062 - Dangerous

He paused, examining the bank’s façade with an oddly wistful expression. Wondering what he was up to, I edged forwards to get a better look; shit, was that a gun in his hand? Yes, a gun. Just like the one in my right hand. That in itself was grounds enough for arrest, but still I waited. I noted that the community in general was almost completely absent from the picture. Good, if this got dangerous they would be easy to evacuate. Though I wondered why nobody was about. It was a Friday evening; I was the only person at the usually packed café, but I knew Fridays and Saturdays were the busiest days for most businesses in the town. I had been sitting here for a long time, but now, having read the past three days’ newspapers, ordered four coffees and a hot chocolate, and cleaned my handgun, I had nothing to do.

I was investigating seven murders that had happened in the past two days, and I had my suspicions. I was nearly certain all seven were linked. All of them black women with young children, all strangled then shot up to twelve times, the bodies all dumped naked in the local graveyard. Four of the seven showed signs of sexual penetration - that is to say, rape - and the other three were mutilated in similarly horrific ways. But there were more similarities. All the women worked at the same place, all followed the same religion, all disappeared on the way home from work. If there had been fewer in the time leading up to the first media release I would have considered copycat crime as an option for the investigation, but I was ninety-nine percent sure this was no coincidence and, having ruled out copycat crime, I had to conclude that there was a serial killer on the loose.

The guy I was tailing climbed into his Chevy pickup truck and leaned out the window; a pretty black girl walked out of the bank towards the train station and the guy shouted at her to get in his truck, offering her a lift home. There was my signal to follow. I ran to the unmarked car I was using to tail the guy, holstering my handgun on the way, and started the engine. My hands were shaking with anticipation of an arrest, but I managed to keep them steady enough that I could act quickly if I had to. I followed at a respectful distance, trying to look like I was just going the same way he was, and watched.

He stopped his car; I parked mine a few hundred meters away behind a block of public toilets and sprinted around the empty football grounds to a copse ten meters from the Chevy. From there I could see everything I needed to see.

The girl was trying to scream, but with a massive hand over her mouth and nose she couldn’t breathe. The other hand held a bloodied cord that was tight around her neck. I had to act fast; shooting out the windows and tires, I ran towards the vehicle.

“Freeze! I said freeze! Drop any weapons you might have and come out with your hands where I can see them!”

To my surprise, the guy obliged. When I told him to face his vehicle, however, he pulled out his gun. I was the faster shot, but not fast enough to avoid catching a bullet from his weapon. It connected with my left shoulder and shattered it. Ignoring the pain, I fired another six times. It took that and a heavy kick from a stiletto-clad foot to bring him down; I thanked his intended victim for her help, showed her the badge that I had kept hidden in my wallet thus far, and gave the girl my card. If she wanted support, she could call me and I would set up counseling sessions funded by the government.

I handcuffed the guy - he was alive, but out cold - and tried to drag him towards my vehicle, but he was too heavy for me. After all, I was only sixty kilograms of female police officer with a broken shoulder and he was nearly one hundred and twenty kilograms of muscle. I pulled my radio from its place on my belt.

“LadyCop Minor to base. I have arrested my target, but require… Assistance getting him to my vehicle. Over.”

“Affirmative, Minor. Assistance will be at your location in five. …Where exactly are you at? Over.”

“Evening, LadyCop Major. The south side of the football grounds. Over.”

“Affirmative. Over.”

“Thank you. Over and out.”

I had to laugh. Terri was almost always not at base, but the one time I was in an embarrassing situation, she was there. Typical.