Fallout

Chapter 7

The Journal of John Nolan

Bailey's in the hospital, and that's all I can think about. As is usual with us, everything started with a date gone wrong. She invited me to a barbecue her mentor firefighter Fred Mitchell had. I was having a good time. I think we both were– until I volunteered to get extra ice from the garage. Then I spotted at least a half-dozen cans of a paint remover used as the accelerant in the murder-arsons.

Bailey came looking for me. At first, I didn't want to tell her what I'd found. But she dragged the truth out of me. She always does. Of course, she didn't want to believe a man she's admired for years could be involved in such heinous crimes. She assured me that Fred used the stripper for his woodworking hobby. But in my twenty years as a contractor, I worked with more wood than a hobbyist could. I never needed that much stripper. And as volatile and flammable as the stuff is, I would never have kept that much around. So I couldn't dismiss my suspicions.

Bailey was determined to prove me wrong. She knew where Fred kept an extra key and went into his house while he was away. She already knew he'd been on vacation in Nevada during the time two similar crimes took place there. She wanted to find receipts or something that would show he was elsewhere when the blazes were set.

She found a file full of paperwork for his trip. But when she dropped some of it under his desk, she found a stash of his trophies, including one from a fire we were investigating. Then she heard Fred come home. So she hid in a closet and called me to help her get out of there. I rang Fred's doorbell, saying any stupid thing I could think of to give Bailey time to escape. Then I called Angela.

I really thought Bailey was safe because the three of us were outside, but then the whole house blew. We were all knocked to the ground. My ears were ringing so loud that I could barely hear Bailey calling for help. She was lying there with shafts of rebar stuck in her leg. She'll live, but what could be more disabling or frustrating for a firefighter or capoeira expert than an injury like that? I don't know who she's more furious at, herself, Fred, or me for dragging her into my suspicions. I hope it's not me. When I saw that metal sticking out of her thigh, I could imagine nothing worse than losing her.

Except perhaps for when Lucy was abducted, I've never wanted to take down a bad guy so much. However, the killer may have taken himself down. The arson investigator found human remains in the house, but they were so severely burned that identifying them as Fred's or anyone else's could be impossible. At the very least, it will take time.

Until that happens, We'll have no idea if Fred is still running around out there somewhere or someone blew him up. Bailey would much rather it be the latter. In her heart, she still hates to think that Fred is or was a predator. But I really don't care if the guilty party is Fred or not. I want to put whoever it is behind bars or six feet under.

At least I don't have to worry about the election. Aaron Thorsen stepped into the breach. He had better posters made and gave me a web presence. Right now, it's hard to care about winning or losing, but I would hate to see things continue as they have under Smitty's too-long tenure.

Grey takes the podium. "First, the union will be announcing the results of the election shortly. Until it does, there's no point in wasting time discussing the race or cheering on your favorite. All votes are already cast and counted.

"Now, I think you're all aware that we may still have a murderer out there who employs fire as a coverup. The LAFD wants this guy as much as we do. So when possible, we'll be coordinating our efforts. However, as the recent treasure hunt showed, we can't afford to ignore anything else that's going on out there. Angelenos never run out of ways to get themselves in trouble.

"So, unless you are informed otherwise, adhere to your regular patrols. We are still seeing a surge in drug activity, and Elijah Stone could make a significant move any day. So keep up your referrals of drug arrests to detectives. Also, remember that if you're in the vicinity of the aquarium supply store, keep your eyes open.

"Under the present conditions, I don't want anyone out there alone. So Chen, with Sergeant Bradford taking a personal day, you team up with Nolan.

"Also, since we are now officially into the holiday season, we will be seeing an increased influx of tourists into the city. So be prepared for a rise in wrong-way drivers and lost souls. Render assistance if possible, but get back on the street as soon as you can. Now go keep this city and yourselves safe."

"John," Lucy asks as they stow their gear in the back of their shop, "how's Bailey doing?"

"She's healing but mad as hell that she can't do it faster."

Lucy sighs. "I can relate to that. Do you want to swing by the hospital at lunch?"

"That would be great. But, hey, do you know why Bradford's taking a day?"

"He said something about family coming to town. I think it's his sister. But you know Tim. He's not big on sharing personal details."

"As opposed to me, who probably shares too much. Are you enjoying being his gofer?"

"Aide," Lucy corrects. "I don't know if enjoying would be the right description. I could have done without watching him come on to Jerry's daughter Ashley. But there's still a lot I can learn from him. So being his aide will be good for my career."

"I would think with your goal of doing undercover work that you could learn more from Harper."

"Maybe, but she's Thorsen's T.O., and they're good together."

"They seem to be," John agrees. "And if anyone can get Thorsen through the hard times, it's Harper."

As Lucy drives the shop into a commercial area, John startles at the crash of shattering glass. "What the hell? Are those guys really trying to pull a robbery in front of a police car? Damn! They are. I'll call it in."

John hurries to catch up with Lucy as she shouts at two men breaking into a surf shop. "Police. Stop. Hands where I can see them."

"I'm not the one you should be arresting," a suspect with flowing Fabio hair protests. "The guy who runs this place stole my board. I'm just trying to get it back."

"It's true," his friend agrees, nodding vigorously. "Frankie brought his board in to get the dings filled in, and the asshole wouldn't give it back."

"We'll call him and get him down here," Nolan offers. "But even if what you're telling us is true, you can't just go breaking into a store."

"I need my board!" Frankie groans. "The fall season is just picking up, and I have to get out there."

"Until we get this straightened out, you're not going anywhere," Lucy informs him as John calls the posted emergency number.

John shakes his head as he shoves his phone back into his pocket. "The line's out of service. It's going to be one of those mornings."