CHAPTER SIXTEEN | OLIVIA
“Happy Monday, Donna!” I greeted the secretary by name as I strode across the lobby of the Hartford Fire Department headquarters and sauntered up to the reception desk.
Donna’s abnormally small head poked out from behind her computer monitor. She squinted up at me with a pair of beady black eyes, then she glared down at the jumbo plastic cooler that I was carrying.
“I’ve got your usual!” I announced, plucking up a cup from the cooler and passing it over the desk. “Venti iced nonfat hazelnut latte.”
Donna grunted ambiguously, and I plastered on my friendliest smile as I readjusted the cooler against my chest and trudged onwards through the office.
It was Monday morning, and today marked the start of my second week at the Hartford Fire Department. After a borderline disastrous first week on the job, I was determined to turn over a new leaf and start things off on the right foot.
Step one: turn those lemons into lemonade.
I wasn’t exactly thrilled to be the office errand girl, but if Perkins was going to keep me on coffee duty for the foreseeable future, I could at least get the Starbucks routine down pat.
Inspiration had struck on Sunday night when I spotted a display of plastic coolers at the grocery store.
Turns out it’s hell of a lot easier to haul around a dozen plastic Starbucks cups when they’re neatly packed inside of one jumbo-sized picnic cooler, as opposed to those flimsy cardboard drink trays.
Streamlining my coffee routine was a good start, but I knew that there was a much bigger lemon waiting for me at the office. I also knew that this was one lemon that couldn’t be turned into lemonade.
Scott Fuller.
After spending the weekend replaying the scene from Rusty’s Tavern in my head and weighing my options, I had finally determined that the only way to move forward was to confront that lemon head-on.
I knew that I had to go to Perkins. I knew that I had to tell my boss what had happened on Friday night.
Even though I had rehearsed the conversation a dozen times over in my head, I still felt pangs of dread flood my body as I strode through the office with my jumbo-sized cooler full of Starbucks drinks and a cheesy smile plastered on my face.
On the outside, I looked confident and strong. On the inside, I felt about as confident as my mushy grey omelet.
I had planned on making a lap around the office to deliver drinks before I went to talk to Perkins, but my boss beat me to the punch. Before I could distribute the first Frappuccino from my cooler, Perkins intercepted me:
“Beck, can I have a word with you in my office?”
My fake smile immediately slid straight off my face and my heart plummeted in my chest. Everything had just been turned upside down. In my head, all of my worst fears were instantly confirmed.
Scott Fuller got to Perkins first. He convinced Perkins this was my fault. Perkins isn’t going to believe me. My reputation is ruined…
I followed Perkins silently into his office and he closed the door behind us. That’s when I noticed that we weren’t alone.
A woman in a stiff black pantsuit was sitting, cross-legged, in a folding chair beside Perkins’ desk.
“Have a seat, Olivia,” she said to me, motioning to an empty chair next to her.
I glanced down at my cooler full of Starbucks cups. Thirty seconds ago I had felt so innovative and clever; now I just felt stupid. I dropped down into the chair, then I placed the cooler at my feet.
“My name is Sydney Walsh,” the woman introduced herself, offering her hand. I gulped before taking it apprehensively.
“Miss Walsh works for the Hartford Police Department,” Perkins explained to me as he squeezed behind his desk and took a seat. “She is here to assist the Fire Department as we conduct our own internal investigation. She will also be your advocate throughout the investigation.”
Hartford Police Department? Internal investigation?! Advocate?!
I felt like a deer caught in the headlights. I must have looked like one, too, because Sydney leaned forward and told me:
“I want you to know that I am on your side, Olivia. I am here to listen and to fight for you.”
“I’m… so confused,” I glanced back and forth between Sydney and Perkins, trying to make sense of what was going on.
“The department has an anonymous whistleblower hotline dedicated for employees,” Perkins explained. “On Saturday, that hotline received an anonymous tip about an alleged assault involving two employees.”
I swallowed heavily as my brain started to piece everything together. I was numb with shock.
“We take reports of assault and misconduct very seriously,” Sydney chimed in, nodding meaningfully at me. “When that tip came in, the chief immediately opened an internal investigation.”
