Page 32 of Never Forget
"Come on in." He gestured toward his office. "We can handle the paperwork first."
She followed him across the bay. The door closed behind them.
Sean let out a low whistle. "That's Jamie Donovan? Jack's little sister?"
He'd been on shift the day of the funeral because someone had to man the station, so he hadn't seen her.
"Down, boy." Tyler smirked. "She's got a boyfriend."
"I'm just saying." Sean shrugged. "Jack never mentioned she looked like that."
I shoved his shoulder hard enough to knock him sideways in his chair.
"Easy." Sean laughed, righting himself. "I'm just appreciating the view. Didn't know that was a crime."
We went back to the card game. Or they did. I held my cards and stared at them without seeing a single one. Tyler won the next two hands and I couldn't have told you what I played.
Cap's door opened a few minutes later. Jamie emerged first, Cap behind her.
"Boys." Cap looked over at the card table. "Miss Donovan needs to clear out Jack's locker. One of you want to help her with that?"
Sean started to stand.
I shoved him back down before he got halfway up. "I got it."
Jamie's eyes met mine as I crossed the bay toward her.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey."
We walked to the locker room together.
Jack's locker had his name on the tape in his own handwriting. I stopped in front of it. "Do you have the combination, or do you need me to get bolt cutters?"
"Cap gave it to me." She pulled a slip of paper from her pocket.
She worked the lock with steady hands until it clicked open. She pulled it off and set it on the bench behind her.
I thought I was ready for this. I wasn't. It hit me all at once. All of Jack's things were still inside exactly as he had left them. A spare uniform shirt. A pair of sneakers he kept for after-shift runs. Photos taped to the inside of the door—Rosie on his shoulders, both of them laughing at whoever was behind the camera. Sarah smiling at something off-camera. Jack and Sarah on their wedding day. Jack and Jamie as kids with their arms around each other. A coffee mug that said WORLD'S OKAYEST FIREFIGHTER, a gag gift I'd bought him three Christmases ago.
Jamie stood there for a long moment, just looking.
I didn't say anything. I stood beside her and let her take as long as she needed.
She reached out and touched the photos first. Her fingers traced the edges, gentle, like she was afraid they might disappear.
"He was a good dad," she said quietly.
"Yeah. He was."
She set the photos carefully in the box Cap had given her. Then she started on the rest. The shirt. The sneakers. The mug. Each item placed gently, deliberately, like she was handling pieces of something that couldn't be replaced.
I watched her hands move through Jack's things. The truth sat in my throat like a stone.
I asked him to cover my shift.
He was there because of me.
