American Criminal Read Free Page A

the barrel of the pistol. A bloody wound opened in the psycho’s shoulder and he clutched at it as he collapsed from the force of the bullet. His heavy body hit the floor with an enormous thud, vibrating the wood panels under Burnside’s feet.
        Burnside continued to train his gun on the fallen psychopath as he cautiously skirted around him and moved toward the woman sitting on the floor against the far wall.
    "You fucking shot me! You asshole!" the psychopath wailed, as he began blubbering like a baby.
       Burnside glared at him, contemptuously, as he approached the woman sitting on the floor.
        "Are you all right, ma'am?" he asked.
         She slowly lifted her face toward him and despite all that had happened, he was still shocked when he saw her injuries. She had a bulging purple cheek, cut lip, bruised forehead, and swollen right eye that he was sure she couldn’t see out of. She studied him for an instant with her good eye and glanced over at the hulking body rolling around on the floor.
        "Thank you, officer," she said, wiping tears from her eyes.
        "No problem, ma'am,” he replied.
        Burnside reached down, grabbed her hand, and lifted her to her feet. He couldn't remember feeling as triumphant as he did at that moment. He felt like an action hero from a movie as he helped the woman to her feet and led her toward the door. Then, just like a movie, he heard footsteps approaching in the hall and saw an older officer walk through the door. The second officer stared gape-mouthed at the carnage, as if he had never responded to a violent call in his career. He glanced down at the bulky body passed out on the floor and looked back at Burnside, who was still supporting the injured woman with his right arm.
        "I’ll call an ambulance," the older officer said.
        "Good idea," Burnside said, rolling his eyes.
        There was an investigation into the shooting. The injured woman's testimony, combined with the evidence at the scene, supported the legitimate use of self-defense. The fact that the psychopath outweighed him by almost eighty pounds didn't hurt his case either. The psycho also had enough cocaine in his system to power up a small third world country. Burnside was cleared of any wrongdoing and he gained a new respect from his colleagues. After that, they stopped treating him like a rookie and began inviting him to all the cop social events. He was once again on top of the world.
        Burnside actually smiled as he lay asleep, dreaming. He opened his eyes when he felt someone touching his arm. He was in a hospital room lying strapped-down on a cot. He looked up and saw a nurse strapping a blood pressure cuff on his right bicep. Glancing right, he saw a grim-faced police officer standing by the door with his arms folded across his chest. A second officer was standing in the hallway outside talking to another nurse. The reality of his situation came flooding back to him with surreal, nightmarish clarity. He went in an instant from feeling like he was on top of the world to falling into a deep chasm where no light or hope could reach.
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 3
    Brain-scan
     
        A second nurse entered the room to draw blood. Burnside wasn’t worried because he had never minded needles. He watched the sharp tip pierce his skin, felt the quick sting, and felt fully alive for the first time since waking up from his dream. He enjoyed the sensation of the viscous red liquid being sucked out of his arm. Blood was life. If he could bleed, he was alive. When he thought about prison, he felt half-alive like an animated corpse.
        When the nurse left, Burnside closed his eyes. Images from the courtroom brawl invaded his mind like a burglar in the night. He imagined the scene in complete detail from his reaction to the verdict to the court officer’s baton knocking him into oblivion. He opened his eyes and concentrated on the blank wall ahead, trying to block out