Unless he proved himself worthy of their trust. The only success thus far had been Leslie’s recruitment of a third woman into Firehouse 15’s A-shift. Should his new initiatives take hold and he recruits women into the rookie class, some of the women might reconsider. Women sharing a shift normalized their presence and improved retention, something Chief Pegg had failed to consider.
It was by far not his only failure. Beyond a high-profile refusal of mutual aid, the twenty closed firehouses had sown the seeds of bitterness inside the department. As a consequence, the department was struggling to recruit men, let alone women. Still, he knew McClunis wanted her women to beat the men at their own game. But the scent of nepotism around Lieutenant Luna Rodriguez’s consideration for captain was not appreciated.
“Talent is talent,” Noah reminded her.
“I don’t care if she had an excellent score on the civil service exam for fire captain and whether she performed as well as Clarke on the live-fire exam. Clarke was fine as acting captain. If Soto hadn’t come to me with his recommendation and personally asked me to give her a one-month trial at captain, none of this would have happened.”
“But you gave permission for her to spend July as acting captain over Clarke,” Noah pointed out as she allowed Rodriguez her trial. It was out of character for McClunis and her famously iron spine to bend that far. Then again, Soto had faithfully served Cleveland FD for forty years, so his words carried weight.
“He vouched for her! I didn’t know it was going to be a clusterfu—” She quickly adjusted her language. “The point is, she’s obviously too green. Too emotional. Total hothead.”
“Really, Fireball?” Noah teased, using the nickname indicating McClunis’ bright red hair and whippet-thin body. There was the pot calling the kettle black.
“She’s too young,” McClunis fake pouted, “and so are you.”
“If that’s the best you can do, no wonder Soto bested you.” Noah had a great deal of affection for McClunis, but he sometimes needed to rein her in. Hopefully, this wouldn’t be one of these times, especially since McClunis was partially responsible for the situation.
“Sir?” His main administrative assistant, Penny, peeked through the door. Most fire chiefs kept a personal aide from the ranks, but they were spread thin enough that Baker reserved the aides for his battalion and section chiefs during incidents. Noah made do with two administrative assistants. “The lieutenants from 15 are here.”
“Send them in,” Noah requested with his best ‘everything is normal here’ tone. McClunis moved to the chair next to him.
Two navy uniformed lieutenants in their early thirties entered and stood at attention. They looked less concerned than Noah expected. They would feel otherwise soon.
“Be seated.”
The two obeyed, glancing between himself and their battalion chief. McClunis could have petrified them with her eyes. Noah schooled himself into his best ‘Fire Chief Baker’ neutral expression. He hoped his tone matched. “Lieutenants, I would like to hear in your own words how this happened.”
“How what happened, sir?” Luna Rodriguez asked. She was shorter than her counterpart with chestnut hair tied back in a neat bun.
Noah blinked at her words as he was fairly certain she didn’t grasp the enormity of the situation. “On your last shift, you crashed a fire engine into a garage.”
“That is true,” Aiden Clarke agreed. He was a White man with light brown hair and seemed to be more aware of the broiling fury of his battalion chief. He had a slight smirk since he’d served as interim captain for months before Rodriguez’s one-month trial had ended rather ingloriously. “At the time, it made sense.”
McClunis cut in, clear reproach in her tone, “Beyond destroying the engine and garage, the civilian you tried to rescue died from his injuries at MetroGeneral Hospital!” McClunis got louder with every word.
Rodriguez sounded defensive when she protested, “If you understood the situation—”
“I know the situation. You have only two years under your belt as a lieutenant. You don’t think. You act. You don’t have vision. You have ‘feelings.’ You skimp on protocol with hunches. Your uncle might have allowed you to act this way but—”
“Ma’am,” Clarke interrupted, “she was trying to save my life. The victim locked me in the garage, intent on burning it down. I didn’t have my air and faced dying of smoke inhalation.”
“Why were you in the garage without your personal protective equipment? Where was your SCBA?” The battalion chief referred to their self-contained breathing apparatus (SCBA) which held forty minutes of compressed air.
“The victim wouldn’t trust us while wearing the SCBA. Clarke left his outside,” Rodriguez jumped in before Clarke could respond.
“Who approved that?” McClunis spat.
“I did. I heard Clarke’s plan over the open channel and allowed it to proceed.” Rodriguez was going to the mattresses, fully aware her single stint as captain had ended poorly. “We didn’t have any backup coming. We suspected something was burning in the house, and we needed to gain his trust. Dispatch said it was a minor kitchen fire.”
“Which you turned into a major incident! This is what happens when we make exceptions, even for Soto!” McClunis faced her chief. “Do you hear this?”
He raised his hand. “I have heard you, and I think you should sit this one out.”
“On part of my battalion?” McClunis’s tirade came to a screeching halt.
“I know but trust me. Firehouse 15 will be in good hands with me as judge.” Noah had to put a stop to this now. Luna Rodriguez would be judged on her own merits without the added interference of her uncle, who muddied the waters. Whatever complicated history existed between McClunis and Soto needed to be absent, as there was definitely more to this event than met the eye.
As furious as it made her, his battalion chief did not question his authority in front of two subordinates. McClunis saw herself out, and the two lieutenants noticeably relaxed.
