Free Precinct 11 - 01 - The Brotherhood by Jerry B. Jenkins

think you know what that is.”
    “Resignation.”
    The commander nodded. “For all I know, you may lose your passion for the job.” There was that word again. “I would certainly understand. But let me urge you to not make any rash decisions. You will have plenty of time to think this all through, and the evaluation and counseling may prove helpful. There will certainly be no harm in it. I realize how fresh this is, Officer. I mean, it hasn’t been even twenty-four hours. But your job may prove to be your salvation. We have not interacted a lot, but everything I know of you tells me you’re all cop. I know right now you can’t imagine going back on patrol. But the day will come when you will need to do just that. Will you make an effort to trust me on this?”
    “I’ll try.”
    “And can we schedule you for the evaluation and, if deemed necessary, counseling—let’s say within a week after the funeral?”
    Boone nodded.
    Commander Jones stood and shook his hand. “That’s good thinking, son. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Ms. Wells will give you some particulars regarding the department’s involvement in the funeral.”
    Boone raised his eyebrows.
    “That surprise you?” the commander said as he headed to the door. “Your family is our family. Now you don’t have to accept it, but we will work with your funeral director and your church and stand ready to add all the appropriate department pageantry you’ll allow. The entire CPD is eager to be represented and express itself to you, Officer Drake, and I hope you’ll allow us to do just that.”
    Ms. Wells outlined a package that called for Boone to be furloughed for up to twenty working days, during which he would be evaluated for counseling, and then it would be determined—between him and the department—when he would be eligible to return to duty. “You may be eager to get back on the job, or you may need more time. Within reason, we will accommodate you.”
    “And this funeral thing?”
    “My advice would be to simply say it’s all right to, as Commander Jones said, let us work with your people. You handle the arrangements however you wish, and we will come alongside to add to the program. You may rest assured that it will be dignified, appropriate, and if I may put it this way, impressive. You will be glad you allowed us to be part of it. May I record that you are open to this?”
    “I guess; sure.”

7
    The Wilderness
    Boone owed a LOT to his parents, Ambrose and Lucy Drake. Whatever he was, whatever he had become, they had helped shape him. Problem was, his father was a know-it-all who pretty much did know it all, and his mother overspiritualized everything and tended toward the dramatic.
    Well, that was an understatement. By the time Boone got out of his meeting with Bonnie Wells, he was well aware his parents had arrived. Jack Keller was in the commander’s office with them, and Boone could tell from Heathcliff Jones’s look that he was doing all he could to tolerate the intrusion. Even before entering, Boone could hear his mother going on about “proud of him,” “devastated,” “don’t know how he’s going to cope,” “says such wonderful things about his job,” and “loves the dickens out of you.”
    She wasn’t beyond embellishing. Boone could not remember having ever mentioned the commander to his parents. He certainly had spoken highly of Jack Keller, so maybe she was confusing the two.
    While Boone appreciated his parents to a degree, he believed he had made parenting easy and had said as much to friends and to Nikki. He knew how that sounded, but it was true. When he got to his teen years and his friends were rebelling and doing whatever they could to make life miserable for their parents, he saw no future in that and became essentially a model son.
    It wasn’t that he idolized them or put them on a pedestal; they were flawed human beings like everyone else. And while there was much to admire about both of them—his