"X" He called into the radio, still staring at the strange truck. "We got any parking tickets in the office?"

"Parking tickets?" There was a pause as the deputy waited for the punchline.

"Yeah." John said. "I got a...looks like a 2001 Jeep Cherokee blocking the hydrant."

There was another moment of silence. "Uhm....I don't think so. I could run something off the copier."

"Nevermind." John eased his truck behind the offender and shifted into park. Pulling his heavy gloves over his hands, and stepped out. A stranger wouldn't be hard to find. It was unusual enough in the summer when the roads were passable. It was already early December. Anyone in Mystery at this time of year had taken a lot of trouble to get here- and wasn't likely to leave soon.

He stuck his head into City Hall. "Hi Cindy...." he nodded to the receptionist. "Had any out-a-towners in here to see the mayor?"

The middle-aged woman shook her head. "Not in here...thought I saw somebody go in Bailey Pruitt's office about an hour ago though..."

"Pruitt's office?" Biebe frowned and looked over his shoulder to the little storefront that had housed Mystery's only attorney.

"Yeah...didn't see who it was though." The woman pushed back from her desk, shuffling papers as she headed for the filing cabinet.

"You heard from Donna and the boys this week?"

The frown deepened. His wife -ex-wife he reminded himself grimly- was the last thing that he wanted to talk about.

"Not this week." He said quickly and darted through the door.

There was a light on in the offices, and John chastened himself for not noticing the fact before. He was too used to seeing it empty. Too distracted with thoughts of Donna... Shaking aside the thought for a moment, he peered through the frosty glass. Someone was moving around inside, shuffling boxes from side to side. A thief?

John went to the door, only to find it locked. That in itself was unusual- no one in Mystery locked anything. What was the point?

Frowning, he rapped on the window three times and waited to be admitted.

The woman who answered the door almost took his breath away.

"Can I help you, officer?" She said, pushing the heavy wooden door open only wide enough to poke through her lovely face. She was a brunette, her hair streaked faintly with gold, and had large, exquisitely shaped grey-blue eyes. Her breath froze instantly as it met the cold air on the street, puffing toward him in a soft cloud. She waited a moment for him to answer. "Officer?"

Could she help him? The sheriff's mind raced frantically as he tried to remember what he had wanted to ask her. Something about a truck...the fire hydrant. Parking... John coughed and tried to regain his composure.

"Uhm...ma'am, is that your truck over there?"

She followed his gaze, and then nodded. "Is there a problem, officer?"

"Well...uhm...yes, actually you're blocking a fire hydrant."

She squinted, confused.

"It's under the snow." He assured her.

"Oh." She straightened up, her eyes unscrunching. "Alright, I'll move it...sorry. Let me grab my keys."

"I'll do it." John said quickly- too quickly.

She smiled. "Thanks...that would help me a lot." She disappeared into the office, reappearing a second later with a jangling set of keys.

"Press the button twice to unlock it."

"What?"

She showed him the car alarm remote.

"Oh...uhm. Of course."

"I'll leave the door unlocked...just put them on the table when you're through."

He nodded, and, with a goofy grin he couldn't quite explain, trudged back into the snow.

"Carol Carleton" The younger man breathed reverently, clearly as intrigued by the newcomer's shapely legs - which must be freezing clad in only grey tights, John couldn't help thinking- as his boss was in her mysterious appearance. "She's living out at the old Heterford place. Moved up from Juneau."

John arched an eyebrow, impressed. "You heard all that around town?" He was annoyed, he hadn't even known of the woman's existence before this morning, and he made a point to know everything that was going on in the little town.

A shy grin. "I ran the plates."

The boy was smiling so widely that John decided to forgo the lecture on misuse of police information. He put one hand on the window frame and leaned forward, watching as the engine churned into life and the snow-white SUV disappeared down the road.

"Juneau, huh? What in the world is she doing in Mystery, Alaska?"

The deputy shrugged. "Beats me?"

"Anyone else registered on the car...?" John hated himself for asking, but he couldn't resist.

"No." The reply was just a tad defensive.

"Hmmm...."

John took a final swig on his coffee. "I'm gonna take another run through the town, see if anyone need help locking up...you be ok here?"

He nodded.

"Good. I'll probably stop by tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's your day off." the dispatcher protested.

He merely shrugged. "See you at the game."

"See you at the game."

He tried to justify the stop under the heading of "police business" but he admitted to himself that it was a stretch. He was nosy, and he wouldn't sleep until he knew Carol Carleton's business in his hometown.

The Cherokee had barely beaten him to the little house, and the woman was unpacking boxed from the cargo space.

"Sheriff." She said, setting a box into the snow and walking toward him.

"Good to see you again. Let me guess..." She nodded toward the snowdrifts which lined the poorly shoveled driveway. "Another hydrant."

He smiled sheepishly. "No. I uhm..just thought I'd introduce myself-introduce you to the town, I mean. See how you were getting along. We don't get many strangers."

She nodded, smiling skeptically. "And you want to know what the hell I'm up to out here?"

He laughed, looking at his feet. "Well, when you put it like that..."

"Maybe I'm running from the police." She said coyly, and when his light eyes instantly shot to her face, she added quickly. "...or maybe I just want to get away from it all for a while."

"Big city life running you down?" He jibed at the less than cosmopolitan capitol.

"Life in general." She said, the smile waning a bit. "Thanks for the welcome, sheriff Now, if you'll excuse me..." She bent over into the snow to retrieve her box.

"Let me help you with that." He said quickly, intercepting the bulky object. She hesitated for a moment and then shrugged. Sure. Thanks.

Carol Carleton looked out the front window to where the town sheriff was carrying in the last of her boxes. Why was he so interested in her? She wondered. Had Jeff gotten to him already? No. It was impossible. Small town folk. It was there way, she supposed vaguely, thinking back to her Flatwoods, Kentucky girlhood.

The man carried his load into the front door, carefully stomping the snow off of his feet before stepping inside.

Somebody's got him trained well....

"Where do you want this?" He asked, toting the heavy load of case files as though they were full of pillows.

She gestured toward the center of the floor. "Over there's fine."

"You want some cocoa?" She said abruptly as he was about to leave. No need to be anti-social she chided herself.

"Just coffee would be fine."

