Picking Up the Pieces Chapter One
"Nolan," Grey calls from the door of the locker room, "I need to see you in my office before roll call."
"Something wrong, Sir?" Nolan queries, following the sergeant.
Grey motions him to a chair in front of his desk. "Sit down, John. There was a fire early this morning, a factory converted to lofts. Bailey's station was one of the ones called out. There were a lot of tenants to evacuate. Bailey was getting out the last one when the building flashed over. Her captain called me because he knew you'd be here. Bailey didn't make it, John. I'm so sorry. She's gone."
John stares at his watch commander. "It must be a mistake. Bailey knows all the signs that a flashover's coming. She'd get out."
"She tried, John. From what her captain told me, another two seconds and she would have been clear. But she didn't have them. Look. I know it's a shock. They're going to have grief counseling set up later at the station. But you should go home. Is there anyone, family, a pastor, I can call to be with you?"
"Henry, maybe. But he's got work. He's got school. I don't know."
"I'll call him, John. No one should go through this kind of a loss alone."
Even with Henry and Abigail's comforting presence in the guest room for the night, John can't sleep. The dark whispers all the things he should have said to Bailey. He'd begun to trust her again, even considering proposing someday. But he'd said nothing. He'd eaten the masterful meals she'd cooked and held her close in bed but never uttered the words. It's too late now. Since he's been in LA, he's lost one woman after another. Ben tried to impress the wisdom of bachelorhood on him. But without a partner, he'd felt unworthy somehow, as if a piece of his life was missing. And now in the wake of the merciless flames, the gaping maw returned. Perhaps it was never meant to be filled. He doesn't know. He's not sure he knows anything anymore. He's not sure he ever did.
John pokes at the eggs Henry scrambled for him, but his stomach revolts at the thought of food. "I'm going to work."
"Dad, do you really think you should?" Henry asks. "I mean if you're distracted you could…."
"Get killed like Bailey?" John finishes. "Except she wasn't distracted, she was determined to serve people, this city, this country, to her last breath. I don't honor her by crawling into a hole. But you don't have to worry about me screwing up on the street. I can ask Grey to put me on the desk."
"Didn't you say there was grief counseling at Bailey's firehouse?" Abigail inquires. "Maybe you should go."
"That's for her fellow firefighters. I'd be an intruder. The division's where I should be, dealing with other people's problems instead of obsessing about my own."
"Call us later," Henry urges.
"I will," John promises.
Lucy throws her arms around Nolan. "John, I'm so sorry."
It feels weird to John to hear sympathy about the loss of his lover from a former one, but he knows Lucy means it. As Tim Bradford looks on from across the room, John draws Lucy's warmth against him. "Thank you." John forces a ghost of a smile. "But you'd better go. You know how Bradford is about getting out there on time."
"You're right. But I'll see you later, John."
"Losing Bailey like that has got to be tough," Tim offers, taking the wheel of the shop he and Lucy share.
"Yeah," Lucy agrees. "I wish there was something I could do."
"You're always trying to fix everyone, Chen," Tim accuses. "You tried to fix me after Isabel pushed me away. You don't like Ashley, so you've been trying to get me away from her too. And you practically begged to be my aide so you could keep fixing me."
"I wanted to be your aide because it would be good for my career," Lucy retorts.
"And how good would it be for your career if people thought you used kneepads to get it?" Tim demands.
Lucy stiffens. "What the hell, Bradford?"
"Blowing up because I bought a new rookie coffee. Constantly watching me. You act jealous, Lucy. Everyone can see it. Haven't you noticed Harper rolling her eyes? And do you know what would happen if I gave in?"
"Gave in to what," Lucy demands "a jealous fixer?"
"The attentions of a very attractive woman who unfortunately happens to be under me in the chain of command. Look, Lucy, I like you. But if anything happened between us I'd be up on charges for taking advantage of a subordinate and opening the department to a sexual harassment suit. If I was lucky, I'd just lose my stripes. And you'd be marked as a cop trying to sleep her way to the top. That would be it, Officer Chen. You'd never rise higher than P2. And no one would trust you with undercover work either. We'd both be digging our professional graves. I don't want that for myself and I don't want it for you either."
Lucy turns away, her arms crossed over her chest. "So what now, Sergeant Bradford? Are you firing me as your aide? We still have undercover identities. We'll have to carry through with those."
Tim smacks his palms against the steering wheel. "I'm not firing you, Lucy. But I need you to understand what we can't let happen here. Chris Stanford told me you ducked out of letting him introduce you to his parents. He's a nice guy. And he's not in the department. He's safe. If you like him, give him a break. And if you don't, let him move on. Ashley's made it clear to me that she's just interested in having a good time. Maybe we can work that out. Maybe not and I'll have to move on too. But I can't move on to you and I won't let you move on to me. If you can't handle that, I'll tell everyone that you pulled out as my aide to devote more time to training for undercover work. And I can go back to having an aide who talks football with me."
"I don't want to quit being your aide," Lucy insists. "I want a career in the department and working with you will help me get it."
"All right. Have it your way. So, what do you know about the Rams?"
Lucy squares her shoulders. "That they're all risking chronic traumatic encephalopathy if they haven't already developed it. Twenty years from now they could have dementia, be suicidal, or both." Tim turns to her with a wounded look. "Oh God, Tim, I'm sorry. I forgot about the terrorists' virus and that you were going to…."
Tim flashes a triumphant grin. "Got you! If you fell for that, Chen, you're still going to fall for any dumb-ass sob story you hear from a suspect. Do you want to build a career; move up in the department? Sit there, be quiet, and listen. You still might learn something."
Nolan watches the steady stream of Angelenos come through the door of the division. He's been listening to their stories all day and filling out the proper forms. He's even been able to help a few of them. But somehow none of it seems real. Nothing seems real. He wishes he could wake up to find he's just had a terrible nightmare. Still, he knows he won't. Bailey's gone and he'll have to find some way to live with it. But he's damned if he knows how.