One

Jack Brandon rolled out of bed just after dawn, dressed in his casual style of traditional Levis over the ankle lace-up boots, a polar tech mock turtle and an old leather jacket. He let his black Bouvier, Shadow, out in the small snow-covered fenced-in backyard. The temperature was still below freezing. Leaving Shadow to his morning ritual, Jack knocked the snow off his boots and went back in the house to finish packing and shutting the house up for a long absence. Before bringing Shadow in, he ground up some Colombian beans for coffee. Jack wouldn’t need breakfast, but Shadow wasn’t big on skipping any meals.

Jack’s father had called him last night and asked him to move in with him. His doctors told him he wasn’t going to get better. His failing heart might give him another year. Jack hadn’t hesitated. He told his dad he and Shadow would be there tomorrow. He called the captain of his Homicide Department and asked for a leave of absence. After a few questions his captain told Jack he could come back anytime, but now he needed to take care of his father. The Department would mail the necessary paperwork to his father’s home. Jack was his best sergeant. He had several awards for valor and his captain hated to lose him. The captain said he would be in touch and put the phone down. Jack would miss the guys in his unit and the challenge of homicide work in Pittsburgh. He knew he would miss the city where real Americans lived and worked. Blue collar was not a bad thing in Pittsburgh.

Jack ran a hand over his chin and decided to skip shaving. Lugging his three bags down the narrow staircase to the front porch, he went back into the house and motioned for Shadow to come in. After feeding Shadow and locking the front door, he pulled on his black watch hat and went down the steps where his Jeep Cherokee was parked at the curb. He signaled Shadow to jump in the back seat.

Throwing his bags in the luggage compartment, Jack glanced at the house and warmed up the Jeep for the trip to Washington, DC. It hadn’t taken long to close up his small Cape Cod house located in Oakland, one of the older neighborhoods of Pittsburgh. His ex-wife Marsha had been gone for five months and had taken anything of value with her. In no uncertain terms she had told Jack her family was right. He would never amount to anything. She wasn’t going to sit around this shack while her husband wasted their lives fighting crime in Pittsburgh. A bullet wound last year followed by a commendation hadn’t helped matters. Marsha cared little for awards without money. She constantly nagged him to ask his father for money.

Why didn’t he get some money from him? Jack told her his dad believed in people making their own way. She said well screw him, too, the tight old bastard. Last week Jack had signed the final divorce papers. She left him his books, Shadow and the house she hated. Life with a high-powered attorney would suit her much better. Jack didn’t expect a wedding invitation. At least he had no alimony to pay and there were no kids. He wondered if her new husband-to-be knew Marsha didn’t believe in post-marital sex.

With the radio tuned to a country music station and with Shadow looking out the window, Jack felt freer than he had in months. He might even sell the Pittsburgh house and try a new career. He got great satisfaction from his job, but wasn’t sure he could handle all the politics Captain Shorer faced every day. Jack was often counseled to be more politically correct and more respectful of his leaders. Captain Shorer was wonderful to him, almost like a second father, but the rest of the hierarchy sucked. Maybe it was time for a change.

No new snow was predicted, but the mountain-sides were covered with deep drifts and the highway had patches of ice and snow. As long as he kept a reasonable speed, 4X4 wouldn’t let him down. He planned to stop in Ligonier at a place he knew. Jack and Shadow never met a cheeseburger they didn’t like.

Shadow was a good listener, and Jack talked things over with him as the Cherokee rolled along route 30 East through the Allegheny Mountains. Two hours later Jack pulled into the small parking lot at the diner. Shadow immediately sat up and howled. Jack told him to be patient and went inside to get two cheeseburgers and a large black coffee. Sitting in the jeep eating his cheeseburger with Shadow watching hopefully from the back seat for a second helping, Jack thought Marsha was partially right. He wasn’t going anywhere in his police career. He loved being on the “job” but recognized he had gone about as far as he could bringing killers to justice in Pittsburgh.

He was in great physical shape. He had been a starting cornerback for the University of Pittsburgh before wrecking his left knee early in the season his senior year. After graduating from Pitt magna cum laude with two majors, one in political science and the other in criminology, Jack took an opportunity to go to Officer Candidate School at the Marine base in Quantico, Virginia. There he ranked at the top of his class and was accepted into Marine Recon School at Camp Lejune, North Carolina. Jack did equally well there. With the training he had received from his father and with his hand-to-hand combat skills from fifteen years of Hapkido, it was easy for him to excel. None of his instructors could beat him.

Early in the Iraqi War, Jack led a sniper team on the leading edge of the Marine Corps advance. After Baghdad fell, his unit moved into the Sunni Triangle near Ramadi. During a night mortar attack, he got enough shrapnel in his left leg to get a ticket home. After recovering, Jack was assigned to Quantico. While there he met and fell in love with a debutante from Washington, DC. After a whirlwind romance he found himself in civilian clothes with a wife and no job. The law enforcement job in Pittsburgh was just too timely and convenient to pass up and he had the credentials.

Now he was at another crossroads. This time he had neither a wife nor a job. Money would not be a problem. He could always find a job, and he knew his Dad was a millionaire several times over. Jack had doubts about going back to the Pittsburgh police. He liked the action and the hunting down of killers, but he hated the bureaucracy. Maybe he would like his father’s world of finance. He could always look for the excitement of living on the edge outside his job. With no responsibilities, he was free to try different paths.

This blog will serialize Barry Kelly’s first novel “Justice Beyond Law” every Wednesday and Saturday. For more by Barry Kelly, visit his Amazon author page.