Northern Lights

to lead him to the door directly to her right. "Right in there." She gestured, then gave a quick knock. "Doc? Chief Burke's here."
    "Come on in."
    It was a standard exam room—table, little sink, rolling chair. The doctor wore an open flannel shirt over a thermal, and glanced over from his work on the cut over Hawley's eye.
    He was young, mid-thirties, trim and fit-looking, with a sandy beard to go with the thatch of curly hair. He wore little round metal glasses over green eyes.
    "Ken Darby," he said. "I'd shake hands, but they're busy."
    "Nice to meet you. How's the patient?"
    "Few cuts and bruises. You're a lucky bastard, Hawley."
    "Say that when you see my truck, goddamn it. That damn Ed drives like an eighty-year-old city woman who lost her bifocals."
    "I'm going to need you to blow into this."
    Hawley eyed the Breathalyzer dubiously. "I ain't drunk."
    "Then it won't be a problem, will it?
    Hawley grumbled but complied as Ken fixed a butterfly bandage on the cut.
    "Well, Hawley, you're right on the edge here. Makes this a judgment call for me as to whether or not I charge you with driving under the influence."
    "Ah, crock of shit."
    "But the fact is, since you're on the border here, and show no signs of being under the influence, particularly, I'm going to issue you a warning instead. Next time you go ice fishing and have a couple belts, you don't get behind the wheel."
    "Ain't got no damn wheel to get behind."
    "Since I can't write the moose a citation, your insurance company's going to have to battle it out with Ed's. You've got a couple of speeding tickets on your plate, Hawley."
    "Speed traps. Anchorage bastards."
    "Maybe. Once you get that wheel back, you keep your speed to the posted limit and get yourself a designated driver when you're drinking. We'll get along fine. Are you going to need a lift home?"
    Hawley scratched his neck while Ken treated a scrape on his forehead. "Guess I will. I need to take a look at my truck, talk to Bing."
    "Come by the station after you're done. We'll get you home."
    "Guess that's fair as it gets."
     
     
    ED WASN'T AS PLEASED with the decision. He sat on the exam table, the air bag burns scoring his cheeks, and his lip puffy from where he'd bitten into it on impact.
    "He'd been drinking."
    "He was under the legal limit. The fact is, the culprit here's a moose, and I can't give a ticket to the local wildlife. It comes down to bad luck. Two vehicles meeting a moose on a stretch of road. You're both insured, which is more than the moose is, I'd expect. Neither one of you is seriously injured. Comes down to it, you both got off lucky."
    "I don't consider having my new car in a ditch and my face smashed by an air bag lucky, Chief Burke."
    "I guess it's a matter of perspective."
    Ed slid off the table, jerked up his chin. "And is this how we can expect you to handle law enforcement in Lunacy?"
    "Pretty much."
    "It seems to me we're paying you to do little more than warm a seat in your office."
    "I had to warm the seat in my vehicle to come out and look at the wreck."
    "I don't like your attitude. You can be sure I'm going to discuss this incident and your behavior with the mayor."
    "Okay. Do you need a ride home or to the bank?"
    "I can get myself where I'm going."
    "I'll let you get there, then."
    He met up with Otto outside the exam room. Otto's only sign of having heard the conversation was a lift of eyebrows. But when they walked out together, he cleared his throat.
    "Didn't make a friend there."
    "And I thought I was being so friendly." Nate shrugged. "You can't expect a man to be in a cheery mood when his car's smashed and he's getting his face sewn up."
    "Guess not. Ed's a bit of a blowhard, and he likes to throw his weight around. Got more money than anybody else in the borough and doesn't like you to forget it."
    "Good to know."
    "Hawley's all right. He's a good man in the bush, and he knows how to climb. Colorful enough to please the tourists who want to take on a mountain and keeps to himself most of the time. He drinks, but he doesn't drink himself drunk. My opinion? You handled that fair."
    "That matters. Appreciate it. You write this up, Otto? I think I'll ride out, check on the tow."
    Checking on the accident scene was an excuse, but nobody had to know but himself.
    He found Bing with a gnarled plug of a man working on digging the SUV out of the ditch. Duty meant he had to stop, get out and walk over to ask if they needed any more help.
    "We know what we're