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hoped it would pop up again when they reached the summit of the ridge. If not, he could always coast to Sheila’s with
     a push or two.
    Nearly every light in every house was out. No need for a light in the kitchen or living room to convince a potential burglar
     thatsomeone was home. Everyone was home, everybody was asleep, and Webster knew all the doors were unlocked. Though he routinely
     locked the cruiser because the novelty of the vehicle and the equipment inside attracted teens, his parents had never locked
     either their cars or the doors of their house. Most police calls involved vehicular accidents or domestic disturbances fueled
     by alcohol, with the occasional after-hours attempted break-in at a store or warehouse. McGill and Nye had plenty of time,
     on their shifts, to play poker.
    When Sheila and Webster reached the ridge and the best vantage point, he stopped the car.
    “This is it?” she asked.
    “This is it.”
    She rolled down the steamed window to get a better look. The cold bit their necks. The moon and the frost lit the shape of
     the land and the dark mass of mountains in the distance. He seldom drove to the spot at night, preferring the color and clarity
     of the day; but he could see that from a cabin, the panorama outside a picture window would be worth staying awake for.
    “You’re going to build a house here?” she asked.
    “Maybe. Someday.”
    “Kind of isolated.”
    “That’s the point.”
    She walked out onto the frozen grass and wrapped her leather jacket around her. Webster opened the trunk and took out his
     uniform jacket, which he had folded next to his personal emergency kit. He shook it out and walked to where she stood. He’d
     left his hat in the car, and his ears burned. He set the long jacket over her shoulders, and she slid her arms through the
     sleeves. They hid her hands. She hugged the jacket close, like a bathrobe.
    “Where’s the snow?”
    “We had some in December. We’ll get socked any minute now.”
    “You cold?” she asked.
    “Not very.”
    “You just like being here.”
    “I do.”
    “I’ve never seen anything like it,” she said from deep inside the jacket.
    He was happy on the frozen grass, his toes going numb, his collar up to protect the back of his neck. It seemed that already
     the land was delivering on a promise.
    “How long before you’ve saved enough?” she asked.
    “I’m going to speak to the guy who owns it and tell him my plans. I won’t have enough for a down payment for a few years,
     but I want him to say he won’t sell it until then. For all I know, he might have promised it to a nephew.”
    All Webster could see were Sheila’s eyes over the yellow and black collar.
    “You know, Webster. This is the first time I’ve gotten a real vibe off you.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be, aren’t you?”
    “Maybe.”
    Surprising himself, Webster made the first move. He opened the high collar of the jacket and kissed her. Her lips were frozen
     into a half smile, but he didn’t want to stop.
    He felt the moment when she kicked in. As he took her to the ground, she began fumbling with his belt. He saw in his mindher slim legs and the white bikini underpants, though in fact he couldn’t see anything except her face. He prayed that when
     she got him free, his dick wouldn’t shrivel from the frigid air.
    She kept him warm and hard.
    “You on the pill?” he whispered.
    He felt her nod graze his cheek.
    It was a contest of wills to see who could hold out the longest. Mostly against the cold. He thought the icy ground must be
     painful for her, even through the jacket, which just about covered her butt. He never felt her breasts, felt hardly any skin
     at all. He wanted the act to mean something on this piece of land he coveted, but all he could feel was the contest of it.
    When they were done, he pulled up her jeans for her, then did his own. In a minute, they would stand and run for the