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For ten years the loss was louder than everything else. Sitting across from them, it wasn't.
"Bailey's dad took him to a Bruins game," Hazel said. "He got to see them play and he got a foam finger and a jersey and he sat so close he could see the ice." She turned to Janine. "Can we go to a Bruins game one day, Mama?"
"Those tickets are really hard to get, bug. But we'll see."
Hazel went back to her empire biscuit, happy enough with that answer. I watched her eat and thought about Dennis Ryan, who had a block of tickets through work and an invitation I'd never answered.
CHAPTER 11
An Unexpected Visitor
JANINE
Most 911 calls have a clear answer. A fire, a car accident, a medical event. Someone needs help, and I send it.
Sometimes the call that comes in isn't one we can solve with an engine company or an ambulance. There's a national crisis line for those calls, but some people don't know it exists. They know 911. In the worst moment of their life, they dial the number they learned as a kid, and the voice that picks up is mine.
"I don't know why I called this number."
The voice was young, male, and flat in a way that scared me more than screaming would have. People in crisis screamed, cried, lost control of their breathing. This voice had passed through all of that into something decided.
"I'm glad you did. My name is Janine. Can you tell me yours?"
A long pause.
"Rowan."
"Rowan, can you tell me where you are?"
He gave me a street name and a building. The wind on the microphone told me the rest. He was outside, up high, and the traffic sounds were below him, not around him.
"Rowan, are you on a roof?"
"Yeah."
My fingers moved across the console. Engine 19, Ladder 20. Psychiatric emergency, elevated risk. Location sent to the police dispatcher on the shared channel.
The radio crackled.
"Engine 19 responding. Copy, psychiatric emergency, elevated risk. ETA four minutes."
Alex's voice. Steady, the way it always was.
Four minutes. I had to keep Rowan on this line for four minutes.
"Help is on its way, Rowan. Can you tell me what's happening?"
"It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me. You called."
The wind moved across the microphone again. I waited.
"I owe people money. A lot of money."
"What was the money for?"
"Gambling. It started with cards, then sports betting, then I was borrowing from people who don't send invoices. They send other things."
