Page 20 of Forged By Fire

Leslie jumped to her feet. “I’d like to go with you.” Anything was better than sitting around the house by herself, waiting for something to happen.

“I was going to suggest the same. Let’s put those security alarm stickers on the doors and head out. We can grab something for dinner afterward. Should we take something back to the hospital for Danny and Becca?”

That Clint had thought about them warmed her heart. “No, we’ve got a schedule set up. Someone else will take dinner to them tonight. I’ve been assigned tomorrow night.”

“It’s a good thing when people are there for each other like that. It’s similar at the precinct. Everyone looks out for each other. Tia’s usually in charge of the meal train and the prayer chain. We never turn down a reason to celebrate.”

“Neither do we. We’re like a family.” Something that Leslie, with very little family of her own, certainly appreciated. Sometimes she felt closer to the people she worked with than she did her own sister.

That feeling stuck with her as they pulled up to thefire station. Sure, she always looked forward to her days off when she could relax, get some good sleep, and catch up on things. But she never dreaded going back to work. She loved being a firefighter and helping others when they were experiencing some of their worst moments.

She got out of Clint’s patrol car and led the way into the station. It took a few minutes to make their way to the chief’s office as she was stopped and greeted by multiple co-workers. Some of them she didn’t always see because they were on different shifts.

“We’re praying for Danny.”

“Let us know if you need anything.”

Leslie smiled and thanked everyone for their kindness.

They didn’t need to knock on Chief Menendez’s door. Instead, he waved them in and motioned for them to close the door. They exchanged pleasantries as she and Clint took seats.

The chief didn’t waste any time once they were settled. He picked up a blue folder and handed it to Clint. “I went through and compiled a list of every call we’ve been on in the last year where someone was hurt or killed. I also included those that led to an investigation by the PD. I imagine you’ll have more details on those cases.”

“This is great. Thank you.” Clint opened the folder.

Leslie counted at least a dozen papers tucked in there. She tried to think through the different calls they’d had over the last year. Thankfully, the instances where they couldn’t help someone in time, or where someone was already injured or worse when they got there, were few. Still, it was smart to take a second look at them. She hoped Clint would let her look through them. Maybe something would jog a memory that could be helpful.

Clint nodded. “This is very thorough. I appreciate the assistance. Did you find anything about the equipment?”

Chief Menendez’s expression tightened. “I reached out to each of the stations in town and had them go through their equipment and list anything that was missing. There’s nearly an entire set of personal protective equipment missing from station four, including a self-contained breathing apparatus.”

Leslie gasped. “How did that happen?” Each firefighter was required to keep track of, clean, and store away their own gear. If any of them misplaced their equipment… well, she wasn’t sure how bad it would be because, as long as she’d been working for the department, it hadn’t happened.

“That’s not all.” Chief Menendez folded his hands together and rested them on the top of his desk. “We may have discovered a potential suspect: a firefighter who was deemed unfit for duty at the same station.”

Chapter Twelve

When Chief Menendez mentioned they might have a possible suspect, Leslie stared at her boss in disbelief. “Another firefighter? How’s that possible? Even if he was considered unfit for duty, how could targeting other firefighters possibly accomplish anything?”

Clint completely understood her reluctance to believe something like that could happen. But he’d seen it himself in the police department two years ago when one of their officers had been working with a local drug cartel. They hadn’t seen it coming, and it’d nearly led to the death of another officer. The betrayal had been real and extremely difficult for the whole precinct to grasp.

Chief Menendez looked equally displeased about the possibility. He pulled another file out and slid it across the desk. “Domingo Ortiz. There had been some question about his mental fitness after his psychological evaluation, but nothing that could be pinpointed. He passed that and then made it through the fire academy by the skin of histeeth. However, he was caught stealing from the station. Mostly food that he swore were leftovers and that he was giving to a family member who didn’t have enough to eat.”

While certainly not ideal, there had to be a better way of making sure his family ate—that didn’t seem like enough grounds to let Ortiz go. “I take it he started to diversify his acquisitions.”

“You could say that. Office supplies began to go missing, then small electronics. A fellow firefighter’s smartwatch, a video game cartridge for the station’s gaming system, things like that. He was finally caught when, during his shift, he was handing off a set of turnout gear to a friend in the parking lot.” Menendez lifted an eyebrow. “Needless to say, that was the end of that. He was re-evaluated by a psychologist and found to have issues with impulse control and was officially diagnosed with kleptomania.”

Leslie leaned toward Clint and scanned the open file on the desk in front of them. “I don’t remember ever meeting this man before. All of this was almost a year ago. Do we have any idea how long the set of gear had been missing?”

“It’s been at least a month. Beyond that, though, we don’t know.” Chief Menendez frowned, the lines at the corners of his mouth deepening. “The fact we didn’t even know the gear was missing is something that’ll be addressed in a separate internal investigation.”

There were so many factors at play here. It sounded extremely likely that Ortiz was the one who took the gear. Did he take it to keep for himself, or did he try to sell it to make some money? Admittedly, Clint knew very little about kleptomania and made a mental note to speak to their station’s resident psychologist for more insight.

“We’re going to need to contact Ortiz and questionhim.” Clint tapped the file. “Is the address you show here still current?”

“It’s the last known address we had for him. But it’s certainly possible he’s moved on since then. I doubt very much he would have sent us a change of address card.”

“I’d like to speak to people who worked with him at Station Four. Is there a best way to go about that?”

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