Dale went back to his cube for a while to update his murder book and file his report. Only one thing was on his mind — the inch-and-a-half-thick T-bone steak waiting for him in a savory marinade at home. In his mind, he grilled it to mouth-watering perfection. He left the station in a hurry. Maybe some portabella caps to go with the steak. He jingled the keys between his fingers.
Out of the blue, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Just as he turned, pain in his chest spread like fire. The air left his lungs with a whump.
He heard a sound that struck fear in his heart. Oh shit, I’ve been shot.
His backside hit the ground with such force that he could feel the rough asphalt as it dug into his flesh.
Something warm spread over his torso. He touched it and looked at his bloodied hand. The toothpick fell from his lips as his head hit the asphalt.
People were yelling.
He wished they’d shut up.
Mercedes Wilson is a freelance writer and entrepreneur. She is a member of The Writing and Publishing Group, and Crimescenewriters. Her fascination with writing began early, with a regular column in her junior high school paper, “The Arrow.” More recently, she was the winner of the North Hennepin Community College Short Story Contest, 2013.
She has a large closely knit family who frequently inspire her work.
Ms. Wilson and her husband live in Fridley, Minnesota with two dogs and a pair of cats who allow them to stay (so far).