On a Monday night in May she picked up an older couple at the airport, going up to Commanche Way. It was late, and they were tired, but pleasant. They talked about the trip they had taken to see their new grandchild. Their daughter and son in law lived out west, and her passengers had never been there before, so it had been a trip of discovery for them, as well as a family visit.

Mickie got them to their driveway, helped them with their luggage, and wished them well. The man handed her an extra $20 as a tip. She smiled, thanked him, and got back in her cab.

She always enjoyed it when people told her about their travels. She learned so much about other places that way, even though she couldn't afford to visit them all herself. Maybe someday, she thought, she'd be able to travel some, herself.

Business was slow at this hour, two hours before the bar time rush. She could go back to the airport and just sit. Or she could go get a bit of excersize.

“A walk would be nice.” she said aloud.

Emily made no reply. She must be napping, Mickie thought.

They were close to one of her favorite night time hiking spots. The gate would be closed, but she could park her cab in the lot near School and Wheeler and walk down the gravel road toward the boat ramp off the Cherokee Marsh. It was always quiet there, peaceful.

She looked forward to walking down the dark road. It would be open for a good distance before the trees closed in again. Even at night the view across the marsh towards the lake would be visible, the lights of the few houses on the far side small accents in the darkness.

She turned into the lot, and stopped abruptly. The gate was standing wide open. The chain had been cut, with the lock still closed, and dangled from the loop on the post. She felt the hair on the back of her neck move.

“That's not good.”

Emily popped up out of her bag, looking around.

“What happened?”

“The gate's open.” Mickie told her. “The chain's been cut. Something is very wrong.”

She backed out, parking on the street a few car lengths back, and grabbed her mike.

“16.” she said

“Go ahead, 16.” James' voice responded.

“The gate to the Cherokee boat launch has been busted open.” she told him. “I think the chain's been cut. I got a bad feeling...Crap! Call the cops!”

A small, dark car with a pizza delivery sign on top shot out of the gate. She slammed the cab in gear and took off after it, rattling off the license number over the radio.

“Its a Chevy Vega, heading south on School Rd!”

“On it!” came James' reply.

Mickie chased it over the hill and down to Northport Dr. The Vega turned right, tires squealing, heading out of town. A cop with lights and sirens going full blast came up over the hill on Northport behind it, accelerating, and they both sped out of sight.

“16. The cops are chasing it out Northport.” She said into her mike as she stopped at the corner.

“You OK?” James asked.

“Yeah, I'm fine.” She replied.

“That's good, cause the cops want to talk to you up at Cherokee.”

Emily say up in her bag, looking up at her and putting a paw on her leg.

“OK. I'll go talk to them.” Mickie told James. She did not think she would enjoy this, but there was no way to avoid it. She checked traffic, pulled a U-turn, and headed back up the hill.

The cop had his car in the lot, headlights shining on the gate post. He stood up from examining the broken chain when she drove up. She parked on the street where she had been before. He walked over to her cab. She lowered the window as Emily crawled into her lap.

“Mikkela Korpi?” the cop asked, shining his flashlight at her face.

“Yeah, could you not blind me, please?” Mickie said.

The light shifted to Emily.

“Is that a cat?”

Emily hissed at him. Mickie managed, just barely, to not make a sarcastic reply to that.

“Yeah, she usually sleeps in my bag.” she said instead.

Emily blinked her eyes and hissed again.

“Can I see some ID?”

She pulled out her license and handed it to him. He shined the flashlight on it, and handed it back.

“So what were you doing up here?”

“I just dropped off a fare over on Comanche Way. Business is slow. I came over here to take a walk.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“Its peaceful. There's nobody around.” she said. “Well, usually.”

“So what happened?” He asked, eyeing Emily who was glaring at him.

“I pulled in, saw the gate hanging open and the chain cut. I backed out and parked right here, and called dispatch. Then this car came tearing out.”

“How did you know the chain was cut? Did you get out and look at it? Did you touch anything?”

“You can see the cut links from out here. Besides, you can't just break a chain that big with your bare hands!” She couldn't entirely hide the sarcasm. “And no, I did not get out of my cab.”

“You want to give me your trunk key?” He asked, though it was clearly not a request.

She pulled the keys from the ignition and handed them to him. He went back, opened the trunk, and rummaged around in it. Shutting it with unnecessary force, he opened her rear door and shined his flashlight around the back seat and floor. He shut that door hard as well, and brought the keys back to her.

“Well, I don't see any bolt cutters, though you could have pitched them out the window before you came back.” he said.

“What? I didn't cut that! Why would I call it in if I did that?”

“I'm sure I have no idea.” the cop said.

“And one of your guys is chasing the car that came out of here!”

“So you say.”

Mickie stared at him open mouthed. Emily hissed again.

“Don't leave town.” he told her, and walked back to his cruiser.

She sat there seething for a couple minutes. Emily growled and grumbled in her bag.

“I hate having light shined in my eyes!”

“Yeah, I'm not too crazy about that, either.” Mickie said.

She put the key back in the ignition and started the cab. She drove away very carefully, resisting the urge to floor it and peel out.

When she reached the top of the hill she looked in her rearview mirror. The cop hadn't moved yet.

She drove back to the office.

She was still angry when she walked into dispatch. She threw herself into a chair at one of the phone desks.

“I am beginning to hate cops!” she said.

James raised one bushy eyebrow at her.

“He practically accused me of making the whole thing up after cutting the chain myself!” she exclaimed. “He searched the cab for boltcutters!”

“He didn't tell you anything?” James asked.

“Nope.”

“Well, they called me. Wanted to know if we had a “relationship” with the pizza company.” he said, moving his fingers in air quotes. “It seems the car was stolen.”

“Well that's no surprise.” Mickie said.

“And the driver is missing.” James continued. He paused. “The female driver.”

All the hair stood up on Mickie's arms, and Emily bristled where she sat on Mickie's shoulder.

“And its new moon.” she said.