"Well, I don't have any coffee, so it's cocoa or nothing."

He smiled. "Cocoa then." He seemed pleased that she had invited him.

Carol went into the little kitchen and rummaged for a pan, wishing she could shake her sense of unease. She thought leaving the lower 48 would make her feel better but all this space- out the window seemed to stretch and endless expanse of whiteness- was making her claustrophobic, and paranoid...maybe making a friend wasn't such a bad idea.

Carol carefully prepared the cocoa (the recipe on the Hersey's box, but who had ever gone to all that trouble besides her?), but she nearly dropped the mugs as she walked back into the living room. My God, he's gorgeous...In the parka, and glove, and scarf, and hat he had merely been an attractive pair of eyes. Now, stripped down to his street clothes he was an amazing pair of eyes with a face and body to match. She couldn't believe the difference it made. He was perfect, right down to the short beard and wavy shoulder-length hair. The sheriff tilted his head questioningly as he saw her expression.

"Need some help?" He questioned softly.

"N-No..." she stammered. "I'm fine." She extended a cup of cocoa...and then her heart sank. The hand that accepted it sported a wide gold band on the third finger.

Married. So that explains the wiping the feet.

Carol sighed, determined to make the best of it, and offered him some marshmallows.

"It's delicious." He said, taking a sip.

"Thanks."

They drank their cocoa in silence for a few moments before the sheriff began to speak again. "So...how long you planning to stay in Mystery?"

"A while." She said non-comittally. "A long while, I hope." As long as Jeff doesn't find me...

"Looking for a job?"

"No actually." She smiled. That was sweet. He was trying to help her. "I'm taking over my uncle's law practice."

"You're Bailey Pruitt's niece?"

She nodded.

"I didn't know he had any family."

She shrugged. "He does...He left it to my mom actually, but since she isn't a lawyer..." She let her voice trail off, aware that he probably wasn't interested in the details. "I'm Carol by the way."

He flashed another smile, and she would have gone weak in the knees if he hadn't chosen that exact moment to raise the cup to his lips, flashing the gold in her face again.

"John Biebe."

Another grin. "I thought I was just going to have to call you sheriff."

With a final gulp, he emptied the mug and sat it on the table. "I'd better get back to town...."

Back to your wife... Carol thought wistfully.

"...I suppose I'll see you tomorrow at the game."

"Game?"

John did a double take, stopping the motion of stepping into his coat. "The Saturday game..." he prodded, and when she still didn't show any signs of recognition. "Hockey."

"Oh." She said at last, vaguely aware that her cluelessness was agitating him. "Y'all are into that around here, aren't you?"

"Y'all?" he colloquialism had distracted him.

"You all." She enunciated clearly. "You are all really into hockey up here."

"You could say that." He smiled at her again, softly. "Noon. Be there."

John squinted into the sun as he warmed up for the Saturday game. Since Donna and the boys had gone, it was all that he lived for, but today he was concentrating more on the spectators than the game. Where was she? He did another scan of the bleachers before settling on a new arrival in long grey wool coat with fur trim and a matching hat.

"You made it." He said, skating to the side of the ice.

She nodded. "You didn't tell me you were playing."

He smiled. She really was an outsider. He could see that she was looking over her shoulder.

"Isn't that your deputy by the goal?"

A nod.

"Who's on duty?"

"He is...doesn't matter. The whole town's here."

"Even the crooks?"

John flashed a toothy grin as he looked over the team. "Especially the crooks."

A whistle blew, signaling the guys to center ice for the distribution of jerseys.

"I have to go."

"I'll cheer for you." She said, and then dimmed her enthusiasm, in case his wife was near.

He skated away, feeling like he could walk on water....even if it wasn't frozen.

John Biebe lowered his head and concentrated on the position of the puck, trying to ignore the exuberant cheering of Callie Owens, the town nurse. Ordinarily, her attentions, which sprang to life almost immediately after Donna left for Minnesota, were a mild annoyance. Today, when he was concentrating his effort on impressing Carol, they were nearly unbearable.

"Watch out!"

John barely had time to look up before he careened into another player. With a soft *oof* he crumpled to the ice.

The assembled townsfolk groaned sympathetically. "Johnny!" He gritted his teeth as he heard Callie loping through the snow toward him. "Lie still! I'll help you!" She cooed, and he gathered every ounce of his willpower to maintain his gracefulness as he pushed her hand away. "I'm fine." He assured her, struggling to his feet. But he wasn't fine. He felt as though he had cracked a rib, and it was a struggle to make it to the edge of the ice.

"I'm out of the game." He said darkly to Mayor Pitcher as he oozed off the ice. With a quick nod, one of the high school boys accepted John's jersey and flew onto the rink. He grimaced. It was the second game in as many months that he had left due to injuries. He really was getting old. How long was it before another boy like Stevie Weeks stepped in to take his place again? What was he going to look forward to when even hockey, the only thing that made life without Donna bearable, was gone? His eyes lighted on Carol and he smiled.

Maybe he would manage.

"Enjoying the game?" He asked as he drug himself across the last few feet of snow to a seat beside her on the bleachers. She looked over her shoulder quickly, as if checking for someone before she allowed herself to favor him with a smile.

"I guess so."

"You guess so?"

"It's my first hockey game...I'm not really sure what's going on."

Whoa. He hadn't expected that.

"I thought you were from Juneau." He said shaking his head. "Not the moon."

"It's Kentucky, originally..." She corrected, "And we simply don't get much ice. They built an ice rink in our town park when I was fifteen." She said quickly, as if trying to convince him that she wasn't a COMPLETE savage. She grinned. "But it didn't get cold enough to freeze over for seven years."

He flashed his teeth. "A different world." The tone of his voice seemed a little sad, in disharmony with his smile.

"Yeah."

"So..." He clapped his hands together and looked back at the game. "What do you think of your first hockey game."

"Its....fast." She said, flicking her eyes over the players.

"...cold."

"It's not always this bad." He inclined his chin near the horizon where dark, grey clouds were beginning to gather. "There's a front moving through. Gonna snow all day tomorrow, and then get down to minus 40 or so at the beginning of the week."

Carol paled.

John reached toward her and squeezed her knee consolingly.

"You'll get used to it."

