Officer Barson’s Night Life

“Yeah, some asshole got sick in it last night on the way to the drunk tank. Really nasty.”

Barson hmm-ed a yes into the phone and hung up. His teeth flashed white when he turned toward the man standing behind the counter.

“Gotta let the boss know when you’re taking a shit these days.”

“Well, if you hadn’t decided to get it detailed you woulda caught shit too. So the usual cleaning?” The man with the shirt that said “Melvin” pulled up the file for options concerning police vehicles.

Barson squinted his eyes, put a hand to the back of his neck, and blew out a lungfull of air.

“I suppose so. Unless you wanna do something more to squeeze a little extra out of the chief.”

“We got this new stuff in, but nobody really wants to pay for it. Supposed to kill every smell and trace of animal blood. For hunters, ya know?”

“Sounds good. Also, could you be sure to check after you vacuum for glitter? The drunk was covered in it and it sticks around like herpes.”

“You got it, officer. It’ll be about three hours.”

The cool of the morning burned off quickly as Barson walked the neighborhood surrounding the shop. He was in uniform from the night before, but off duty. Other pedestrians used the walkway on the other side of the street just the same; avoiding eye contact and proximity. He liked it that way.

Last night had been his final night shift for the month. It would be two weeks until he patrolled dark streets again. As the days wore on, Barson began to get bored and restless with what he viewed as monotony of working daylight hours. He was ready to get back on the dark streets with less people and more fun.

Finally, the night arrived when he would be outside with the moon. His mouth had a slight tilt of delight as he drove out of the car park holding all the squad cars. Either luck or favoritism had given him a part of town he knew well. This night would be filled with drug deals, prostitutes, and petty thieves. He was ready.

The radio dispatcher had been chattering per usual all night, but hadn’t called on him to respond to anything specific. He drove somewhat aimlessly until he spotted something he had hoped would appear.

On the corner a block down was a group of four women, each dressed to kill. They seemed to be making small talk with a few passers-by, but none of the men stuck around. Barson pulled into the alley that afforded him the best view of the women and waited. It wasn’t long before a man went up to the group of women, had a short conversation, and walked away with the brunette woman.

Barson smiled and opened his door. The couple had turned the corner at the end of the street by the time Barson reached the remaining women and gave them a hard stare. But he continued around the corner and down the alley he assumed the couple had ducked into. Tucked between two dumpsters, the man was standing as the woman knelt before him. Moans of pleasure escaped the man while the woman occasionally gagged.

“Hey, whore, busy night?” Barson said loudly.

The woman jumped to her feet and pulled up her top to cover her breasts as the man quickly zipped up his fly.

“Don’t move. Either of you,” Barson ordered.

Both froze, but Barson could see that the woman’s hands were shaking. It sent a thrill through his stomach.

“Turn around and put your palms flat against the wall.” He moved to pat down the man. When he found no weapons, he told the man he was free to go, but if he caught the sonuvabitch again it would be different. Then he began frisking the woman.

“I’ve seen you around; trash like you make the night dirty.”

“Officer, it isn’t like that. He’s a friend of mine and just had a rough coupla — “

“Shut the fuck up, slut. We both know you let anyone in your pussy who pays. Come on. I’m taking you downtown.”

As he said this, he turned her around to face him. Her eyes flashed with recognition.

“Like hell I’m going with you, fucker. Every girl you drag off never comes back.” She began to struggle against the vice grip on her arm.

Barson leaned close to the woman so she could smell the danger on his breath, “You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney.”

He continued explaining her rights as he dragged her across the street and toward his squad car. She screamed over his words to her coworkers on the corner. They scattered.

As they neared the car, the woman kicked Barson on the shin.

Barson showed all the teeth he could muster in what he would consider a smile, “You just assaulted a police officer.”

His closed fist collided with the side of her head; if he had not had a strong grip on her arm, she would have fallen to the ground. In her dizziness, she swung her free arm to regain balance and struck Barson on the upper arm.

“Continued assault and resisting arrest,” he said.

He let her fall to the ground and kicked her abdomen. She let out a scream of pain that quickly fell to a quiet gurgling sound. The next kick was to the head, then the throat, and finally the chest.

The woman made no sound or movement.

Behind Barson, he heard shouting. He picked up the dead body and made it to beside the car before a large black man came up behind him.

“Hey! Fucking pig! Drop her. We all know your game. Back the fuck off.”

And Barson did. As he turned and reached for his gun. He had it fixed on the man now before him in a second. Unfortunately for Barson, so did the man.

“What now, asshole? I’m already going to jail for threatening a police officer, but really, I’m just trying to stop a serial killer,” the civilian said.

The women who had been on the corner were now watching from the opening of the alley. They had run for the only help they knew, their pimp.

“You’re never going to see a judge,” Barson said. He pulled the trigger five times before he fell to the other man’s bullets.

“It is with a heavy heart that I stand here today. Todd Barson was an amazing officer, son, and brother. Though struck down in the line of duty, he managed to stop the perpetrator from killing the other three women present at the scene. Barson came upon a prostitute being beaten to death by her pimp and could do very little to help her except use deadly force to be certain that man could hurt no one else.”

The police chief continued to read from the teleprompter.