He sat in his truck across the street from the bar in the waning light of evening. He’d been tracking her patterns, and today she usually finished her patrol shift and went in to eat and change before class. Sure enough, her vehicle roared around the corner and into the alley. She got out, pulling a rubber band out of her hair as she walked briskly, carrying a duffel bag, to the alley entrance into the bar.
He put the truck in gear and pulled across, parking just in front of her vehicle. He checked once again that he had everything he needed, and then slipped into the unlocked back alley door.
Inside, the hallway was empty, dimly lit by a bare, apathetic bulb. The battered door of the women’s room was to his left. He heard splashing from inside. She’d taken her uniform off to change and was having a quick rinse at the sink. He imagined her as he’d seen her through the high louvered window on another day: washing her face, skin glowing pearl in the dim light, serviceable bra and panties only hinting at her unique treasures.
He put his ear against the door and heard rustling. She was getting clothes out of the duffel bag. He slid the wire through the crack of the door, catching the old fashioned latch and pushing it up and out of its metal loop. He gave the door a hard push and it swung wide.
She jerked upright, clutching a T-shirt against her breasts.
“Hey!” she said indignantly. He registered the swirl of loose hair, startled eyes, white cotton panties: then he shot her.
The prongs of the Taser flew out and smacked her in the chest. She crumpled to the ground, twitching.
He stepped inside, closing the door. He detached the prongs and retracted it. Moving quickly but with deliberation he cuffed her hands behind her back, stuffed a kerchief gag in her mouth. He took the syringe out of his pocket, uncapped it, and drove it into her hip. He dropped a pillowcase over her head, rolled her in the sheet he’d brought. He wrapped a long bungee cord around her a couple times to secure the sheet and pillowcase. He hefted her up, staggering a little, and checked outside the door: empty. Slipping down the hallway and out the back door of the bar, he opened the passenger door of his truck and threw her in. Her head bounced off the dashboard and she slid onto the floor as he folded her legs and shut the door.
He ran back into the restroom, let the water out of the sink, gathered her purse and uniform, and thrust them into the duffel bag. Then he hurried back to his truck. She was still, her head lying near his feet, her body an anonymous mummy. The prey, captured.
The heady power of it surged through his body, a high like no other. He couldn’t resist putting his foot on her. Gave her a little kick, just a sample of what was to come. She didn’t move. He threw the truck into gear and rolled out. Glancing back in the mirror at the red Mustang left in the alley, he smiled.