“I know,” he said. “I’m not good at that, either. I get a lot of complaints.”

“I just wanted to say, I’d like to go skiing some time. I’m not very good. You might want to rethink that invitation. I used to be athletic, but it’s been a long time since I’ve been on skis.”

“Then we’ll snowboard,” he said, grinning. “It’s harder.”

“I have exceptional balance,” she said. “And Iris said she’d loan me some gear. I’d still have to rent a snowboard or skis or whatever the torture of the day is. And you can renege if you want because I’m sure I’d be a real load. Inexperienced skier, virgin snowboarder, it might get in the way of your ride. But things are slow over Christmas. There are weekends and you have time off....”

“Let’s think about that,” he said.

If she wasn’t completely mistaken, he didn’t look unhappy about it. “How long have you been snowboarding?”

“Since I was about eight, I guess. Growing up in San Diego, we had access to everything. We could surf and ski and dive and climb. I learned to sail and parasail. The only thing that’s a lot better up here is the river rafting.” He whistled. “There are some rivers in this state that’ll make your life flash before your eyes.”

“And you like that?”

“I like that.”

“Did you ever skate? Hockey or figure skating?” she asked.

“Never had an interest, but I love to watch hockey.”

“Good. After you humiliate me on the slopes I’m going to cream you on the ice.”

“You’re a skater?”

“I was,” she said. “When I was younger. I even took lessons. The past few years I’m only an expert at one thing—flowers.” She lifted her glass. “But I’m thinking of taking up wine tasting.”

* * *

It took two days for Connie to return Iris’s call. Yes, she had scheduled meetings with the Delaneys and the Davises for later in the week. “There was an unexpected break in my schedule and I thought it was best to get this case cleared if possible. And no, I didn’t mention your name to anyone, but if there’s an issue here I might have to. You understand.”

“I understand,” Iris said. “And I can live with that. I was just doing my job and that’s part of my job.”

“And we thank you,” Connie said.

Iris took a deep breath and didn’t obsess about it. She hadn’t had too many situations as delicate as this in her short history as a counselor, but it came with the territory.

Her office was relatively quiet and she paged through the newsletter from the state department of education, scanning. There was a section that listed suggested printouts, video aids, special programs, guest speakers and computer course assistance for both teachers and students. She’d begun looking for any kind of program that would address dating violence. She thought it might be something to take to the health ed classes. She’d already found a couple of online lectures and dramatizations, but they seemed dated to her so she kept looking for something better.

Then, she suddenly saw a driving safety video on the list of recommendations with the name Sileski attached. There were only so many Sileskis. The video was called The Cop’s Ticket Quota. It was a YouTube video. She typed it into her computer, did a search and brought it up. And there he was. Well, he said he’d done a couple of programs for high school students.

It appeared to be an assembly. Seth stood on a stage behind a podium with a large screen behind him. He introduced himself as Officer Seth Sileski and offered the three best ways to get out of a ticket.

“But first, let me introduce you to me a few years ago, when I was eighteen,” he said. Up on the screen appeared a picture of a handsome young football player in a Ducks uniform, posing like a Heisman trophy winner. “And nineteen.” There he was in a Seahawks uniform. “At nineteen I pretty much had it all. My family was so proud of me. Especially my dad. He was the only dad in town who had a pro ball player for a son.” There was a picture of him in civilian clothes, leaning against a silver Ferrari. “I loved that car. I didn’t think I’d ever have a car like that,” he said to laughter from the audience. “Most of the guys in this room would give their left...ah, ear? For a car like that.” More laughter followed.

Then he walked out from behind the podium and crossed the stage about halfway and Iris noticed at once that he limped a little more than usual.

“And this is my best friend, Oscar. We shared some mighty important memories and are still close.”

A picture of Oscar appeared on the screen. He was smiling his award-winning smile, but he was in the neck brace that held up his head, something he must have graduated out of in the years since the picture was taken. He looked happy enough. Anyone in that student audience who’d seen Seth in his football uniforms might have taken Oscar for a player who’d been injured playing ball. In fact, since these were not Thunder Point kids and Seth’s days as a wunderkind were many years past, they might’ve thought his limp had something to do with football.

“But I’m not here to bore you with the details of my exciting youth—I’m a cop now and we hate cops, right?” There was more laughter. “Cops just want to spoil our fun, right? And because I have the inside track, I can tell you how to get around ’em. They’re not as smart as they think they are. So let’s cut right to the chase. They’re only looking for one kind of driver—the driver that looks dangerous. Frankly, we don’t care that you’re ten miles over the limit if there’s no potential conflict involved. If you’re tearing down the highway at sixty-five in a fifty-five and there aren’t any other cars in sight, your cop probably has better things to do than go after you. But, if you’re weaving down the road at two in the morning, unable to stay in a lane, and your cop is on his way home, he’s going to say damn it, or worse, because he’s now forced to pull you over and check your sobriety before you kill yourself.

“Cops don’t really have quotas. Well, some do. We do get bonuses at Christmas for making quotas, but that’s supposed to be a secret so don’t tell anyone.” He grinned, then grew very serious. “What we do have is a responsibility to prevent accidents. So there are three major reasons people have accidents. One—they’re impaired. Now, that could be drugs or alcohol, but it might also be they’re falling asleep. Or there’s even the possibility of a medical event—a heart attack or stroke or seizure. We can tell if someone’s impaired—they’re all over the road. Sometimes we can’t tell in time, so when we see it, we’re right on it. That’s gonna get attention—watch for that.

“Reason number two—they’re distracted. Talking or texting on the cell phone will get you in trouble. We’re looking for that and we’re not waiting to see if that talking or texting is going to make you swerve—we’re going to stop you before you swerve into another vehicle. In fact, there are all kinds of distractions—too many passengers in the car, fussy baby in the backseat, big bunch of balloons for the girlfriend, hyperactive dog bouncing all over the place... So what do you do if you’re distracted and you know it? Before one of those self-serving, quota-making cops spoils your fun, just pull over and handle the distraction. I hate to tell you that because I’m thinking about my Christmas bonus here and I hate to give up a penny of it.” He paused so the kids could laugh at the image he was presenting.