“Miss Walsh and I have already spoken with other employees who were able to corroborate that initial report,” Perkins continued. “But we need to get a detailed statement from you, as well.”
I sunk back into the chair. My head was spinning and my heart was thumping against my chest.
“We have already taken measures to ensure your safety,” Sydney added. “The employee accused of assaulting you has been placed on unpaid leave, pending the results of the investigation. He has also been barred from being on the premises or contacting you. Any violation will result in an immediate arrest.”
Oh. My. God.
“I know this is hard,” Sydney said sympathetically. “But try to remember that we are on your side.”
Those words stuck out to me: we’re on your side.
“Are you ready to make a statement?”
I closed my eyes and tried to imagine that summer day in Rhode Island when the fire chief had tried to kiss me in his truck. That day felt so distant now… I wasn’t that girl anymore, and this wasn’t Rhode Island.
I opened my eyes slowly.
“Yes,” I nodded finally, finding strength from somewhere deep inside of me. “I’m ready to make a statement.”
***
It took half an hour to provide my detailed statement and answer all of Sydney’s questions.
Afterwards, I felt like a hundred pounds of deadweight had been lifted from my shoulders.
“Thank you for being so honest and brave,” Sydney told me as she was packing up her briefcase and preparing to leave Perkins’ office.
“So what happens now?”
“At this stage of the investigation we’re still collecting information,” she explained. “I can’t reveal much, but I can tell you that this isn’t going to be a cut-and-dry case.”
“What do you mean?”
Sydney turned to Perkins, and he sighed grimly behind his desk.
“Once we started interviewing other employees, more allegations of misconduct and harassment started to come out,” he said.
“More allegations… about Scott?” I gulped.
Sydney and Perkins exchanged another look, and I knew that they had already told me more than they should have.
“We have a duty to get to the bottom of every allegation,” Sydney said finally. “No matter how long it takes.”
I felt my stomach twist as I remembered how Gia had rolled her eyes and told me that Scott flirted with all the girls in the office. She had even called him ‘harmless.’ What if he hadn’t been so harmless, after all? What secrets had my coworkers been keeping?
Then I thought about something else.
“The first report that came in,” I said, frowning. “You said that it came in on Saturday?”
“That’s correct,” Sydney nodded. “The report came via the anonymous hotline—”
“Is it really anonymous?” I asked. “I mean… do you know who made the report?”
“You know that I can’t disclose that kind of information,” Sydney said. “All reports are kept confidential.”
Then her face softened, and she added, “But between you and me, I can tell you that the tip came from an employee outside of your division. It wasn’t anybody in this office.”
My frown deepened, and I felt more confused than ever. When Sydney first mentioned an anonymous tip, I had assumed that it was Gia who had called to make a report. But if one of my fellow EMTs hadn’t made the call… then who had?
Sydney said her goodbyes and slipped out of the office. I stood up to follow her, but Perkins stopped me.
“Not so fast,” he said. I slunk back down into my chair.
“There’s something else that I wanted to talk to you about,” he said. “And that something involves a plastic straw and a poolside tracheotomy.”
“Oh, God…” My cheeks went bright red. I had forgotten all about that.
Perkins just smiled.
“You took charge and did what needed to be done,” he told me. “That’s the kind of initiative and decision-making that I like to see out of my EMTs. No more paying dues. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve earned your spot on my crew.”
“Thank you, sir,” I smiled graciously.
“Your timing is impeccable,” he added with a grin. “Now that Fuller’s gone, I’ve got a route up for grabs. It’s all yours if you want it.”
“Are you kidding me?!” My head bobbed forward and my jaw dropped open in disbelief. I quickly regained my composure. “I mean… sir, that’s such an honor!”
“You earned it, Beck,” he said. Then he glanced down at the cooler and added, “But since you already made a coffee run…”
My lips twisted into a genuine smile from ear to ear as I reached into the cooler and extracted Perkins’ signature drink.
“One venti quad-shot breve iced white chocolate mocha with seven pumps of raspberry syrup,” I said from memory, presenting the drink with a proud flourish.
As I stepped out of Perkins’ office with the cooler hugged to my chest, I felt peace. I felt more than peace…
For the first time in a long time, I felt like I belonged.