"Biebe!" The mayor's voice caused the sheriff's head to turn sharply. "Come over here, we need to ask you about this..." He and Judge Burns were squinting into a rules book.

"I have to go...catch you after the game."

She nodded, turning to watch him walk away- and couldn't help but notice a pair of very angry eyes in the corner of her view.

A tapping on the glass of the front door caused Carol to look up from the deposition she was reviewing. She hurried to the front door and unlocked it, sending a festive chime of jingle bells through the little office.

"I thought you were going to wait for me after the game?"

"Huh?" Carol waved John Biebe into her office before he let all of the heat out the front door. The temperature was still dropping. "You said `I'll see you after the game'. You didn't tell me to wait."

"Well, you were supposed to read my mind."

She shrugged, fighting to keep the promise that she had made to herself earlier to keep Sheriff Biebe OUT of her mind. Didn't he know how much willpower it had taken to convince herself to walk away?

She sat on the edge of the desk. "Sorry."

"Get your coat." He said, with a smile.

She gave him a puzzled look.

"I want to show you something."

With a shrug, she did as she was told and followed him into the street. "Don't look up." He said firmly. "Not until I tell you to." Another look of confusion. "Trust me, it'll be worth it."

With a worried look, she complied, accepting a hand up into his well-worn truck. She looked around the tidy, if threadbare interior as she fastened the seat belt, her eyes seizing on a picture of three mischievous looking little boys.

"Yours?" She asked.

John's face flashed a look she couldn't quite interpret.

"Yeah. They're at their grandparents in the 48 until after Christmas."he said in a low voice, clearly uneager to discuss the matter.

So that was it...Carol thought, a frown tugging at her lips. While the cat's away... She glanced at his profile. Funny, she never would have pegged him for an asshole.

"I don't think I really have time tonight I-"

"Carol, please." He put both hands on the steering wheel, his jaw twitching as he stared into the night. He didn't understand her...one minute she seemed to really like him , and the next... "I'm sorry If I'm coming on too strong, I'm just...lonely."

She bit her lip. So that was it. She had totally misinterpreted it. Just because SOME men couldn't be only friends with women didn't mean they were all creeps.

"Ok." She said sheepishly.

John's tension seemed to ease. "Then sit back. And remember, don't look up..."

"Ok...now..."

Carol looked up into the sky, and her breath whooshed out in a slow sigh of amazement. She had seen pictures of the Northern lights, of course, but she had never seen them, even in the summer months that she had spent in the state's capitol before heading up to Mystery. They were amazing- ribbons of color and light that seemed to shimmer across the sky as though someone were casting colored sunbeams across a black wall.

John watched her face happily. The hockey game had given him the idea. Donna was right, there was a lot that Alaska didn't have...but there were plenty of other things to make up for them- things that a lower-48er like Carol might appreciate. From the look on her face, his guess had been correct.

"Oh..." She breathed again as the green sparkles turned slowly pink. "Oooohh..." It seemed to be the only word that she could say. Tonight was perfect. The curtain of light seemed even more mysteriously beautiful when framed against the distant, menacing clouds.

He smiled and offered her a mug of steaming coffee from his thermos and tilted his own head toward the skies. "Amazing, aren't they? Different every time...they still give me a thrill."

She nodded. They had chatted like old friend during the drive to the lookout point, but now she had fallen into an almost catatonic silence.

"They're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Surely you've looked in a mirror...John thought, but didn't say, not yet low enough to resort to cheesy lines.

"Thank you for bringing me Sheriff."

"John."

"John." She looked up at him, her eyes wide as she suddenly realized how close he was standing. If she tilted her chin up just a fraction of an inch...No...no, she couldn't. He was married. He had three little kids....but just one kiss wouldn't hurt...surely...

The sheriff seemed to be thinking the same thing, bending so low that she could feel his warm breath on her cheeks. He closed his eyes, leaning closer...closer....

"Johnny?" The crackling signal of the radio seemed painfully loud after the deep silence. "Johnny? Sheriff Biebe?" He stiffened immediately, and they both took two steps back, suddenly self-conscious about what had nearly transpired.

"Y-yes?" He scrambled to the radio.

"We just got a call in from Judge Burns. Apparently some 'young hooligans' are in the square setting off firecrackers. I'd send Ronnie down but he's-"

"That's ok. I'll get it...take me about twenty minutes."

"Ok. Over."

John returned the radio to its holder and helped Carol into the truck. She felt her pulse race as he lifted her effortlessly into the passenger's seat.

"Sorry we have to cut this short." He apologized.

She shrugged. "Duty calls...."

"You wanna...you wanna have dinner tomorrow."

"With you?"

He smiled again, his cheeks pinking beneath the fringe of his closely cropped beard. "Yeah with me. I'm not making dates for Tree Lane."

She shivered a little bit at the word "date". "Do you think we ought to...be...seen..." She said carefully.

He dismissed the concern. "The people in Mystery are nosy but harmless." He squeezed her knee again. "You'll get used to it. Listen, I'll make my famous chili."

She didn't respond immediately, mulling the choices.

Maybe has wasn't about to kiss her. Maybe it was her imagination....Still, dinner in another woman's house, sitting at another woman's kitchen table, ten feet away from another woman's bedroom... He was looking at her with his dreamy blue eyes. "Sure."

Carol said at last, completely ashamed of herself. "Alright."

"Eight o'clock...I'm on duty, but I'll tell the 'young hooligans' to take a night off."

She smiled again. "Eight o'clock." She echoed dryly.

Carol started as she heard the jingle bells on the front door chime. She knew it wasn't John (as much as she hated herself for it, she had been surreptitiously taking notes of when his truck arrived and left the station across the street), and not many of the other townsfolk had bothered to stop by.

"Hello?" Ms. Carleton called, walking into the reception area. It was a woman she had seen briefly at the game when John had fallen. A redhead with glasses pushed too far up on her nose, wild, unruly curls and mercilessly thick freckles through which angry red skin showed though. "May I help you."

"Yes. I think so." The voice was shockingly menacing. Carol frowned.

"Miss....?"

"Oh, I think you know who I am."

The attorney took a step back as the visitor stepped squarely into her personal space. "And I think you know why I'm here...leave him alone!"

Carol frowned. "Who?"

