The Art of Jack Marshall

Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE:

Deputy Jack Marshall

-

"What do we have here, Sheriff?"

An older man, well into his late forties, rested his hand on his belt and scanned the wintry scene before him. He sighed, his breath frosty as he expelled it from his lips.

The land was vast and wide with pine trees sprinkling the white Earth. The cloudy sky left behind memories of a terrible storm.

And beneath the man's feet was the remains of a dog.

"Looks like it's ol'  Mollie. Must've gotten out of Ms. Suzie's yard, froze when the blizzard came."

Pity came across my face as I scratched at my chin. In Lavender, Washington, this was the extent of police work that we'd encounter.

"Marshall, give Ms. Suzie a call. I'll take care of Mollie," Sheriff Joe Williams said. I nodded, hugging myself as I turned around and stomped through the foot of fresh snow.

Returning to the truck with pale cheeks and a red nose, I dug into the side of the door and found my cell phone. Everybody knew everybody. I dialed the nice old lady's number and gave her a ring.

It hummed once. Then twice.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Suzie, it's Deputy Jack Marshall," I huffed, tugging my turtleneck upwards.

"Mr. Marshall. This is unexpected," she replied slowly.

And so was the news that I presented her.

After dealing with the Mollie fiasco and comforting Ms. Suzie, Sheriff Williams and I returned to the station to deal with the paperwork that we let pile up for the last few days. I sat at my desk, writing reports out on my computer, which was from 1999, in the warmth of the office.

The room was small, a couple of desks scattered about that belonged to other officers of varying ranks. Each held its own computer that ran on dial-up, or so it seemed some days. My desk appeared to be the only organized one of the bunch. Papers neatly stacked or filed in their proper places, not a smudge of dirt in sight on the desk, nor a spill from my cup of coffee.

It was my way of staying in control. If I allowed for things to be messy, it only meant that I was a mess, and that just wasn't something I could stand for, especially for my mental health.

Finalizing what I was working on, Joe came marching up to my desk and planted a boot on the edge of it, dirt smearing the edge of the wood. I winced, then glanced up at my boss.

It was a small town, which meant a small department, and a lot more paperwork, but I didn't mind it. It also meant working with the Sheriff more often, and I knew I needed to get in good with the boss if I wanted to get promoted any time soon.

"Why don't you go home, Jack?" Joe said with a pearly grin behind his thick gray beard. "I'm sure little Tilly would love to be playing in the snow with you."

I leaned back in my seat and sighed, "I just gotta finish this--"

"Go home, Jack. Get some rest," Joe said, removing his foot from the surface of my desk. "God knows you need it. Working 50 hours a week. Bless your soul, I don't know why you do it."

"Doin' it for Tilly," I responded, gluing my eyes back on the computer screen. He shrugged at my response.

"S'pose that's a good enough reason. But that's an order, Jack. Go home, it's well past five. I'll wait for Dan to get here and leave myself, I don't need another deputy getting burnt out."