Anthony Smith - All the Young Warriors

Couple of cops watched a couple of black guys in a little Korean car slide all over the iced-up road in the middle of a blizzard. Poulson said, "Shit, I don't know if they're drunk or foreigners."

Holm didn't want to laugh but she couldn't help it sometimes. He phrased things just the right way. Missed his true calling-stand-up comedian. Audience full of white good-ol-boys and he'd bring the roof down.

Poulson had a point about drunk or foreign. Lots of students from overseas came here for some reason. From Nepal and Kenya, ending up in a farm town of about twelve-thousand in southwest Minnesota. How'd that happen? And then all the Somalians coming over from the Twin Cities, where there were a ton of them. These women in hijabs everywhere. Laundromats. Video stores. Wal-Mart. Working in the grocery stores. They wouldn't touch your pork or your booze, had to call someone over to ring it up.

Poulson had laughed about it. "I need to try that one day. Paperwork's against my religion."

"Lutherans are built on paperwork, remember? Nailed to the church door?"

"Not American Lutherans."

The car they were watching slid again while trying to stop at the light between the taco shop and the liquor store. Wiggled its tail.

"Didn't think he was going to make it. See that?"

Hard enough to see anything. A near whiteout, the snow blowing sideways, piling up against the sides of buildings and all the cars at the dealership, the trees heavy with snow on the west side, starting to bend. A few trucks on the road. The plows weren't out yet but they should've been. Poulson and Holm had pretty much figured it would be a quiet shift. Holm had brought magazines, most of them about raising babies.

She was three months along and everyone in the department knew it, and they knew it was Ray Bleeker's kid, and they knew Ray Bleeker was twenty years older, unhappily married, and last year's bullshit was already carrying over into the first week of the new one. Still, they had decided to keep the baby and make a go of it. Didn't matter if Ray's wife was going to get half of everything, didn't matter that they worked together.

The light changed and the car spun its wheels trying to get traction. Finally did and shot forward. The driver hit the brakes and went sideways, pulling it back around before doing a full donut.

"I think we should light them up." Poulson reached for the shifter.

"No, I'm sure it's okay. Let them go."

"I'm just saying-"

Holm sighed, tossed the parenting tips into the backseat. "Maybe, I don't know, follow them a little. See that they get home okay. But do you really want to get out in this?"

"Cold air's good for the heart." He shifted into D and inched forward from their shelter on the East side of the abandoned Chinese buffet, shut down for health violations. Shame. Holm was craving their barbecued pork. Soon as they cleared the wall, it felt like a crowd of bodybuilders was pushing the squad car sideways.

Poulson eased in behind the car, kept a good thirty feet or so between them, but it wasn't like it was hard to tell what was up. Even on a blizzard-free day, they couldn't follow someone in New Pheasant Run without being seen. The town only had two main streets that criss-crossed right before downtown-College and Main. They were on College.

"Going to be okay, Cindy? Need a break?"

"Fine, fine. Keep going."

"When are you taking leave, anyway?"

"You in a hurry to get rid of me?"

Poulson blushed. "It'll be hard talking to myself. I don't think they can spare a replacement."

"I figure a couple of months."

"Don't I get one more run at you while you still can? God knows you've been teasing me." Smiling.

"That's enough, alright? Didn't we talk about you laying off on the flirting?"

"I didn't mean anything-"

"Ever been with a pregnant woman?"

"Yeah. I cheated on Jenn with one. She was showing as much as you. Jenn found out and put me in the hospital. I didn't wake up for a day, at least."

Holm rolled her eyes. Poulson had a great marriage in spite of the fact that both he and Jenn were rotten to the core. Holm would never let Polson take a shot at her, but it was a joke that killed time on patrol. Lately, she'd stopped feeling it so much, didn't want Poulson to get any ideas. But it had been fun to riff on before.

"Ever see Cool Runnings? The Jamaican bobsled team. That's who these guys remind me of. Look at them."

Sliding to the curb again, bypassing the stoplight at the corner by shortcutting through the parking lot of a video store. Barely able to make it out the other side because of the snow piling on the low curb.

"He's going to mess up his car."

Holm said, "Really? Do we have to?"

"You betcha. We can at least let them know we're not going to arrest them. Maybe then they'll go home and stop trying to ditch us."

Holm closed her eyes. The wind was the killer. Snow felt like needles with the Midwest Wind Machine cranked up like this. She could pretend like her back was hurting, or something about the baby, then Poulson would probably let her stay in the squad. The cozy and warm squad car. He would never ask, but if she were to even hint at it, he'd cave.

That wasn't fair. If she started crying for sympathy, well, it was bye-bye Cool Cindy and hello Bitchy Holm around the office. Sure, they say they want equality, but when you get down to it…

She snugged on her winter hat, earflaps brushing her ears, making her nearly deaf. Zipped up her coat, which didn't help much. Anything bulkier and they'd have trouble grabbing cuffs, pepper spray, gun.

Poulson did the same, gave her a wink before he hit the lights. "Baby's first traffic stop."

*

The car turned a corner, correctly using the blinker, before coming to a stop next to the empty, long-for-sale plot of land behind the Burger King, along a road that led to the small college campus. It was a no man's land between cookie cutter town houses and a rehab halfway house.

Holm had trouble opening the door. The wind grabbed it from her hands, slung it open farther than it should've. Snow already biting her face. She put on her gloves, climbed out, and fought to close the door again. Poulson was standing opposite, puffing out his chest and taking in deep breaths like this was his favorite time of year. Holm knew it wasn't. Poulson was more of an Autumn guy. So was nearly everybody. Ray Bleeker, though, he was a true winter guy. Ice fishing, deep woods hunting, snowmobiling. Cold was in Bleeker's blood. Holm was trying to share some of her Spring love with him-gardens and sunshine and birds, oh my.

The Korean car's brakelights were still flaming red. Holm had called in the tag number, got back a hit on a rental under the name Jimmy Quick, so that didn't help. Rented in Minneapolis. Not a local after all.

Holm eased up on the passenger side, a few steps behind Poulson's approach on the driver. He did his thing-easy-going, joking. No big deal.

"You guys having a little trouble with the ice?"

"Sorry. It's a new car. Still getting used to it."

She caught the passenger's face in the sideview. Young guy, trying to grow a beard. Not decked out like a gangsta, so that was good. Nervous blinking.

Poulson kept on, smiling. "Just so you know, it's not the same as racing a dune-buggy across the desert. One little patch of slick here, and you're gone."

He bent down closer to the driver. Sniffing for alcohol or weed, Holm knew. Trying to find some reason to haul these two guys in. She set her jaw. C'mon. That meant searching the car. That meant more time out in the wind, and she already couldn't see the closest buildings. Only their smudgy lights. Her teeth were starting to hurt. Another couple of minutes was all she could take.