Constable Molly Smith 01 - In the Shadow of the Glacier

have been traveling in a time machine rather than a police car. By “tough players,” Smith knew that Evans meant men. “No one else” was, of course, women.
    “You would’ve punched his lights out, eh?” she said.
    “If he insulted my mother like he did yours, count on it.”
    She had a moment of silent satisfaction thinking about Evans being kicked off the force for beating up a journalist.
    They could hear the disturbance before they saw it. A low murmur, growing as they drew closer. An RCMP car blocked the road. Evans slammed his foot onto the brake pedal and avoided a collision by inches.
    Macho idiot, Smith thought, getting out of the vehicle.
    There were about a hundred people on the sidewalk in front of the park. And maybe three times that across the street. A single Trafalgar City cop stood between them. It was Dawn Solway, and her face lit up at the sight of reinforcements.
    Two Mounties got out of their car. Streetlights reflected on the yellow stripe running down their trouser legs, the source of their nickname. “We just got here,” one of them said. “I’m Tocek and this is Chen.”
    “Evans and Smith.”
    “Looks like there might be trouble,” Tocek said.
    Solway came over. “I’m so glad to see you. The mood’s getting ugly.” It must, Smith thought, have been terrifying being the lone cop standing in the middle of the street between the two factions, listening to the murmuring discontent grow.
    Lucky Smith was beside the park gates. Her hand tucked into the right arm of her friend Barry, his left arm an empty sleeve. Faces Smith recognized from around her kitchen table stood behind them. Michael Rockwell held Lucky’s other arm. He said something into her ear. Lucky looked into her daughter’s eyes.
    Smith returned the look.
Strength,
she thought,
Mom’s sending me strength
.
    As if orchestrated by an invisible conductor, the crowd across the street began to chant. “Cowards” and “traitors” were some of the words Smith caught. She turned away from her mother. “We need more people,” she said to Tocek.
    “Yeah, you do, but right now we’re it. You handled a riot before?”
    “No.”
    “You?” he asked Evans.
    “No.”
    “I have, so until help arrives I’m in charge.” He didn’t look to be much older than Smith or Evans, and he was only a constable, like them. She didn’t know what Evans thought, this guy barging onto their patch and taking over, but she was glad that someone was.
    The five officers fanned out across the middle of the street. Smith’s heart was beating so hard she feared it might burst out of her chest, like the alien in
Alien
. She touched her nightstick, just to feel its solid weight under her fingers. She felt her mother watching her.
    “I saw her on TV,” someone screamed. “That cop. The blond one in the middle. She said she’d do whatever was necessary to see the garden built.”
    It took Smith a moment to realize he was talking about her.
    “You’re crazy,” a voice shouted from the garden side, “if you think the cops are with us.”
    Something broke on the pavement beside Smith’s feet. She looked down to see thick brown glass. A beer bottle.
What the hell am I doing here
?
    The line of protesters edged forward.
    “Do you think they’d laugh if I held your hand, Molly?” Solway said in a small voice.
    “Not as much as if I ran for my mommy. Who, unfortunately, is standing right behind us.”
    Tocek stepped forward. “Why don’t you folks all go home.”
    “Go home. Go home.” The garden side began to chant. Smith thought that she could hear her mother’s voice, but she couldn’t be sure. What would she do, if it broke into a riot? Save her mother and abandon the other citizens of Trafalgar? This couldn’t be happening. She saw Rich Ashcroft’s cameraman at the edges of the crowd. The red light in the front of his camera glowed. Ashcroft himself was nowhere to be seen, but she didn’t doubt he was moving through the crowd, whispering agitation, rustling up good footage.
    Her radio crackled. Dispatch was asking every officer to report in immediately to the station and pick up control gear. The Mounties’ Emergency Response Team was being called. That unit was too far away to be of much immediate help, but some Mounties lived in Trafalgar; they’d come. Just knowing that all available resources were on the way helped to quell some of the panic churning through Smith’s stomach.
    “Disperse,” Tocek said, in a