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Part 1 Chapter 5: The Long Night
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The Insurance Nightmare
Dana was sorting through a stack of overnight reports when Assistant Chief Sinclair of Operations stopped at her desk, a file folder tucked under his arm.
“You’re handling this.”
“Handling what?”
“Hartfield’s incident file,” Sinclair said. “Admin tried to ‘streamline’ the database. Merged everything under one case number. Ours, SpecOps’, whoever else’s.”
“And nobody caught that?”
“They caught it. They just didn’t survive it.”
She flipped it open.
Victim was in critical condition upon arrival. Immediate ALS intervention required.
Next page.
Subject was alert and communicative upon transfer.
Next.
Patient reportedly ‘walked it off.’
“…Sir?”
“Yup?”
“Did Hartfield almost die, or was he fine?”
“I have,” he said after a long sigh, “literally no idea.”
It wasn’t spoken out loud, but the whole floor had been off since the accident. People looked up whenever a phone rang, waiting for any change.
Hartfield still hadn’t woken up.
“Maybe there’s a reasonable explanation.”
“Sure. Maybe he did a lap around the ambulance before flatlining.”
“Who else has seen this?”
“Internal Affairs, Legal, and now you. Good luck.”
IA Officer Keller opened the meeting by going straight to the discrepancies.
“Would someone like to explain?”
The room sat in silence.
“We, uh…” Dana cleared her throat. “We’re still reconciling some of the details.”
“You don’t say.”
“There may have been some… administrative mix-ups on the backend.”
“Internal Affairs won’t sign off until we have a clear timeline,” Keller continued. “And since this was on duty, a formal insurance claim is required. We need to determine how much of his care qualifies under active-duty benefits.”
Legal chimed in. “And potential workplace liability."
Dana blinked. “Liability.”
“Standard review,” they said, “if the injury was preventable.”
“So we’re assigning blame to an accident no one can describe.”
“That would be procedure.”
“Sure,” Sinclair finally spoke. “Why break tradition.”
“Insurance and Claims will review before approval. They’ll need additional statements.”
“Well, that sounds like someone else’s problem.”
“No, it’s yours.”
Keller slid the folder across the table.
It stopped in front of Dana.
The next round was Insurance and Claims.
“So, a standard on-duty injury claim?” The adjuster smiled.
“Sure. Let’s call it that.”
They opened the folder. The smile didn’t survive the first page.
“These reports don’t match.”
“Glad you noticed,” she said. “The department worked very hard to make that happen.”
The adjuster drew a deep breath. “Alright. Benefits. At least that part’s simple.”
“Excellent. Start with ‘all.’”
“That’s not how it works.”
“He was injured on duty. That’s exactly how it works.”
“We’ll need to confirm if it qualifies as a workplace injury or—”
“He was on duty.”
“There are nuances. Possibly pre-existing factors—”
“Right,” she said slowly. “A rescue captain with a pre-existing spinal cord injury. That makes sense.”
The adjuster’s pen slipped against the page.
“I’m just saying,” they said quickly, “we need to confirm whether this was an avoidable incident.”
“Do you mean to tell me,” Sinclair cut in, “that you are looking for a way to deny coverage for an officer who is still in the ICU?”
They hesitated.
Sinclair took a sip of coffee.
“…Fine. I’ll approve it.”
“Good call,” Dana said.
They turned to their keyboard. Keys clacked.
“Uh… there’s also long-term disability,” they said carefully. “We’ll need to know if he’s on indefinite leave or returning to work.”
“…He’s in a coma.”
The adjuster stared at the screen.
“Yeah,” Sinclair said. “Good luck figuring that one out.”
Three hours later, Dana went to Benefits Processing.
“I need the status of Hartfield’s claim,” she said.
The clerk didn’t react to the name. “I’ll need a case number.”
She read it off. They pulled up the record.
“Shows as still in review. You’ll need to check back—”
Their hand froze on the mouse. “Wait. That… isn’t right.”
“What isn’t right.”
“It... finalized. Looks like someone flagged it as priority processing, and it got auto-approved.”
“Tell me what got approved,” Sinclair said.
The clerk clicked again. Then they squinted at the screen.
“It looks like his claim was processed under… all eligible categories.”
“Define all,” Dana said.
“Everything. Medical compensation, disability benefits, catastrophic injury coverage, high-risk personnel allowance… and active-duty hazard pay.”
“High-risk allowance and hazard pay. In an insurance claim.”
“It—it’s automatic. The system says he qualifies for all of them.”
“Right. And remind me why an insurance company is covering payroll expenses?”
“...Oh.”
“Reverse it,” she said. “Now.”
“I can’t. It’s finalized.”
“Tell me how much,” Sinclair said.
The clerk turned the monitor. Dana gasped.
“Yeah,” he said. “We can’t fix that. New plan.”
“Which is?”
“We pretend we didn’t see it.”
“You’re telling me,” Keller said, “that we just got an insurance company to pay out a claim so large it qualifies as an operational budget line item?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re also telling me we can’t reverse it?”
“Yes.”
“And how, exactly, do you suggest we explain this?”
“Preferably? We don’t,” Sinclair said.
Keller’s eye twitched.
“To be fair,” Payroll muttered, “he did qualify for all of it.”
Legal raised a hand. “Technically speaking, the claim is completely valid under current policy. Even hazard pay—”
“We billed an external insurer for payroll benefits. Do you not see the issue here?”
“Well… if they approved it, technically, it’s not fraud.”
“You’re telling me the insurance company just… accepted this?”
“They don’t want to challenge it because we submitted all the paperwork correctly,” Dana said.
“Honestly,” Sinclair said, “I respect it.”
Keller looked like he was reconsidering his entire career.
Finally, he let out a long, measured sigh. “So. Just to summarize.”
He picked up his own list of payouts, reading aloud.
“Full medical compensation. Catastrophic injury coverage. Disability benefits. High-risk personnel allowance. Active-duty hazard pay.”
He lowered the paper.
“And no one thought to question this?”
Dana clenched her jaw. “I questioned it.”
Sinclair leaned back. “I accepted it.”
“Fine. We bury it.”
Payroll nodded immediately. “Agreed.”
Legal shrugged. “Works for us.”
“So that’s it? We just… pretend it didn’t happen?”
“You think I want to bring this up?” Keller said. “If we flag it now, someone higher up is gonna ask how we let it happen in the first place.”
Payroll made a small note on their paperwork. “So we’ll just categorize the claim as a fully approved external payout… and classify Hartfield’s file accordingly.”
“…We lock down an entire personnel file just to hide an insurance payout?”
“Yup. Basic self-preservation,” Sinclair said.
“Please tell me there’s at least a good reason for how this happened.”
Legal adjusted their tie. “An intern hit the wrong button.”
Dana sat at her desk, finishing her fourth coffee of the day, when she heard a knock.
“Hey,” a junior officer said. “I need to check something in Hartfield’s file, but I can’t access it. Do you know why it’s locked?”
She reached for her mug. Took a long sip.
“No.”
“You sure?”
“She’s sure.”
Sinclair didn’t break stride as he passed by.
The officer stood there for another second, brows knitting in suspicion, before finally leaving.
She waited until they were fully out of earshot.
Then, slowly, she let her head drop onto the desk.
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