"John Biebe! He's mine, and if you think I'm going to give my man to some fancy-car, fur coat lower-48er then..."

Carol's heart seized. She had assumed that John's wife would be in Minnesota with the boys. She had guessed wrong. So, he was a bastard after all. Thank god she hadn't kissed him.

"I'm not after your man." She said quickly. "He was just...being friendly...showing me the sights."

The woman's color lessened, but she still eyed her rival suspiciously. "Honest. Nothing's happened between us....besides." She gulped. "I'm...I'm married myself."

She couldn't believe that she had said that. She'd promised that no one would know, but she was desperate and, happily, the last nugget of information seemed to have worked the desired effect.

"You are?" The eyes narrowed.

"Yes..."

The redhead backed away slowly. Watching the attorney

carefully. "Fine." She said at last. "But I don't want to see you around my Johnny again."

"You won't."

Satisfied at last, the woman walked away.

Trust me, Carol thought unhappily to herself. You won't.

The cold was almost intolerable, even to a native like Sheriff Biebe when night finally fell. The day's snowfall had left another half-foot of powder on the ground and the sudden decrease in temperature had turned the top layer- partially melted in the brief, but intense sunlight, into a glass-like layer of ice.

When he arrived at Carol's office, she was chipping at the ice on the stairs.

He took the shovel out of her hands and stepped in. "Ready to go? Sorry I didn't get to return your phone calls." He said quickly.

"I've been out at the Millers all day looking for a bear. Bitsy says that something came out of the woods last night and made a snack out of some of her chickens...Are you alright?" He straightened up, noting that she still hadn't said anything yet.

"I'm not going." She said blankly.

"What?" He frowned deeply, his brows furrowing together as he wondered what he'd done wrong. "Why?"

"I appreciate your being...nice to me, but I've...I'm....I have an appointment." She said quickly. She grabbed the shovel out of his hands. "Thanks again." And with a tinkle of jingle bells, the door swung closed.

"You wanna get a cup of coffee, John?"

Biebe looked up at the chair toward his newest deputy, Ryan Parker. The same age as Stevie Weaks, Parker had just graduated from high school. He was a fast learner, John expected the boy would be sheriff himself someday- but he had to learn how to cope with the boredom of the job. You couldn't run off to the diner every time there was a dry spell in calls.

Still, what did he have to do? John sighed, turning the incident over with Carol in his mind again. What had he done wrong? He was nearly certain that she didn't have an appointment, but he couldn't understand why her attitude toward him had changed so quickly. Had the comment about being lonely scared her off?

"Sure, I'll get some coffee." John pushed back his chair and followed the boy into the street. It was a short walk to the coffee shop, but it seemed like a mile in the bone rattling cold. He was relieved when they got to the door. The whole town seemed to be there, they had to squeeze to push their way toward two stool at the counter.

"Hi, sheriff!"

"Hey John!"

Biebe waved at the familiar faces who called out to him in greeting. "Hi Conner. Hey there Martin..."

"Recovered from that fall?"

"Feeling better...hello there Ms. Dean. Skank!!!!" He paused abruptly, hoping his mouth didn't hang open as wide as it felt. His face turned instantly grim. "Carol."

Appointment, eh? An appointment with Skank Martin? He was completely disgusted. I just hope that Skank knows the kind of hourly fee lawyers are used to. He thought meanly, but too miserably to smile at his own humor.

"Want a doughnut with your coffee, boss?....John?" Ryan elbowed the sheriff sharply.

"I think that I left something at the office." He couldn't stay here any longer. "I'll be back."

John pushed through the crowd again and out into the street. He went back to the office and locked the door, finding consolation in the pitched blackness. So that was how it would be. He was alone.

Again.

Carol's mouth went dry as she saw the attractive sheriff staring at her. She felt her sin flush under his gaze. God, he was intoxicating. If she didn't avoid him completely, she knew she wouldn't be able to keep her hands off of him much longer- no matter how bad of a person she would become. John slipped back into the crowd and she momentarily turned her eyes back to her client.

"Here, Mr. Martin...these should be all the papers that you will need...the Judge's office will let you know when the case will be called when you take it in to file it....I can come and help if you want, but with the amount of money we're talking about, a real trial wouldn't be worth it. Small Claims is really the best bet..."

Thank god for the school teacher's rent dispute. At least it had given her a valid excuse to ditch. She couldn't help looking around the diner for John. Was he sitting with his wife? No...she wasn't here either. Carol frowned. They must have gone home...

"I'll call you tomorrow afternoon to make sure that you didn't have any trouble getting it filed, ok?" She said, rising from the chair.

"Sure you don't want to stay?" Mr. Martin's smile was winning.

"I'll get you a big piece of chocolate cake."

She shook her head firmly, having already decided she didn't want to mess around with a man who embraced the nickname 'Skank'. "I have to get home. The roads are probably getting bad."

He shrugged, figuring she was playing hard to get. "Suit yourself." That was fine. He needed a little something tucked away for a rainy - or snowy- day. "Drive safely."

"I will."

"Sheriff?" John was embarrassed to discover that Ryan was shaking him awake. He knew that he hadn't been sleeping well since Donna had taken off, but this was ridiculous. "Sheriff, wake up?"

John rubbed his eyes, and then crossed his arms around his chest as he shivered. "Did somebody turn the heat off in here?"

"It's out in the whole town." Ryan said excitedly. "The garbage ran off the road near Ramey and broke the main power line. It's out all over town. The mayor says we should get everyone into the school and start the generators.

John nodded, instantly awake. Mystery had suffered a loss of power a few times before since he had become sheriff. He knew how critical an emergency that a loss of electricity could be when it was nearly forty below.

"I'll go round up Mrs. Wilkins and Beulah Dale...."

"Already got'em, sir. Tree Lane and his brother went out to the reservation to see if they needed any help."

"Everyone else accounted for."

"I think so...some people with fireplaces are staying at home, but they seem ok...."

He nodded, not stopping to lock the door as he trailed Parker to the school.

The little gymnasium was bustling and, thanks to the body heat of a few hundred citizens and gas-powered heaters, blessedly warm. Ryan and a friend started going through the postal records to make sure that everyone was present, while John and the mayor sorted through the supplies. Something wasn't right. He could sense it.

