Chapter 12
“We’re all cursed in our own ways.”
-Aaron
Ten years ago, The Squad Room started as a cop bar. Wysdom’s Uncle Dixon Abreo opened it when he retired from the force. Dix wanted a place where officers could get a hot lunch on their breaks - in five minutes or less - because you never knew when the next call would come in.
Over time, The Squad Room became a gathering place for all of Flamingo Cove’s first responders. On any given night, the mismatched tables on the black and white checkered floor were full of firefighters, police, nurses, EMTs, and the occasional forestry service agent.
Only firefighters in here today, though.
“Chief,” Nadine Salazar greets me as I enter the door. “It’s so good of you to come.”
“Wouldn’t miss it, Nadine,” I pull the petite woman in for a bear hug. “Nimble was one of the best.”
Nadine pulls back, and for a brief second, her watery green eyes light up with laughter as she remembers Jack’s nickname. Everyone on the team had one.
Had.
Not too many of us left these days.
“The man always managed to hop over a hot spot without getting singed,” a deep voice adds.
I turn and face Tarron “Rip” Brenner, another member of our Flame Jumpers Team. “Rip! Good to see you, man.”
He knocks away the hand I stretch out and grabs me into a bro hug instead, patting me hard on the back. “Good to see you.”
Rip steps back, wiggles his nose, coughs, then smiles. “How about we get some drinks, yeah?”
He doesn’t wait for me to answer. Rip threads through the packed crowd to reach the bar, where Dix is pouring shots and beers as fast as he can.
I can barely make out Dixon’s T-shirt:Nope. Not today.
It seems fitting for the final farewell to Jack “Nimble” Salazar.
I turn back to his widow. Her blonde hair is pulled into a messy ponytail at the nape of her neck. She’s wearing a black dress and two different types of black shoes. I do not point this out for many reasons, but the biggest is - she’s grieving and probably doesn’t even remember getting dressed this morning.
“How are you doing?” I tilt my head.
She wipes her nose with a tissue. “I can’t believe he’s gone. When Rip arrived, I picked up my phone to text Jack and tell him - you’ll never guess who’s in Flamingo Cove. Then, I remembered, Jack was gone. My husband is… gone.”
I nod.
“It happens about twenty times a day,” Nadine shakes her head. “I don’t know when I’ll ever get over that.”
“Who says you have to?” I frown.
She shrugs. “All of the online forums say so.”
“Nadine,” I place my hand on her shoulder. “People grieve in their own ways. There’s no checklist for it. Especially since it was so sudden.”
Her eyes dart to the side.
“What is it?”
She pays extra attention to the soggy tissue in her hand, working it into a snake-like tube. “The car crash was sudden.”
My eyes narrow. “Was there something else that wasn’t sudden?”
