.” Greyson pushed his chair back. “I’m heading out.”

“Ashlynn busy tonight?”

The chief’s expression softened. “The PD commissioner has an event, and she’s on hand for that. Something with Vanguard Investigations, I believe. A fundraiser. I’m headed to my house to finish painting the dining room so I can get ready to sell it.” He grabbed a backpack from the floor beside him and stood, setting the bag on the chair.

“Have a good night.”

Greyson nodded. “Be safe.”

Julio jogged down the stairs and wandered the halls back to the residence half of the firehouse, from the half where two stories of offices housed staff who worked normal nine-to-fives. He preferred to be closer to the engine bay even if he drove a red truck with the department emblem on it, only going to scenes as the commander.

His phone buzzed again, and he tugged it out.

From his mom and dad, in a thread with them both even though his dad didn’t text much—the old man preferred the face-to-face of a video call. She’d sent a photo of their latest bowling scores. Julio grinned. She’d improved. He texted back,

I need to go again soon. See if I can beat your high score.

He added a couple of emojis and sent it. A few seconds later he got a couple back, then a firetruck and a firefighter guy along with the words,

Be safe.

Overhead, the dispatch alarm sounded. Ringing through the halls. “Truck eight. Ladder seven. Warehouse fire. Multiple victims trapped.”

A rush of feet came almost immediately, everyone heading to the engine bays. Julio tugged the turnout pants from the slender closet in his bunk room, then pulled on the same turnout coat he’d worn for years. The name CODA on the back had been a decision the brass made when they discovered the double-barrel last name wasn’t going to fit on the jacket. He wasn’t going to choose which of his parents to honor, so in his own way he honored them both.

And the nickname stuck, as if it was a regular nickname and not a lot more.

He jogged out the double doors to the empty engine bay, now an expanse of gleaming floor and rows of shoes on either side of where the trucks would’ve been parked. A swivel chair in the corner, close to the pool table, still rotated.

He strode to his captain truck. The drive to the scene in the wake of two speeding red trucks with lights and sirens going was quick, and he pulled up down the street. The trucks had offloaded personnel and were already rolling out hoses to spray down the flames lighting up the building from inside. Black smoke poured out into the sky.

This end of town, the business was manufacturing, but he had to get on the phone with dispatch to find out who leased the unit. With his clipboard and pen, and the information scribbledin the corner, Julio slapped on his helmet and went to the center of the chaos.

He dialed up his radio and listened to the back and forth between his lieutenants and their people. In a brief break in the conversation, he said, “This is Captain Coda. Situation report.”

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