Crack Addict

It had been a long hot day, But thankfully the sun was going down and the high temperatures were giving way to a more tolerable climate as night was descending. I had jsut cleared a vehicle stop and was headed to the truck stop via dixon school road. As I crossed the overpass spanning
I-85 I saw a woman walking in the opposite direction. She was wearing blue jeans and a black shirt. She was carrying a tan backpack with a water bottle poking out of the top. She had blonde hair that looked as though it hadn't been washed in this decade.
Her face was wrinkled, creased and unattractive. She was so skinny her clothes looked as if they were about to fall off of her body. I didn't know who she was but I could tell by her appearance she was a crack addict probably looking for a truck driver to pimp herself out to for drug money.

As I passed her she would not look at me, instead she looked over the bridge almost as if she was considering jumping. I drove on to the truck stop and turned around to give her time to cross the bridge onto more stable ground. I pulled up behind her. She stopped and as I got out of my car to talk to her I could see in her face that she desperately hated the way she lived. Her life was one of desperation. In her world crack cocaine was God and all men cared about was having their dick's sucked. I imagine she has been beaten down one way or another her entire life.
"Hi, how are you?" I asked.
"GODDAMNIT!!" She yells at me.
"WHY ARE YOU FUCKERS ALWAYS STOPPING ME?!?" She ranted.
"ALL I'M DOIN' IS WALKIN' UP THE FUCKIN' ROAD!!"
"Ma'am, I don't know you, I've never met you before. We get a lot of complaints about prostitution in this area, at the truck stop in particular and it's a little odd to see a woman walking down this road alone. Are you o.k.?" I ask.
"I don't need no fuckin' ride." She replied, even though I hadn't offered her one.
"Besides, I'm more concerned with murderers and child molestors!" She said inferring that I should be bothering them instead of her.
"Yes ma'am, so am I." I said.
"I can't fuckin' tell." She chortled while glaring at me.
"You're not afraid of someone getting you into their car and killing you?" I asked.
"I don't give a fuck!" she replied.

"Well I do, I don't want to find you dead in a ditch two days from now. Just because you don't think your life is worth anything doesn't mean that's the case."
She softened a bit and looked at the ground, but just for a flicker of a moment.
"Where are you headed?" I ask.
"Up the road." she said coldly.
"Where are you coming from?" I ask.
"Down the road." She said, nodding towards the truck stop.
"Do you have any I.D. on you?" I ask.
She digs in her pocket and thrusts an I.D. card at me.
"Yeah I got fuckin' I.D." she says, adding "I aint got no fuckin' 29's on me either!"

I recognize her name immediately. She has been checked for warrants by officers in other agencies nearly every night this week. I know she isn't wanted.
"If you say you don't have any warrants I'll take your word for it and not waste our time checking." I say.
"Here's your I.D." I say holding it out to her.
She snatches it away and stuffs it back in her pocket, bellowing out one last"GODDAMN!!"
"Thanks for talking with me, have a good night." I say.
She turns and walks into the encroaching darkness. I return to my car and have her logged in the area as a suspicious person.

Several hours later we get a call from the truck stop to check out a woman loitering for prostitution in the truck staging area. She is described as a white female, blonde hair, wearing blue jeans, a black shirt and carrying a tan bag.