To Serve and Protect

The moon hung like a huge, silver dish over the mountain. A clear sky allowed so much light that Mags almost didn't need her headlights. She could see far beyond the reach of the beams, out into the spookily gray distance, up to where the road curved and snaked to the summit. The South Carolina night breathed warmly and seductively, and she understood why so many retirees were flooding the state. Who could resist such a night? Who would want to? Yet, along with the people traveled troubles. Paradise always harbored a snake or two. She knew. She had been a police officer for enough years to understand how criminals trailed money like blue tick hounds. The retirees brought golf clubs and jewelry and electronics and a hankering for lonely, isolated places. Criminals could smell affluence, sharks honing in on the blood scent.

Tonight, though, her shift had been uneventful. She had traversed the county without adventure--except for a single, property damage accident that hardly seemed worth noting. Neither driver had been drinking, and both showed her respect despite her 5', 106 lb. frame. Even with her size and beauty, she never hesitated. She earned respect. As she pushed toward the curve, she looked forward to a night of uninterrupted sleep. Her bed would greet her like a panting puppy.

As she rounded the curve, she spotted the car in the distance. Pulled off, blinkers flashing, she couldn't miss it. Without hesitation, she flipped on her bubble lights and radioed the dispatcher. She pulled in behind the Ford Explorer and called in the plate, although she expected nothing. The Explorer had Indiana plates, and dispatch rarely had information on out-of-state plates.

Waiting for dispatch, she looked around, wondering where the driver had gone. What was the Explorer doing so far from the Interstate? Retiree? Perhaps. Tourists generally rolled the Interstate straight through to the coast, Charleston or Myrtle Beach. They didn't get stuck on lonely mountain highways.

When dispatch offered nothing, Mags slipped out of her cruiser. The radio attached to her shoulder kept her in touch as she approached the vehicle. Flashlight in hand, she walked to the driver's side. Empty. She glanced over her shoulder as if expecting to find the driver behind her, but the road was empty. Odd, but not too odd. Mechanical trouble seemed to be the problem, and the driver was probably a man. Women tended to stay with the vehicle until help arrived. Men set off in search of help, as if a garage would be open at midnight. She wondered sometimes at the lack of logic. Even if the driver found someone--not all that likely--what could they do before morning? She looked in all the windows, noting some golf clubs, a bag. Tourist. Probably someone who had left the Interstate and become lost. But where was he?

She returned to her cruiser, apprised dispatch of the situation, and pulled away from the Explorer. Since she hadn't seen the driver already, she guessed he had continued up the mountain. Being a tourist, he couldn't know he was heading away from civilization, not toward it. She drove slowly, on the lookout. It was likely that some driver had already picked up the stranded man and offered help, which was fine with Mags. If she found the tourist, her night wouldn't end until she had found safety for him. She would just as soon sleep.

He was walking on the shoulder, a dark figure in the moonlight. "Damn," she cursed as she flipped on the bubbles again. She would lose an hour of sleep at least. As she neared, he stopped and faced the approaching car.

What struck her immediately was his sheepish grin. He looked like someone who had made a mistake and didn't want to admit it. An innocence showed through, but she ignored that. She had been fooled by innocent looks before. In her line of work, looks were deceiving. Better, to judge by actions. She stopped the cruiser, climbed out slowly, and approached him.

As she neared, she noticed he was handsome. To her practiced eye, he seemed 6', 170, short brown hair, brown eyes, no distinguishing scars. He wore a tan jacket over khaki Dockers and Nike jogging shoes. His hands hung by his side, as if showing he had nothing to hide. Broad shoulders, slim hips, she guessed him to be roughly her age--35. His grin held as he looked at her, and she understood the look. Men looked at her a lot.

"Good evening, officer," he began. "You must have passed my Explorer back there."

"Do you have some identification?" she asked.

"Sure." She watched carefully as he fumbled in his jacket pocket and removed a wallet which he offered.

"Drivers license," she said. "And please remove it from the wallet."

He stepped forward, handed her his license, and stepped back, understanding the need for space between them. Under the flashlight, she read the license. He was her age and from Indiana. The photo didn't do justice to his face.

"What are you doing so far off the Interstate?" she asked. In the back of her mind, she harbored a suspicion that he had driven down to conduct some drug business with some of the dealers who lived in the mountains, a good place to hide nefarious activities.