The boys finished their count quickly. "that's everybody...except the folks I told you about." John nodded, but he was frowning. Something wasn't right...

"Is Carol Carleton here?" He said as the feeling finally coalesced into something he could articulate.

Ryan looked around. "The new girl?" He squinted. "I don't...I don't see her?"

John ran toward Skank, who was entertaining a pod of cheerleaders. "Skank, where's Carol?"

"Ms. Carleton?" He asked, looking puzzled.

"What did you do with her?"

"Nothing...." A grin spread across his boyish face. "...yet."

He continued quickly when he saw his friend was not amused. "I took her home just a few minutes after I saw you in the coffee shop. She was going to go to the office for a while, but her truck was snowed in so I offered her a ride." He flashed a toothy grin. "Gentleman that I am..."

John's mind raced. She wouldn't know to come to the school...she might not even realize the level of the emergency they were facing. Another thought crossed his mind. If her truck was still in town, and the phones were out, she wouldn't have anyway to get to safety....unless she tried to walk... John slid his hands back into his gloves.

"Ryan, you be okay here by yourself?" The youth nodded. "I'm heading out to the old Heterford place to check on Carol."

John felt that he couldn't drive fast enough. Logically, he knew that it was almost impossible for Carol to freeze to death so quickly...but if she had already been asleep when the power went out...He shook the thought away. She would be fine.

It seemed strange that he had been so angry with her just a few hours before. His ire was quickly fading in the face of both the concern he felt for her well-being, and the knowledge that, if nothing else, she hadn't slept with Skank Martin yet which was more than most of the women in town could say.

He was relieved when he saw a curtain move as the truck turned up the snow covered drive.

"Carol?" He called, turning off the truck and jumping out.

"Carol? Are you okay...?"

The door opened slowly. Carol was wrapped in her coat and five or six blankets. Only her face peeked out.

"Sh-sh-sherriff..." She said slowly, her teeth chattering.

"Wh-what a-are you d-d-d-oing here?"

He stepped inside and shut the door sealing in what little heat he could.

"M-my p-p-power went off-f-f" She said, hurrying deeper into the house. He followed her, and noticed that a small fire was burning in the large hearth. He squinted at the small, oddly colored flames.

She was burning magazines and wooden spoons.

"No wood." She said, peeling away one of the layers of blankets as she stepped into the slight, but definite warmth provided by the little fire.

"Power's out in the whole town." He explained quickly.

"Everyone's huddled up in the gym. I'll take you there."

"N-no..." She stepped closer to the fireplace. "I'm fine...really...I don't wanna go back..."

I can't imagine waltzing in on your arm again when I know your wife is going to be there... She thought in the back of her head. "I have a fire. I'll be okay."

He frowned. This would be harder than he thought, but a woman who had never watched a hockey game CERTAINLY wouldn't know how to weather an Alaskan winter cold snap. "Come on." He said sharply, placing his hand on an area of the blanket mounds he imagined to be her shoulder. "We don't have time for this."

Carol jumped as John's hand accidentally pressed down on her bra. She felt as if she had been jolted by a live-wire...And she hadn't even really touched his skin. No, she was definitely not going.

"And what if I refuse to go with you, Sheriff Biebe? You can't make me leave my house."

"I can and I will." How was it possible for her to look even prettier when she was angry? The angry pink only highlighted the lovely angle of her cheekbones.

"How?" She was defiant, if secretly flattered by his attempts to rescue her.

"I'll put you under arrest."

She scoffed. "For what."

"For..." he hesitated. "I'll think of something. Let's go."

"No."

He sighed, finally growing tired of her resistance. Fine. If that was how she wanted it. " You have the right to remain silent." He began, pulling the handcuffs from his pocket. "You have the right to consult with an attorney."

"I don't believe this." She laughed, not knowing what else to do. "Hey!" She jerked her arm away a fraction too slowly to avoid being caught by the metal bands.

"...if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Anything you say can and will be used against you...and now, Ms. Carleton. Let's go."

Draping the blankets back around her shoulders, he marched the indignant female across the snowy yard and into the back seat of the truck.

"Are you going to uncuff me now?" She asked, throwing her head backwards to remove the hair from her face.

"Have I made my point?"

"Yes." She answered meekly.

"Good." He sorted through the tiny keys on his ring. It was awkward to manipulate them with heavy gloves on. He twisted it sideways holding it up to the sparse moonlight that trickled through the heavy clouds..

"Damn it." He muttered. "These are the wrong keys. Ryan must have taken the others."

"Then you aren't going to unlock me?"

"We'll do it at the school..." He closed the door and hurried to the driver's side. He could feel his muscles stiffening in the deep cold.

Slamming the door, he slid the key into the ignition. The engine balked...trying to turn over, but failing.

"Damn it." John said again. "Do you have an external outlet. The things gone cold. I need to jump it."

"I do." She said, gesturing toward the garage, "But it isn't going to help. The power's out, remember?"

He remembered.

They were stuck.

"No." John opened the door and let himself out.

"But the handcuffs..." She insisted.

"That's going to be the least of your problems if the

temperature keeps dropping. The sheriff noted as he helped her down from the car. He softened his tone. "It'll be allright. Once things get calmed down in the town, Ryan will come after us. He knows where I was headed and he knows that the truck isn't always dependable." He ushered her back into the main room. "We'll get a fire started and wait for him."

The tiny fire that Carol tendered had petered out. "You don't have any wood?" He questioned.

"No."

"Papers?"

"Yeah...magazines and stuff" She said, turning away.

"And these boxes..." He nodded toward the packing crates which

still littered the floor. "The cardboard should burn pretty well."

"I'll get the magazines."

He nodded, bending over to begin deconstructing a box as she walked away. He worked quickly, trying not to think about the terrible cold, not even looking up until she returned, awkwardly clutching a stack of fashion magazines and old newspapers.

John took the top magazine off of the stack. New Ideas for Keeping Him Warm on Winter Nights... The cover of Cosmo read. He swallowed hard, trying to think of something else.

"Roll these up." He said abruptly, turning to Carol.

"What are you going to do?"

"Go outside and see if I can find some wood..."

She nodded and did as she told, the task made more difficult by her nearly numb fingers.

