“What are you apologizing to me for?”
“Suspending you, for one. You’re unsuspended, by the way.”
“What does that mean, ‘unsuspended’?”
He gave a little shrug. “You’ve got your job back, if you want it.”
That didn’t feel like a question I could answer just yet. I looked around at the guys. They’d all stopped working, and they were watching us.
The captain continued. “I also apologize for doubting you when you were telling the truth.”
I stared at him. How did he know I was telling the truth?
“The rookie confirmed every detail of your story,” the captain said.“Every detail he was conscious for, anyway. But then, on top of it, I got a phone call from DeStasio last night. From rehab.”
DeStasio had called the captain from rehab? Were phone calls even allowed?
“He confessed everything. The false report. The locker, the tires, the brick. His OD, and the painkillers. He’s been stealing painkillers from our supplies for months.”
“Wow,” I said. “He did confess everything.”
“He also told me that you saved his life.”
That was unexpected. “Twice,” I confirmed. If you counted not letting him roast alone inside a burning grocery store.
The captain went on. “He’s withdrawn his initial report about what happened at the fire and will submit a new one.”
I lifted my eyebrows.
He nodded. “It will corroborate yours and make it clear that you put your own safety at risk for others that day, acting with extreme courage and pretty much saving his life and the rookie’s.”
“So he’s admitted everything he did wrong?”
“I think so,” the captain said, “unless he’s leaving something out.”
“He swore he was never going to confess,” I said.
“I guess he changed his mind.”
“But—will he be suspended?”
“He will.”
“Will he lose his pension?”
The captain nodded. “Probably.”
“Why would he give all that up? He was getting away with it.”
“He said he owed you big-time,” the captain said. Then he added, “He said he didn’t want to be a villain.”
I didn’t quite know how to feel.
“I was a stupid idiot,” the captain said then. “We were all idiots. We underestimated you and didn’t trust you. And now we’re going to put things right.”
I wasn’t sure things could ever be put right. It made me feel worse,almost, to hear him admit it. But only almost. “How exactly are you going to do that?” I asked.
“I’m not entirely sure,” the captain said. “But I know we’re going to start by driving you down to Boston. With lights and sirens.”
