Read Online Precinct 11 - 01 - The Brotherhood by Jerry B. Jenkins - Free Book Online Page B

conference room, and the district commander, a beefy white-haired man in his sixties named Heathcliff Jones, introduced her as Bonnie Wells from Human Resources, benefits division. She expressed the obligatory “I’m sorry for your loss,” and “Thanks for taking the time to meet with me,” then sat before a mountain of papers and forms and notebooks.
    Boone assumed there was a lot he would have to know, but when he looked expectantly at Ms. Wells, she looked to the commander, who said, “I’m going to sit in on this, if you don’t mind, Officer Drake.”
    Boone had rarely spoken to the commander outside of a few official recognitions for his service. “Absolutely.”
    The commander sat next to Ms. Wells and folded his hands before him. “Let me say first, Officer, that you have my sincerest condolences and those of the entire department.”
    “Thank you.”
    “And let me also express my apologies for not having been with you yesterday. Very little could keep me away when one of my people is going through something like that. But as you may or may not know, command staff were at a retreat downstate all day, and there was simply no getting back in time to see you at the hospital. I’m sorry.”
    “Not a problem, sir. I appreciate it.”
    The commander looked to Ms. Wells, who began. “Officer, I will try to keep this as short and clear and informative as I can. I lost my own husband of nearly forty years last fall, and while it was expected and followed a long illness, I know I was in no condition to be hearing all kinds of policies and such even before the funeral.”
    Boone nodded.
    Ms. Wells reminded Boone that he had twenty paid vacation days and thirteen paid holidays, and that with proper protocol and documents, he could combine these and patch them together with what she called bereavement benefits “to give yourself an appropriate amount of paid time away from the job. You need that, and we assume you are aware of the need as well.”
    “I sure don’t feel like working,” Boone said. “And I have no idea when I will.”
    Commander Jones leaned forward. “We’re going to ask you to surrender your weapon, Officer, during the furlough. It’s standard procedure.”
    “You’re worried I’m going to hurt myself?”
    “No, not at all—”
    “Because frankly, I just might.”
    Boone could tell by Ms. Wells’s look that he probably should not have admitted that. She and the commander shared a glance. “To be frank,” Jones said, “that is one concern, but primarily, if you are not going to be policing on work time, we don’t want you policing off duty during a time like this either. There are emotions and so forth not conducive to typically rational police behavior. I’m sure you can understand that.”
    “I do.”
    “I’ve asked your partner to bring in your M4 from the squad, and I’ll be happy to take your department-issue sidearm for safekeeping.”
    Boone stood and unstrapped it, sliding it across the table. “I feel like I’m being suspended, just like in the movies.”
    The commander flashed a smile, then seemed to realize he probably shouldn’t, and it faded. “I’m not asking for your badge, Officer, but we would appreciate if you would temporarily not carry it. This is to keep you from any temptation to act in an official duty during your time off.”
    “Now, sir,” Ms. Wells said, “there is the matter of psychological evaluation and potential counseling.”
    “Oh, I’ll pass.”
    “It’s not something you should avoid, Officer Drake.”
    “But really, I’m okay. I’m not happy, and I don’t know what my future holds, but nothing will be served by subjecting me—”
    “It’s mandatory,” the commander said. “Just like when you’ve fired your weapon in the line of duty. It’s for your own benefit. Now I can see by your face that you want to argue this, Officer, and believe me, I’d feel the same way you do. But there is only one way out of this, and I