Crying! Why did she have to be crying?

Ignoring the young woman, for the moment, he got down on one knee to survey the damage. Pete pulled on the fender and muttered curses under his breath. He was sure the women weren't well versed in the Latin curses he had learned while serving as an altar boy. Ten year-old Pete had been surprised to find out that there were Latin curses. He was working off the punishment for falling asleep while serving mass when he realized that Father Stevens was swearing. The priest had apparently stubbed his toe on a church pew. It didn't take a genius to know that the words were curses. After that, Pete, and the other altar boys made it a point to listen closely to the marine turned priest. It took a few weeks, but the boys had acquired an amazing array of swear words suitable for using around people (parents) who didn't speak Latin.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hit your car. It got in my way! Dad is going to kill me. It's his car" The sobbing young woman, who he guessed to be about seventeen, continued to babble.

Over ten years with the LAPD had taught Pete how to handle even the most dangerous situations calmly and professionally. Unfortunately, nothing he had learned at the Academy and in life, ever taught him how to deal with a crying woman. The women he dated and broke up with left him with the impression that tears were used either for sympathy or to win an argument. That wasn't the case here. He was sure that she was sincerely upset at damaging not only his car but her father's. That was the problem. He had absolutely no idea what to do with a crying stranger.

He could, and did, hug the crying wives of fellow officers when their husbands were hurt. He did hug some female friends either as a goodbye or romantically. A stranger crying at him was something he couldn't handle.

"Miss, Miss, please calm down. It's alright. What is your name?" He tried to reassure her despite his less than civil thoughts.

"No it's not! I'm gonna be babysitting until I'm an old lady to pay for this!" The tears continued down the girl's cheeks. She swiped her nose and said something that sounded like "Cindy."

"What do mean, "It got in your way"? It was parked!" Lord protect him from teenage logic.

Cindy sniffed and looked up at him. "It did. I needed to go where it was."

"But…. It wasn't moving." Pete was very quickly losing his patience with the girl, but scaring her didn't seem the best way to deal with the situation.

"Don't worry. The insurance will pay for the damage." The girl seemed to cower even more than she already was. Pete got the distinct impression that it wasn't only the fact that he towered over her causing this behavior.

"You do have insurance….don't you?" The girl trembled and shook her head. Pete bit back a few more curses and forced his fists to unclench. With exaggerated patience, he turned to Mrs. O'Brian and asked her to please call the police.

At the word "police", Cindy took off like a startled rabbit with a "Strawberry Fox" on its' tail. The chase, while short, did result In one casualty; Pete had a piece of glass embedded in his right big toe. He kept a light touch on the girl's arm as he gingerly walked her back to their cars. The damage was being examined by a pair of cops from the morning watch: Burt Willard and the rookie Joe Demba.

"Good Morning Malloy. Is this the other driver? Were you in the car at the time of the accident?" Willard asked the questions while Demba seemed to be trying to blend into the backround.

Pete was trying to answer the questions, but was hindered by Mrs. O'Brian. She was bending down trying to pull the glass from his toe.

"It's fine Mrs. O'Brian. I'll take care of it later." He raised his hands in a "stop" motion, but she was determined.

"It will only take a second. You don't want it to get infected." Blood started to flow from the cut as soon as the piece of glass was removed. She looked up at the two responding officers and asked it either of them had a handkerchief she could use to stop the blood.

"She might be right Pete. You need to fix that before it gets infected and you have to ride the desk." Willard barely kept from laughing as he handed her his hankerchief.

Pete instantly took a step back. This was already bad enough. He would rather bleed than let these two clowns watch while his elderly landlord tended his toe.

His partner chimed in with "Ma'am? Do you know if he's had his shots?"

"I dearly hope he has. You do, don't you Pete?" Why did she have to answer them?

Pete had turned beet red, whether it was from anger or embarrassment was beside the point. He glared at both of the officers as Willard chimed in: "Stupid, we all have to have tetanus shots. The question is 'Did he have his distemper shot?'"

That did it!

"Shouldn't you gentlemen be taking this girl into custody already? Both had the wisdom to shut up.

"So why don't you do it?" The ice in his voice and the stormy glare held the unspoken threat that he out-ranked both of them and could make their lives miserable.

"Willard? Can I assume that the monthly training evaluation report on your rookie is waiting for me at the station?" It couldn't hurt to drive home the implied threat.

Cindy, being fifteen and unlicensed, was quickly taken into custody and transported to the station. Experience told Pete that very soon, everyone in the station would hear about Cindy, Mrs. O'Brian and his big toe