Half-Past Dawn by Richard Doetsch

backgrounds with similar morals and viewpoints. As far as Jack was concerned, life as it was in his town was the way the world was.
    Jack had been the goalie on his high school hockey team and rode his talent to play Division III at Williams College in Massachusetts. While his father had pushed him to play Division I—the stepping stone to the pros—Jack was under no illusion of ever having the skill set to play in the NHL. He was happy having a good time and enjoying the sport for what it was. It had allowed him to attend a school that his grades couldn’t get him into, and it kept him the center of attention on campus for the first two seasons.
    Jack was all of twenty when his world was turned upside down. His father was a senior VP of a small investment firm and had beenpushing his son toward the power world of finance, badgering him about his grades, his appearance, his reputation. When he ventured into the city, his father ensured that he met with all of the movers and shakers, laying the groundwork for the future. In the summer of his freshman year, he interned at the investment bank Millar and Peabody in Manhattan, and his sophomore year saw him spend eight weeks at Wyeth Investments. But the experience did not have the effect his father had hoped for.
    Earl Nathanson was their neighbor, a successful investment banker, a thrice-divorced father of five who regularly had forgone seeing his children’s baseball games and swim meets for work and the track. Earl’s house next to the Keelers’ was the finest on the block. He always claimed that it would have been three times its size if he didn’t have to pay his three ex-wives and so much child support.
    Jack’s father truly hated the man. He found him despicable not only in his personal life but also in business, having made his money off of questionable trades and the backs of others. They both worked at Wyeth Investments but in different offices. Earl was considered a star in the company, and many said he was the man to learn from, but Jack’s father told him that he was the type to avoid, the type never to aspire to be.
    But three weeks after that lecture, Earl and his father did a significant deal together, one that made them both a considerable amount of money. And in the small celebration in the firm’s conference room, with champagne flowing, Jack watched as his father shook the hand of the man he despised, all the while smiling and laughing, choosing money over principles.
    He looked around the room, seeing men with phony smiles that masked hidden jealousy and agendas, employees driven by greed, all secretly hoping that the next champagne toast would be to them. Jack wondered how many of them would put aside their convictions and dreams to chase the dollar.
    Jack silently railed against his father, his moral compromise for financial success, his lack of genuine honesty in his job. He swore that he was not going to let his dreams die, compromise himself for anything. Unbeknownst to his father, Jack formed his own plans.
    It was in the summer, just before the start of his junior year, that he finally declared his major: criminal justice, a major that his father frowned upon.
    Jack Keeler took the New York City police entrance exam in his senior year of college and headed to the Police Academy—much to the disappointment of his father—the day after graduation, his degree and pedigree making him a unique commodity in the New York City Police department.
    It turned out that Jack was gifted with a gun, finishing head of his class at the range. He represented the N.Y. Police Academy at several competitions, always taking home the top prize. He never had a love for guns but found them to be like an extension of his body. His skill with a pistol in the obstacle-laden practical shooting courses was only bested by his ability with a rifle. His instructors recommended him for SWAT and made the military aware of his talent, but Jack would have none of it. He wanted