“You can wipe that smirk off your face, Rodriguez. You’ll get an unbiased evaluation, but don’t think for a second I’m okay with what you both did.”
“I’m not sure what you mean, sir.” Clarke slowly realized Rodriguez wasn’t the only one in trouble. McClunis and Noah had allowed him to remain as acting captain from February through June, but this incident made them re-evaluate Clarke’s readiness for command.
“I have a medical report here. In addition to the burns, the patient had severe bruising to his head and skull, mandibular, and maxillary fractures. Can you explain that?” Noah held up the paperwork from MetroGen.
“Yes, sir. He attacked me and tried to set me on fire. I resorted to physical force to protect myself.” Clarke crossed his arms over his chest.
Noah folded his hands under his chin. “If you’d brought a second person with you, per protocol, physical force would have been unnecessary. Your second would have restrained him. Instead, you were trapped, and your acting captain took the drastic action of using my million-dollar engine as a battering ram. You were lucky a spark from the crash didn’t ignite the gasoline and fricassee you with the victim.”
He opted not to point out that the garage had collapsed and the firetruck had caught fire afterward.
“I can see where it may look bad, sir,” Rodriguez said. “If you could hear us out—”
“In the interest of thoroughness, I am going to do an incident debrief with the team right now. Dismissed. Report to your next shift as scheduled, and do not speak to anyone else about this. You will be contacted in writing. Rodriguez remains acting captain as the circumstances of the victim’s death continues to be reviewed.” His carefully controlled words belied the fury in his tone.
“Thank you, sir,” Rodriguez said with what would be short-lived relief.
“Don’t let it go to your head. Your firehouse will get a spare engine, but if you so much as scratch the paint on it, you’ll be demoted.”
The two left, stricken, no less than they deserved. Good was not always nice. Firefighters were inherent risk-takers, and his job was to determine which risks were worth the gamble. This hadn’t been one of them.
Firehouse 15’s A-shift was full of young and hungry firefighters, even though it was understaffed with seven people instead of the ten-member goal. Shifts B, C, and the part-time D-shift were full shifts of solid people, but none of them had the flare for command. Noah had trusted Soto’s unerring eye at identifying future officers, but somehow, his retirement had left Firehouse 15 in turmoil.
The entire situation was highly irregular. When Soto had privately told Baker of his intention to retire due to worsening lung disease in December, Baker had expected Clarke would be the next captain. Yet when the retirement was made official in January, no recommendation ever came. Despite both senior lieutenant applications, Noah had gone with Clarke under the assumption Soto was behind on paperwork. No one expected Soto’s late recommendation of Rodriguez or that he’d ask McClunis to consider his niece. His departure implied there was a deeper personal schism ongoing inside the firehouse.
Honoring his request had clearly been a mistake.
One mistake had compounded another and led to another protocol violation, which built on the next until it resulted in this God-awful disaster. Noah needed to get to the bottom of the mess before he searched for a different captain candidate.
All he had to do was be his introverted self and let the team talk. The less he said, the more they would speak. Silence was a powerful tool, and a commander listened first before he acted.
All would be revealed with time and patience.
He allowed himself a small smile. Except maybe with yoga girl. That woman needed action, which he sadly didn’t have the chance to give today.
Chapter 2
“You ready?” Theo Jefferson, Erin’s best friend, asked. They were milling around inside one of the two conference rooms at FD headquarters.
“I’m fine. How’s my uniform and hair?” She straightened the navy fabric, hoping her uniform and her braids were in perfect regulation, having made a quick change from yoga class. Her natural hair could be unruly, despite being half-White. Women had to keep their hair short, braided, or tied back, lest it get entangled in the mesh of a fire helmet.
“Fabulous as always.” Theo grinned. “I did my best with my hair, too.” His hair dark blonde hair was gelled back. Like Erin, he’d transferred to Firehouse 15 a year ago. Theo was older and had moved from Cincinnati after the death of his husband. Their shift had teasingly referred to them as the fake-rookies though they were well past their probationary, or rookie, year. “Nervous?”
“To get grilled by McClunis and the invisible fire chief?” Erin raised a shoulder. She’d never met the fire chief. As a rank-and-file firefighter, her battalion chief was God. She’d heard plenty about Chief Baker and nothing at the same time. He was young; he was old; he was a maverick; he was a traditionalist. There were always rumors flying about new initiatives and new plans, but nothing ever materialized.
She bet that he was an ineffective pencil pusher. No vision, no initiative. He’d disbanded the paramedic corp, sticking them with basic EMS ambulances. The Dispatch situation was a disgrace, and Firehouse 15 was crumbling to the ground from the inside.
Speaking of problems in the firehouse, Jacob Carver came in. “I’ve met him. Nice guy. I interviewed with him and gave him a tour of MetroGen once.”
Erin and Theo both rolled their eyes. This past month, Carver, their forty-two-year-old probie, ex-ER doctor, and paramedic had demonstrated he knew zilch about actual firefighting. He constantly forgot basics, like never entering a burning building without a partner. Worse, every single story he told started with ‘Back at MetroGen…’ Everyone knew he’d been an ER doc at the massive hospital complex before his six months in fire academy. If someone hadn’t heard, he told them.
“You ready?” the most recently promoted lieutenant, Vanessa Knight, unknowingly echoed Theo when she arrived. It was atypical to have three lieutenants on the same shift, but there had been problems since the day Vanessa had celebrated her promotion. Not only had her party ended in a screaming match between Luna Rodriguez, Captain Soto, and Aiden Clarke, but they were so understaffed, no one could transfer out. Instead, they got this stupid new-old probie.
“‘I’ve been ready for this my whole life,’” Kevin quotedRudy, the football movie based on a true story of a five-six nothing who wanted to play college ball at Notre Dame. If there was anyone who looked less like Rudy, it was Kevin Jones. He was six feet tall, African American, and built insane muscle despite a strict vegetarian diet. And, unlike Rudy, he didn’t take things deadly serious. Kevin was Aiden’s roommate and the most flippant, carefree member of the group.
“Remember, all we have to do is tell the truth. Stick to the facts,” Vanessa said. At an actual five foot six, Vanessa was a stunning, curvy redhead with green eyes and the distinction of winning Ms. Universe six years ago. At first glance, one would think her figure had been surgically enhanced, but she’d been gifted with Barbie proportions.
Unlike Kevin and Theo who had no inclinations for command, she was stuck in limbo between Aiden and Luna, awaiting her actual duties as lieutenant on A-shift. Erin was eligible to apply at the end of this year, but she didn’t have nearly the drive of Vanessa. A normal person didn’t risk her Ms. Universe perfect face by headbutting another player on the World Cup soccer practice squad and then quit her consequential modeling career to enter the fire academy.