Sheriff Biebe walked through the kitchen to the rear of the house, he was nearly out the door when something caught his eye....glass, everywhere. At first he had thought it was only icecicles or frost on the window, but when he peered closely, he realized that the window and door were covered in tiny squares of blue, clear and frosted glass arranged to look like snowflakes. He leaned closer. The detail was incredible. Tiny fragments had been sautered together after the fashion of stained glass panels. Something like that would be expensive...how could she afford so many? He frowned. Or had she made them? An artist and a lawyer...He smiled. Yes, definitely a woman of many talents. New Ideas for Keeping Him Warm on Winter Nights...He shivered, smiling and then stepped outside into the snow.

John was careful to walk inside the line of trees. He knew from memory that a wide, deep brook wound its way through the Herteford spread. A mistep would be dangerous.

At last, he spotted what he was looking for, a group of saplings with branches small enough to strip away. The wood would be wet, but plentiful. Filling his arms with the slender boughs he returned to the house.

"I'm finished." Carol said, displaying her work.

John nodded, weaving together the paper and wood before striking a match. Almost instantly, the green wood sputtering and crackling in the heat. Carol leaned forward, extending her bound hands toward the warmth.

"That feels good..." she murmured.

John nodded. "It'll be better when we put some real logs on there....you got an axe?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so...there might be one out in the shed though. There seemed to be a lot of stuff in there when I moved- I stored some boxes out there."

"Show me."

"It's locked....we'll need the key." Carol reached for her purse and tried to rummage inside. In the handcuffs, such precise were nearly impossible. The leather bag tumbled from her hands, spilling its contents on the floor.

It was impossible to tell who was blushing harder as she scooped up the box of tampons that had fallen to the floor.

"Here..." She said, siezing the keys at last.

John warmed his hands by the fire before setting off again.

The padlock on the shed had been replaced, and clicked open easily with the key. He wished that the light could work. The term "shed" was deceptive, as the building seemed more like a small garage. He squinted into the dim light. There! He saw one...on the back wall.

His forward progress was slowed by the piles of boxes that Carol had crammed into the small building. Since he didn't know what they contained, he was picked his way around each one carefully. He was almost to the ax when he heard Carol's voice.

"Johnny..?"

He smiled sadly, she sounded almost like Donna when she used his nickname.

"I'm in here!" He called back. "I found one. I'll be out in a second."

With a final lunge forward, he retrieved the ax and started back to the door.

"I'll get some more wood!" Carol called back to him. "The fire's dying down."

"Stay on the porch." He said, almost at the door. "I'll be there in a second."

He cleared the final box and sat the ax in the snow, stopping to relock the shed. From the corner of his eye, he saw a bundle of blankets moving toward him at a jog.

His heart siezed. She wasn't where he thought she was....

There was a scream, and then, almost concurrently a cracking sound and a splash as Carol fell through the thin ice of the stream.

Adreanline shot through Biebe's veins as he dropped the lock and sprinted toward her position. He moved quickly, but carefully- he wouldn't help anyone if he too fell through the ice- he felt like he were looking onto the situation from somewhere outside his body.

Luckily, Carol had fallen only partly through. Her shoulders were lodged above the ice. In the handcuffs, it was impossible to pull herself free and he noted, as he neared her position, the bloodless pallor of thermal shock setting in. John put his hands beneath her arms and pulled with all his might, landing them both backwards in the snow. He lay stunned for an instant before he once again dug his feet into the snow and desperately returned to the work of saving her life.

He carried her to the house, pulling his own gloves off with his teeth and leaving them in the snow so that he could use his fingers on the fastenings of her sodden pants and coat. He had to get the water away from her skin before it wicked away even more of the precious heat.

Carol didn't struggle as he completed the operation. She was still dazed and vacant. It wouldn't be long before she passed out entirely.

John kicked open the door of the house, depositing his charge in front of the feeble flames before returning to the kitchen for one of the white wooden chairs that surrounded her table. Hope they aren't antiques... He thought distantly as he smashed the object against the tile floor. He carried the broken fragments back to the fireplace, throwing them onto the dwindling flame.

The varnish on the wood burned quickly, filling the room with a furious heat. John allowed himself a small sigh of relief before returning his attentions to Carol. It was absolutely imperative that he remove the dripping clothes- parts of which had already frozen to her skin. The pants had been fairly easy, but the coat and sweater were pinned in place by her bound hands. He pulled a knife from his pocket, slashing through the wet fabric, catching a hint of the label on the coat. Mink. She was going to kill him.

When she was stripped to her underwear, he wrapped her tightly in a blanket while he stripped away his own shirt. He was acting according to training, not lust. Sharing body heat was the only way that he could warm her temperature quickly enough to save her life. Stripped to his own boxer shorts, he pulled her limp form against his, cocooned inside a blanket, and started to pray.

Where was Ryan? He wondered helplessly. How much longer until the boy realized that they needed help?

"Yeah...'bout two hours ago. He was headed out to visit the shark." He laughed at his nickname for lawyers.

"He isn't back yet."

Skank's lips curled upward mischeviously. "Nope...the man apparently takes pride in his work." The cheerleaders sitting around him giggled as they caught the joke. Ryan just looked confused.

"Think I oughta go out there. The truck..."

The older man put a hand on the deputy's shoulder. "Trust me, you showing up right now is the last thing that John wants." When Ryan continued to look clueless he sighed. "Ryan, have you SEEN the woman? You know that Johnny's been sweet on her- stopping by the office at all hours, driving her around the town..." his voice took on a sing-song quality, reflecting his obvious enjoyment in the sitation.

"Then you think..."

"As I've said before, there are only two things to do up here- and girls don't play hockey. Since I'm standing here talking to you, she must be..."

Ryan blushed and cut him off. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh...Now...if you don't mind, I believe Miss Deskins-" One of the cheerleaders began to giggle. "- wanted a hot chocolate...be right back ladies."

Feeling sheepish, Ryan walked away.

John rubbed the blankets frantically over Carol's skin until the bluish white turned into a faint, but viable pink. She was passed out now, slumped against his chest, but she was out of danger. Against his chest, John could feel tht her skin, though cool, was no longer icy, and her breathing was at least regular and deep. He hugged her closely, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes as his adrealine rush finally subsided and he allowed himself to reflect upon what had almost happened. He hadn't been careful. He tried to blame himself. He had assumed too much. No one in Mystery would set out across the ice on Dyer's creek...but someone from the lower 48....He pushed away the memory of her cry for help. He HAD saved her. She was going to be allright. No sense dwelling on might-have-beens.

