“Really? But he assaulted me, I was defending myself.”
“He didn’t…” His words dissolve and he shrinks away when I take a step closer. I take him in. He doesn’t look much older than fifteen, and suddenly he looks very young and very unsure of himself. That’s the thing with people; they have expectations, especially from law enforcement. They assume our hands are tied and they can abuse us, but when you shake up those beliefs with some unexpected actions, all their assurances fall away and they remember their place.
“I think he did.”
“Well, he didn’t.” He whimpers, still trying to be brave. “We all saw it.”
“You saw nothing, little boy.” I get in his face. His brow is peppered in sweat, and he swallows hard enough for me to hear.
“The camera…”
“What camera?” I wink at him, and his eyes widen even more before he tries to step back, his back finding the chip aisle.
“Your word against mine, not that anyone would believeyouoverme.” I shove a finger into his chest and push hard. “Go take a fucking shower and get a job. Do something with your life.”
He stammers over his words but says nothing in return. On the floor, his friend is crying. The rest of them look shaken, like I’ve beat up their mothers and made them watch.
“Now,” I step back and address the group, “collect your friend and get out of here and don’t let me hear that you’ve been back.”
They all stare at me.
“Now,” I whisper, and that breaks their trance as they scramble to grab their friend and make their way out of the shop. If they were smart, they would go to the ER, but they are not. I follow them out and make sure they see me taking a note of the car’s make and model. Insurance in case I need it.
When I get back inside, the video feed is back on, and the clerk has a cup of steaming coffee for me. “Thank you,” she says. She’s shy now, but visibly more relaxed.
I pull out my wallet.
Holding out her hand, she pushes the drink towards me. “On the house.”
I know it’s not. I know she’ll have it docked off her salary, and I know we’re not meant to accept thanks in the form of gifts or payment, but fuck it – it’s not like it’s a blow job. My head hurts as much as my hand, and I need to stay up and do my paperwork. I settle for a polite thank you and get back into my car.
I cruise around for a few minutes till I find a vacant parking lot to catch up on reports. I park someplace where people can see me if they need help; I’m technically still on duty. I’m two minutes into the reports and one sip into my coffee when someone approaches my vehicle.
I get out of my car as the man nears so he can’t surprise me while I’m sitting down. What can I say? It’s the job; if you’re not always thinking tactically, you’ll end up dead.
As it turns out, he was a homeless fellow just after the time. He leaves, and the only evidence of his presence is the lingering BO of a meat sack that hasn’t seen a shower in months.
I’m about to get back into my car when I hear it. It’s faint, but it’s definitely hostile. Two voices; a male and a female. I scan the area and find a dark alley ahead. I take a few steps in its direction, and the voices grow louder.
“You ruined my life.” The voice is deep, harsh and aggressive.
“You were the one that ended things, but it’s not too late.”
“You’re fucking crazy—”
“Miss, are you okay?” I survey the scene, taking everything in. The man is about my height, his wild hair hangs over his brow and covers his eyes. His hand is wrapped around the girl’s wrist and clenched tight, his knuckles bleached white. I can’t see his face as it’s locked onto hers, but his body language has me on edge. He’s angry and threatening.
“She’s fine.” The man answers for her, brittle anger in his sharp voice. “It’s you who should be careful.”
I’ve seen these situations a hundred fucking times, and I feel my early finish slip away. This guy is about to put a match to my otherwise mundane nightshift and ruin my fucking day.
“Step away from her, sir.” I reach for my baton, his threat echoing in my ears.
I expect resistance. I expect aggression. I expect a fight and three hours of paperwork. I don’t expect the guy to let go and take a small step back. He still hasn’t taken his eyes off her.
“Now move along,” I prompt him, hoping this would fizzle out into nothing more than a dispute between two lovebirds that will be forgotten by both parties in the morning.
“Remember what I told you, Amy. I’m not fucking around,” he hisses through gritted teeth.