"Actually, I was trying to find someone, and I ran out of gas."

"Oh?"

"I know this sounds improbable," he continued. "But I met her over the internet. She lives around here somewhere. I stopped in town for directions, but I forgot to buy gas. I guess I was a little anxious to see her. Anyway, when the engine stopped, I decided I'd try to walk."

"And who is this friend you're trying to find?"

He grinned. "Well, she's a cop, and she's cute, and her name is Mags."

For an instant, she couldn't believe her ears. "That's me," she stammered.

"I thought so." He tilted his head to one side. "And I have to admit that you're even prettier than I imagined."

She felt a blush rush up her cheek.

"Before you guess the wrong screen name," he continued. "I'm Indy."

Stunned, she could only repeat his name. "Indy?"

"I should have called or left email or something," he said. "But I had this idea that surprising you might be better. I guess not."

"No, no," she said quickly. "It's just that...well...I never dreamed...."

"I don't know what came over me," he said. "I got to thinking about you, and I asked myself what the hell I was doing in Indiana when you were here. Pretty stupid, huh?"

"I...I...no, not stupid." She looked around and then handed back his license. "Here. We should probably get out of the road. Come back to the cruiser."

Walking back to the car provided her time to think. She was surprised and flattered and anxious all at the same time. He looked better than his photo, more alive, and his voice was nice, and she had no idea how she was going to handle the situation.

Inside the cruiser, she radioed dispatch to let them know everything was all right. She was aiding a stranded motorist, nothing more. Leaving the bubble lights on, she faced him.

"I don't know what to say," she began.

"You don't have say anything," he answered. "Haul my sorry butt to a gas station so I can get some gas and a ride back to my vehicle. I'll get out of your hair."

"Sure," she said. She started the engine, killed the bubbles, and made a U-turn. As she roared off, she stole a glance at him. Was he disappointed?

They rode in silence down the road, past the blinking Explorer. She wondered what he must be thinking. She had talked to him a hundred times via computer, and yet face to face, she couldn't think of anything to say.

"I must seem pretty stupid," he said. "Running out of gas. I guess I was a little distracted."

"Happens to all of us," she answered. What was she doing? The man had driven 600 miles to see her, and she was treating him like just another unlucky motorist?

"Seems I'm full of bad ideas." He laughed. "Beautiful moon, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

"Which is more important the sun or the moon?"

She glanced at him. What was it, a riddle? "Sun, I guess."

"Moon," he answered. "The sun shines during the day when it's light, but the moon shines at night, when it's dark." He laughed.

"You like night?"

"I like moonlight. It's softer than daylight. Imperfections disappear but essential beauty remains. Women are softer in moonlight, men stronger. Special light."

He spoke as he wrote, which was the reason she had liked him in the first place. He was a writer at heart, an intellect foaming with words, with phrases, with images that had captured her imagination.

"You should put that in a story," she said.

"I have." He laughed. "Every good line I think of or hear goes into a story."

She had the sudden urge to reach over and touch his leg, to feel the muscle beneath the cloth. Why? What about him invited her touch? She didn't, she couldn't. How did she initiate things? Did she want to? She felt confused, more confused than trying to sort out a fracas between three drunks.

Silence was the third rider. She longed to say something, but she didn't know what to say. She hadn't been so shy since high school, since Ray Stine, the halfback she had always wanted to date. Yet, every time she had been around Ray, she had shunned any hint of intelligence and wit. Tongue tied, she could barely answer "hello". And she had never gone out with Ray. For some reason, Indy had the same effect on her.

Tolliver's Shell was open all night. She pulled in, and he opened the door.

"Thanks," he said. "I appreciate the lift."

"I'll take you back," she said.

"You don't have to."

"It's on my way."

He looked at her a moment. "OK, let me get a can of gas."

While she waited, Mags wondered about herself. All her police training dictated that she take command of the situation, that she act quickly and forcefully. Yet, with Indy, she seemed to have no confidence. Was it the surprise of his visit, or was she really scared? Fear wasn't new to her. She was often afraid, but she always acted anyway. Why was this time different? Because he could write? Because she had daydreamed about him? Because he seemed too good to be true, a fantasy better left untouched?