In his arms, Carol stirred. A soft, almost slick piece of fabric tickled his chest. He glanced down. Cranberry satin bra....the underpants matched too....He squirmed uncomfortably. He hadn't seen lingerie like that in real life since... No, he didn't want to start down that road either...In spite of the fact that he was feeling warmer and warmer, he decided to add another chair to the fire.

"Mmmmmm..." Carol murmured softly in her sleep, as he started to move away. Her soft, sweet smelling hair rested under his chin.

John inhaled deeply, unable to stop himself from kissing her softly on the forehead before starting again to extricate her from his arms.

"No..." She whispered again. "Johnny...wait..."

He froze. Was she awake? "Carol?" He asked.

"Mmmmmm..." She murmured drowsily, but when he looked down again, her soft grey eyes were open, staring at him intently.

"...cold..."

He nodded and held her closer. "I know...it will get better. You fell through the ice, do you remember?"

She nodded. "..you...saved me." She caught his gaze, her pupils dialated in he dim light so that the eyes looked enormous- big enough to see right through him. Before he knew what was about to happen, she tilted her head upwards and pressed her lips against his.

Their lips met, and the feathery caress felt like the strike of a whip. A jolt of sensations- pleasure, longing, uncertainty, confusion- and a dozen others he couldn't name shot through him as the touch lingered. He was painfully aware of her closeness. Her helplessness...He licked his dry lips, struggling to keep the emotions in check.

"Yes..." He drew away and started rubbing her shoulders with the blanket again, feeling suddenly self-conscious about his state of undress now that she was awake. "Well...its my job."

Carol wilted at the matter-of-fact response, she turned her head away, her eyes roaming for a moment and then...She was staring at him, he realized, color rising to his cheeks. He didn't know if it was the half-daze she was still in or something else, but she was staring at the muscles of his stomach and chest like she had never seen a man before in her life. She touched him lightly, her index finger tracing a rib, and he jumped.

"Sorry!" She said quickly, her eyes wide. "Sorry..."

"Yeah...well..." He pushed slightly away, reaching for his shirt...Damn it, they were in the other room.... "I should have...I mean, I had to ....it's for...you know...warmpth. I thought were were going to lose you."He was jabbering.

"I won't tell." She said quickly. "I know we can't let her find out. I...I'm sorry..."

"Her?" John frowned, barely hearing the end of her apology. What was she talking about?

"Your..." Carl pushed further away, a difficult task for a woman bound in handcuffs and swaddled in several blankets. "your wife."

It was John's turn to stare. He was dumbstruck. How did Carol know Donna?

"You...you've talked to her?" He said in a tone of disbelief after he had calmed his hammering heart.

"Yes. She came into the office yesterday and told me to stay away. I knew...I mean I suspected...but I..."

"Yesterday?" Something wasn't making sense. He squinted as he tried to sort it all out. "Donna is here?"

Carol nodded, still too ashamed to meet his eyes. "Yes."

"But she's supposed to be in Minnesota..." It was impossible. There wasn't anyway that Donna...and his sons?...could have returned to a place as small as Mystery without his knowing it.

"She told me to stay away from 'her man'." Carol was ashamed of herself for the snipey voice she used to relate the conversation.

"I told her that I would but you were so....are so..."

John tilted her chin upwards with his thumb. "You're sure that it was Donna."

She nodded miserably. "Red hair, brown eyes, glasses..."

John began to laugh.

"It's not funny." His prisoner interjected miserably. "at least not to me."

"But Carol, it is...that's not my wife..that's Callie Owens. She's not my wife...or even my girlfriend. She's just been chasing me since my divorce."

"Your.....your DIVORCE?"

The word had caught the attorney's attention, and she no longer needed the insistant lift of his finger as impetus to look into his eyes. "Then...you're....."

"Carol and the boys moved away more than a year ago...you thought....I..." He didn't know what to say. his stomach was churning.

Was this why she had suddenly turned so cold? She thought he was merely stringing her along? Did that mean that he still had a chance?

His question was answered by another soft kiss- this time it was answered with full enthusiasm.

"But...you're ring." Carol said as she pulled away.

He looked at her hand. "It's stuck."He said glumly. "I guess I was too embarassed to find someone to cut it off. I can't believe you thought Callie..." He laughed, hugging her tightly, and then shivering as he once again became painfully aware of her near naked condition.

Carol looked down, her cheeks flushed. "I didn't deter me as much as it ought to. You're...."

He arched an eyebrow, urging her to continue, but she was too embarrassed to complete the thought. "I'm cold." She said weakly.

"I can help that..." John whispered against her ear. His warm breath against her neck made the short, soft hairs on the back of her neck prickle in anticipation.

"Oh...?" She said nervously.

John adjusted their position, folding the blankets more tightly around them as he leaned backwards against the couch. Once arranged, he reached for Carol again, sliding the flat palms of his hands down her shoulders and arms, finally resting on the small of her back. He drew her against him, and she gasped slightly, surprised as she encountered the unmistakable evidence of his slowly building desire.

She started to open her mouth to speak, her eyes still wide and uncertain, but he kissed her again before words could come. Her doubts began to melt under the tender, insistent pressure of his lips.

John twined his fingers into the back of her hair, arching her neck backwards to expose the length of her neck to his assault. He ran his tongue lightly along the curve of her jaw, finally placing both his lips on the sensitive skin and working his way downward to the small hollow between her collarbones.

Its been so long.... His body screamed, but he held himself in check. He wanted to do it right...

Working with his tongue again, he traced the edge of her demi-bra, placing his hands on her back again- this time behind her shoulder blades, to draw her against his mouth. Her skin was hot now, a faint flush of pink trailing in the wake of his lips. She was soft. Yielding. He breathed deeply. She smelled like Cinnamon.

He flinched as the icy-metal of the handcuffs brushed against his stomach. Carol was trying to return his attentions, he realized, and then smiled darkly as he pushed the hands away. Not this time. Not tonight. She was helpless. Completely his. He wasn't going to pass up the opportunity so easily....

