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Craig’s poor mom. Alarm raced through him, thinking about
    her. His mom had been through enough already, she didn’t need this. He
    couldn’t let some stranger knock on her door, and deliver bad news like this.
    Swiping a hand across his eyes, he stood and faced Captain Jackson.
    “Has anyone informed his family, Sir?”
    “Not yet,” Jackson replied. “That task would be mine or Rev. Winters.”
    Clayton knew Rev. Winters. He’d been police chaplain for as long as Clay
    had been on the force.
    16

    “I’d like to do it sir, if it’s alright with you.”
    “You sure you’re up for that?”
    “I know his family, sir. It might be somewhat easier coming from someone
    they know.”
    Captain Jackson paused a moment before saying, “You don’t look so good
    Marshall. Sit down.”
    He took the chair the Captain motioned him into, trying to come to grips
    with this but also knowing he couldn’t let anyone else tell Craig’s family.
    After a few seconds, he looked up at his superior and pressed Jackson for an
    answer.
    “Well, Captain?”
    Considering the younger man’s request, Captain Jackson agreed it might be
    best if Clay were the one to break the news.
    “Ok, if you feel up to it, go ahead.”
    Relieved, but still visibly shaken, Clayton muttered. “It’s still so hard to
    believe.” Clasping his hands together, he bent at the waist and rested his
    elbows on his knees. “A couple of hours ago he was standing in the kitchen,
    eating cereal!”
    “I know. Just yesterday he invited me to the beach with you guys after my
    shift ended today,” Piterrelli added.
    Looking closely at the younger officer, Clayton saw pain etched in his
    features. Piterrelli was built like a wide receiver with a full head of gray hair,
    even though he was only in his thirties. Just last month he’d invited the
    entire squad to his sister’s wedding in Little Italy. It didn’t matter that Clay
    and Craig were black and Piterrelli was white. The officers in his department
    were close knit and looked out for each other like brothers. You never knew
    what situation you might walk into being a cop. It helped to know you had a
    brother, someone you could trust, to watch your back. This brotherhood
    went beyond race, religion and all color lines. To these guys, the only
    important color—the only color that mattered—was blue.
    “Hell, Mike, I’m sorry man. You’re the one who responded to the call and
    here I am falling apart over here, when you must have gotten the biggest
    shock.”
    “Yeah…” unable to say more Piterrelli, turned away to dry his eyes.
    It was Clay’s turn to do the comforting. He rose and draped an arm across
    Piterrelli’s shoulder, giving his thick shoulders a squeeze.
    “Where is he?”
    17

    “He’s at the morgue Clay, but don’t go over there and don’t let his mother
    go man. He was pretty messed up.”
    Clay gave his shoulder one last squeeze then dropped his right hand to his
    side.
    “This is going to kill his mom.”
    “Yeah.”
    Whatever Piterrelli was going to say was cut short when the front door
    opened, and Reverend Winters strode in. In his sixties with slightly graying
    hair, Reverend Winters had kind eyes behind thick, corrective lenses.
    “We’ve lost a good man,” he said to the entire room. The calm, subdued
    quality of the reverend’s voice reached each officer in the room.
    “The last time I talked to Craig he told me that he couldn’t understand why
    people stayed at a job they hated. ‘How do they get up every morning? I
    love my job,’ he said. ‘I love getting up every morning knowing I can help
    people.”
    Reverend Winters knew everyone grieved differently. Some of these officers
    would work through it by themselves and others may need to talk with
    someone to come to terms with their grief.
    “Maybe you’ll all feel a little better if you remember that. Craig was a
    great policeman, he was a good man and most importantly, Craig Simpson
    was a happy