Northern Lights

read five forty-eight.
    So he'd gotten some sleep before the dream had chased him back to reality.
    It was always dark in the dream, too. Black night, pale, dirty rain. The smell of cordite and blood.
    Jesus, Nate, Jesus. I'm hit.
    Cold rain streaming down his face, warm blood oozing through his fingers. His blood, and Jack's blood.
    He hadn't been able to stop the blood from oozing any more than he'd been able to stop the rain from streaming. They were both beyond him and, in that Baltimore alley, had washed away what had been left of him.
    Should've been me, he thought. Not Jack. He should've been home with his wife, with his kids, and it should've been me dying in a filthy alley in the filthy rain.
    But he'd gotten off with a bullet in the leg, and a second, in-and-out punch in the side just above the waist, just enough to take him down, slow him down, so Jack had gone in first.
    Seconds, small mistakes, and a good man was dead.
    He had to live with it. He'd considered ending his own life, but it was a selfish solution and did nothing to honor his friend, his partner. Living with it was harder than dying.
    Living was more punishment.
    He got up, walked into the bathroom. He found himself pathetically grateful for the thin spurt of hot water out of the shower head. It was going to take a while for the spurt to carve away what felt like layers of grime and sweat, but that was okay. Time wasn't a problem.
    He'd get himself dressed, go downstairs, have some coffee. Maybe he'd give Mayor Hopp a call and go down to take a look at the station house. See if he could be a little more coherent and brush off some of that first impression of a bleary-eyed moron.
    He felt more like himself once he'd showered and shaved. Digging out fresh clothes, he layered himself into them.
    Picking up his outdoor gear, he glanced at himself in the mirror. "Chief of Police Ignatious Burke, Lunacy, Alaska." He shook his head, nearly smiled. "Well, chief, let's go get you a star."
    He headed downstairs, surprised at the relative quiet. From what he'd read, places like The Lodge were the gathering spots for locals. Winter nights were long and dark and lonely, and he'd expected to hear some bar noise, maybe the clatter of pool balls, some ancient countrywestern tune from the juke.
    But when he stepped in, the beautiful Alaskan Rose was topping off coffee, much as she'd been before. It might've been for the same two men, Nate wasn't sure. Her boy was sitting at a table, coloring industriously.
    Nate checked the watch he'd set to local time. Seven-ten.
    Rose turned from the table, smiled at him. "Chief."
    "Quiet tonight."
    Her whole face lit with a smile. "It's morning."
    "I'm sorry?"
    "It's seven o'clock, in the morning. Bet you could use some breakfast."
    "I . . ."
    "Takes a while to get used to it." She nodded toward the dark windows. "It'll lighten up for a while, in a few hours. Why don't you have a seat. I'll bring you coffee to start you off."
    He'd slept around the clock, and didn't know whether to be embarrassed or delighted. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten more than four or five patchy hours of sleep.
    He dumped his outer gear on the bench of a booth, then decided to make an effort at community relations. Walking over to Jesse's table, he tapped the back of a chair. "This seat taken?"
    The boy took a slow, under-the-bangs peek, and shook his head. With his tongue caught between his teeth, he continued to color as Nate sat down.
    "Pretty cool purple cow," Nate commented, studying the current work-in-progress.
    "Cows don't come in purple 'less you color them that way."
    "I heard that. You take art in high school?"
    Jesse's eyes rounded. "I don't go to school yet 'cause I'm only four."
    "You're kidding. Four? I figured you for about sixteen." Nate eased
    back, winked at Rose as she brought him a thick, white mug and poured coffee into it.
    "I had a birthday and we had cake, and a million balloons. Right, Mom?"
    "That's right, Jesse." She laid a menu beside Nate's elbow.
    "And we're having a baby really soon. And I've got two dogs, and—"
    "Jesse, let Chief Burke look at his menu."
    "Actually, I was going to ask Jesse to give me a recommendation. What's good for breakfast, Jesse?"
    "Short stack!"
    "Short stack it is." He handed the menu back to Rose. "We're fine."
    "If that changes, you let me know." But she was pink in the cheeks with pleasure.
    "What kind of dogs?" Nate asked, and was entertained with the exploits of