Before she could answer, he returned with a can of gas which she had him put in the trunk. Who wanted to ride around with gas fumes?

"You're a heart breaker," he said as they left the station.

"What?"

"That guy at the counter wanted to know how I earned the right to ride in the front seat. Seems you're famous for making everyone ride in back."

She laughed. "Billy Tolliver buys me a beer any time I go into the Over Easy, that's a bar down the street. If speeding didn't add points to his license, he'd blast through my radar trap every day. I frisked him once, and he liked it way too much."

Indy laughed. She liked the sound. He had an easy, natural laugh.

"I imagine some of the guys would opt for a strip search."

"Never strip search a male," she answered. "Frisk, pat down, but no stripping."

"Pity.'

She glanced at him, noting the playful grin. While they had kidded about frisks and pat downs while talking on-line, she wondered if he would stand for such a thing.

"Do you have a place to stay?" she asked to change the subject.

"Not yet. Any recommendations?"

"You can try the Huston Hotel in town, but I'd go out to the Ramada by the Interstate if it were me."

"Huston that bad?"

"Not really, but it can get noisy."

"I'll remember that."

They traveled the remaining miles in silence. She wondered what he was thinking. Had he driven all day just to stay at the Huston Hotel? Was he disappointed in her looks? She felt the urge to touch him, to make sure he was real, for she almost felt as if she had been dropped whole into one of his stories. Was she dreaming?

They pulled behind the Explorer, and she popped the trunk. Bubble lights flashing, she watched him fill the vehicle and place the can carefully in the back. Finished, he started the engine to make sure the battery wasn't dead. Motor running, he stepped out again.

"Mags," he said. "This wasn't exactly what I had imagined when I set out, but I appreciate your help."

"Get in your car and follow me," she said.

"What?"

"Follow me," she repeated. "You can't stay at the Huston Hotel."

"Wait."

She didn't wait. She marched to her car, slid behind the wheel, and put the cruiser in gear. Killing the lights, she pulled around the Explorer and roared away. She watched in her mirror as the Explorer lights came on, and the vehicle pulled out behind her. She smiled. She wasn't exactly sure what she had done, but she was glad she had done it. She told herself she was being hospitable. Southern hospitality demanded that she put him up for the night. Yet, some part of her wondered if the night might produce more than gentle snores and cascading moonlight. Some part of her yearned for more. Would that part be satisfied?

Mags led the short drive to her house, mindful of the headlights behind. As she neared her drive, she slowed, wondering if he would follow. She considered herself brave for telling him to follow, and he was brave for following. After all, they really didn't know each other. She had spoken to him often enough, flirted outrageously, but that wasn't a relationship. What kind of relationship could they have? As she waited at the bottom of her drive, she told herself not to expect too much. Fantasy was always more satisfying than reality. She couldn't funnel too much hope into his arrival.

She drove slowly up the drive to the dark house. She pulled into the garage and climbed out as he parked. He grabbed his bag out of the back and paused a moment to gaze at the moon, that wonderfully bright orb.

"Come on," she called. "You want a beer?"

"Sounds wonderful," he answered.

"You'll have to excuse my house," she said as she pulled a Coors Light out of the refrigerator. "I didn't know you were coming."

"It looks great...as do you."

She smiled as she handed him the bottle. "You're just glad to have a place to sleep."

"Damn straight." He laughed. "I've slept in the Explorer before, and believe me, it's not my idea of posh."

His laugh was easy, and in the light, she noticed the gleam in his brown eyes, nice eyes. He twisted off the cap and handed the beer to her, taking the other from her hand. He twisted off the second cap and held out the bottle in a toast.

"To Cutie Cop, the prettiest thing to ever pick me up."

She clicked her bottle and sipped, watching his face. He had an innocent face, without the deep lines of drug abuse or smoking.

"That tastes very good," he said.

"Are you tired?" she asked. "That was a long drive."

"Sure, I'm tired. But I want to talk to you--if you don't mind."

"I was wondering if you wanted to soak in the tub for a few minutes. It does wonders for cricks and pains."

"I'd love it. But I didn't bring a suit."

"It's out in the dark," she said. "No need for a suit. Wait here."

She hurried to the hall and grabbed a beach towel from the linen closet.

"Here." She tossed the towel. "Follow me."

