Page 62 of Blue Moon Love

Ten minutes of overthinking later, I pulled up behind an older model, four-door, champagne-colored Honda Accord that was sitting on the side of the highway. I typed the license plate into the system to see if anything came up. Nothing was flagged as suspicious. It came back as a vehicle registered to Morgan Adler.

Even though the plate was above board, I still approached the vehicle with caution. Once I got to the rear of it, I saw a woman sitting in the driver’s seat. She appeared to be asleep. I would be concerned that she was unconscious due to foul play or a health issue, but her mouth was wide open, and I could hear her snoring from the back of the vehicle.

As I walked around the side of it, I glanced in the backseat and saw that it was empty. When I got to the driver’s side window, I tapped on it. The woman’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked confused. She started to turn her head and take in her surroundings when she noticed me. She jumped and screamed, clearly startled that I was there.

Her hand was on her chest as she rolled the window down. “Sorry, I um, I didn’t see you.”

“Everything okay?” I asked as I checked her pupils and sniffed the air to see if I smelled any alcohol. She wasn’t slurring her words, but she had been passed out behind the wheel on the side of the road.

“Yes, sorry.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I work nights at the steel plant, and yesterday, I didn’t get to sleep because my dad had an episode. He’s, um…it doesn’t matter. I’m his carer on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and usually I can take a nap, but yesterday. Anyway, I realized I was nodding off on my drive home, so I thought I should just pull over and close my eyes for a power nap. I only meant to take a quick ten, but I must have just conked out. That was…” She glanced down at her watch. “Holy shit! That was five hours ago.”

“Can I see your license and registration?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. Yes.” She reached behind the seat and retrieved her purse.

As I watched her rummage through it, I realized she was attractive—very attractive. She reminded me of a young Angelina Jolie. Full lips. Big baby blue eyes. Long chestnut hair. She was stunning. Normally, it wouldn’t have taken me an entire conversation to observe that. But these past few weeks, it was like other women were invisible to me.

Now, even seeing someone as beautiful as this woman, it just felt like I was appreciating a sunset or a piece of art. Her attractiveness was purely academic. It was like my brain knew it to be true because I had eyes, but that information wasn’t translating to anything more personal than knowing the sky was blue.

It was strange.

Earlier in the week, Kane had accused me of being invaded by a body snatcher. He said I’d lost my mojo. I agreed with him on both points. I had a very zombie-like vibe going on; I didn’t feel like myself at all. Everything felt gray. A certain redheaded, green-eyed girl took all the color in the world with her when she left.

After a minute or so of rummaging, the woman dumped the contents on her lap and grabbed her wallet. She pulled her license out and handed it to me with her registration and proof of insurance that she had in the glove box.

I stared down at the photo I.D. Morgan Adler. Twenty-eight. She lived a few towns over in Parrish Creek. I slid the card through my handheld reader, and it came back clear.

“Are you okay to drive?” I asked her as I handed back her license, reg, and P.O.I.

“Yeah, yes…I can’t believe I was out that long.”

“Okay, well, from now on, try to get some rest before your shifts. Sleeping on the side of the road is not safe.”

“Is that it?” she asked, seeming surprised. “I’m not getting a ticket?”

I didn’t make it a habit of ticketing hard-working, honest people.

“No, just a warning this time.”

“Thank you!” she enthused. “Officer…”

“Whitlock.”

Her head tilted to the side, and I could see her examining me in a way she hadn’t before. It was like she was trying to put a puzzle together, and my face held the pieces; and she just needed to put them together. “Sam Whitlock?” she said, with a question mark at the end.

“That’s right,” I confirmed as she continued to stare in what I could only describe as disbelief.

I couldn’t imagine that we’d met before, and I hadn’t remembered Morgan Adler. Even in my near current comatose-to-the-opposite-sex state, she had still made an impression on me.

“I’m sorry, do we know each other?” I asked.

My question caused her to blink several times rapidly before shaking her head. “No, sorry, I just…um…I guess…yeah…let’s just say your reputation precedes you. To be honest, I thought you might be an urban legend.”

Urban legend. I hadn’t heard that before. I wondered if she meant it in a good way or a bad way—but not enough to ask.

“But you’re…real.”

The way she said real made me think that she had meant the ‘urban legend’ comment in a flattering sense.

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