Northern Lights

he thought of the storm, was doing its best to mock the efforts of the crews, but they'd made a difference.
    Instead of swimming through the snow, he was wading through it.
    He heard gunshots. Three quick reports. He paused, strained to make out the direction, then shook his head and kept going. He sincerely hoped no one was lying in the snow with a gunshot wound, because he couldn't do a damn thing about it.
    He was about ten feet away from the station, concentrating on the haze of light, cheering himself on with the thought of heat when Bing's plow rolled out of the white.
    His heart stopped. He actually heard the thunder of it click off, and the swishing sensation of his blood draining. The plow looked enormous, a mountain of machine avalanching toward him.
    It stopped, maybe a breathless foot from the toes of his boots.
    Bing leaned out, his snow-caked beard making him resemble an insane Santa. "Out for a stroll?"
    "Yeah. Can't get enough of it. You hear those gunshots?"
    "Yeah. So?"
    "Nothing. You need a break. The heat's on. We've got sandwich makings."
    "Why you got Manny locked up? Tim Bower drives that damn pissant snowmobile around like a goddamn crazy teenager every chance he gets. Public fucking nuisance."
    Since he was freezing, Nate decided to skip the part about destruction of private property and reckless driving. "Tim Bower was on the damn pissant snowmobile at the time Manny flattened it."
    "Got off quick enough, didn't he?"
    Despite everything, Nate found himself grinning. "Dived headfirst into a snowbank. Skinny Jim saw it. Said it looked like a double gainer."
    Bing merely grunted, pulled his head in and backed the plow away.
    Inside, Nate made sandwiches, took one to the disgruntled Manny and checked on Drunk Mike.
    He decided to take his own meal at the radio. He liked hearing Meg's voice, feeling that strange, sexy connection. It had been a long time since he'd had anyone to talk to about his day, since he'd had anyone he'd wanted to talk to. The conversation added a little spice to his plain meal and some comfort to the solitude.
    "Tim's wrecked that snowmobile more times than I can count," she said after he'd told her about its final destruction. "Manny did everyone a favor. Over."
    "Maybe. I think I can talk Tim out of pressing charges if Manny pays for it. You planning on coming into town once this is cleared up? Over."
    "I'm not big on plans. Over."
    "Movie night's coming up. I was hoping to sample your popcorn. Over."
    "It's a possibility. I've got some jobs lined up once I'm cleared to fly. But I like movies. Over."
    He drank some Coke and pictured her sitting at the radio, the dogs at her feet and the fire glowing behind her. "Why don't we make it a date? Over."
    "I don't make dates. Over."
    "Ever? Over."
    "Things happen if they happen. Since we both liked the sex, things will probably happen."
    Since she didn't say "over," he assumed she was giving it some thought. He certainly was.
    "Tell you what, Burke, next time things happen, you can tell me your long, sad story. Over."
    He was imagining the red tattoo at the small of her back. "Why do you think I've got one? Over."
    "Cutie, you're the saddest man I've ever seen. You tell me the story, and we'll see what happens next. Over."
    "If we . . . damn it."
    "What's that noise? Over."
    "Sounds like Drunk Mike's awake and puking it up in the cell. Manny's finding that understandably objectionable," he added as the sounds of sickness and outrage spiked out of the cells. "I have to go. Over."
    "Boy, a cop's life is fraught with danger. Over and out."
     
     
    UNDER THE CIRCUMSTANCES, Nate opted to let both of his prisoners hitch rides home on the plow. Braving the elements, he went out to dump more gas into the generator.
    After a short debate, he carted one of the cots out, set it up near the radio. As an afterthought, he routed through Peach's drawer and found one of her paperback romance novels.
    He settled in with the book—setting a mental alarm so he could put it, with its sexy cover, back where it came from with no one the wiser— a Coke, and the sounds of the storm.
    The book was better than he'd imagined and took him away to the lush, green fields of Ireland in the days of castles and keeps. There was a hefty dose of magic and fantasy tossed in, so he followed the adventures of Moira the sorceress and Prince Liam with considerable interest.
    The first love scene gave him pause as he thought about the maternal Peach reading about