"Do you trust me?" He whispered again. She hesitated and then nodded slowly. Accepting her affirmation, he shifted again. He laid her on her back near the fire, the flickering heat warming her bare shoulders. Easing his arm out of the blankets, he raised Carol's arms above her head, and then, before she could protest, slipped the chain of the handcuffs beneath the leg of a nearby chair.

There was a flash of panic in her eyes.

"It's okay..." John soothed, unsure of how she was taking his little game. "I'll let you go...do you want me to let you go...?"

She looked deeply into his eyes, holding her breath as she took his measure. "No..." She whispered guiltily in a long, shuddering breath. "Not yet...."

John rocked back on his knees, letting the last of the blankets slip down around his hips as he regarded his captive. In a land where ninety-eight percent of a woman's body was almost always covered in protection against the cold, the sight of even the tiniest amount of skin was erotic. The sight of her body- a curving expanse of white skin spread out on the equally white wooly rug, took his breath away.

"Carol..." he breathed, the sound coming from the back of his throat as he leaned forward to taste her once again.

Running his hands along her ribs, he drew his mouth again against her breasts, he tasted the satin, salty and slick, probing it with her tongue until the nipples underneath stood in stark relief against the thin fabric. He sucked it greedily, gratified by the sound of her quickening breath and the thundering heartbeat that he was near enough to hear.

"John...." She whispered, arching her back toward him.

He slid his fingers along her spine, slipping beneath the band of her bra and deftly undoing the clasp. With her hands still cuffed, it was impossible to remove the garment completely, but he eased it to her wrists, smiling as the taut fabric slid away, revealing the delectable flesh. They were round and plump, the nipples rosy and hard from his attentions. He kissed them again, circling the tips with his tongue, still holding her with one arm, but allowing the other to wander lower, to the other scrap of satin. He slid his hand over the soft fabric, a teasing fingertip trailing between her thighs, shuddering at the fiery, wet heat he discovered.

"Carol...." John choked as he felt her knee press gently against his bulging desire. Her hands were helpless, but she had found other ways to pleasure him. The pressure was soft, rhythmic, maddening.... "Stop..." he begged as he struggled to maintain control, but his voice lacked conviction.

Steeling himself, he pressed downward on her leg, stilling her attentions. He looked into her luminous grey eyes. "I want you." He said roughly. "If it goes any further I won't be able to stop."

"Don't...." The words were mingled with a whimper. "Don't stop John Biebe..."

He shuddered, closing his eyes as the last vestiges of restraint slipped away.

"Where are you going?" Carol asked quickly, as John twisted momentarily away from her, and then she fell quickly silent as he turned toward her again. Though their little circle near the fireplace was warm, the rest of the room was still deadly cold. A piece of ice, tracked in from the snow glimmered in his hand. The firelight danced in the glasslike triangle. He held it against her lips, tracing them, and then trailing downward, over her chin, the curve of her neck, between her breasts...he circled her nipples with the ice, drawing them once again to tight attention...

"John..." She said, her voice louder than before.

Lower still....along her abdomen, her navel, until he once again reached the satiny barrier that guarded her most secret reaches.

"John?" She questioned as he stopped. The sheriff grinned wickedly, placing the melting ice inside his mouth as he eased the cranberry colored material over her thighs.

"John!" Her voice was frantic as she realized what he was about to do. She strained forward, but was caught by her bound hands, unable to stop him...Her body stiffened, overwhelmed with sensation as he began his attentions, his tongue, cooled by the ice, flicked tentatively against her thighs before concentrating on their true objective. Subconsciously, she arched toward him, her body heedless of her embarrassment as it welcomed his hungry caress. His hands...his tongue...the ice.... Her body wracked again as he drew away, the rapidly dwindling ice melting between his teeth as he rubbed it back up her body, illogically leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

"John...." The name was nearly meaningless now. Merely syllables, the shape of her cries as he drew her nearer and nearer the edge.

"I want you." She begged. "Please...."

"You want me to do what?" his voice was teasing. She looked at him, astonished by his unselfconscious enjoyment of her torture. It's always the quiet ones... She thought distantly.

"WH...what?" She asked, snapped back into reality. He wasn't really going to make her ask for it...

"What do you want me to do?" He half-growled, pressing the length of his body against her so that her desire was really becoming painful. How could he have that much control?

"I want you to..." her voice became softer with every word.

"To..." he urged, giving her another tiny taste of pleasure with his fingertips before holding himself aloof again.

"I want you to...."

He twisted slightly. Carol looked down. He had managed to squirm out of his boxer shorts. He was completely naked now, his desire prominent and unhidden. She couldn't take much more...

"I want you to..."

She glanced down again and licked her dry lips, imagining what was about to come...

"To......fuck me..." She said almost sotto-voice.

John tilted his head, the long locks falling half-way across his blue eyes. "What?" He said, still smiling predatorily. "I didn't hear you."

"Fuck me." She said a little louder. Damn him for making her do this. "Fuck me" she demanded, the last word almost a whimper as the man did as he was commanded.

He slid into her roughly, filling her with his own strong flesh. Carol moaned and arched her neck backwards , her hips twisting toward him as, with an echoing moan, he began to move.

She was amazing, John thought, forcing his blue eyes open so that he could watch her writhe beneath him. Her own lids were tightly shut, and her hair fanned around her in a cloud, the ever-changing firelight picking out hints of gold and red in the chocolatey locks. Her lips were red, and slightly swollen from his kisses. They were parted slightly, her breath passing through them in quick, jagged puffs each time he pressed into her. Her hands, bound high above her head, clenching and unclenching in the same primal rhythm.

"Do you want me to stop...?" He whispered, trying not to betray the fact that his senses were on fire.

"N-no..." She gasped. "More....more...."

And then she told him exactly what she wanted more of.

I'm falling..... John thought, clinging to Carol as though to stop himself from plunging into a deep abyss, but there was no escape. He was gone already.

Distantly, he heard Carol follow him over the edge, her small body shuddering against him.

"Carol..." he whispered reverently as he finally caught her breath. He kissed her forehead. "Carol..." He tightened his arms around her as their breathing finally slowed.

There was a lot of winter left to go, but John Biebe had a feeling that he would be staying nice and warm.