Friday - 6:20 a.m.
No one would hear the gunshot. White-capped waves pounded the deserted beach in relentless succession. He drove through racing sheets of rain pelting the empty parking lot and turned onto the bicycle path. He pulled in and parked behind the public restrooms near the beach volleyball courts.
Glenrose Beach was a familiar place to him. When they were dating, they had wonderful times down here. The warm summer evening strolls along the boardwalk, and—
The image of the carnage from last night burst into his mind. He reveled in reliving every detail. He took another swig from the near-empty fifth of Jack Daniels. He had no guilt, no remorse, only the satisfaction of revenge. And so he should. They had taken everything from him and his life was in ruins.
He stepped out of his car and checked to ensure no one was around. No one was. He took a small red toolbox out of the trunk and tucked it under his arm. He climbed back into the driver’s seat and locked the car doors. He opened the toolbox and picked up his .357 magnum revolver.
Time to end it. He placed the barrel in his mouth and tasted gunpowder residue. He aimed the weapon upwards and pulled back the hammer.
Before the black void, he felt the bullet exit the top of his head.
Excerpt from Steven J. Daniels’ murder/mystery:
Get your copy here: Weeds in The Garden of Love