The back yard glimmered in the moonlight, glistening with the first hint of dew. She marched across to the tub. He helped her pull back the cover. Punching the controls, the tub came alive, bubbling and seething with heat.

"You can change inside," she said, leading him back to the kitchen. "I'll meet you out there."

She didn't wait for an answer but marched to her bedroom where she began to strip. Since she was a police officer, she maintained a precise discipline. She removed her weapon first and placed it in its box in the nightstand by the bed. Then, she unbuckled her belt and hung it on the peg in the closet, careful to make sure it was balanced. Then, she untied her shoes and placed them against the closet wall. Next, she unbuttoned her shirt. Most nights, she would remove all the insignia and badges, but she was in a hurry this night. She hung up the shirt, stripped off her kevlar vest, and hung it up also. Next came the T-shirt that kept the vest from chafing. Then, pants, the pockets of which she didn't bother to empty. Socks were tossed in the hamper, and she was reduced to athletic bra and boxers. She knew how she looked in the bra and boxers, and it wasn't exactly feminine. No lace or silk to charm anyone. In her line of work, utility and comfort were the only concerns. Bra and shorts joined socks in the hamper, and she stepped out of the closet. Grabbing a brush off the bureau, she pulled the rubber band off her ponytail and released her blonde hair.

This was usually the worst part of her day, those minutes before bed when she brushed the hair of her mirror image and rehashed her day, her life. The woman who looked back was small but busty, in wonderful shape. She could run a mile in under eight minutes, and she could bench press her weight. Her skin was taut yet soft, and her body hadn't yet felt the dire effects of gravity. Actually, her bras helped her, keeping her natural shape. Her thighs were lean and firm, her throat smooth. She wasn't in love with her hair which she found too stringy, but she liked her nose, her blue eyes. She knew she was an attractive woman. Half the men she arrested leered or made passes at her. That was another reason Indy seemed different. He hadn't made a crude joke about her chest. She finished her hair and took a last look in the mirror. God, her nipples were already rising. Luckily, it would be too dark to see in the tub. On the way out, she grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her body. She looked for her beer and discovered Indy had taken it out for her. Grabbing two more from the fridge, she stepped into the cool, wet grass.

He sat immersed in the hot water, bubbles rolling past his chin. She paused by the steps, placing the two extra beers.

"I brought yours." He waved a bottle at her.

"Thank you. Now, if you please....."

"Sure." He turned away, his gaze running down the hill to where the forest met her back yard. She dropped the towel and lightly stepped into the tub, sinking into the hot currents, facing him.

"Now," she said.

He turned and handed her the bottle. "Is all this land yours?" he asked.

"Just down to the woods," she answered. "That's where the state park starts."

"Full of deer?"

"You wouldn't believe."

The beer tasted as good as any she had had in a long time. Something about his being there made her happy, almost giddy, a girl again. When was the last time a man had driven a hundred miles to see her? She didn't want to remember.

"This place is beautiful," he said.

"It's my bit of heaven," she answered. "Especially on nights like tonight. I love to sit out here and watch the stars."

"I like the moon," he said. "All the bubbles seem like mini-moons floating in the water. You could lose some time out here."

"It's nice out here even on cold nights," she said. "You get all hot and sweaty and then run for the house."

"I bet your tush gets cold."

She laughed. "Not me, I'm too fast."

"I want to thank you for taking me in," he said. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't found me."

"We serve and protect." She quoted the police motto. "But I should thank you. I don't often have company out here."

"That's hard to believe. I would imagine guys are parked in your drive every night. You're one pretty woman."

She hoped he couldn't see her blush. Yet, a thrill danced up her spine. She had wanted him to find her pretty, desirable. She wasn't quite sure why she wanted that, but she did.

"Can I ask you a question?" she started.

"Sure."

"Why did you drive all the way down here?"

He turned and gazed across the yard, into the forest where darkness oozed between the trees. "I don't really know how to explain it. I mean, I was sitting there, thinking about risk. I'm not really a big risk taker. I turn down more opportunities than I pursue. I guess I'm kind of a coward. But I knew I wanted to meet you, and the only way to do that was to take a risk. I've been scared a long enough. So, I hopped in my car and started driving. What did I have to lose, a day or two? Seemed like a fair trade."