Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

CONALL WARNER

Dorothy stood tall and leggy next to the police officer. She had brown skin and was one of the few females that worked at Yaegar's company.

She had a wide face with a round chin, a hooked nose, large lips and brown droopy eyes. Her black hair is shoulder length and curly, but when she had it straight, it was spiky. She usually wears scruffy, old fashioned clothes that are mostly pastel-coloured and well-fitting, and she wears no jewellery because she believes they are all influenced by religion.

She's a hardcore Atheist and believes that we shouldn't work so hard to please a false God. She spends her free time preaching about her ideology on the streets. Once, she was booked for loitering.

I also see her sketching in her notebook at breaktime. She draws detailed sketches of objects and walls in the cafeteria. Anything that catches her eye, she draws it. And it's only at break time does she sketch, so she doesn't eat anything. When she does eat, she only eats mild foods.

I feel animus when I'm with her. She would be a terrifying housewife.

The officer Dorothy is with is writing notes down on his notepad. The officer who is talking with me, also has a notepad in his hand, but his pen hasn't been used yet. I have not given him any specific details yet because my mind is running through my next move.

"Sir, is that all you saw?"

I whispered, "No. Actually, I have something really important to tell you." The police officer drives the car we are leaning against. His name tag reads 'Officer Fern'. The officer with Dorothy drives the car that they lean on.

"If you can tell us, it would help."

"I can't... I can't say it out here. I need protection."

"If you want to enter witness protection, we'll happily drive you down to the station and we can talk in one of the rooms in private. Is that what you want?" I nodded my head slowly. Dorothy gets into the backseat of the other police car.

"Can I ride with her?" I pointed at Dorothy's silhouette behind the rear panel of the cop car. "I need to talk with her."

"Uhhhhh, sure thing. It'll make it better for us actually. Have a good day." Officer Fern left with his partner in the police car. I walked over to the other police officer and his partner. The short one had blond hair combed into a fringe under his police hat. His pupils were black ellipses, wide and innocent. He wasn't meant for this life.

His partner is a woman that is about the same age. I wondered if they were married. I interrupted their conversation.

"Officer Fern told me you can drive me back to the station for protection."

"For what," the female officer said, "exactly?"

"I have information detailing the identity of the killer."

"Why can't you tell us now?"

"I am afraid he, or she will kill me."

"O-kay, we just have to drop Miss Coffey at her home first, then we'll head to the station," the male cop said. "That alright with you?"

"Fantastic."

"Do you two know each other?" the female cop said. There was a strengthened partition between the backseat and the front. I watched their faces through cross hatches. Dorothy was looking out the window, at the passing buildings and cars, uninterested in making small talk. The police radio played quietly in the background.

"Yeah, she's a friend," I said.

"We are not friends," Dorothy said. "You're a creep."

I turned my head, my jaw jutting outwards cartoonishly.

"A charming creep, you must admit." A small smile crept onto her face, but she returned to the window sombrely. I was surprised police officers didn't do pat-downs for people getting into their cop car. My pockets were full of bullets, and a revolver hung off my belt in an IWB. My big raincoat hid it all in its wrinkling fabric.

"Watch, the only reason he wanted to tag along would be to see where I lived."

"Oh far from it."

"Oh yeah? Why don't we go to the police station first then?"

"Might as well go to the closest destination first, which happens to be your house. And I am not a creep, your drawings are exceptional."

"What a load of crap. I live in an apartment by the way. Why am I even telling you that? Now you're gonna head to every apartment and find me."

"Why would I need to go to your apartment to find you? You're out in the streets preaching this and preaching that, you're quite easy to find."

"Okay, okay, we get it," the male officer insisted. "You two know each other."

"I think I'm gonna be sick," I said. I bent my torso forward and held my stomach close. The male cop spun around in his seat.

"Wait what? W-we don't have any sickbags, I'm sorry." I peered up at my surroundings. An alleyway came into view.

"Just head into that alley -" I gagged, holding my cheeks with saliva and cupping my hand over my strained lips.

I felt the vehicle turn and waited for it to come to a stop. I reached for my heavy revolver and shot the police officers in the back of the head, wasting two bullets. The bullets grazed the cross hatches in the partition, but I managed to aim the barrel in a way that they were supposed to go cleanly through.

Their blood spurted upwards to the ceiling of the car, their heads dropped to the dashboard. The female cop's skull cracked against the wheel.

I pointed the revolver at Dorothy. I felt the cool steel of the gun, but the chamber was hot from the action. It had shaken slightly in my hands, its recoil was present but manageable. It was slow but fast enough that the cops hadn't reached for their gun.

Dorothy wasn't freaking out as much as I expected, which was a benefit. Her mouth was wide open and her eyes were over-blinking with tears, but she did not scream. Perhaps, it was an internal freakout. I could see in her eyes now, the God she had rejected, was a sinful regret.

I pulled the trigger a third time to make sure there weren't any setbacks. The bullet blasted through the side of her head and went clean into the car window. It didn't shatter, but there was a wide crack in the glass. Her curly hair gave its final bounce, blood-splattered, and her neck crushed under the immensity of her unconscious head. Her pastel-coloured clothes were now a deep solid red.

I looked in the rearview mirror to see my face covered in that colour, but in a dot painting. If only Dorothy were alive to draw me. I wiped my face and it took on a pink sheen.

I decompressed in the back of the police car, my raincoat shrinking and enlarging with each trembling breath. The only sound was the ongoing police radio and the steady hum of the car's engine. The radio was frantic with activity surrounding a boy being hit and killed by a car down in the suburbs.

I thought, if I was caught, and I went to court, what would the stenographer type? Would I say anything for the stenographer to type? Would the stenographer leave it blank? Guilty, guilty, guilty, the stenographer would type on his typewriter.

Because I am guilty.

I hit myself on the cheekbone with the revolver three times, one for each bullet wasted, one for each life wasted. The remaining cartridges shook inside their chambers. I opened the cylinder up and replaced the empty caps with three cartridges from my raincoat pocket. I collected the empty caps and placed them in another pocket.

I took my boots off, being careful that I didn't touch anything. I walked with socks in the alleyway over to the bullet that had gone through the window.

It was raining hard now, a relief from the sunny afternoon. The raincoat was finally proving to be useful. I picked the .44 bullets up and held them in the same pocket as the caps they had been shot from.

I opened the door to the front seats with a pulled-down sleeve and fetched the bullets. One was on their lap and the other was underneath the driver's seat. I untied the male police officer's shoes and put them on, the wet socks squelching against the interior footwear. I swung my boots by the laces up onto the roof of the building which encompassed the alleyway.

I took the notepad out of the male cop's pocket. Dorothy's car registration was 'RELLIK'. Most likely custom. I typed it into the police computer.

Her car was stationary on Ardleigh Street.