Constable Molly Smith 01 - In the Shadow of the Glacier

was saying. “Those boots really do it for me.”
    And she’d thought her three-hundred-dollar heels were sexy.
    The truck jerked. They flew forward and fell back. It jerked again. Duncan struggled with the steering wheel as if he were taming a stallion at the Calgary Stampede. He pulled off the highway and coasted to a stop. The engine died.
    “This isn’t a trick, Molly, really. I know it’s like a joke or something to have the car break down on a dark road on a first date, but I didn’t do anything.”
    Smith believed him. They hadn’t got to her gun belt and boots yet. She pointed to the control panel. “See that ‘E’ there, Duncan, and the needle pointing below it. You’re out of gas.”
    He hit the steering wheel.
    “Go get some. I’ll wait here.” Her cell phone was in her bag. By the time Duncan walked to town and back, she’d have called her dad and be safely home. Like the time she’d left a high school party because they were drinking and a boy had tried to grab her breast. She’d called her dad to come and get her. Her parents had been so proud that she’d done the right thing.
    “I don’t have anything to carry gas in,” Duncan whined.
    “I bet you do. Something’s rattling around in the back. Let’s check.” She jumped out of the truck. Damned thing was so high she almost needed a parachute.
    He was there before her. “No need to look,” he said. “There’s nothing in there. You go get the gas. They’ll have containers at the station. I’ll stay here and guard the truck.”
    “No one’s going to pinch your truck, Duncan. And if they try, well they can’t get far, can they?”
    The headlights were still on. Although they pointed straight ahead they shone a bit of light behind the truck, reflecting off beads of sweat that dotted Duncan’s forehead and upper lip.
    “Why don’t we check it out anyway,” she said, reaching for the cover over the truck bed. “Can’t hurt.”
    “Don’t touch that.”
    This was getting seriously weird. “Why not? Don’t you want to see a cop in action? Let me have a peek and I’ll let you watch me play with my gun.”
    His face slackened, and his pale tongue touched his lower lip, like a reptile taking scent of its surroundings. His grip relaxed, and she tore the cover back from the truck bed. All she could see was a jumble of bicycle wheels.
    Understanding washed over her. Trips to Vancouver, the expensive truck, confrontation with Derochiers. “Duncan,” she said, “what have you been doing?”
    “It’s none of your business, Molly. Forget you saw this. You’re off duty, right?”
    “You’re snatching bikes when I’m about to come by. You’re playing me as if I’m some kind of musical instrument. You think I can forget this? Go to hell.” She headed for the passenger seat and her bag and cell phone.
    He hit her, hard. She grabbed the door handle, missed and went down.
    “God,” he said, “you are so hot.” He dropped to his knees and stuck his hand up her shirt. Clammy hands groped for a breast. “I want you, Molly, so much.”
    She threw an awkward, backward punch into his stomach. He released her with a cry and she jumped to her feet. He stood. His breathing was deep.
    “Give it up, Duncan. I’ve got you for theft. Don’t add assault to the charges. I’m going to get my bag and my phone and make a call, okay?”
    “I’m sorry I touched you. Let’s forget about it. Look, the only reason I’ve hung around Trafalgar is you, Molly. I don’t make squat at your parents’ store, and the tips from the fat middle-aged women I take out on the river are a joke. I need extra cash, and figured if I pinched some bikes, you and I could have fun at the same time. It wasn’t my fault, you know, that I got kicked off the university football team, things just got a little out of hand, but after he got the charges dropped my prick of a dad cut me right off. Why don’t you call CAA, and we’ll both wait here. How’s that sound?”
    “I’m not going to forget I saw those bikes, and I really don’t care how hard done by you are. Back off, Duncan. Do it!”
    He took a step backward. The road fell sharply away into a ditch clogged with dead branches and knee-high weeds. She kept one eye on him and reached onto the floor of the truck for her shoulder bag. She couldn’t find it by feeling around, and had to turn her eyes away. As she touched the bag, he grabbed her ankle and pulled. She tumbled out of the truck, fingers